Godd Bless Us Everyone

2007-12-24

Happy non-denominational-religious-in-specific winter seasonal, post-solstice greetings to everyone.  May God/Buddah/Ganesh be with you in these days.  Cheers

Symptoms instead of Problems

2007-12-21

   
    I feel like I see it everywhere. The world is full of problems that are burned into everyone's awareness, yet I wonder if our awareness is actually of the problem or of its symptoms.

    The extremes of poverty and wealth is a good, random example. Communism was/is, at least ideally, an attempt to solve this problem. But, whether you view communism favorably or not, I think it is relatively safe to say that it is has not, in the examples we have seen, affected a viable, lasting solution. This is because it's failure took place long before it's discrete mechanism and functions were implemented. It is because it focuses on the symptoms, and not the problem.

    At the most basic level, poverty and extreme wealth exist because we  have a near fanatical attachment to material things. There are examples of communal cultures in which this issue is basically nonexistent, as everyone shares with everyone else as needs arise. Therefore, as a drastic oversimplification, it can be said that our attachment to material objects, as well as our enculturated desire to further ourselves and our kin before everyone else, are the ultimate roots of the extremes of poverty and wealth.

    Allowing that the above supposition is correct in at least the oversimplified, abstract sense, it only follows that an economic system like Communism would falter and fail, as it's very intention is aimed at the wrong thing. Nothing about such a system fosters a detachment from material things, and, though it tries, nothing about it actually engenders the kind of communal vibrancy that so visibly animates those cultures that are absolutely free from inequitable economic disparities. It's like pointing a cannon in the opposite direction of the fort one is trying to overwhelm. It doesn't matter how big you built the cannon, it's not going to suddenly bring about the fort's collapse.

    This is just one, very brief example of a solution focusing on the symptom and not the problem. Abdu'l-Baha, one of the central figures of the Bahai Faith, wrote about our speech in the following terms: "First diagnose the disease and identify the malady, then prescribe the remedy, for such is the perfect method of the skillful physician. Though he was addressing the way we should interact with someone in need, I think the same process can easily be applied to any form of problem solving. And the first step is always to accurately diagnose the disease, not simply to start treating the symptoms.

Pirate Talk

2007-12-19

We here at The Candy Coating strive to bring to you topics which are pertinent and relevant to your young adult (or young adult at heart) lifestyle.  Occasionally though, we have an amusing thought, and I'd like to think that our relationship is such that we can share those with you.  I tend to think of this blog as a place where grandiloquent verbiage and whimsical ideas are able to roam free like unicorn-riding fairies, that is to say, very free.  So, because of a conversation with a friend (you know who you are), I thought about the awkwardness a modern day pirate must go through when speaking of his profession.  I mean, in no other profession would it work.  Could you imagine your HR rep calling you into his office, Jeff we'll call him.  He would start the conversation in a non-threatening yet reprimanding tone "Okay, in our last team meeting, you claimed that we were going to 'Get more booty than we've ever gotten before,' and that's not wrong.  That's just not how we do things around here."  Naturally, it would just go downward from there.

So, let's say, for the sake of illustration, that a pirate is visiting his cousin (a land lover undoubtedly), and his cousin decides that he wants to show our pirate a good time, so they go out for a few drinks after work.  Imagine our pirate standing amongst civilians as they rattle on about their jobs, finances, and the latest episode of "The Office."  Surely such things buckle not nearly enough swash to keep a pirate entertained.  Not to be out done, our pirate chimes in.  He decides he's going to kick it... naval school perhaps.  Naturally, what does he talk about: booty.  He begins his story "I once did find the greatest booty you ever did see.  Most beautiful booty of a dead man these old eyes ever did lay upon.  Split three ways it was.  Yarrr!"  The "Yarrr" being for emphasis.  At first our guests might give our pirate the benefit of the doubt to see where this was going.  They think maybe this is just a clever segue into a discussion on whether or not Pam and Jim will ever hook up.  Slowly though, they will realize that this is, indeed, a pirate, and he is, in fact, talking about booty; raving about it even.  With this realization, the faces of our guests will change from attentive to thinly veiled smirks.  Our pirate senses something is wrong, but he continues.  He would then, in homage to the shrimp montage of Bubba' begin talking about the various kinds of booty he has encountered.  Old booty, sunken booty, golden booty, slightly rusted booty (but that comes out with a little buffing), hidden booty, booty that didn't originally look like booty but turned out to be the booty of a lost civilization booty.  At this point, someone will lose their composure.  They can not help but to laugh.  Unsure of what's happening, our pirate's face falls.  He is confused.  His cousin now intervenes (he's not a very good cousin), he leans over to his salty kin and whispers to him the source of their amusement: booty.  Realizing his faux pas, the pirate fails to adequately regain his composure, and merely mumbles something to the effect of "well, I didn't mean it like that... yarrr..."  but his explanations go unheard.  The damage has already been done, and this poor pirate's ego has been bruised.  Really though, it's not his fault.  The man just loves his job.  Given a different context, one might admire his passion for booty. ... Like you had anything better to write about.

Friendship Ring

2007-12-13

So, I got talked into going to Mexico last week.  Ok, to be fair, I instigated a trip to Mexico, purchased a passport, delayed the trip until I got my passport, made holiday plans, hoped that no one would remember the trip to Mexico I instigated, and then got talked into a trip to Mexico.  That would be a more accurate depiction of events.  Now as entertaining as Mexico is with its 50% off unmarked merchandise, its fake Gucci bags, and strip clubs boasting as many as 25 girls, but it is not Mexico I wish to speak to you of (or Meheeco, if you're inclined to speak in fake accents), instead, I wanted to make a note on friends.

Ok, so I've heard that some 17% of the country lives in Californ - I - A, so I have about a 1 in 6 chance of offending someone with the statement that I'm about to make.  That said, those odds are about equivalent to the chance I have of any statement I make offending somebody, so those are pretty good odds to me.  So far, it's been my observation that relationships on this coast are far more superficial.  Notably, social groups that I would expect to be more conducive to meaningful interactions fall into the same trap.  It's been a little disconcerting to say the least, but I tend to think of this as the land of the 15 minute conversation.  To some degree, you can spend a few hours talking to people, only to realize that you actually still know nothing about the people you've been speaking with.  Maybe it's some kind of defense mechanism that's required in a state where a sixth of your population lives.  A state where mountains slide, and the ground moves, and people persist on living there anyway.  A state where there are no seasons.  Seriously, do you know what it does to a person to not have seasons.  One year of that and your brain will melt until every other word out of your moth is "like" or "hella'."  I'm just saying it's not natural.

Despite all of the wonderful adventures my Mexico trip provided, I find that it was the familiar things that I really appreciated the most.  Being in the land of the one-hour, fifteen-minute conversation, it was quite the refreshing experience to be with actual friends for a change.  It was like the Sprite of my weekend, so to speak.  I enjoyed the opportunity to move outside the realm of small talk, and into the realm of real talk.  Look, I'm a guy, right, and there are rules associated with that.  You're not supposed to talk about certain things like feelings and curtains and shit, but sometimes, when no one's looking, and its dark,  and there's like really soft music in the background, I can't help but wonder what somebody, anybody, feels about something.  I guess the point I'm getting at, if I needed to moralize my fables (like Aesop), is to be grateful for the connections that you do have because you never know when you'll be in the land of the text messages just trying to connect. (Woah-ho, someone was passing out wit down by the Safeway, and was the first in line for some of that).

xoxooXoOXX orion

Thoughts on "Awesome"

2007-12-13

Perhaps one of my favorite words, "awesome" has seen some pretty radical change in it's time. In fact, if the awesome of the 60's were to meet the awesome of today, i'm confident that it would blush and quickly excuse itself. The humble, relaxing days of just meaning "awe inspiring" have long since passed, and awesome in the modern context has become a one-size fit all positive remark. Some expert-analysts even predict that awesome might appear in negative remarks as early as 2009.

Since I use it so much, I've recently felt a certain necessity. What is this necessity? Why, i'm glad you asked. It's the same burning requirement that drove Galileo in his mapping of the firmament, the self-same spark that led Darwin to those islands whose name is impossible to spell, and; finally, it's the very same necessity that has killed fairies and unicorns for generations: The need to quantify.

What indeed is enough awesome? Is there ever enough? Is such a thing oxymoronic?

These questions plauged me, robbing me of my sleep and my naturally rosy complexion. Luckily, my roomate offered a suggestion: construct a formula for awesome. This formula would track the awesome trends of a given situation, graph it, and would thereby allow the one graphing to know at what point something had reached "maximum awesome." Uber awesome. Awesome xxx-treme (here used in the dangerous, driving motorized vehicles through explosions while getting a tatoo sense.)

At this point in the post, I would show you the formula and triumphantly conclude. However, it turns out the creating of formulas is not something a liberal arts major like me can casually do.

So let me instead conclude with the following lame and dissatisfying appeal: Is there anyone out there - some angellic being who can descend to solve our problem with the scepter of formulas in one hand and the sword of graphing in the other - that can help? Anyone? At all?

...

What about now?

Gosh, I guess i'll just end the post.

Reminisce about the good ole' times

2007-12-04

I've never been able to recall much from my early life. Occasionally a topic will come up, and I will receive a snap shot, blurred and rehashed. I fancy that I can see the huge hill upon which our creaky house sat, basking in the harsh North Carolinian (Carolineian?) sun. A flash of my best friend when I was eight, both of us rolling around with bike helmets despite being no where near bikes. Because that's just what you did.

But still, never have I felt connected to my past. When I truly try to think about it, I am only left with a vague impression of being lost. Say what you will about the psychological and sociological relevance of being raised the youngest of four boys - it doesn't change the fact that, up until my mid to late teens, I was entirely adrift.

Now, on one hand I know this is somewhat normal. Who knows who they are when they are thirteen? It is a fundamentally awkward period, where the body and mind need to simply stretch their limbs and aren't so concerned with what those limbs hit. On that inevitably other hand, however, I feel robbed, cheated. Almost as if someone has stolen from me the chance to have a developmentally helpful childhood and left me only with these ambiguous flashes and this vague gnawing void.

I did foolish things for no reason. Porno was not supporting the degradation of women and giving into a baser nature, it was a curiosity. Spending hours and hours playing video games was not unhealthy, it was my escape and savior. Nearly failing out of school was not an action I regretted or planned, it was just the knee-jerk impulse of a mind more full of flotsam than purpose.

Indeed, there wouldn't be a Robbie to type this blog post if it weren't for a few key figures providing crucial life lines. My comrade here on The Candy Coating is one, my older brother Brent another. Perhaps the biggest was my best friend danio - a man so filled with virtue that he seemed to ooze it from his pores as a normal man would sweat. Though many years my senior, he had the goodness of heart and the perspicacity of spirit not to see the weaning fop that I was but the conscientiously noble being that I, like each of us, had the potential to be. If not for these folks, ladies and gentlemen, I simply wouldn't exist.

So it is with this background and this frame of reference that I shiver for today's upcoming generation. I am only twenty years old, but already I feel the guilt of passing to their still fragile shoulders the weight of a such a heavy, twisted world. Sometimes I wish that I were a Titan incarnate, that I could merely spread my arms and shelter them from a world entirely concerned with their exploitation and assimilation.

It is no idle cause. No fundraiser created by an unknown charitable group. This is as real as it gets: Junior youth are dying. Mentally decaying, spiritually oppressed, physically poisoned - they are being slaughtered every single day and it just about breaks me in two when I consider the scope of it all.

For Bahai's, we can turn to the Junior Youth Animator courses, a series of courses designed to arm junior youth of every creed and background to grapple with such a monstrous world. But this is not enough. Everyday I live and breathe on this earth I search for at least one child, one youth that I can help in the way that danio helped me. It's not even a matter of kindness. I have to do so, I must save at least one. To do otherwise would be to betray the trust I have been given, and to usurp the second chance that life, despite my unworthiness, has seen fit to bestow on me.

As real as it gets. Youth and junior youth are not the future, they are the now. They are not promising, they are promise fulfilled. But they are also lost, like I was. No quarter a day is required, no monetary grant can assuage this debt. All that is required - all that is needed - if for each of us to open up on our islands of stability a tiny plot for them to call their own. With such a simple act we are ensuring the future, yes, but we are also insuring ourselves. The call is clear, the need apparent. To sit idle is to fail, while the mere act of arising is to achieve the most complete and perfect of victories: the victory of giving life.