The Great Flip
[ 1 Comment ] Posted on 02.08.05 in observations, random
I think that since those ancient folks separated time into fixed passages known as days, weeks and months, the intrinsic human mind has managed to separate other reified entities against the ever-present intangible backdrop of the passage of time.
Take, for example, our mental plus and delta chart of the events of the present: our proverbial tally marks seem to clump up in a sole column as any specific and predefined amount of time passes us by. Likewise, when the sun ducks underneath the horizon or when we’re forced to flip up a page in our calendars, so too do we flip up the pages of the mind and of the heart. After the Great Flip, we are faced with so much environmental newness that in order to be distracted by the follies of the present that are seared into meticulousness, we shift position until it is just different enough to invoke new feelings yet just similar enough to sneak its way into our boxes.
It happens to everyone all the time, but each individual’s schedule is different because if everyone were to make the Great Flip at the same time, the world would suck even more than Dr. Y tells us we say it does. I flipped when the clock struck 12:00AM Monday morning. I can only hope that the interim until my next flip is exceedingly short lived; I am so not used to this that I had to take the nail out of the wall to make the change because its head was too big for my largely unperturbed perforation.
I guess what I’m trying to say with this long, drawn out narrative is that this week sucks, but come Monday, it’ll be alright.
Pantapalooza
[ 2 Comments ] Posted on 02.03.05 in observations
Unless you’ve been living under a rock as the fashion world has been spinning around these last few years, you know that girls’ pants are all the rage on male legs. These tight little excuses for clothing are apparently all the rage amongst the emo crowd, and yesterday at lunch I tried to be society’s slave. I traded pants with Taryn. I fully expect a line of parental questioning regarding this event; the “last time”:http://sociallyconsciousbird.com/wordpress/?p=29 I traded garments with Taryn, the folks wouldn’t let it go for a while.
Upon slipping into the ultra-long, ultra-tight jeans, I’ve noticed a few things about girls’ pants that were quite interesting:
# There is excess butt room. I thought I had some junk in the proverbial trunk, but compared to girl, they have got it going on. I originally disliked this feature, but as the hours wore on, the butt grew on me. I think its main selling point is the room for growth: you know, prospective butt room that all of the sistas will be jealous of whence I fill the void.
# Thanks to the constriction of the jeans, I have a newly formed schema of just how luxurious my thighs really are. I know you’re jealous. Go on, eat your heart out.
# The (obvious) shortcoming of girls’ pants on a man’s figure is the constriction of the nether regions. I found myself readjusting myself with every beat of my tiny little uncomfortable heart, much to the dismay of my female compatriots who, in their wincing at my fiddling, expressed noticeable discomfort.
# Girls have the greatest clothes ever, primarily because they are stretchy.
Overall, wearing Taryn’s pants was a worthwhile experience. I think, however, it went on just a few hours too long. This extended period of discomfort in low-riding pants scarred me for life. No, I don’t think that acquiescing to the demands of the new style of society is for me. For the time being, I’m content to wear my Wranglers.
One town that won’t let you down
[ 2 Comments ] Posted on 01.02.05 in observations
Lately, my parents have been talking about going up to Chicago to visit some family friends who are graduating from college. I’ll have to figure out my exam schedule (as we’re going in the middle of May). Though I’ve only been once, I liked it very much.
What first struck me about Chicago was the fact that in the restrooms at Midway International, the walls of the stalls went all the way down to the floor and the doors lacked those gaping cracks where the hinges secured them to the vertical sections of the cubicle.
I knew right then that Chicago was, indeed, my kind of town.