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Posted 21 December 2002, 11.19 am by Diva

"Maybe it's an error in the film. Let's take another."

That was thirteen months ago. Thirteen months of x-rays, exams, tests and pills. Thirteen months of silence. Thirteen months of hell. Tumor or scar tissue or inflamation. How fucking hard is it to tell the difference? If we are on the cutting edge, why do I feel like I'm in the stone age?

When you are growing up, life seems endless. Death is something that only happens in the movies. Even breaking a bone is an aberration. Then suddenly, without warning, reality hits you. All of those things that people keep drilling into you are true. Life really is precious. We do not live forever. There really is an end. The end may be sooner than you think.

A woman dies in a movie and I blink. It just doesn't register. The finality of it all just doesn't hit home til I am driving home and come inches from a head-on collision. Now it all makes sense. Everything that we do, everyone that we meet is on a time limit. If you dawdle and put away your dreams for another day, they very well may end up in a box that is hauled away for rubbish.

If I were to leave one lasting impression on this earth, it would be a smile. Click the button and a tape recording of my laughter would fill the room. I realize that it's not the cure for aids, but it's the one thing that represents who I am and what I live for. I have laughed and giggled and smiled my way through even the toughest moments. Who knows, maybe laughter really is the best medicine.

No matter what happens, I only ask one thing. Don't put any sappy crap on a headstone to mark where I am fertilizing the earth. No name, no year of birth and death. Just engrave that stone with the one thing that you think of when you think about me... a happy face. =)

Oy Vey

Posted 16 December 2002, 9.04 pm by Diva

It's a Christmas party. Just say it and get it over with, damn it. Every year it's the same thing. I go through this ridiculous routine of everyone trying to get me into the 'holiday' mood. I'm Jewish. My holiday ended. I try to be polite, but the bottom line is I don't like holiday parties. Why do I have to celebrate someone else's holiday when I don't even celebrate my own?

"So, are you going to decorate your cubicle this year?"
"I'd rather not"
"I got you blue lights."
"Oh joy. Oh rapture. I'd still rather not."
"And a Styrofoam dredel!"
"Oh G-d."

So I put up with the Candy Cane Lane from hell decorations and then it happens. Every year, it's the same thing. One year I am going to get smart and bring a tape recorder. Then I can just set it down and get back to my work.

"Are you coming to the Christmas party?"
"It's mandatory."
"If it wasn't?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"For one thing, I could think of twenty other things I'd rather be doing than paying for cheap food and sitting around chatting with people I see all week long. For another, I'm Jewish."
"Well, we get to eat at a restaurant."
*Blank look*
"Well, it's really a holiday party. So your religion counts."
2nd co-worker stops by. "Are you going to the Christmas party?"
1st "It's a Ho-li-day party."
"I'm Jewish, not mentally retarded. Yes, I'm going."
"Oh. Can we borrow the foam dredel to decorate a table for you?"
"Knock yourself out."
"So, are you going to sing?"
"What? Why"
"For the talent contest!"
"Kill me now."

I don't care what you call it, I know and you know that it's a Christmas party. There is no such thing as a holiday party. That's just some politically correct explanation for "Let's not piss off the Jews, they whine too much." Why do people get obsessed with this holiday? When I don't dress up my cubicle with flashing blue lights and a foam dredel I get told to 'get into the ho-li-day spirit'. I think they need to stand behind the Rabbi on that sentiment. Luckily, this year no one is around and I can spend a nice, quiet holiday alone. Usually it's a coin toss as to who drags my ass out of bed early to go sit with complete strangers while being introduced as 'my friend from work who has no family'. There's nothing more unnerving than seeing people look at you like it's the first meal you've ever had in captivity. The last painful part is the gift exchange. "Here, we got this for you so you wouldn't feel left out." I almost mouth the words as they say it. Then I have to look touched and surprised as I lovingly show my brand spanking new bath gel set to everyone. Next year I'm becoming a Jehovah's Witness.

Monkey Lander!

Posted 14 December 2002, 6.21 pm by Noctornus

Monkey Lander, It's a terribly simple game that's loads of fun.
Simple Premise, Collect all the Banana's, and land safely. It's not as easy as it sounds.
Click Here

Outlet

Posted 14 December 2002, 3.49 pm by Sickan

'So tell me why have you come here?'

'Well I felt like talking, and I figured you were the best suited for the job - listening to me, that is.'

'Oh, really? I'm honored'

'Just don't be...'

'Why not?'

'It isn't much to feel honored about, its just plain crap, if ask me!'

'Well, isn't that why you have come to me - I mean to get rid of the thoughts in your head, or at least try to?'

'Yeah I guess...'

'Well then let me feel honored and tell me what is on your mind.'

'Well apart from the usual stuff I have recently felt alone.'

'Usual stuff?'

'Yeah you know, I tend to get depressed, erhm, well not depressed, but
I tend to be a little less happy when I think about all the shit out there in the world. All those things I cant do anything about anyways. That's the usual stuff.'

'Oh okay, well then you said you felt alone? In what way?'

'Well its really odd, because I am never alone, there is always people around me - I always have a friend over to chill with me, just doing nothing - having some fun.'

'And yet you feel alone? Because you feel you don't belong with the person or..?'

'No no I like being with them, its just that they can't see me as the person I am. They fail to recognized that I am depressed.'

'Have you tried talking to them about it?'

'Yeah well - I have tried to express some of the feelings I have - but they do not listen.'

'How do you know that? Do they not respond or?'

'Well its like they do look at me, they do nod when nodding is needed and they respond shortly with useless phrases like "its going to get better soon, its probably just the winter..."'

'Oh yeah that's not very productive.'

'I know, they just stare at me with blank eyes and they seen dead, not caring about anything but themselves.'

'What do you think they care about?'

'They care about themselves, their lives, you know, the good stuff - like their girlfriends and good things like that.'

'So they are happy and you are not. Well do you think you would like to have a life like theirs?'

'Hmm I don't know, I just want them to listen to me once in a while, its like - they are happy, and then they cant imagine that I'm not - I'm not!
I mean I'm happy for them, but I'm not happy at all.'
What would they need to do in order for you to feel better?'

'Fucking listen to me. How many times do I have to say it??'

'Hey, stop that, I don't want to listen to that kind of thing!'

'Sorry man, I'm just so frustrated.'

'I understand that - just tell me nice and easy what you want them to
do for you, in order to make you happy.'

'All right, well when I tell them that I really hate, I dunno, say my job, I want them to listen to me. I want them to look beyond themselves and realized that I would like to talk about this. I would like for them to listen and help me. They don't really have to give me an answer, they just have to listen to my outlet. I mean is that too much to ask?
Sometimes, my friend can ask me why I seem so "not caring" about his happiness with his new girl. I mean, its like I have to feel happy for them and share their happiness with them, feel glad every time their significant other farts because my friends think its sweet. For crying out loud I cant manage that!! Its just too dumb, I'm not the one in love, I'm the one "in hate" so to say!'

'Nice example... Hmm yeah I get your point. You want them to let you talk and just listen to you while you let all the things out, just like now.'

'Yeah, but I don't want you, no offence, I want THEM to listen, not you.'

'Non taken and I completely understand that.'

'So what do you suppose I should do?'

'Tell them'

'What?'

'Just tell them that you don't feel they are listening to you.'

'Well I don't think I want to do that, I mean they don't seem to know
what they are doing wrong, they might take it as an attack...'

'Well if they are your friends - they you should be able to tell them the good things about them as well as the bad. That's what friendship is all about - at least that's what I think about it.'

'Yeah... perhaps, I need to think about that.'

'You do that - get back to me will you? If they are not willing to help you with your problems then you know I'll be here for you.'

'Yeah I know, thank you - I already feel a bit better. Thank you so much.'

'No prob. I hope you get this sorted out.'

'Yeah me too - See ya'

'Later dude.'

Peace

building bridges

Posted 13 December 2002, 5.46 am by marilee

So cool. Sooo very cool... and, if you're American, you can win money! Money and bridges, what could be better?

Lonely Woman

Posted 12 December 2002, 11.46 pm by Kateifer

She laughed a harsh laugh shortly before the end. It was hard to listen to, but who could blame her for not softening it? All her time she spent caring for the terminally ill who were ready to die. She seldom took any time off and saw no reason to. She had no friends, only her work. She no longer cared to make any. Eventually, they all died anyway and it seemed most died long and painful deaths. She felt that it was her friendship which so cursed these people and thusly her self-induced ostracism from society commenced and continued.

Remembering when she was a young adult, a mere 16-years-old and beginning to bloom into a woman, a tear trickled down the woman's face. She was later than nearly all the other girls she knew and found herself often the butt of the sunken treasure joke so popular with the cruel students with whom she socialized daily within the structured school system of her era. As she slowly sunk, lower into a deep pit of anxiety and despair, her aunt lay in a hospital dying an agonizing death due to cancer. The girl wished more and more that her aunt would just die so she could begin to grieve and move on with her life. She wished more than anything for the aunt's pain to be gone. As the woman lay in a hospital waiting for her death, her husband fell ill as well. He too became fatally bedridden with kidney diseases and excruciating growths within and without. The poor woman remembered her mother never allowing her to visit them. “I want you to remember them as they once were,” she often heard. Sadly, the girl would only remember how long they suffered in pain.

A mature woman, she still bore the scars of her past. The patients in her ward never lived long after entering her care. Their deaths always were attributed to the diseases, which sent them there in the first place. Mercy cut short the ends of the lives in that sad and lonely ward through which many AIDS and cancer victims quickly journeyed. Forty-five years the poor woman toiled to make the ends of infirmity's victims less painful and far quicker.

An investigation eventually did begin and she was found to have murdered hundreds of innocent persons. The papers touted her as being heartless and cruel. Most of the families of her “victims” scorned her; hating her for taking their loved ones away. In their selfishness, they thought only of their own grief and blamed the deaths of their loved ones on the pitiable and forlorn woman.

She herself fell victim to a disease of such magnitude that the miracles of modern science could do nothing for her. Staring desolately out a window one day she wondered who mourned her decay and eventual death. Alone she lay for many days until her will simply gave out. In great pain she died, though the unseen spirits of those who had gone before her surrounded her to the very end of her pitiful existence. All her “victims” were by her side to the end, doing what they could for her, in return for her kindnesses to them.

There is no such thing as 'bad' art

Posted 9 December 2002, 7.03 pm by Alexander

I must take this opportunity to thank all the deliberately objectionable people I speak to online. They get me thinking about things, and sometimes not just how the internet should have an intelligence test for entry.

The other day in an IRC channel, we were talking about music, and I was shocked when some kid said one particular band was "bad music". I asked him how he qualitatively judged music, and he went on to tell me everything he personally didn't like about that particular act. I asked him the question again, and a third time. Still he could give no reason why this band produced 'bad music'.

I offered this: There is no such thing as good or bad music, just music you like and music you don't like. Listen to early industrial like SPK or Throbbing Gristle and you'll hear noises, rarely anything remotely resembling a note or a melody. Some of it is just painful and detrimental to your hi-fi. It's still music, and these bands were relatively popular. Still are today in fact, although not in the sense that NSync are popular.

Flip side - Think Britney Spears is rubbish? Why? In what way is Britney Spears 'not good music'? If it was really of such a low quality, why would it sell in such phenomenally large quantities? And don't blame marketing - are you insinuating people are buying music they don't like? If you don't find the sound of Britney's latest opus pleasing, say so. Say "I don't like Ms Spears". That's a statement of both opinion and fact.

This isn't just a post about mainstream pop culture. That's been done to death. Hating the mainstream is so mainstream now, it's people who profess to liking Linkin Park who are the real outcasts. Not the minority, by any means, but certainly in the marginal internet demographic. No, let's look at the wider picture. What makes art successful?

In my opinion, as an artist (cough), art succeeds when it meets it's target, fulfills it's potential and performs the task for which it was designed. And who sets these criteria? The artist. Therefore, NSync is good art because it succeeds in getting money out of 13 year olds and their long-suffering parents. Damien Hirst's is good art because it sparks controversy and debate. SPK's is good art because it embodies Graeme Revell's mindset at the time. Art is thrown out into the marketplace, gallery or record store with a purpose. It's just not always obvious what that purpose is sometimes. If Throbbing Gristle aimed to sell 500 copies of their LP and did that, they would be just as successful as NSync picking up some teen award.

So before you scoff at the next mainstream, pre-packaged pop idol, bear in mind it's purpose may not necessarily be to entertain YOU. And while you are absolutely entitled to your own opinion and the right to voice it, what you think is irrelevant unless you're directly affecting the piece's success.

Try it, see the bigger picture. Recognise what is effective and ineffective to you, rather than making qualitative judgments based on your own personal tastes.

Straight outta Hobbiton

Posted 7 December 2002, 9.12 am by Alexander

Elf booty got soul! Elf girls like to rock n' roll!

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This art reminds me of the center of the universe with everything having a link to it, representing all the incoming colours to the center.

MortisDeus

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Hmph

80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.

lol we all know you don't have a soul ghoti

my soul for some carbs...

But of course!

Yo ! Does this work ?

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