It appears a near irrefutable truth that people are unrelentingly determined to judge each other by any reason they deem necessary. First impressions can be tough, but in some cases, they can also be superficially shallow. In some circles, I’ve had the opportunity to note, happiness is assessed by a person’s weight.
It seems that one is much likelier to present the notion of being happy if they can limit the number of digits to their weight. Being easy on the eyes gives people the idea that one has fewer troubles to deal with. So if one is considered, dare I say… (in a low whisper) obese, it just may be cause for pitchforks. For who could ever imagine that a person who is not skinny, thin, bony, scrawny, slender, trim, lean… wait, where was I going with this? Oh yes, apparently for some, happiness is in the eye of the scale you stand on.
Magazines, TV shows, newspapers ad, televised commercials, and a large number of movies feed and nourish the conception that weight is one of the things that will determine your chances of being happy. Under the belief that they have the right to judge, those who buy this concept are encouraged to scrutinize one another. Being thin means you are nearing the finish line, ever closer to achieving happiness. Being anything other than thin means you are far out of reach of ever being remotely happy. Poor you. Fortunately, if you change and slim and shape yourself into the role of Fitness Barbie or Ken, you may redeem yourself.
It almost never fails to surprise me how consistently people look for things to criticize in others. It’s as if differences are used to stand apart, dividing people into those who believe are superior and the ones they think are inferior. In this case, whether being cautious of one’s weight is a result of popular culture or an obsessive vanity to comply with society’s demands, in the end, it all seems to have an almost frightful effect on human nature. If people are willing to cut each other down because of the span of their waistline, then it appears we are no better than starving vultures circling a desert sky, waiting for our prey to kick up their feet and cry uncle.
It does seem fortunate then that happiness is not in the hands of those interested in selling it. Albert Camus puts it like this: what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads? What harmony is there in a life lead by superficial appearances that cast a shadow of constant insecurity? Why put yourself through such an exhausting and unrewarding practice? Instead of placing your happiness in someone else's hands, and letting them be the judge, why not make the decision yourself? Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be – so Abraham Lincoln said. Will you choose to be happy?
By: V.S
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
A closer look at Ohio
How do I find myself in Ohio, I wondered on the plane. I’ve never before traveled to this state. I haven’t heard much about it, other than having relatives that reside there. Unexpected circumstances have me settling in for a lengthy visit. And with mounting uncertainty, I quit the airport, with little option but to hope that my stay is pleasant and productive in some way.
Upon my first week, I made my conclusions about Ohio… It is spooky. I wake up in the morning and clouds obscure the sky, making it impossible to determine the time. It’s quiet. The neighborhood where I stay seems almost abandoned, as though all the residents have hibernated for the winter. It’s cold. I might easily be confused for the homeless, for three layers of clothing are barely enough to keep me warm. Looking out the window, the streets and sidewalks are still, without movement, except for the wind grazing the leafless trees. It almost seems like the world is mute, and, like a picture, it is caught frozen in time. At a distance, I see nothing but the promise of fog. With little comfort, I am reminded of the eerie town of Sleepy Hollow. It is just as smoggy here in Ohio. Not exactly depressing, but definitely cause to beware of headless-horsemen.
Afternoon descends and I can hardly detect the difference. There is no altering indication of its arrival. No signs of activity. Not a speck of sunshine. There is just a dull grey that hovers with no inclination to leave. However, I notice the streets are clean, almost consciously so. Trees and frozen ponds faithfully straddle the driven roads. Buildings aren’t cluttered by other buildings. Geese constantly fly overhead, from one end of the sky to the other. And no hordes of people tangle together, except to a 24/7sanctuary too overpowering for any man to refuse (or so it seems): WAL-MART. People pour in and pour out like zombies, not socializing, not conversing; they seem to be on a mission, too drawn into themselves to speak to those around them.
I can tell it’s nighttime now, only because the sky darkens. I rejoice in this sign of normalcy, even if clouds conceal anything beyond. Not much changes at night, other than the temperature offering to drop lower or the fall of snow. The former condition simply makes the cold air cut clear through clothing, while the latter, makes the ground and surroundings glow white. It’s pretty on the eyes but harsh on the skin.
During my time here, I was able to draw a pretty stable point of view. The best part of Ohio was the company I was with, and the enjoyably diverse activities we found - once willing to leave the house and face the weather. I also discovered there is fun to be had indoors as well, if one is enthusiastic enough to come up with games. This trip began as a last minute result, something sudden and unexpected, but it ended reluctantly and all too quickly in my opinion. Ohio may not have been on my list of places-to-go, but it is now on my list of places-to-remember.
By: V.S
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
The Calling of a Writer
Though no horns blare in the night, no sirens resonate through the streets and no smoke signals are spotted at a distance, there is an ever-present calling to write that I just can’t seem to ignore. And after a very intense experience, I realized that, if neglected, this vocation can go from a mild itch to a burning rash. At which point, I have to write… no, I mean: I HAVE TO WRITE! The urgency to fulfill this action basically doubles in size and becomes this living breathing thing that will not allow peace or rest until I have submitted – think of Predator, a literate one. Mind you, I have put up fights, resisted, and refused, but in the end it is a loosing battle.
Allow me to describe the sensations... At first, it is a measly suggestion, barely there. I think: Oh, I want to write this down. Almost indistinctly, there is a subtle transformation from proposal to insistence. It begins to feel pressing, a sort of pushy perseverance makes itself known. Kind of like if you had to go to the bathroom (without the haunting possibility of having an “accident”.) I consider: Oh, I should really write. And then, the feeling intensifies. It is no longer a pleasant inclination or an amusing hobby, now, it is a niggling urge to express. It beats relentlessly into my system until I feel: I have to write!
There is a bitter taste of dissatisfaction that disrupts my senses the longer I go without writing. So then comes the part I fold like a crappy hand of poker, just before I have an anxiety attack. Freed from the suffocating need to write I can now breathe in calm and exhale satisfaction. Writing is truly that powerful for me. It is more than gluing letters together to produce spelled-approved words to later be placed in an orderly fashion to make coherent sentence so that afterward it can complement an articulate paragraph. Writing is much more than a matter of literature and grammar - though just because I can string words together doesn’t mean I should wait for my Pulitzer in the mail.
For me, there is a cathartic effect. To write is to be free, able to make anything come alive through words and language. It is the endless possibilities of a written creation that draws me in, as well as the essential freedom to express. Without it, I simply wouldn’t feel right, there would be something wrong, something missing, and before long there would be something unrecognizable about myself. Why? Because, as confusing or senseless as this may sound, I have discovered that I am defined by my writing. I am who I want to be when I write.
So, in conclusion, is there really such a thing as a calling to write? I sure as hell think so. It is an impulse similar to that of a photographer wanting to capture a moment in time, and not just remember things as they once were. Writing gives voice without speech, it gives sight without illustrations, it gives liberty to experience without restriction... it simply gives a lot more than we can imagine.
By: V.S
Allow me to describe the sensations... At first, it is a measly suggestion, barely there. I think: Oh, I want to write this down. Almost indistinctly, there is a subtle transformation from proposal to insistence. It begins to feel pressing, a sort of pushy perseverance makes itself known. Kind of like if you had to go to the bathroom (without the haunting possibility of having an “accident”.) I consider: Oh, I should really write. And then, the feeling intensifies. It is no longer a pleasant inclination or an amusing hobby, now, it is a niggling urge to express. It beats relentlessly into my system until I feel: I have to write!
There is a bitter taste of dissatisfaction that disrupts my senses the longer I go without writing. So then comes the part I fold like a crappy hand of poker, just before I have an anxiety attack. Freed from the suffocating need to write I can now breathe in calm and exhale satisfaction. Writing is truly that powerful for me. It is more than gluing letters together to produce spelled-approved words to later be placed in an orderly fashion to make coherent sentence so that afterward it can complement an articulate paragraph. Writing is much more than a matter of literature and grammar - though just because I can string words together doesn’t mean I should wait for my Pulitzer in the mail.
For me, there is a cathartic effect. To write is to be free, able to make anything come alive through words and language. It is the endless possibilities of a written creation that draws me in, as well as the essential freedom to express. Without it, I simply wouldn’t feel right, there would be something wrong, something missing, and before long there would be something unrecognizable about myself. Why? Because, as confusing or senseless as this may sound, I have discovered that I am defined by my writing. I am who I want to be when I write.
So, in conclusion, is there really such a thing as a calling to write? I sure as hell think so. It is an impulse similar to that of a photographer wanting to capture a moment in time, and not just remember things as they once were. Writing gives voice without speech, it gives sight without illustrations, it gives liberty to experience without restriction... it simply gives a lot more than we can imagine.
By: V.S
Friday, November 13, 2009
Waiting for something more
It is my observation that many people place a lot of effort in planning, mapping out and designing what their lives will be like further down the road - probably encouraged by that classically worn-out question, where do you see yourself in five to ten years? Subconsciously or not, every day we are pressured into visualizing what our tomorrows will be like, and we’re lead to believe that the best is yet to come. But I think that when you spend the better part of your days waiting for something special to bring color into them, you may be giving up more than you realize. The present. There’s so much emphasis on building your future you can loose sight of what you have now. You can grow so serious stressing about how your life will be, that you overlook the very instant you find yourself in, and even forget to appreciate the simple things that make you smile. What ever happened to having a little fun? Or about laughing yourself silly? What about doing something you love?
You may not realize how often you’re just lingering, till the future comes to you. And do you really want to wait for the right time to live your life? Is there such a thing if not the now? You have to know, you have to be conscious, you have to realize that when you wake up in the morning, that is your chance, your time to do something great, something unique, something unforgettable with your life. Tomorrow is a God given courtesy, a gift many people don’t get a chance to experience. And those who do, have the opportunity to create something memorable with their time. So many hours are spent waiting for something wonderful to walk into your life, and the rest of the time is depleted worrying it’ll never get there. Why wait to be that special factor in your life? Why not seize the day? Why not this very moment? Why not?
Consider that for some, tomorrow is no longer an option. But for those who wait on tomorrow, one day, you just might look back and wish it were yesterday. If you don’t understand what I mean, ask yourself this question: “If you knew tomorrow would never come, what would you change in your life today?”
By: V.S
You may not realize how often you’re just lingering, till the future comes to you. And do you really want to wait for the right time to live your life? Is there such a thing if not the now? You have to know, you have to be conscious, you have to realize that when you wake up in the morning, that is your chance, your time to do something great, something unique, something unforgettable with your life. Tomorrow is a God given courtesy, a gift many people don’t get a chance to experience. And those who do, have the opportunity to create something memorable with their time. So many hours are spent waiting for something wonderful to walk into your life, and the rest of the time is depleted worrying it’ll never get there. Why wait to be that special factor in your life? Why not seize the day? Why not this very moment? Why not?
Consider that for some, tomorrow is no longer an option. But for those who wait on tomorrow, one day, you just might look back and wish it were yesterday. If you don’t understand what I mean, ask yourself this question: “If you knew tomorrow would never come, what would you change in your life today?”
By: V.S
Monday, October 19, 2009
Good for the heart
You’ve got to live a little silly…
They say that laughter is the best medicine. Numerous studies have proven that laughing is a very healthy activity, similar to exercising. Meaning, you laugh, you burn some calories, stretch out a few muscles in your face and body, and boost your heart rate. This humorous remedy can also help prevent heart disease – or so they say. But why do I mention all these details? Well, I thought it fitting to provide a scientific perspective before I plead my case of living silly.
What I mean by living silly is taking the time to unwind and expand your sense of humor by doing something out of the ordinary. Think of the things you’ve been tempted to do when no one is looking – the PG rated things, please. I believe doing something silly every now and again can really heighten your energy levels and remind you not to take yourself too seriously. Being unpredictably juvenile teaches you to laugh and take pleasure in the moment. You face situations with a more positive attitude and begin your day with a livelier spirit. It can be quite the liberating experience too, dropping the restrictive codes of conduct and acting stupid. But let me clarify, by stupid I don’t mean robbing a bank with your bare hands and making your escape on foot. I’m referring to having some safe fun here. Examples? Sure. Try these: Sing the national anthem at the top of your lungs in the shower; shake your trunk like you haven’t shaken it in years to “Play That Funky Music”; choose an accent to imitate and go to your nearest coffee shop to order a drink; use funny words, like turd, in your daily vocabulary; bark whenever someone says your name; etc.
I know life can come at you hard and I am conscious that there is a time to be serious… but then, every other instance is an opportunity to have fun. Living silly can be a rare pleasure worth savoring. At least, give it a try - you’d be surprised at how good it can feel to just laugh out at your own absurdities, and after that, all that’s left is for you to enjoy yourself.
By: V.S
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
A new found sport
I would like to declare a new found sport. It is challenging to both the mind and the body, it is excruciating in its never-ending cycle, and it is an extremely tiring workout. Many people consider babysitting a mere job, but after three months of filling this occupation I have to say it is so much more. This type of “work” is both mentally and physically demanding. It requires constant energy and an overdose of patience.
If you aren’t ready to embrace all that babysitting entails, don’t worry, you will be forced to learn in a matter of time. You’ll jump into their scheduled needs in sync with the clock and, before you know it, you’re a genuine babysitter. It’ll all become so familiar that it’ll feel like instinct, when it’s time for which baby to eat, when it’s time to nap or when it’s time for a bottle. Though I believe that with practice comes experience, I also think not everyone is made to care for children. It’s a voluntary calling we either choose to deny or accept, but come hell or high water that child’s wellbeing is first place.
During my experience as a sitter, I learned that having my clothes stained was inevitable, that privacy was a fifty-fifty chance, that silence can be a beautiful thing, and that fifteen minutes to yourself is a blessing worth savoring. I also discovered, through my struggles to keep up with the children, that there is a combination of sports involved in babysitting. Such as:
Basketball: when it is time to feed the baby, you have to imagine the child’s mouth as a hoop while she/he does her/his best to guard you from making a point. Be warned that there will be unwarranted fouls and aggressive blocks. Consider yourself lucky if you manage to slam-dunk even once.
Fencing: you’ll have to be ready to duel to achieve your objective, and I’d advise to show little mercy because they will have none for you. Keep in mind these kids are ready to challenge you from breakfast till bedtime, so pace yourself.
Wrestling: you must outmaneuver your opponent, if they see an opening to get the upper hand, trust me, they will take it. You might be surprised at how strong a child can be and it won’t be pretty when you cry uncle first.
Track: you will have to run after them sooner or later, and when that time comes, you have to make sure you can at least keep up.
Chess: you have to outsmart your rival, for their safety and yours, and you have to keep a calm head on at all times or you risk loosing the game.
I do have to say, one of the most rewarding pleasures of babysitting is being able to return the children to their parents. Another satisfying recompense is bringing happiness to the kids, when you witness their uninhibited delight, their carefree laughter and the joy in their smiles, it all outweighs every shadow of discomfort you’ve ever been through. Even though babysitting is not a sport I’ll ever consider lightly again, I believe it’s a vocation worth doing right.
By: V.S
If you aren’t ready to embrace all that babysitting entails, don’t worry, you will be forced to learn in a matter of time. You’ll jump into their scheduled needs in sync with the clock and, before you know it, you’re a genuine babysitter. It’ll all become so familiar that it’ll feel like instinct, when it’s time for which baby to eat, when it’s time to nap or when it’s time for a bottle. Though I believe that with practice comes experience, I also think not everyone is made to care for children. It’s a voluntary calling we either choose to deny or accept, but come hell or high water that child’s wellbeing is first place.
During my experience as a sitter, I learned that having my clothes stained was inevitable, that privacy was a fifty-fifty chance, that silence can be a beautiful thing, and that fifteen minutes to yourself is a blessing worth savoring. I also discovered, through my struggles to keep up with the children, that there is a combination of sports involved in babysitting. Such as:
Basketball: when it is time to feed the baby, you have to imagine the child’s mouth as a hoop while she/he does her/his best to guard you from making a point. Be warned that there will be unwarranted fouls and aggressive blocks. Consider yourself lucky if you manage to slam-dunk even once.
Fencing: you’ll have to be ready to duel to achieve your objective, and I’d advise to show little mercy because they will have none for you. Keep in mind these kids are ready to challenge you from breakfast till bedtime, so pace yourself.
Wrestling: you must outmaneuver your opponent, if they see an opening to get the upper hand, trust me, they will take it. You might be surprised at how strong a child can be and it won’t be pretty when you cry uncle first.
Track: you will have to run after them sooner or later, and when that time comes, you have to make sure you can at least keep up.
Chess: you have to outsmart your rival, for their safety and yours, and you have to keep a calm head on at all times or you risk loosing the game.
I do have to say, one of the most rewarding pleasures of babysitting is being able to return the children to their parents. Another satisfying recompense is bringing happiness to the kids, when you witness their uninhibited delight, their carefree laughter and the joy in their smiles, it all outweighs every shadow of discomfort you’ve ever been through. Even though babysitting is not a sport I’ll ever consider lightly again, I believe it’s a vocation worth doing right.
By: V.S
Monday, September 21, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
My life in Utah… you read me right.
Why Utah, you may wonder. Well, let’s just say that inevitable circumstances refused to leave me any other options. I’ve been staying in Mormon Country for about two months now. Throughout my stay I’ve experience a strong enough mixture of influential feelings as to make me seem schizophrenic. Fortunately, I’ve alarmed no one. I arrived, relaxed and ready to face this sudden change of scenery. I was actually thankful for the backdrop-alteration; we all benefit from the little getaways that help us break away from our daily routines. Then, as the days wore on, I began to feel uncomfortable by the idleness in which my time was being spent. The reason for this, I believe, is because it is generally viewed as wasting time when you have so much of it at your disposal. And so, frustration bloomed ever so unattractively. There was a constant poke-poke in my mind, an annoying push to do more, to find something that others could call productive for me to do.
- Let me just interrupt myself with this observation: It can be pretty irritating to care about what others say or think, and to have that influence you in a negative way. I know.
Moving on. I made little progress in discovering this fateful occupation that was supposed to employ so much of my time and dub me useful. So I was doomed to have a clear schedule and nothing but blue skies to console me… I think this would have been the perfect moment to slap myself on the forehead and write jackass on my chest in bright red. Let me just point out the situation to make it clear: at this point, I have no obligations that require indefinite attentiveness or any pressing matters to frustrate me or difficult situations to stress me out or make me age before my time… and I’m complaining that it’s just not right? What the hell is wrong with me, I suddenly wondered. I then realized a few things, such as: I have a pretty damn good life here. Who cares if it’s what people expected of me or not? It’s where I am now, regardless.
I’ve been blessed with what few are fortunate to receive: a break. I have time, valuable instances where I can really savor the essence of the day, where I can appreciate the hours between sunrise and sunset, where I can enjoy conversing with my relatives as I hardly got a chance to do before. How often does this happen after one’s teenage years? (If your family is filthy rich, then this question may not apply to you.) All in all, I think I’ve pissed away enough time worrying about what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m putting in my two weeks notice - I formally quit this business of tormenting myself with uncertain tomorrows. I’ve been given today, and it’s time I started to take pleasure in it without apologizing for it.
- Here’s a brief description of what Utah is like for me: Utah is quiet, pleasant and peaceful. It always gives me the chance to listen instead of talk, to consider instead of acting without thought, to value instead of behaving like some programmed robot. The tall surrounding mountains are a comforting sight. The streets are organized and clean. Unless your neighbor is the noisy type, few sounds interfere indoors after dark. There seems to be a fancy for ridiculously tall cars – I presume it’s because of the large amount of snow in the winter. There are a handful of fun activities you can occupy yourself with, you just have to dig deep and be willing to drive the necessary distance. The people are friendly. They do get traffic jams here too. And there are many hairdos that can have the same effect as a STOP sign. In general, there seems to be an air of simplicity and contentment that circle through the landscape, along with the dry desert winds and the bright hot sun.
By: V.S
- Let me just interrupt myself with this observation: It can be pretty irritating to care about what others say or think, and to have that influence you in a negative way. I know.
Moving on. I made little progress in discovering this fateful occupation that was supposed to employ so much of my time and dub me useful. So I was doomed to have a clear schedule and nothing but blue skies to console me… I think this would have been the perfect moment to slap myself on the forehead and write jackass on my chest in bright red. Let me just point out the situation to make it clear: at this point, I have no obligations that require indefinite attentiveness or any pressing matters to frustrate me or difficult situations to stress me out or make me age before my time… and I’m complaining that it’s just not right? What the hell is wrong with me, I suddenly wondered. I then realized a few things, such as: I have a pretty damn good life here. Who cares if it’s what people expected of me or not? It’s where I am now, regardless.
I’ve been blessed with what few are fortunate to receive: a break. I have time, valuable instances where I can really savor the essence of the day, where I can appreciate the hours between sunrise and sunset, where I can enjoy conversing with my relatives as I hardly got a chance to do before. How often does this happen after one’s teenage years? (If your family is filthy rich, then this question may not apply to you.) All in all, I think I’ve pissed away enough time worrying about what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m putting in my two weeks notice - I formally quit this business of tormenting myself with uncertain tomorrows. I’ve been given today, and it’s time I started to take pleasure in it without apologizing for it.
- Here’s a brief description of what Utah is like for me: Utah is quiet, pleasant and peaceful. It always gives me the chance to listen instead of talk, to consider instead of acting without thought, to value instead of behaving like some programmed robot. The tall surrounding mountains are a comforting sight. The streets are organized and clean. Unless your neighbor is the noisy type, few sounds interfere indoors after dark. There seems to be a fancy for ridiculously tall cars – I presume it’s because of the large amount of snow in the winter. There are a handful of fun activities you can occupy yourself with, you just have to dig deep and be willing to drive the necessary distance. The people are friendly. They do get traffic jams here too. And there are many hairdos that can have the same effect as a STOP sign. In general, there seems to be an air of simplicity and contentment that circle through the landscape, along with the dry desert winds and the bright hot sun.
By: V.S
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