Ergh!!! Attack of the Space Invaders!!

No I haven't lost my mind. And no, I'm not talking about E.T. Nor am I referring to the video game. Or the movie. (Was that a movie?) I'm talking about those strangers you meet everyday who have no idea what the terms "personal space" or "get the fuck out of my space bubble" mean. You know the ones.

The ones behind you in line at Dunkin' Donuts who think that just because you move your big toe an inch forward the line has advanced and they can now move two feet forward.

The ones who are about to drive their front bumper up your tailpipe while sitting in traffic.

The ones who for every step you back away from them, take another step forward.

The ones who give you unwanted hugs and handshakes.

The ones at BNRSs (Big Nameless Retail Stores) who think that in order for you to hear their question they must have their face an entire two inches away from yours.

They are often creepy and sometimes smell bad and are always stupid.

I am plagued by Space Invaders. Perhaps this is because my personal space bubble is so big. I mean like, if I am not on a first name basis with you, or haven't seen you in five years, then you should be standing a full 5 feet away from me at any given moment. No I don't want to give you a hug. I don't care if your uncle is Jean Claude Van Damme, stay the hell away from me. Don't even try to let your shirt sleeve rub mine. If I haven't seen you in 5 years, there's probably

a reason for that. If I'm not on a first name basis with you, you should probably also assume I don't want to be. Get me?

This little plague often prevents me from enjoying simple things. For example, I am wary of going to any place that is guaranteed to have throngs upon throngs of strange people just milling about (i.e. carnivals, fairs, concerts, etc. etc. etc.). I can't even go to the beach on a Saturday because I am just certain it will be too crowded and somebody else will lay their beach towel down within two inches of mine. Next would come the small talk. Then the breathing down my neck. Then me storming home utterly pissed off that someone dare ruin my day at the beach.

Lately this problem seems to have gotten worse.

Recently a fire broke out in the basement of the most popular Dunkin' Donuts in town. So now, it seems everyone and their fucking mother is at my Dunkin' Donuts. Yeah I said it. My Dunkin' Donuts. Before tragedy struck, I never had to wait in line. I never had to place an order because the people there knew me. I simply walked in the door, and a few seconds later my coffee was on the counter. Nice and simple.

Now I walk in the door, and I stand in line. I am later and later for work every day because the line gets longer and longer. No one knows my order anymore because they had to hire so many new people to keep up with the increase in business. I have to park in the "no parking" zone because there are never any parking spaces available. And I have to fend off the Space Invaders.

The other day I was in line. Waiting as patiently as possible when one of them attacked. I was rounding the final corner to the counter and there he was. Breathing down my neck. I took a step forward. He took two. I took a step to the right. He starts leaning on the wall. Slowly, I inch my way forward, so as not to draw attention to the growing distance between us. Suddenly I find myself only inches away from the guy in front of me with Space Invader still breathing down my neck. I begin panicking. I start having heart palpitations and am finding it almost impossible to breathe. It was a mother fucking nightmare.

The next day I find myself at the deli. Waiting patiently in a far off corner for the deli guy to get me a half pound of cheese. There wasn't anymore out front so he had to go "out back" and get it. A woman pulls her shopping cart up next to mine. The other deli guy calls her number. She places an order. Since my enormous fear of Space Invasion causes me to watch everyone

carefully, I notice in my peripheral vision, that the lady is glancing down at the space directly in front of me. I look down. I made the mistake of standing in front of the flat breads and tortillas.

Space Invader: (*inching closer*)

Me: (*inching away*)

Space Invader: (*Pushing her cart into mine*)

Me: (*Turning my cart in the exact opposite direction*)

Space Invader: (*Is determined to have her cart touching my cart*)

Me: "Am I in your way?"

Space Invader: (*Smiling*) "Oh no not at all hun, I'm just looking for the low carb tortillas." (*Now standing directly next to me, leaning over the tortilla rack*)

Me: (*Mentally screaming "where the hell is that deli guy?!!*) "I think they're right there." (*Pointing directly to the low carb tortillas directly in front of where I made the mistake of standing*)

Space Invader: "Oh there they are!" (*Practically shoving me out of the way to get to the low carb tortillas.*)

Me: (*Moving farther to the left so that she doesn't run me over in her rush to gather up the low carb tortillas*)

Space Invader: (*After digging through the pile of low carb tortillas, has decided that none of them are to her liking and decides to start digging through the rest of the tortillas, and is now once again standing directly in front of me.*)

Me: "Are you sure I'm not in your way?! Because I can move." (*Eyeballing the deli area and realizing that I'm pretty much screwed if I'm standing anywhere within eyesight of the deli counter. Also suddenly realizing that 1 Space Invader is better than 3.*)

Space Invader: (*Now somehow angry at me*) "No you're fine right where you are."

Me: (*Well that's good to know, BITCH, because I was standing here FIRST!!!*)

Deli Guy: "Here's your cheese."

Me: "Thank fucking God."

Visually, it probably looked like this:

Am I the only one who suffers from this plague? Am I just weird? Is there no such thing as personal space? Is it wrong of me to become infuriated when Space Invaders' carts touch mine?

I'd like to end this with a cumulative What The Fuck.

This Post Is Long Overdue and I'm Sorry

Ok I did it again. I know. I'm sorry. It's been almost another entire week since I posted. I must be the worlds worst blogger. Do they make a pill or something to help me fix this problem? Anyone? No? Okay then. It was worth a shot.

So first things first. The wonderful and lovely janjan over at Between Me and My Thoughts has won an award for being an awesome commenter. Congratulations janjan! You deserve it. Then she went out on a limb and passed the award on to me!! Thanks so much! It's my first, and I'm so excited!

Next comes the rules. Apparently there are rules for accepting awards. I'm not always so good at following rules but I'll give it my best shot.

1. Thank person who nominated me. Check!

2. Copy the award. Paste it in my blog. Check!

3. Link to the person who gave me this award. Check!

4. Answer the 10 questions that come with the award. Huh? Oh right...

Questions:

1. Why do you blog?

Because I enjoy writing. Also because I love sharing my opinions with the world in hopes of enlightening another. (Aren't I just an arrogant bitch?) Oh yeah, and because I need a place to whine where somebody might actually listen to me and share my misery.

2. What are your 3 best memories?

When I was like 7 or so, and Christmas came. Our entire (finished) basement seemed to be filled with presents for my sister and I. And somewhere under that tree, was an original Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) complete with Super Mario Brothers 3. The best video game ever made in the history of forever. It is now stored on my Wii hard drive.

My 19th birthday I went on my first trip to Montreal. I danced all night at an after hours club after having my first legal drinks in a real bar, which was underground and totally awesome. I walked 2 miles in 4 inch heels in the blazing hot sun at 8 in the morning to drive 4 (or was it 6?) hours back home. I danced/walked so much my ankles bled and I have the scars to prove it.

A couple weeks ago the boyfriend and I went for a ride in his little honda civic. That's it. We just drove. We watched the sunset and the moon rise, and it was wonderful just being there to see it with him.

3. If you had to change your real name what would you change it to?

I don't think I would change it. While I like other names most of them are exotic and strange sounding and I don't feel they really fit me.

4. What are five things you can't live without?

1. Bruce - the 'stang. (Ok I realize it's effed up that this was the first thing that came to mind, but he is one SEXY convertible.)

2. Mr. Wonderful, Friend, My Mumma and Dadda who are always good for sharing a laugh with and can always offer a warm hug or a shoulder to cry on.

3. In-phone GPS - Seriously LOST without it.

4. Mom's cooking.

5. Video games. There I said it. I admitted it. I am a video game whore. Get over it.

5. What are the 4 best books you've ever read?

1. The Green Mile by Stephen King - This book made me buy a mouse just so I could name him Mr. Jingles. And guess what? When they escape from their cages (and they will) they don't just come scurrying back to you. This was highly disappointing. Either way, awesome book.

2. The Fever Series by Karen Marie Moning - The 1st book caused me to have my first ever crush on a completely fictional character. Jericho Barrons if you're listening, CALL ME!!

3. The Stephanie Plum novels by Janet Evanovich - are fucking hilarious. Stephanie Plum makes my driving record look great.

4, 5, 6, and 7. Bel Canto, The Odyssey, Pride and Prejudice, The Golden Compass Series.

Yeah I know there's actually like 30 books in that list. But I'm pretty sure I've already established that counting isn't my strong suit.

6. Tell me something unique and interesting about yourself.

If I've arrived five minutes late, you should consider me early.

7. What do you love best about yourself?

I'm short. Sometimes I stand up on a step stool and think about what it would be like to walk around at that height ALL the time. It seems like such a long way to fall and that scares me.

8. What is the best movie ever made?

1. Field of Dreams - If you build it, he will come.

2. Dances with Wolves - Surprisingly enough this coincidence has nothing to do with Kevin Costner.

3. The Green Mile - The movie was awesome too.

4. The Blind Side - Seriously the best movie I've seen in a long time. It blew Avatar out of the water.

Oh yeah, and The Hangover, just because.

9. If you had a "freaky friday" experience who would you trade places with and why?

Vin Diesel's wife. Or girlfriend. Or lover. Must I really explain why?

10. What's the best part about being a woman?

Manipulating the fact that I am of the "weaker sex" to get men to do things for me.

Have you had fun getting to know me?

That's what I thought. Back to the rules.

4. Answer the 10 questions that come with the award. Check!

5. Nominate of few of your favorite bloggers for the award.

Alright my first nomination goes to Becky over at Paper Hearts and Butterfly's. My first follower who got me started and kept me going.

My second nomination goes to Chicken, over at The Chicken's Consigliere. She recently made an entire post out of comments she left on other people's blogs. Mine included.

My third nomination goes to Fin at Curly Haired Confessions, who since she started following, hasn't failed to leave me a comment! Thanks Fin!

My fourth nomination goes to SJ at Daemons, who seems to share my twisted sense of humor. Love reading your comments SJ!

Rule number 5 - Check!

6. Post links to the bloggers you nominate. Check!

That's it!! Bloggers enjoy the awards, you earned them!

P.S. I accidentally invented a new word while writing this post because I just got home from work and am very tired. Ready for it? Whould. Isn't it great? I shortened the words "who would" into "whould". I am a fucking genius.

All I Want for my Birthday is an Elvis

Hey everyone! I know, I know, it's been almost a week since I updated my blog. Sorry if I've disappointed anyone (Chicken). Truthfully I've been suffering from a little bit of writer's block. After the whole Jagaloon thing I was going to make a list of urban slang terms, but most of them are either incredibly dirty or derogatory, and not at all funny. So I scrapped that one. So no list this week. Sorry again.

Anyway, recently I went with Friend to run some errands. She has four dogs, and she needed to go to the pet store to buy some supplies. Of course, you can't go into a pet store without looking at the pets. There were all kinds of pretty fish, kittens, gerbils, rats, mice, snakes, spiders, scorpions, and... TORTOISES!! Isn't that awesome? A tortoise! Who would've thought of having a tortoise for a pet?

So I decided this was the perfect pet for me. Mr. Wonderful's apartment is not big enough for a cat or dog. You can't play with a fish. Snakes require live food. Mice tend to escape from their cages (I know from personal experience, Chicken can appreciate that). Gerbils and hamsters bite. But a tortoise. What could a tortoise do? They can't run away. They eat lettuce. I suppose they could bite but why would they do that when they can just hide in their shell? (Or can they?)

After a long day of looking at tortoises I eventually decided that I cannot live without one. When I came home, I mentioned this idea to Mr. Wonderful. The conversation went a little like this:

Me: I think we should get a pet.

MW: Oh really? And what kind of pet do you want?

Me: I want a tortoise.

MW: No fuckin' way.

Me: (whining) But why not?! They don't smell. They can't run away. They're low maintenance, and they wouldn't take up much space!

MW: They live too long.

Me: I know but that's awesome! I would never have to hold a tortoise funeral! He would be my bestest buddy. I would name him Elvis. I would get him a little pink dog carrier and bring him everywhere with me. And people couldn't even complain about it because nobody ever has a "No Tortoises Allowed" sign on the door! Then I would get him a leash. We would go for walks together. I could put him in my locker at work! He'd fit right in! When he needs exercise I'll just put him in the yard. It'll be GREAT!!!

MW: (Eyebrow raised. Saying nothing.)

Me: I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DON'T WANT A TORTOISE!! Anyway - that's the only thing I want for my birthday. And if I don't get one I'll cry. So there.

My birthday is in September. I'll be patiently waiting for an Elvis. And if Mr. Wonderful doesn't get me one, I'm asking Chicken...

A Little More About Canada...

Okay, I have to admit I've been reluctant to post anything new because everyone seems to like Effed Up Google Searches, and it seems to have gained me a few readers (thanks in large part to Chicken, who has many followers and gave me some free advertising). Also, I'm now not sure I can top this. Since my only options are ending the blog now, or to continue on, I've decided to continue on.

So I've mentioned a few times that I work for a Big Nameless Retail Store (BNRS). I encounter a lot of stupid people working here. It slowly chips away at my faith in humanity day by day. Most often the stupid people are the people that shop there. For example, a typical dialogue at the BNRS might go a little something like this:

Guest: "Maybe you can help me, I'm looking for this thing."

Me: (*inwardly rolling eyes and sighing*) "What kind of thing would that be?"

Guest: "Well... I saw it on TV the other day."

Me: (*mentally banging head against wall*) "There are lots of things advertised on TV, can you be a little more specific?"

Guest: (*Clearly thinking very hard*) "Well... It does that thing, and it has a little stick attached to it, and you can change the thing, and it might have been green."

Me: (*Mentally gouging my own eyes out with a fork*) "Ook-"

Guest: "Or Pink. Actually it comes in a few different colors."

Me: (*Now outwardly sighing, and biting my lip to keep from screaming*) "Is this a thing you saw on a TV commercial? Or was it an infomercial advertised by Billy Mayes?"

Guest: "No no no. It definitely wasn't advertised by Billy Mayes." (*Getting agitated now*)

Me: (*Blood pressure reaching it's boiling point*) "Well what does it do? Is it hardware? Is it home storage? Does it clean? Is it an electronic device?!"

Guest: (*Clearly having an Aha! moment*) "Yeah that's it, it cleans!"

Me: (*More inward eye rolling*) "Ok. Is it a vacuum cleaner? Is it a steamer? A mop? A broom??"

Guest: "Well... It's kind of like a vacuum cleaner, and kind of like a broom. But not really like either of these things at all."

Me: (*Having my own Aha! moment because these kinds of conversations happen all the time*) "You sir/ma'am (moron), are looking for a Swiffer Sweeper."

Guest: "Yeah, yeah! That's it! A Swifter Sweeper!" (*Becoming giddy with excitement*)

Me: "I think you mean a Swiffer Sweeper. They're in aisle A7."

Guest: "That's what I said. A Swifter Sweeper!" (*Shaking his/her head at me*)

Me: "Great. Well have a nice day." (*Practically runs outside for cigarette before Idiotic Guest can ask me what else is on his/her idiotic shopping list*)

Recently another conversation went like this:

MB (Works in Electronics): "So that should be everything you need to get your ipod ready to go."

Guest: (*Eyes getting wide, big smile on his face*) "Why thank you! You jagaloon!"

MB says this happened in all seriousness. Can someone please explain to me what the fuck a jagaloon is?

Sometimes I wonder how people even manage to get themselves dressed in the morning. Honestly. Recently though, guests haven't been the only stupid thing stalking me at BNRS. I also work with a couple people who clearly "don't know their ass from last Tuesday" (Billy Bob - Bad Santa). We at BNRS in Warwick, work with someone very special. Let's call her CW.

CW: (*Running up to me, hands waving wildly in the air*) "S! S! I'm so glad you're here!"

Me: (*More sighing and eye rolling*) "What is it now, CW?"

CW: "You'll never believe what I found out today!"

Me: "What would that be CW?"

CW: "Did you know that Mexico is part of North America?"

Me: (*Practically rolling on the floor laughing my ass off*) "You're kidding right?"

CW: "No, no. And you know what else? Canada is part of North America too!"

Me: (*Slapping forehead*) "CW. People generally learn these things in the 2nd grade. You are 21 years old. Where the hell have you been?"

CW: "Can you believe that? I'm so mad. Americans are the only ones who are supposed to be Americans."

Me: (*Mouth hanging wide open, possibly going into shock*)

CW: "I mean who do they think they are? Canadians can't be Americans too."

Me: "CW, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I suppose then, you're not aware that there is a South America and a Central America as well?"

CW: "Of course I knew that. I'm not stupid."

Umm. YEAH. That's debatable.

In case you were wondering, CW went on to tell me that she's very smart, with an above average IQ. I went on to tell her that generally people with above average IQs don't have problems identifying continents. Her reply was that she was book smart, not common sense smart. (*Again, more head banging*) I also gave her a geography lesson and explained the difference between a country and a continent.

At the risk of putting off a few readers with another ridiculous movie quote, I'd like to end this with:

"I FEEL LIKE I'M TAKING CRAZY PILLS!!!"

P.S. I finished exams this week and classes are all done for the semester. For those of you who care, my grades have been posted for Western History and Quantitative Business Analysis (a fancy term for Algebra III?). They are both A's. I also pretty much have a guaranteed A in Accounting. So keep your fingers crossed for me, because I'm a little unsure about Microeconomics!

Google: Education for the Masses

A couple weeks ago when I first started this blog, my second post was about lists. I've found that as usual, Mom was right. Lists keep me organized. If you haven't read my first list, then perhaps you want to scroll on down to April in my blog archives and take a peek before continuing here. Since the first list was so successful, I think I'll continue making lists on an attempted weekly basis.

We've all googled before right? And usually while typing our search term into the box, we see a list of suggestions based on what we've typed thus far. Occasionally we pause to read this list of suggestions, and seen something completely outrageous listed. In today's list, I've compiled just a few of those outrageous search terms.

The Effed Up Google Search List

Effed Up Google Search #294

How do you get pregnant?

-If you have to google this, you probably shouldn't be trying to get pregnant in the first place.

Effed Up Google Searches #1166-1168

Why don't I have a boyfriend?

Why don't I have a girlfriend?

Why don't I have any friends?

-If you have to google this, that's probably why you can't get one in the first place. Try googling "social skills" instead.

Effed Up Google Searches #703-706

Why does my belly button smell?

Why do my balls smell?

Why do zits smell?

Why do farts smell worse in water?

-Come on. This is just gross.

Effed Up Google Search #515

Why do Mexicans come to America?

-Why the hell wouldn't they?

Effed Up Google Search #1347

How to become a vampire.

-I knew that Twilight shit was actually mass brainwashing...

Effed Up Google Search #108

Why do British people have bad teeth?

-Haven't you heard? Austin Powers is their idol!

Effed Up Google Searches #32-36

Why do Mexicans smell?

Why do Indians smell?

Why do Arabs stink?

Why do Asians stink?

Why do old people smell?

-It would seem everyone stinks or smells now and again. Why ask why?

Effed Up Google Searches #809-811

Why do zombies eat brains?

Why do zombies not attack each other?

Why do zombies exist?

-I'm not sure I even have anything to say to this.

Effed Up Google Search #956

How to train your dragon.

-(*hangs head in shame*) SEE: Effed Up Google Searches #809-811 for comment.

Effed Up Google Searches #188-190

Why do ugly guys get hot girls?

Why do ugly girls get boyfriends?

Why do ugly people exist?

-If you have to google this, chances are you're jealous of someone you claim is "ugly". This makes you feel insecure. You should google "local psychiatrists" instead.

Effed Up Google Search #2000

How to quit my job.

-Well, the answer to this is surprisingly simple, and we have many options available to quit your job. My first recommendation would be to find another job. Then, once said job is secured, you can:

A: Walk in to work, and give a "two weeks notice". This is accepted as common practice for quitting a job. In two weeks time, you can officially stop attending work.

B: Walk in to work, and tell your boss: "I quit!" (Doesn't that just blow your effin' mind?)

C: Stop going. I'm sure they'll get the hint someday.

Effed Up Google Search #99

How to pass a drug test.

-Stop doing drugs. Just an idea.

Effed Up Google Search #1752

How to jerk.

-I know there was probably more to this, but either way it made me laugh.

Effed Up Google Search #1101

How to impress a French girl.

-I guess there are different criteria for impressing French women as opposed to other women.

Effed Up Google Search #329

How to find your celebrity look alike.

-As if we all had a celebrity look alike.

Effed Up Google Searches #643-647

What do I want for Christmas?

What do I want to eat?

What do I do with my life?

What do you want from me?

Why is life so hard?

-I don't think the answers you're looking for can be found on google.

Effed Up Google Searches #9999-Infinite

How do I google (fill in appropriate idiotic search term here)?

-(*Can't respond, is too busy banging head against wall*)

Effed Up Google Searches #11-12

What do flowers mean?

What do Jack's tattoos mean?

-(*Hasn't stopped banging head against wall*)

Effed Up Google Search #492

What do leprechauns eat?

Why do leprechauns wear green?

-Silly Rabbit! Trix are for kids!

Effed Up Google Search #2083

What do quizzes really know about you?

-Answer: Nothing. Well they must know everything they claim to, otherwise you wouldn't be taking them would you?

Effed Up Google Search #33585

Why is crack cheaper than coke?

-Try asking your local crack head. On second thought, maybe you're better off with google.

Effed Up Google Search #770-772

Why is the sky blue?

Why is the grass green?

Why is google called google?

-Hello, God? Yeah, Mr. Trump just called. He says you're fired.

Hello, Google? Congratulations, you've just been promoted!

Effed Up Google Search #1

-The fact that I only had to type in "why c" to get this to come up is a scary thought.

The sad part is, I can almost guarantee that Google has an answer to everyone of those questions (*more head banging*). Anyway, stay tuned for another list next week.

-The Girl Who Loves to Whine

P.S. For Effed Up Google Search #2 (or debatably #1) type "why is t" into the google search box. I didn't want to get banned from blogspot for offensive content, and wasn't ballsy enough to include it here. If you can't figure out which one it is, there's probably something wrong with you.

P.P.S. Also, whoever said "There's no such thing as a stupid question," was a complete and utter moron.

RE: You Can Be An Artist Too!

It finally happened yesterday. I officially posted something offensive on my blog. Apparently it was offensive enough that it deserved a snarky little comment from someone on 20 Something Bloggers.

I got the email first.

It read: So and So has a posted a new comment on your blog!

I was like, Yay! for me.

So I log onto the 20SB site, click on my post and read the comment. It went a little something like this:

Blah blah blah... Not all art has to be "aesthetically pleasing." That's why it is so difficult to be an artist... blah blah blah... So no, not everyone can be an artist... blah blah blah... why don't we all just lay on our backs and look at church ceilings?... blah blah blah...

In my haste to rid my beautiful post of this nasty comment, I immediately found the little X button in the upper right hand corner of her comment, and deleted it. Then, somewhere deep down inside of me, I flicked on the "BITCH" switch that every woman owns and sometimes wishes she didn't. I left one angry comment on my 20SB version of my blog, and another 2 angry comments on this version.

In retrospect, I sort of regret doing this. Not the 3 angry comments, but deleting So and So's snarky comment. I wish I had left it there as an example for all on how not to be a rude, stuck up, snobby, little wench. (OK, that might be a little harsh, but you get the idea.) The thing is, I don't think So and So even bothered to read the post. From the way she wrote the comment, it seems as though she read the title and was so offended that she felt the need to say something without even looking at what was written, and as she was scrolling down to click the comment button, she might have picked up a few pieces here and there. I think ultimately, this is what pissed me off.

If So and So had wanted to disagree with me, there was a right way to do so. And if So and So had gone about it in the right way (i.e. maybe actually reading what I had said), I would have gladly left her comment on there for the world to see. Never once did I say that for something to be considered art it must be "aesthetically pleasing," the point was more that I think art should take some kind of effort, (Woman VI probably took some effort, but like I said it looks like a whole lot of scribbles to me). I don't think signing your name to a toilet really requires a whole lot of effort. Nor does painting a rainbow in big blocks of color. I would like to point out, that I actually do like this painting (Blue, Green, Yeah Yeah Yeah). Would I pay thousands of dollars to put it in my home? Even if I had thousands of dollars just laying around? Absolutely not. Because it looks like I could have done that myself. That was the joke. Get it now? You Can Be an Artist Too!

The second half of this joke, was that I think a whole lot of people try to make something out of nothing. For example, interpretations of Andy Warhol, (one of his pieces is a Campbell's soup can) are debated as trying to say something profound about commercial advertisement, while others think this was his little joke on society. Personally, I'd like to think it was a joke on society. And whose to say he's the first? Isn't it possible French Guy's little urinal trick was another? Or DaVinci's Mona Lisa? How many people have wasted countless hours pondering what she may or may not have been thinking about, all simply for that one little upturned corner of her mouth?

Also, the overall statement of fact here, was that I don't understand art. I don't understand what makes "good" art, and what makes "bad" art. If French Guy is right and "anything can be art" than what makes someone pay over 100 million dollars (true story) for a Picasso painting and 50 dollars for another? Could it be status? Could it be that some rich guy is so desperate to show off his wealth that he wants a Picasso to display in his home for all his friends to see and be jealous of? If so, does that not defeat the purpose? Isn't the whole point of art to say something? If someone buys a piece simply for status, haven't they missed the whole point? Why does French Guy's urinal suddenly make people think about society when other urinals are just toilets? Am I the only person alive who thinks this is madness?

Finally, I would like to take a moment to debate So and So's comment that "Not everyone can be an artist." To that I would say, You Are Wrong! So and So. Can everyone be the next Leonardo DaVinci? No. If that was what you meant, you should have clarified. Artists do not belong to some exclusive club that no one can join. While it isn't my cup of tea, if it is yours then I say go for it. Everyone has dreams, no matter how big or how small, and if your dream is to be the next Leonardo DaVinci then great. After all, you never know if you don't try.

Oh yeah, and one other thing. After I calmed down and flicked the "BITCH" switch off, I asked Mr. Wonderful to read my post and give me his thoughts. He said:

"You're mean. You kind of sound like a bitch."

Mom says I have a dry sense of humor. Maybe that's why I sound like a bitch. I also think intentions don't always translate into writing, and my intentions weren't at all bitchy. My intentions fell somewhere more along the lines of sarcasm and irony. To that I say:

Dear So and So:

I apologize for sounding bitchy on my post. I apologize for deleting your comment so hastily. I won't apologize for offending you, because truthfully I don't care. Also, for many democratic countries out there, we have the right to freedom of speech. I live in one of these countries. Freedom of speech was our first amendment to the constitution, so I also won't retract any of my statements. I stand firm behind each and every one of them. My advice to you would be to relax, and try to see the humor in your apparently most treasured hobby. Because if you go through the rest of your life like that, than it's probably not going to be a very enjoyable one. Part of growing up is learning to laugh at yourself.

Sincerely,

The Girl Who Loves to Whine

You Can Be An Artist Too!

Hello World! No, I haven't given blogging up yet. I've been afflicted with writer's block for the past few days (oh okay, almost a week now). Life has been fairly boring, I've had nothing to really whine about. Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

On an up note, today was the last day of classes for the semester. Yay! for no summer school. In the traditional way of schooling, I actually learned something today. (I know this information must be shocking to you, it was to me too.) My history professor has made it a point to cover all aspects of history, from women's rights, to civil rights movements, to wars, to art. At the beginning of the semester, I came to think of my professor as a cultured woman because of this big focus on art. I myself have never had a big appreciation for art, I know what I like, and I know what I don't. While I don't really appreciate art, I used to think I could at least recognize it when I saw it.

Apparently-

I was wrong.

I learned today, that post WWII, some French guy decided that anything, yes, anything, can be art. What is important is not, as you (or is it just I?) might think, what you are actually looking at, but your interpretation of what you are looking at.

Here's an example:

This is a piece by Ellsworth Kelley. Can you guess what it's called? Since I'm betting you're not psychic, I'm going to tell you. Ready?

Blue, Green, Yellow, Orange, Red.

Amazing right? I know, I was shocked to discover the name too. In case you're confused as to which piece I'm referring to, it's the one on the left. I can't be sure but I think the one on the right might have been done by the same artist. Could it be called Orange, Red...?

My teacher says this is an amazing piece. "Look at how the red and yellow make orange stand out." She says.

Ummm, yeah. A rainbow. This guy is AMAZING!

Here's another:

This is called Woman VI. Somewhere in that disturbing mess, is indeed a woman. A woman that was painted by a man, who must have been tripping on acid. Teacher says "Isn't this beautiful? Look at all the beautiful colors." I personally, would recommend looking at a kaleidoscope if you want to see pretty colors. You won't have half as many nightmares. But that's just me.

This brings me to the French Guy who made this all possible. Here's what he thinks qualifies as art:

No. You are not seeing things. You didn't accidentally get high while reading my blog. That, my friends, is indeed, a urinal. Can you see the art in this? Can you see the satirical political commentary French Guy has made? Does this inspire you? Does it make you question life? Have you developed a miraculous new philosophy all from looking at this urinal?

Right.

Neither did I.

Do you feel more cultured now? Will you look at the weed growing in the crack in your driveway now and feel inspired to scribble a nightmarish wench onto a paper? Will you frame it and call it Scribble V? Will it travel to the Louvre so people can admire all your pretty scribbles? Will you auction it off for 100 million dollars?

You can try. Teacher says this art is very hard to make...

Food for Thought

So on a slightly more serious note, I'd like to leave you all with some things to think about. As you probably all will eventually figure out, I have a serious problem with organized religion (to be more specific, Christianity). This is not to say I think badly of Christians; my problem lies more with the religion itself.

Last year while writing a short paper for school on the concept of reincarnation, I discovered that I was an accidental Buddhist. Accidental in the way that I had never really studied Buddhism and had no idea that this was the closest to religion I'd ever been. Buddhism, for those of you that don't know, does not have a God that you are expected to worship. Instead there is Siddhartha Buddha, a man who actually lived, (similar to the Jesus of Christianity). You are not expected to worship him, but instead improve your life, and your behaviors by modeling your life after his.

They believe in karma, and that karma is carried forward from one life to the next (reincarnation). Contrary to popular belief, if you lead a "bad" life, you are not reincarnated as a cow or pig (or whatever else you might come back as), but instead you come into the next life as more of a "tortured" soul, and you must work to earn good karma until your slate has been swept clean. You may reach Nirvana through practicing Dharma (protection against suffering and negativity, usually attained through meditation) and then teaching it to others.

Buddhists also believe that every living creature has a soul, and that no one life is no more important than the next.

Now when I say that I am a Buddhist, I do not mean to say that I won't kill a spider if it happens to be in my vicinity indoors (outdoors I tend to just leave them alone), or that I will repent for 7 days straight if I accidentally run over a grass hopper with my lawn mower (just kidding about that one - I don't mow lawns). Nor do I seriously meditate or teach meditation to others.

But -

I do not believe there is some higher being out there responsible for all of our comings and goings. Nor do I believe that God's little invention of free will and original sin (which by the way was blamed on a woman) serves as a sufficient explanation as to why some children get leukemia and others are millionaires.

Truthfully, the idea of gods were a creation of man designed to explain things we as human beings could not at the time explain. Someone once argued to me that existence in itself was enough proof for him that there had to be a god out there somewhere. I believe it's just another scientific explanation waiting to be discovered.

Some Christians have tried to tell me they believe in both the Bible and the theory of evolutionism. This baffles me more than anything as they are completely contradictory, and both cannot be true. I can respect a person who completely 100% stands by their convictions. Saying you believe both sides is like saying you're a "Sometimes Christian." And if this is the case are you therefore a "good" Christian or a "bad" Christian?

I would also like to comment on this all-mighty, all-knowing, all-loving God. Would a god who truly loves all his people also condemn a person to an eternal Hell for something as simple as missing church one Sunday? In Dante Alighieri's Inferno, Virgil the poet was condemned to Hell for no other reason than that he "made the mistake" of being born before Christianity was known to man. Can that truly be called loving? Or is it only the really really bad (i.e. murderers and rapists) people who are damned? If that's the case does someone who is "kind of good" get the same Heaven as someone who is purely good? If so, does that give anyone incentive to be purely good all the time? Buddhism believes in "reaping what you sow." God or no, doesn't that seem to be, in the very least, more fair? Wouldn't an all-loving God believe in justice?

This brings me to the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Does it not seem ironic to any Christian that they go to church every Sunday and worship a man who was Jewish? Since the invention of Christianity, all through out history, Christian's have blamed, persecuted, and killed Jews for no other reason than that they were Jewish. They were blamed for the Bubonic Plague. Hitler blamed them for the German loss of World War I (a mere 70 years ago mind you, and people were all too willing to follow). Whatever happened to "Thou shalt not kill" and "Love thy neighbor as thyself"? It wasn't okay for the Romans to crucify Jesus, but it is okay for Christians to kill Jewish people? Should I even bother to mention the fact that The Old Testament is in fact the Jewish bible? Or that without Judaism, Christianity wouldn't even exist?

Jesus also claimed that God spoke to him. Nowadays when a man claims that God speaks to him, we label him as a schizophrenic, strap him into a nice little strait jacket, and toss him into a comfy little padded room. So Jesus can speak to God but no one else can?

Contrary to what you may be thinking now, my point is not that Christians are bad. My point is that Christianity as a whole is fairly hypocritical. It bothers me when the nuns come to my doorstep and ask if I need "saving." It's like a kind of backhanded insult. While I understand at the heart of it are good intentions, they haven't stopped to think about how what they are saying will affect the people they're saying it to. I don't knock on your door and tell you that you will become a tortured soul in the next life if you don't start meditating now. Don't Christian's believe in humility? In being humble? Isn't it rather arrogant of you to assume I need saving?

I'm not asking you to become Buddhist. I'm not even saying this is the best religion you could possibly follow. I'm asking you to stop, and think for a moment. To not simply accept what you are told, but to question it, because that is the path to enlightenment. And isn't enlightenment a form of Heaven? Isn't that what we're all working towards anyway?