We each give our own meaning to life. Some of us may be unaware of what drives us onwards, or what holds us back, while others are yet busy questing for answers. I propose a method of gaining satisfaction out of your life, through the identification of emotions & needs, and the apparent conflicts that arise between them and your behavior.
This idea is presented in three short parts, each a necessary logical step on the way to culmination.
Part I - Priorities Among Emotions. Part II - Unidentified Emotions & Needs. Part III - Mismatching Behaviors and Emotions. Conclusion - How to Plan for Your Needs!
We can all recognize that some emotions take precedence over other emotions, or needs, at any given time. While this is a fluctuating phenomenon, its' patterns can be identified and described very well. For example, a hungry person who is exhausted and needs sleep, may feel a greater need for sleep than for feeding, and so will retire to bed.
However, we are not always able to clearly identify the emotions that most strongly direct us. And so, a person may feel tired, and even though they had planned on going directly to bed previously, find themselves guzzling down hamburgers at the kitchen table, at a very late hour.
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This mismatch between the behavior that person expected - being tired and thus going to sleep, and actually going to eat greedily, tells us that it is likely that they were simply unaware of their accumulating hunger, until they had finally reached their home. When the choice between food or sleep presented itself, the stronger emotion ruled the hour. The price to pay is in being unprepared for this turn of events, sleeping late, and even sleeping heavy.
Through this process of identifying such patterns, that person is then able to meditate on the conflict in needs - find out which emotions and needs were actually in conflict, and plan a future strategy to avoid the repercussions. Such strategy may be as simple as eating something earlier, or getting back home earlier. It is a process of trial and error, yet the solutions are usually simple, when we knowourselves, and then choose for ourselves, for best results.
Much thanks go to my friend Vins, who had spent several long hours today debating this topic with me, and negotiating how best to represent it in an orderly & thinker-friendly manner. :-)
Eleven was his name, and he was an elf. No, not a mythical creature of legends, but a person who likes to con and trick people.
"Mister, what is your name??" The little girl asked. Eleven looked down at her. She was as high as his knees.
"They call me... Eleven," he answered.
"Why do they call you Eleven?" She asked.
He turned his face away, toward the ceiling, in a rather dramatic fashion. "Eleven means courage. It is a very old word. It was the name of a great hero, once, many generations ago." He peeked back at the girl, seeing if it had the wanted effect. It did not, and she was already walking away, in fascination of the next dull thing.
"So, what do you have for me this time, Dougler?" Eleven asked back, business-like.
"Nobody calls me Douglar..." Jamison started to complain, but knew that it will not get through. "We are going to take a couple of items that mean a lot to my boss."
"Expensive items?"
"Expensive," Jamison lowered his voice, "and dangerous."
"Dangerous items?" Eleven smiled to himself. "How dangerous?"
"Have you ever had an entire planet going after you?" Jamison asked.
Eleven cocked his head, and stared at nothing for a long moment. "I have never had a planet know that I was there."
"Good. We are going to need invisibility, for this one. No one must figure out who we are, or who we are working for," Jamison warned, but received no emotional feedback.
The galactic crew occupying the prime transport vessel - the Cut Mink of the Coalition, sat down, planning their negotiations. The transaction was to take place on the host planet, Zigma Froy, a recently inhabited moon of Jupiter, where the Institute of Suspect Objects ran a museum and catalog, for the public to enjoy. It was entirely inhabited by alien artifacts.
"Have you arranged for the head of the Institute to meet us somewhere outside of the facility?" Captain Silvarre requested of his second in command, First Lieutenant Kirk.
"Aye captain!" Kirk saluted firmly. Silvarre glanced at him from the corner of his eye, sitting on his captain's chair, and continued nibbling on his simulated-wood pipe. A few long moments later, Kirk removed his hand from his forehead, and Silvarre decided not to mention the error in saluting a pirate. Kirk might have his quirks, but he still was the best of them.
The plan was, as Captain Silvarre put it, "to distract the dogs with the cats, while the rats steal the cheese." While the transaction was to take place, officially, hand Jamison and his chosen trustee will retrieve the two most expensive artifacts. The Cut Mink is out of suspicion, as they were innocently doing official business at the time with the Institute, and yet Silvarre gains a much desired card to play with, in this ancient game of trade.
Eleven stared at the customs official, a private agent of the ISO company, who's soul purpose was to figure out if any person was attempting to smuggle artifacts in or out of the planet. Eleven was a straightforward kind of guy. He did not smile or flatter. He simply stated his lies, and expected you to accept them, as they are, and without question.
"Anything to declare?" The customs officer asked.
"No," Eleven answered, waiting for that specific response used in queues; a nod that means, 'Move along.'
"Anything to declare?" The customs officer asked Jamison.
"No," Jamison answered, trying to mimic his companion's sternness. The officer looked him up and down, saw that Eleven was a couple of steps ahead, waiting, and said, "Okay. Next!"
At the back entrance to the Institute of Suspect Objects' grand museum, the two waited, staring at the locked door. This was where those most rare and strictly guarded items stood on display; specifically, those items that they had come to steal.
"Tsk," Jamison noisily badgered. "What now? Let's just enter from the main entrance."
"Cats do not go from the door, Jamison. Only dogs do so," Eleven retorted, without turning his eyes from the door. The door opened. Out of it, came a guard followed by a janitor robot. "Excuse me!" Eleven shouted at the guard, and hurried forward.
"The main entry is that wa..."
"We just accidentally got out through this door, but it locked on us. Can you let us back in, sir?" Eleven's posture and mannerism hinted at a confused customer, the sort of customer that found a hair in their sandwich, and instead of shouting and complaining, simply returned the item back quietly, and quietly mentioned the problem.
"Oh," the guard looked at Jamison. What he saw, however, was a well-dressed gentleman, and not a thief. "Of course, come in, and make sure you do not get lost again."
"Yes, we will stay with the guide this time," Eleven smiled, grabbed Jamison's hand, and entered hurriedly.
They both had prepared for this well in advanced, memorizing a map of the compound, and where their targets lay. "Easy enough," Jamison whispered.
"Easy for you to say, newbie," Eleven grunted back, quietly.
"What is so difficult about this?"
"This part," Eleven paced up through the artifact filled corridor, and approached another guard, standing at the next door. As the guard moved to open his mouth, Eleven struck him in the face with an unidentified black object, and quickly began removing his own outfit.
"Oh," Jamison noted.
"Take his outfit off. While I am getting the artifacts, you can put together the cart," Eleven removed a few long black sticks from his jacket, and gave them to Jamison. Jamison stared at the parts, figured they were a stick-each-stick-into-the-other-stick kind of puzzle, and began working.
Within a minute, Eleven was back out with the two items, each under each arm. One looked like a big musical wind instrument, and the other had the shape of a sharp weapon. In reality, however, they both knew that the tube looking item was an explosive weapon, and the other just a harmless alien toy.
"Do not press the red button," Jamison said in humor.
"The Imploder requires a sequence of air thrusts to activate, which humans are unable to perform, without specialty tools," Eleven explained. Somehow, Jamison was certain that Eleven kept on him just the kind of 'specialty tool' that was required for its' activation, and shuddered.
The alien Imploder was notorious for creating bloody scenes, wherein people lost their skin and eyeballs, but remained alive just long enough to notice that new and surprising prickly sensation.
Finally, Jamison had the cart prepared, and after carefully locking the items down magnetically, they started moving back to where they had come from. Each put a hand to push the cart forward. Considering how small the artifacts were, it had a heavy pull to it.
"I know you don't like to get your hands dirty, but this really was nothing special," Jamison gestured. "These clowns can't even get their attack-bots to work."
"This is still the hard part," Eleven answered, turning back to face the silent creeping machines that had almost reached them, and clicked a red button on a joystick-looking gizmo. Two of the bots dropped from the ceiling, but a third kept on crawling towards them. "Your turn," Eleven said.
Jamison, who had been expecting at least some sort of a melee with machines, took out an arrow, aimed it at the single machine, now only a few feet away, threw it, and turned back - still pushing the cart.
"What was that?" Eleven asked, able to hear the bot jingling, as its' parts were detaching from its' main body.
"Uranium Action Darts," Jamison said, and grinned widely. "Unidentified, rare, and most of all, efficient against bots. It emits a radioactive wave that destabilizes a..."
"I am going to borrow a couple, eh."
"Sure, buddy. You know I got your back," Jamison said, still grinning. It was a joy to work with the best tools, after all.
As they entered their escape vessel, a compact and efficient evasion pod, the air pressure started to increase.
"Airzers?" Jamison asked, covering his ears with his hands, in pain.
"Airzers," Eleven answered, clicked his earlobes to activate his anti-pressure buttons, and started the pod away. It was a shaky ride, but this pod was custom designed to outmaneuver this planet's specific Airzer technology.
Airzer. Definition: Gravitational laser beams that condense the atmosphere in a given radius, causing great harm to unprotected living tissue, while interrupting the ability of any vessel to detach from the surface, as it attempts lift-off.
By the time any meaningful pursuit had begun, their pod had changed colors, changed visible shape, changed licensing transmissions, and was gaining miles away from the planet's exosphere. The Institute's control center, now at turmoil, had its' deputy at a loss.
"We lost their signature, Commander," the guard said, still looking at the data screen.
"Inform the boss. It has to be those space-damned pirates!"
Suzuryu Jupitas, the head and owner of the ISO, grimaced. Captain Silvarre, surrounded by a posse of dangerous looking space-pirates, now enjoyed years of practicing his poker face.
"The Amalgamator and the Syphon?" Jupitas confirmed, over audio, not using any visible device.
"Is something the matter?" Silvarre inquired politely. Jupitas did not respond, nor look at him.
"I see," Jupitas ended the invisible conversation. "Two men," he began saying, "not locals," by which he meant not inhabitants of Zigma Froy, "had just left the exosphere with some very valuable artifacts, Captain Silvarre."
"You would not mean the artifacts that we have been discussing, Mr. Jupitas?" The captain asked back, the innocence of a child on display.
"Some of them, apparently. Two that we have counted."
"Well," Silvarre hesitated, "I am sorry to be so blunt, but you do realize that this is going to change the price we were negotiating," he declared.
Eleven is his name, and reticence is his profession. He is not a pirate, and not because he disrespects their work, or public image in society. He prefers the quiet and efficiency of working alone. The safety of not having to count on others.
"You know, Dougler..." Eleven began.
Jamison opened one sleepy eye, and looked to his right, where Eleven was sat.
"You are very cunning, but not quite deliberate. Do you know why the customs official would rather bother you, than me?"
"Because you're a scary motherfu..."
"Because he knew that if he had badgered me, I would have noted his name and appearance, and some day, when all is forgotten, he would see me again. Maybe on his way back from work. Going back home, I suppose. And then, Dougler, he would regret his past choice of badgering me."
"You would keep a grudge for so long?" Jamison asked, sleepily.
"No, I would not. I would just keep even," Eleven mended, and returned to reading privately, from his own internal display.
I recently got a cheap headset, for use while chatting with friends online. It has Bluetooth, so it is a bit more comfortable than handling wired headphones; or earphones in my case.
Annoyingly, the phones are a bit small, putting pressure on my ears. This causes pain, after a while of use. I Googled, and saw that some people replaced their pads - also known as cushions - with those from a muffler. That is a cool idea! But, I did not feel like wasting more money on this...
It's really, really simple.
So, I just hacked it, myself. As you can see in the photo above, I simply removed the cushions, took the foam out, cut it - to allow more space for the ears, and returned it all back in place.
I cut the inside stitching to remove the foam, and left it open, and used my Leatherman's flat-head screwdriver, to assist with joining the fake-leather cover on the plastic base, again. :-)
Admittingly, the phones are still not very comfortable. This is only a small fix. A patch of sorts. However, until I get a better & more expensive headset, this definitely helps!
Have you ever found yourself getting upset at someone online?
Let us begin by defining what a troll is, and what a troll is not!
An internet troll is a person, who finds great pleasure in upsetting other people online, and does so intentionally.
However, unlike an ignorant person, who resorts to abusive behavior when somebody "makes them" upset, an internet troll has no emotional context to the conversation, and only trolls out of pure entertainment.
The troll is having fun, at someone's expense, and so at no point in the conversation will they hold a grudge towards you, or anybody else.
Reversely, a douchebag is abusing people exactly because they are upset, and want to make everybody else just as miserable. The douchebag will hold a grudge, usually, even long after the conversation.
Are all trolls evil then?
Human societies are composed of many different individuals, and supposedly, each and every one has a natural function that helps balance the group.
Internet Fact #2: Comments are easy.
Surprisingly, when asked, many trolls will admit to trolling. They might say, "I am just trolling lol", and expect other people to realize that they had played a sort of clownish devil's advocate role.
Comedy is one of those grey social areas. A phrase can be funny today, and utterly offensive tomorrow. One joker can be fun & friendly, while another can be abusive & bullying.
Wait a second... Then how can I tell whether a troll is a good guy or a bad guy?
You see, trolling is an artform. Trolling is not a sadist hobby, unless that troll is also a sadist. Many trolls are definitely not sadists, even if they do sometimes cross the line of inconsideration.
Internet Fact #3: Everything online is true.
The answer is simple, really. A good guy will be honest about trolling, even as soon as they begin trolling. Otherwise, you can just ask them, and clarify their intentions; whether they are being serious, or just having hazardous fun in a fragile situation.
Other than that, there really is no important difference between an honest idiot who will abuse you, and a witty troll who abuses you maliciously. In both cases, that other person is a douchebag, and better be avoided.
I want to thank all the good fellows over at the Freedomain Radio community, for inspiring me to write about these personal experiences. :=}
Here is a quick photo, just so you can see how my setup looks.
[Click the image for a larger display.]
I used screws and some cotton rope, to hold the echo-cancelling sheet around me, from the ceiling. For the echo-cancelling frills, I used a similar sheet, which I nailed into the shelf, and then used scissors to cut it into nice & accessible frills. :=D And finally, I shoved my netbook into the drawer, and sawed a hole for cables, so that I get some quiet, when recording.
Almost the entire human male population, also known as guys, have to deal with an overwhelming need for sex. Even though girls have their own libido, it is well established that guys are much more under the influence of their libido, on a daily & regular basis.
A tiny bit less explicit. *huehehe*
The sex industry is mostly composed of videos and toys. Videos for men, mostly, and toys for women, mostly. It is becoming a trend for girls to enjoy porn. However, it had yet to become a trend for guys to purchase and enjoy sex toys. More specifically, fleshlights and sleeves, not to mention lubes.
I have heard a lot of guys speak of sex toys, as if only a miserable guy who is unable to get girls would need them. Utter nonsense! Look at the comments section of any popular sex toy for guys, online! You can see many couples speaking up, about how the sex toys help relieve the guy, while the girl is too busy or unavailable, or how married couples find that sex toys, for the guy, improve their sex life.
Why should a girl using a dildo be sensible, but a guy using a sleeve be shameful? It should not!
The fact is that many guys hurry into sex with girls that they would rather avoid. Guys get girls pregnant, without proper planning, and find themselves weighed-down as unexpected fathers. This is no joking matter! No man should let his biological needs define his life, when he can handle those needs privately, and with the assistance of videos and toys.
Can you imagine marrying the wrong woman, because you found her attractive, and hurried into having sex with her? Can you even begin to imagine a woman manipulating you, because she knows how much her sexuality overwhelms your senses?!
Girls aren't sex toys, because they come with a lifelong price tag.
We say, "don't play with fire," but we should also say, "don't play with girls." Because playing with girls tends to end really, very, enormously badly!
So, play with toys. :-) Toys are for playing with!
An online friend decided to stop using Facebook, except for the chat, so that she could concentrate entirely on her University degree. While I encourage her to do what feels more important and beneficial to her, I find it in poor taste that she would sacrifice her social life for a professional life.
We all want to be successful. Right?
We all have hobbies and interests. Humans, since the dawn of age, have spent a meaningful sum of their time, in pursuing their interests, beyond basic daily survival. However, unlike the professional yet enslaved members of modern society, they would not sacrifice their family, friendships, and other interests, in the pursuit of a single goal.
The difference between them and us is clear. Modern society is designed to turn humans into working ants, with each human professionalising in one specific job. That way, the gains are maximised, and each human is used to its' utmost extent.
The problem, however, is that people are not designed to live like ants. Humans are designed to live in leisure, and be social, more than anything else. We are designed to enjoy our family and friends, while spending that little precious time, on the side, so to speak, making things that benefit our lives; being creatively productive.
This means that the modern human is slowly, but surely, turning into a new sort of animal. A useful breed that has many social, psychological, emotional, and personal problems. Never the less, it produces vast amounts of benefit, for their society, in the form of technology.
And this is not moral behavior! To sacrifice any one person for the benefit of others, is to sacrifice the morality of that society. No person should ever sacrifice their needs and wants, for the wants of others; especially, out of fear of being attacked by their society. Negotiation is the only way to find balance between the wants of members in a society. Only negotiation creates a win-win scenario.
Huck must ultimately decide whether he should return Jim back to his master.
Huck must choose between obeying the laws of his society, and support slavery,
or being loyal to his friend, Jim, and help him escape into freedom.
- Kohlberg's Stages of Moral Development
It is wrong, but it is happening all around us. Let us say 'No', and aim for freedom, instead of acceptance. In the meanwhile, we can figure out innovative solutions to making money, without sacrificing our natural lifestyle.
Do you have ideas and examples of making money, without sacrificing your social and leisure life? Please, share with us, and comment below!
Here's my recently released tutorial video, about how I use the [crossfit] resistance band. :-) These five [5] exercises are highly recommend to anyone - man, woman, and child, who is not into using weights, or gym machinery.
And here's a video, one of many, that shows how to use the bands with a pull up bar, to make your exercises more comfortable & more effective! Thanks for making this video, Anthony.
Taking life. Killing. Massacre. Homicide. Murder is the intentional act of ceasing and irreversibly breaking the faculties of another living being. It can be a fly, and it can be a person. It can be a colony of ants, or a city of people.
This is not an easy topic, but it is a fact of life that we either deal with, or suffer from.
Murder is bad, first and foremost, because none of us wants it to be done to them. We all want to live the entire extent of our biological ability. We want to grow up, reproduce, and quietly die as old as we can, without it becoming an intolerable experience. Idealy.
However, under the realm of self-defense, murder may become a reasonable choice. Mosquitoes that suck our blood commit an act of aggression towards us, even adding a risk of catching some nasty disease, and so we smack & electrocute them to death. And that is reasonable.
What is, then, the factor that makes murder a good thing?
Perceivable threats to our well-being, while requiring us to defend ourselves, do not justify murder. But, when negotiation is not a possibility, or the perceived threat puts our lives at risk, then we cannot take any chances! We must commit entirely to our defense!
We are unable to negotiate with wild animals. Even if it may be because we have not made the effort to learn their logic, it is still the common state of things. So, when an animal acts in aggression towards us, we must either take its' life, or risk injury and death. We cannot talk it out.
Feeding ourselves comes before the well-being of others. If the only way to feed is to use the lives of others, then pity might as well mean suicide. And no person can hold the standard of pity for all living beings, while being ready to commit self-harm or suicide.
Self-defense arts, such as Krav Maga that I practiced, are highly recommended!
And last, but not least, is the case of a negotiation that is insufficient. When another person threatens our lives, but we may negotiate the situation, it does not mean that killing is no longer an option. Negotiations may fail. The other side might lie or have a change of heart. Until it is clearly established that a death-threat is no longer held, then we must be prepared to make the first move, and kill those who do not care to kill us; be it directly and on purpose, or indirectly and by willing neglect.
It does not take much to be free. Actually, it takes very little, as any space pirate would testify, outside of a court of law, of course. It is doing that makes us free; not having.
Captain Silvarre of the Union Prominence fleet, a registered subdivision of the Coalition, reviewed the results of their recent success. A venture into a renegade planet near Saturn. A planet that had not been known to the public, for most of its' colonized days.
"Gold," the captain requested.
"Five hundred," a rough voice answered from below the captain's deck, aboard the Cut Mink. The ship was named after an accident involving the First Lieutenant's pet, and the Captain's pet lizard.
"Five hundred?" the captain demanded, in a curious, but friendly voice.
"Oh," the voice of the First Lieutenant apologetically announced, "that number is wrong."
"Wrong?" The captain asked. "Who has left our friendly company, in recent days, Kirk?"
"Jamison, Captain," Kirk said, after approaching the captain's chair.
Depicting the renegade pirate Jamison. Photography: Nuno Silva, Makeup & Hair: Cheri Chung, Model: Bradly James
"Let me guess, oh no, let me guess," the captain interrupted condensing arguments from the lower deck. "Deck Hand Jamison, and maybe two more friends, decided to take an early vacation. Right, Kirk?"
"Yes, sir," Kirk answered, and quickly replaced it with, "Yes, Captain."
In the lower levels of the Cut Mink, were imprisoned the previous 'maintainers' of the now captain Silvarre's glorious business vessel. The Lieutenant approached those cells, followed by a group of young recruits, full of confidence.
"Watch your step," he warned one of the younger recruits, as the lad walked precariously near to the cages. The boy stepped away, and felt a quick tug at his coat.
"Help," the miserable creature inside the cell cried. The boy ignored it. "I can get you gold," it growled the name of the precious metal, and insisted. The Lieutenant paused mid-step, and so did the group behind him.
"You say, err, gold? Gold, my friend?" He turned towards the cell holding the creature.
"Yes," it failed to pronounce its' affirmation. But the meaning was not lost.
"You two," Kirk pointed at two of the boys. "Take our esteemed guest to the captain, for further examin... for a chat. Now!" The young recruits approached the cell, opened it with their identifying tags, imprinted on their hands, and grabbed the creature, forcefully.
As the group continued through the hall of the ship's prison, Kirk received a private transmission from the captain, which said, "Take five, keep two." Kirk knew it was solid advice.
When they reached the requested cell, Lieutenant Kirk ordered to, "bring five out, and if any of them resist, beat them as hard as you can." The lads moved into action, with the sound of bodily harm, echoing from the cell.
Five thin and tall creatures, composed mostly of tentacles, crouched before Kirk. Three of them were selected to lead the scouting mission, after the renegade Jamison. Well, renegade as much as any pirate can be.
"The other two will be brutalized every half an hour, for one minute, until we get the prize. Got it?" Kirk asked the prisoners, not expecting any misunderstandings from the aliens. The creatures drooled thick watery liquids, now supposedly cajoled into compliance, and bobbed their heads in a rather circular motion.
Using remote surveillance equipment, the captain and his primary crew were able to hear and see everything that went on, during the reconnoiter.
"Never trust someone with kids, I say," the captain warned, and murmurs of agreement surfaced from behind him, on the deck. "Those aliens should have known better, than to let their kids on board. Now, all they know is my orders and fear," he finished with a merciless laughter that regularly caused his crew to become enamored to his methods.
The vessel that Jamison had stolen, in order to transport his stolen gold, well, as stolen as any gold can ever be from pirates, did indeed have some combat capabilities. However, it was no match against the vast matrix of laser shields that a mining vessel operated; specifically, the Cut Mink.
The encouraged aliens managed to locate and attach to Jamison's boat, and as they dragged him back towards the Cut Mink, Jamison tried, in a last attempt of bravado, to fire his magnetic pulse canons at her.
"I brought you back the gold, from these thieving aliens, captain," Jamison saluted in a serious manner, as he was put inside the command deck.
"Oh, indeed, you did, my Hand," the captain fondly referred to Jamison.
Evidently, the corpses of two aliens, last seen in their duty as boat maintainers, were found on the vessel stolen by Jamison. Without pause, Jamison used them to his favor.
"Killed them with my own two hands, captain, and proud of it," he said with an accent that attached itself to no specific colony.
"Give me one reason not to send you to alien duty, Jamison," the captain nodded at Kirk, to escort the younger man down below, where no duty was ever favorable.
"I," Jamison hesitated for a brief moment and contrived, "I am the only one signed on the new artifact contract, Captain."
The captain hesitated. It was, after all, a very valuable contract. And it really was Jamison's work that got them that contract. There was a lot of competition for it, as well. A lot of messy competition, that gave them even less friends in the fleet, than they had before.
"Kirk," the captain ordered.
"Yes sir," Kirk answered, and once more his previous military service had derailed the space manners required from him on board. "I mean, yes captain," he mended.
"Assign Hand Jamison a lower rank, and remove his privileges from the boating deck."
"Right away, captain."
"And Jamison," the captain added.
"Yes, captain?" Jamison turned back, as Kirk's massive hand started moving him backwards.
"No more vacations." The captain's eye glimmered against the shine of the information screens, and a twinkling of a smile surfaced. Jamison, for just that moment, felt some real concern churning up in him. But only for a moment.
The Cut Mink and its' unrecorded space escort were last seen heading towards the moons of Jupiter. Official reports tell of an upcoming ancient alien artifact transport deal, but for some reason, only a minor clerk was signed on it, instead of the expected signatures of the Captain of the vessel and his second best. The signature read, "Dougler Jamison, Head of Accounting, in the name of the Cut Mink."
Enjoy these pictures of my garden work, as inspired by Permaculture and nature. :-) Click on any of the images, to get an enlarged view!
My rather new Hugelkultur bed.
Some cucumbers appear to have taken root.
I kept the top branches, if any plant would like to climb them.
I was lacking soil for this, as my town is all rocks & stones.
I have finally changed my pots into large unperforated tubs,
that hold the water in this dry and arid climate. It's working great!
On the right, a rescued fat plant.
On the left, a left-over from the transition into tubs.
I'm using a bowl to help it hold the water, and it works well.
Need to get more soil and seeds, for this one.
A corner of empty soil. I experiment with different seeds and potatoes on it. :=P
My watering bucket. It also catches the drain from the table.
My compost bin.
I put holes in its' bottom, which was a bad idea, because of smelly leakings.
Still, works fine.
I just throw in any organic leftovers from the kitchen, and some leaf matter from the garden.
My window-sill pot, which has not been a great success, yet. And an experiment!
Some soil and water in a bottle, with its' cap off, and some cherry-tomato seeds.
I'm waiting for the tomato plants to reach out of it!
This was inspired by various terrariums.
Thinking is important. Not just the occasional burst of thought that we encounter in very dangerous or just boring situations. Organized and systematic thinking is how we reach conclusions that are not immediately evident to us.
For example, trees grow upwards, towards the sun, sure, but without that extra thought, we would never realize that trees also grow according to their root mass! What an intriguing idea!
We use thoughts to understand our emotions. Emotions, our feelings, such as dislike, anger, love, happiness, and sadness are how we define our priorities. Being hungry makes us feel bad, so it's very important! Some random video on the web might be amusing, but it is hardly as important, in our personal scale of priorities, right?
This fact, that thinking is important, is how we can start to choose the tools that work best for us, when it comes to figuring out ideas. Which idea is good and which is bad? Our tools can help us figure that out, without having to try every single idea that comes across us.
I hold two philosophical tools, and they both fall under the category of Logic; which dislikes anything random in the thinking process.
One method is to attempt to find a practical solution to a very specific problem. Do I want something changed? Do I dislike something in my life? Do I want to add something into my life? To use this tool most efficiently, I define the question in the most practical way, so that the answer can be very precise.
So, if I want to learn, say, Japanese, then I would define it: "How can I know Japanese, to the extent where I can understand most parts of the online series that I watch, and understand the general meaning of most Japanese conversations?" And then I put some effort into defining an answer that is within those boundaries, such as: "I will use a nice website that teaches basic and intermediate Japanese, and I will do this for about one-hour, every day or two, for about three-months, mixing both reading and listen-and-repeat exercises." Simple, eh?
The second method is to raise my own general curiosity, and then aim it at a topic, gradually becoming more concise and specific. We do this most often with games - with puzzles. So, let's say that I take an interest in gardening, which I do. I would begin by generally educating myself about it, through the more popular channels: Google, popular websites for gardening, and people near me, who take interest in this.
Slowly and surely, this quest of curiosity will lead me to narrower sub-topics, under the same category of gardening. This means that I would connect to those people who find those specific sub-topics as interesting, and that I would dedicate more time only studying these sub-topics. And so, I will have obtained a new intellectual hobby, which is bound to turn into me planting tomatoes in a pot on my window sill; which I am.
As I enjoy life & beauty, so do I enjoy truth & wisdom.
I have not read her books,
but she does make for great quotes,
so she gets some free advertising from me!
Adam, from the radio show Adam VS The Man, has just now released his new book!
This book is a non-fictionabout the meaning of freedom. I feel that his writing combines the best arguments, from the most popular modern minds, in the freedom or anarchy genres. And it does so concisely and plainly!
Visit the book's page, over at AdamVSTheMan.com.
My only criticisms are towards the audiobook quality, which I chose to enjoy - and not bother reading lots of text. And also with my already great familiarity with the topic, meaning I got bored a lot.
For the former, Adam shared with me by email that he did rush the completion of the audiobook, so the resulting mistakes are not surprising. It is still a nice listen and very audible. He promised to edit it, too! Well done, Adam, keep it up for all of us.
And, for the latter, it is just my fault for taking so much interest in my own liberty and morality, already. I can't blame anybody for that. I do thank a lot of people for it.
Enjoy the book as an eBook PDF, AudioBook (Single File or by Chapters), Plain Text RTF or TXT, and even a Kindle version on Amazon, or the Android App!
I often find myself passionate after an idea or venture. It may be a small thing, like my recent acoustic echo-cancelling mobile bamboo partition, or a big thing, such as my well-inspired but overwhelming Node World project.
The cotton sheet blocks the sound from bouncing back at the microphone.
I have discovered that, while I may do things out of logic, for, say, personal goals, or due to simple curiosity, my most valued achievements are always from a sense of passion & inspiration.
Moreover, I have learned that anything that is made out of passion, does not need a reason to be, and so we call it art. And that artists, people who make art regularly, give themselves for free, in order for their creations to enjoy the attention of others.
The artist, a quality rare in most, but dominant in few, gives himself for free, contrary to his produce, for which payment is demanded.
"Mommy?" Asked a giant octopus, in a sound wave below human hearing.
"Yes, dear?" Answered an even bigger octopus, floating not quite mid-air, near the other.
"What is that?" It raised a tentacle at a near by tiny lizard.
"Do not point, Phefahphiou!" The angry mother warned. She would not have uneducated children making her look bad, in front of other creatures.
"I apologize, but what is it?" The child repeated, lowering its' tentacle.
"It is a dinosaur," she answered. "And it is an enemy of the Coalition."
We are already being eased into this future symbio.
"Can I eat it?" The child asked, ever so innocently. The lizard, a tiny thing in comparison, tilted its' head, and considered the transparent floating threats, above it. It began skittering away.
"No," the mother shuffled closer, towards the young one. "We do not eat those."
"Why?" The child asked, looking up at his mother.
"Because, they are our friends, and..." she lingered.
"And we do not eat our friends," finished the child, not satisfied with the conclusion.
The Partially Examined Life podcast & blog, albeit entertaining, is a great example of why abstract philosophies are fucking useless.
By "abstract philosophies", I mean thinking about life out of context of my own personal life. Without the inclusion of my own experiences. In other words, talking without "getting dirty."
Visit their website & podcast.
I do give it to them that the discussions are humoristic & easy going, and so make for a nice entertaining background sound; so I have something to listen to, while working out, say.
Abstract philosophy, or "philosophizing", is the cause of all structured ignorance. The idea that any thought can be discussed in an impersonal manner, as if from the cloud-seat of some immortal deity, only causes misunderstandings and confusion. As proof, talk to any philosophy student; the pure embodiment of trying to study philosophy, without attaching its' meaning to our own lives.
So, while I do recommend listening to any of their episodes, and their well-narrated talks, I strongly warn against considering any of it as Philosophy.
Trust is created through shared experiences. More than anything else, it is created through our most common activity - conversation.
By having conversations, by listening to each other, and then trying to understand each other's experiences and perspectives, we gain a feeling of trust from others, and they gain the same feeling of trust, from us.
Thank you, MemeForge.net users!
Everything we say relates to our emotions, whether negative or positive. By sharing how we feel, through describing our lives to others, we allow others to sympathise with us. If they accept this offer, and join the discussion, then mutual trust and cooperation can exist.
However, without trust, there is no cooperation. That is how we get conflict and misunderstandings. These lead to offenses, neglect, and aggression.
Next time you have a conversation with another person, especially with another person whom you care for, or find interest in them, remember to listen, attempt to understand them, join the discussion in an active and interested manner, and gain their trust! :-)
...When I noticed the building, just to my left. Even the buildings were made of brick. Most of them a sort of red shaded brick, mostly from clay.
"I wonder if she is there," I spoke out loud, but only to myself.
It is the middle of the day. A cloudless day. The sun at full throttle. I entered the building, and climbed up the stairs to the third floor, where I would find my friend's apartment.
"Watch out," my friend warned me, as I approached. "Dervie is inside, and it got him cornered!"
"Oh no," I thought and replied. "It's them again, right?" I asked her.
"Yes, but they really got him, this time!" She was panicking, and it was up to me to sort them out.
I open the door, and there he is. Dervie. Sitting on the floor, legs spread wide, neck to the wall, and a table pinning him down - at the neck.
"So," I start, but it is apparent that the table is loose, now. They let him go, as soon as they saw me. Dervie scrambles out of the room, as fast as humanly possible, leaving the door open. I do not bother to look behind. I do, however, look to the side of the room.
"How about eating a muffin? Eat one. Or two." - Junkie Space Alien
"Grbledrhrtewshbfx," the creature speaks. It is small, short and wide, sort of blue. It has hair, but it is not like our hair. It looks different, as if it was a different material.
I look to the floor, searching back next to the table. There is a box there. An open box. A box of muffins. Well, I call them muffins, at least. I take the box, and do not look back at the creature.
"I should not eat this," I say, or think, or maybe I realized this only after taking a muffin, one of two remaining muffins, and stuffing it into my mouth. Delicious. Just a muffin, really.
The creature is smiling, now that I check back with it.
"Here we go," I say, and everything turns into a vortex of colors, and I just know that this is not going to be a happy journey. Especially, because on the other side, it is a bright and sunny day, and I am not feeling worried. I feel fine.
"Muffine," I say, and excuse the situational comedy.
The problem of patience is that there are always different, and changing, reasons to act, or otherwise. This means that, unless we do not want to explode with anxiety, then we must learn to evaluate situations quickly.
One way is to meditate. By sitting quietly, comfortably, and without disturbances, any person is able to reflect on their thoughts. By using concentration and effort, we can achieve clear conclusions, about the choices we want to make, and the risks we want to take.
People use different methods, to handle their own impatience and anxiety. It could be beer or weed, and online chat, on websites or through games.
Click for a simple ganja-chai recipe.
Sadly, it seems that external methods have serious drawbacks. Weed interferes with the concentration required to reflect. Beer disorients the mind, so that decisions are only impulsive. Chats encourage an impractical, detached from reality perspective.
Without patience, all we have left is irritations, and how we respond to them. We do not develop strategy and wisdom.
However, if we wait for understanding to broil, then we win the ability to achieve our mind's goals, and the manifestation of our dreams; or rather, a life of reaching towards.
