Break a leg

They sing we listen
If only for a moment
Adored and hated

There's a slight apprehension at first. Then she loosens up. They all do. Her voice cracks only slightly, then she comes into her own. The song is hers and hers alone. She really gets into it. At one point she was dancing whilst singing. They all were. Music is a powerful force. If only she'd come out of her shell sooner. The party departs. Silence befalls the room, it waits until the next party arrives. But the deeper the silence, the louder the thunderclap when it's broken.

J.C.V.D., wow
What an amazing movie
Not even a nod

Same planet, different worlds

I land in Holland
I step out of the airport
I see English signs

I go to sleep in Amsterdam. I wake up in Tehran. It almost takes a second to realize I'm still on Earth. Where once I saw many visible ethnicities, I now see one group of people. Where once I saw signs in English, I now see signs in a strange language. Unfortunately that language happens to be my mother tongue. The airport I arrive in is as modern as any, which I wasn't expecting when I started my journey. My initial reception is small, my father's last brother. On our way out we're offered four taxis. It's an hour drive into the city and I start taking in this alien country of mine.

My exposure to the world not Western goes smoothly. I see four men on one motorcycle. I laugh and make a comment. My uncle joins me in my mockery. The following day I'm at my cousins wedding. I can't recall the last time I was surrounded by family members exceeding the single digits. I dance and drink alcohol. My family wanted me to feel at home. The alcohol tastes terrible. But it's not peaches and cream back here anyway. I get drunk in the Islamic Republic. A small act of rebellion perpetrated a thousand times over that night, by countless other revolutionaries. Two days later I get to visit the grave of one of the twelve prophets of Islam. It is here that I try to convince my mother's brother that there is no God. It doesn't go over well.

Back in Tehran by the end of the week, I find one cousin waiting for me. He tells me he's going North to the Caspian Sea, says I should join him. I do. We pay about $20 for a 6 hour taxi ride. This particular taxi driver happens to be a fan of Vin Diesel. I didn't see the speedometer go below 120. Those were the moments he was turning. I arrive alive, my cousin takes me shopping for swim trunks. I express my concerns about removing my shirt because of my tattoos. He reassures me that Iran has progressed. I trust him. I spend that whole week swimming. On the last day, a storm arrives. I swam in the Caspian Sea during a storm.

That night I'm in my grandmother's home. The following morning I endure temperatures that would kill a lesser man. My aunts cook traditional Persian dishes. The lamb is particularly delicious. Hours earlier I witnessed the lamb's murder. There was so much blood. The rest of the week reveals more cousins to meet. I am taken to an oil rig. I see first hand how Iran's powers that be maintain their wealth. On the way back, I get to enter a destroyed Iraqi tank. I also see a white Camel. By the weeks end I know my way around the neighbourhood. On my last night I'm treated to the sound of gunfire in the distance. My family tells me not to worry. I don't.

Week four starts off in a tourist city. My father's army buddy picks us up from the airport. I'm told we'll get to see Persepolis in the days to come. I have trouble sleeping from anticipation. Two days later I bare witness to the labours of men. Real men. Fourty foot pillars carved out of a solid piece of stone. Busts of bulls the size of two men. Dozens of them, all identical, all carved by hand. Archways adorned with harbingers of a God long forgotten. I see two of my three tattoos, etched forever in stone by a civilization long lost. I remove several pieces of stone from the damaged ruins. I hope my ashes can be scattered there.

Midweek I arrive in another city. I get to catch up with a pair of brothers I'd spent my infantile years with. I go shopping for groceries with one. I see fruits and vegetables that look anything but perfect. Genetic engineering can be so easily overlooked. I'm treated to a Persian BBQ that evening. Beef had never tasted so good. The next day I enjoy a hooka with my mother's cousin. She's one year older than I am. I experience my first earthquake. I thought a bomb had gone off.

I return to Tehran for my final week. My cousin and his wife treat me to a night on the town. I enjoy the sights and sounds of the capital. Days later, I enjoy a peach in public, during Ramadan. The reasons for the staring dawns on me. Less than 78 hours later I'm in the airport. My father's remaining brother hugs me. He tells me to come back soon. I bid this strange, beautiful land goodbye. And then I woke up. Just kidding.

The rivers are veins
The land masses are organs
The oceans her heart

And then I woke up

Remembered or not
If only for a moment
It was real to you

I'm in a large garden. There are pillars made of marble adorning the outskirts of the cloister. In the centre is a pool, spanning nearly the entire length of the garden. On either side of the pool are empty chairs, neatly aligned, row by row. I can not discern any way in or out of this garden. There are a few marble steps leading up to a platform where two people stand. As I make my way closer I see that it is my friend and her sister. I climb the steps and join them at the top of the platform but we do not speak. I take a seat on a marble stool. My friend and her sister are conversing with one another. I am able to figure out that her sister is getting married.

There is still no one but the three of us there. I stare at my friend until I have her attention. She doesn't say a word. I look over to her sister but cannot make out her face. Her hair obscures her face at every angle. When I look back at my friend I notice her outfit is different. Still, it's not something one would wear to a wedding. I still refrain from speaking and simply listen. I quickly realise the only one speaking is my friend. What she's saying isn't eliciting any responses from her sister. She turns to me and speaks, but her words are for her sister, not me. I sit there, silent.

I turn around to survey my surroundings; the garden seems to be mirrored on either side of the platform, pool, chairs and all. I turn back to my friend, she's again changed her clothing. It's still however, not something you would wear to a wedding. She's staring at me intently. I say something, she doesn't respond. I look to where her sister was, she's no longer there. I stand up and walk to my friend. She turns and begins walking down the steps I came up moments before. I don't follow her down. She continues on her path, walking past the neat rows of chairs. I return to my stool, when I sit down, she's gone. I am alone in this garden. And then I woke up.

Smiling ear to ear
His work is never complete
A good clown at work

Only when you've lost everything...

I am not my car
I am not my bank account
I am not this blog

Personal identity can be defined in a number of ways. These definitions are rarely agreed upon, as everyone has their own identity; and everyone has their own idea of what their identity is comprised of. However, as unique as each person's identity is, there are many overlapping factors that are universal to just about everyone within a certain demographic.

Take for instance the average North American. The majority of the public places great emphasis on their positions in society, their financial wealth, their material possessions, etc,. A lot of people believe these things define who they are, when it is in fact the individual who gives definition to these things. Your bank account doesn't exist until you open it. Your car doesn't go anywhere until you buy and subsequently drive it. The position in your company is vacant until you, or someone else fills it. You are not the things in your life.

Most people's lives would collapse if all of these things were taken away, and they do. Think of the countless news articles about people killing others and themselves when they lose their job; or, think of the countless people who have made poor financial decisions, how their lives have spiralled out of control until they're either mad or homeless, or both. We've grown to believe that these things are us so much that we simply cannot live without them.

But these things are not us. They do not have meaning until we place meaning upon them. We must learn to see these things for the trivialities that they are. However, to do this, a truly objective mind is required, and that's easier said than done. So try to imagine your life without everything that you think makes your life, your life. Now try to define this new life. If that's too hard to do, go live in a Buddhist retreat for a week, or try living as a homeless person. Because it is only when you have lost everything, that you are free to do anything.

The world needs saving
Not from some external force
Rather from itself

Something happy

Children having fun
Enjoying a summer day
Completely care free

Happiness is fleeting. As a wiser man than I once said "you come, you eat the cookie, you smoke the cigarette, and that's it." It's those small moments, that start to fade almost immediately after they occur, that truly make us happy. Because were those moments more abundant, they would lose their luster.

Just knowing shes there
Can bring a smile to my face
And like that it's gone

One a day

A man died today
The world is none the wiser
His mother's world ends

Just under 300,000 people die everyday. 300,000 out of 7 billion. That's a little shy of .005% of the Earth's population. Worry not though, there are about 1 million births a day. But how obscene a population our species has amassed that 300,000 amounts to less than .01%. I personally haven't seen 300,000 in one place. I don't think I've even seen 300,000 different people throughout my life.

I once read that an asteroid of 1km in diameter would be sufficient to snuff out all life on this planet upon impact. But not all at the same time. The worst case scenario would be if it hit an ocean. Best case scenario would be a mass of land. Either way a lot of people would die right away. The survivors would have to compete for food and survive countless earthquakes, floods and horribly cold weather. Competing for food is fine and all but there is no more sunlight, because the sky is obfuscated by ash, soot, and dust from the impact. No sunlight means no heat, no energy for plants. No heat and no energy for plants means the food chain starts to fall apart.

So now all the plants that animals eat are dead, therefore the animals that we eat are dead. We have stores of food but production would cease. Those stores are finite, and when they run out we would need to find alternatives to survive. After all, everything we do is so we can simply survive for another day. Now, many months after this horrible catastrophe, all the animals and plants are dead. What's left? Humans! Probably lots and lots of humans.

Which brings me to my next point. Not enough research has been done on cannibalism, I feel. We don't know how well our digestive system could handle human flesh. We also don't know the psychological implications of cannibalism. Hopefully we'll never have to know, but it's better to have knowledge and not need it than need it and not have it.

Suggested reading: The Road by Cormac McCarthy

A wind swept valley
That no one has ever seen
Amounts to nothing

Society 2.0

Add me as a friend
Let's write on each others walls
Or you could just call

Facebook has revolutionized the way people interact with one another. Whether it's for the better or for worse, that's up to the individual to decide. It's not just Facebook, either. There is a plethora of websites that specialize in social interaction. They are great tools for networking, keeping track of friends at long distances or even locating people you've lost touch with. Though, as great as it may seem, there are cons to this social networking. This lack of actual face time that's substitued for text and images is detrimental, I feel. We're social animals by nature, and slowly but surely we're removing the animal; and I'm not quite sure what we're replacing it with.

There was a time that if you wanted to get to know someone you met, you got their phone number. Now people exchange Facebook profiles. Even when confronted by social interaction, people avert this interaction back to cyberspace. It seems as though that life on the internet is becoming more and more prevalent than the physical. So much so that younger generations are beginning to speak the way they type. There have been many times that I've heard someone say something witty or funny, and their listener's response was LoL or LMAO. I wonder if they know that they could just laugh and still convey the same message. These people seem to be the minority for now, but so were the first people on Facebook.

If society continues on this way, people will stop being people. They will become their profiles. Their status will eliminate the need to ask how they are doing. Their blog will eliminate the need to ask them what's new. The omnipresence of the internet could completely eliminate the need for that person to even exist.

It is to that end that I predict headstones in the future will have an LED display, not some touching final thoughts from family and friends. The LED will display their Facebook profile. Everyone will write something touching on their wall and mourn from home. But no one will ever go to see it. They'll just check it from home. So maybe they won't even have headstones. Facebook will just change the colour of their wall from blue to grey. It'll save everyone more time, to update their status to 'in mourning'.

It is her first time
He says he will be gentle
He removes her tooth

Dog and the meaning of life

The prayers of many
Unanswered they shall remain
Because no one's there

I love my dog. My dog loves me. Probably more than my dog loves herself. That's a hard concept to wrap my head around. To love a living creature more than you love yourself. I'm sure it will be easier to understand if ever I have children. But for now it's a pretty insane idea. We're not related, we're not even the same species. It goes against every biological predisposition of self preservation and propagation of the species one may have. It's the only real form of altruism I can think of.

Therein lies the meaning of life. In that there is no meaning, other than what you give it. My dog has chosen to make the meaning of her life me. My life's meaning right now is the completion of my education. Beyond that, my life's meaningless. But only because I haven't given it a meaning yet. I'm sure I'll have many ambitions that I'll pursue and many more that I'll dash when the time comes. Those aspirations will add to my personal idea of what my purpose is. However, giving yourself a purpose does not constitute a purpose, per se. Confused yet?

I was too. But not as confused as you are. Trust me. I'll explain. There is a man who once asked someone he was about to kill, to pray to God. He gave his victim to be 30 seconds. If God gave this man a sign, he would refrain from murdering his target. Needless to say, the man doing the praying is no longer with us. The dearly departed must have assigned himself some self imagined purpose. But I can guarantee you that this self conceived meaning was not to hurt his family with his passing, be ridiculed by a psycho moments before his death or be made an example of on a blog. My point is this, if your purpose isn't your purpose, then what is your purpose? Nothing.

I guess what I'm trying to say is I'd like to travel. See the world. The Pyramids (Egypt and Mexico), the Great Wall, the Eiffel tower, etc. Not because they're beautiful, or because I want to have a unique experience. Simply because I want to see these infinitely ambitious Human constructs, as unfathomable as their creation maybe to my simple mind; then ponder their inconsequential insignificance in proportion to the vastness of the universe. Maybe I'll bring my dog.

What the hell is this?
A mole or melanoma?
Goddamn skin cancer!

Brangelinasthesia

Brad and Jen broke up
Brad is with Angelina
Why do people care

As previously mentioned, the world is going to hell. I, as you may have discerned by now, am concerned, to say the least. But when doing my daily rounds of information whoring, I like to take a moment and find out who's banging who in Hollywood. I don't really, but a lot of people do. Chances are someone reading this, is doing so after reading about some Hollywood gossip. Or maybe they'll check out some gossip after reading my blog. Who am I kidding, no one reads this blog. I could be writing white power literature and no one would be the wiser. Come to think of it, I'd probably get more attention if I was writing white power literature. White power.

But that's neither here nor there, or anywhere for that matter. But anywhere there's a will, there's a way. And where there's a way, there's the potential for an obstruction. And that's where Brangelina comes in. The obstruction on the way to spiritual and mental fulfillment in our society is this obsession with celebrities. Their pictures are plastered everywhere. There are countless blogs about their daily lives. We just can't seem to get enough of these crazy, famous, rich people. White power.

But why? Why do we care so much about the lives of these actors, musicians, and other entertainers? Is it because our own lives are so completely devoid of any substance that we not only have to live vicariously through these people when they are performing, but also when they're not as well? Or is this simply a new extreme type of method acting, taking it to the next level. Maybe these people are staying in character all the time, for our sakes. Because deep down inside, they know our lives are empty voids. Or maybe it's the other way around? What if they're mirroring our own absurdity. Only, like any work of fiction, it's exaggerated. White power.

Maybe, just maybe, it's one more sign of our impending doom. Because when our concern lies with who broke up with whom and not with whom invaded whom, then maybe we deserve said doom. That rhymed, I assure you this next one won't. If the doom hammer is coming down, bring on the Brangelinasthesia, because I don't want to feel any of it. White power.

I miss the old days
When the only things picked up
Were toys on the floor

Consensual violence

Two artists at work
Competing for one canvas
But their strokes are strikes

It's 1995. I'm 11 years old. I have pay per view un-scrambler in my home. I turn it on one night and witness men of all shapes and sizes fighting in a cage. The cage is in the shape of an octagon. I fall in love. It's 2004. I'm 20 years old. The ultimate fighter reality show is attracting more people to the sport of MMA. I despise these fake fans. It's 2009. I'm 25 (just shy of that mark). Everyone watches 'Ultimate Fighting'. Strange how things change from being fringe bloodsport to mainstream sporting event. It's even stranger to overhear people talking about MMA at school, movies, work. But they don't talk about MMA. They talk about UFC. They talk about it as if the UFC is MMA. I still despise these fake fans. I no longer have an un-scrambler.

I turn on the tv sometime last year. I see a commercial for Never Back down. I have the urge to vomit. I'm talking to someone I just met about a recent UFC fight. Then I mention that what the UFC is doing may be bad for MMA. He asks what MMA is. I change the subject. I'm talking to someone else of little relevance in my life. The topic of combat sports comes up. I mention that I train Muay Thai and BJJ. His response, like many other people this society over, is I bet you can kick a lot of people's asses huh? I change the subject. I turn on the tv sometime last week. I see a commercial for Fighting. I have the urge to vomit.

I don't think this fad is going away.

Things to say to people wearing UFC shirts/hats:
1. Do you ultimate fight?
2. If yes, you wanna ultimate fight?
3. If no, make up a gym name and tell them you teach UFC, they should stop by.
4. Ask them if GSP could beat Silva.
5. Ask them if Silva could beat GSP.

Ring the in stepping
Be to need I rather or
Confident am I

You can't spell student without stud

They sit in silence
She whispers that she's sorry
His love turns to hate

The world is going to hell, fast. Everyone seems to believe Obama is going to save the world. People everywhere are investing all their hopes in him. The internet is peddling countless 2012 doomsday prophecies. So much so, it's leaked into the mainstream with a new rash of movies about 'the end' (one of which is brilliantly titled, wait for it, 2012). The economy seems to be getting worse because people are speculating, then turning those speculations into actualities by acting on the speculations they themselves made (self fulfilling prophecies are fun). The climate seems to be going through extreme changes as well. It snowed very recently, in the month of April. To top it off, my student loans won't cover my full tuition. Maybe on December 21, 2012, instead of the end, we'll see the end of high prices (possibly a new shopping mall complex).

She moves to his side
He shows her some affection
Her tail starts to wag

Late night musings

How unfortunate
That death should grant us freedom
When it matters least

There is fluoride in your drinking water. This is because a man named Edward Bernays convinced the American (and subsequently Canadian) public that water fluoridation was safe. Edward Bernays was the nephew of the famous Sigmund Freud. He was also the author of a book entitled Propaganda. In Propaganda, Bernays argued that the scientific manipulation of public opinion was necessary to overcome chaos and conflict in society. As you may have guessed by now, Propaganda is essentially the manual for, well, propaganda. Not someone I'd trust the state of my drinking water to. But that's just me.

Fluoride is lethal to humans at certain dosages. It also causes deficiencies in the thyroid glands. Drinking fluoridated water makes and keeps you, to a certain extent, unhealthy. When you are unhealthy you visit doctors, who act as pushers for pharmaceutical companies. The antibiotics they peddle in turn keep you in a state of poor health. Unhealthy people are easier to control than healthy people.

Fluoride, however, is good for your teeth. But it does not require ingestion. A topical treatment will yield similar results. Most European countries do not fluoridate their water supply. Let's all move to Europe.

No longer great apes
They sit in captivity
But they see the bars