Discovering the grass-stains on the shoes on the other side of the fence.

Whoa. What the hell.
There was this girl I past in the hallway, Hi, hi, how are you, good how are you, good, done. She seemed to recognize me, must have been from Robin's theatre class. She was damn cute. Mostly her presentation, she really knew how to look good, and more importantly look interesting, in a cute girly way.
I was hit by a big fat brick of acute awareness of my bob do, not even gelled up cute today, and frumpy stupid polo shirt, at once both jealous of her as a woman who wants TO attract and a woman who is attracTED. Chick Brick. I felt like a shy gawky geek GUY. Might feel. I felt like he might feel.
How weird. All my swan life, (after my ugly duckling phase exploded into bits that reformed a newfound self-esteem) I've been unconsciously and unconsciously striving and finally being that girl, that unattainable passing fleeting vision of charming glory. I pictured something that i found desirable, and eventually embodied it to the nth degree.
But especially since I've cut my hair i've fallen down the rabbit hole on the other side, the watcher, not the watched, the wanter, not the wanted. I havent been there since my ugly duckling days, when i used to watch my Greek God at play and wish i was pretty enough to make him want his antics to catch my eye. My eye was caught, he didn't give a rat snot. I was perpetually eternally devastated. Those scars still haven't healed, no matter how fine my swan feathers grew. And plus, when i finally started cruising across the swanly lake i realized it wasnt all it was cracked up to be. the hot girls arent any happier, at peace, fulfilled. sometimes its even worse.
And now the tongue in my heart curls up again in stumbling inadequacy, but this time the duckling and the swan have collided into a mess of identity bewilderment.
This business of breaking the chains of heterosexual thought processes is the pits, man. woman. whatever. i dont know what i want anymore, and even when i thought i knew what i wanted i never EVER got it, so what am i supposed to do NOW?
I mean, enlightenment wise, its fun, its totally the right direction, the next depth of connection to people, regardless of sex or gender, and leaving the sexual attraction out of it to come later if and only if it does, thats the way to go, like i've been giving lip service to all this time. and now i can actualize it, live it. but its new ground for me, its constantly confounding, and it means being a yo-yo between inner peace and contented self-image on the one side and crumbly flaky superficial posing stemming from lack of self-esteem. One minute the bodhisatva, the next, just an average Joeshmoe JaneDoe.
Gah, i say, gah. Then I say it again. Gah.
Tell you what, when i really reach enlightment i'll have complete control over my world, and i'll just make it such that i have a harem of stunningly beautiful smart funny kind people across the gender spectrum, and i'll pick from them to accompany me through each day like i pick my cds for a drive, and i myself will be a shimmering morph of ether that envelops the world as both its essence and its mirror.

These Eyes Forever

I seem to remember starting this particular gaiia cyber trip on a series of Eye notes. Let this conclude that series so a new chapter might begin. Last thursday I spent a few hours waiting around the surgeon's office, making 5yr old google faces at Amma and whining at her to tell me a story, interrupted occasionally by the nurse calling me to take another test, or to tilt my head for the sting of pupil dilation liquid. Finally the surgeon apologetically told me my cornea was too thin to do the Lasik, or any other surgery.
So that's that. My tender baubles of vision are to remain fuzzy like a chickadees bottom. Surprisingly, no matter really. I was feeling uncomfortable about the plastic-surgery-ness of it. The luxury of it. Now that option isn't an option, it's out of my head. I mean, it would have been nice to have lenseless clarity, free from this pain in the ass, pain in the eyes. But now all I have to think about is getting myself to buckle down and start doing those exercises in the Better Sight Without Something Something book that I abandoned lazily so long ago.
Speaking of buckling down, perhaps I should start studying for that test of mine tomorrow. But then, would I be me if I did that?
Yup. Eyes. I checked the archives, I did start an eye thread, and it babbled away for a while, now its trap will I shut. Was that somehow impure, going back and checking and then coming back to edit this, after publishing? Am I re-writing history? Who the hell cares. I write i write i rite i right i type i tipe i taip shmoosh smoosh wiggle waggle willaby wallaby mo mo mo. Mo. Maurice. La Vie est Une Longue Fleuve Tranquille. Test. Testing.

Today I leave it to the Big Z...

March 7 1999, On Getting Along, By Howard Zinn

You ask how I manage to stay involved and remain seemingly happy and adjusted to this awful world where the efforts of caring people pale in comparison to those who have power?

It's easy. First, don't let "those who have power" intimidate you. No matter how much power they have they cannot prevent you from living your life, speaking your mind, thinking independently, having relationships with people as you like. (Read Emma Goldman's autobiography LIVING MY LIFE.  Harassed, even imprisoned by authority, she insisted on living her life, speaking out, however she felt like.)

Second, find people to be with who have your values, your commitments, but who also have a sense of humor. That combination is a necessity!

Third (notice how precise is my advice that I can confidently number it, the way scientists number things), understand that the major media will not tell you of all the acts of resistance taking place every day in the society, the strikes, the protests, the individual acts of courage in the face of authority. Look around (and you will certainly find it) for the evidence of these unreported acts. And for the little you find, extrapolate from that and assume there must be a thousand times as much as what you've found.

Fourth. Note that throughout history people have felt powerless before authority, but that at certain times these powerless people, by organizing, acting, risking, persisting, have created enough power to change the world around them, even if a little. That is the history of the labor movement, of the women's movement, of the anti-Vietnam war movement, the disabled persons movement, the gay and lesbian movement, the movement of black people in the South.

Fifth: Remember, that those who have power, and who seem invulnerable are in fact quite vulnerable, that their power depends on the obedience of others, and when those others begin withholding that obedience, begin defying authority, that power at the top turns out to be very fragile. Generals become powerless when their soldiers refuse to fight, industriaists become powerless when their workers leave the jobs or occupy the factories.

Sixth: When we forget the fragility of that power in top we become astounded when it crumbles in the face of rebellion. We have had many such surprises in our time, both in the United States and in other countries.

Seventh: Don't look for a moment of total triumph. See it as an ongoing struggle, with victories and defeats, but in the long run the consciousness of people growing. So you need patience, persistence, and need to understand that even when you don't "win," there is fun and fulfillment in the fact that you have been involved, with other good people, in something worthwhile.

Shanti Sena

I've discovered a new and utterly guilt-free pleasure that Maya's friends call Delicious Hot. Let's just go back to our room and drink Delicious Hot, they say.
Super hot water. I sip it as I read instead of unmindfully munching Oreos or something. I'm trying to wean myself off of my habit of snacking when I read. It bloats my soul.
Discipline is what I need. I wish there was an army training that I could go to that delivered on discipline and skills without that whole killing and colonizing part.
I just watched this movie called The Last Castle, Robert Redford starring as this glorified army dude, leads a revolt in a military prison. Movie got beefs, or rather, I got beefs with it, but no matter. I still felt a surge of pleasure in me as I revolted along with the inmates. In my mind, of course. Sasimama introduces me saying I've been in US prisons. That shouldn't impress, even if it were true. But honestly, I was just stuck in a cramped van for 8 hours, and a couple of holding facilities. Jail is still a foreign concept to me, and I can't pretend that there is no small part of me that perhaps conspires to make that not so. Is being obtuse a crime? Does that count?
But no. That was not the only thing on my mind as I watched the movie. Yes, the injustice of the prison industrial complex featured prominently, but so did thoughts of Gandhi's Shanti Sena.
As part of the scheme the prisoners/soldiers used metal cafeteria trays as protection against the batonning guards. Maybe I won't make it to RNC, but regardless, how delighted I would be if my comrades lined New York streets with PVC shielding a la Crimethinc DIY guide.
I miss the fight. I feel so far from the battlefield, even though reports on investment, business, technology, military, all remind me that I could be at the frontlines in one way. None of that matters in the least if I don't find myself fellow soldiers. I can't keep doing this shit on my own, with all my talk of cooperation. I Ching helped me decide to really put aside plans for RNC for now, but it didn't tell me what to do instead, where to find the group, the partnership, it recommended, and I'm sick of saying it will come to me, because it's getting easier and easier to drink Delicious Hot and sit in an ice-cold Ivory Tower. I'm recruited already, now would somebody get me on the field?
Om shanti. Om shanti. Om shantihi.

Lensed eyes

Shit. Late. Always late. Always on the go. Nooooo. Not anymore, I'm chillin more now, going flow slow, no? Yes, but for now, on the go. Somehow, always leave blogging till last minute (still have a freakin 250 emails or so) of internet episode, so end up blogging under pressure. Boo. Nootun's 3rd Law of Bloggage: Pressurized blog does not result in explosion of truth and illumination.
Lenses on my eyes have thick black frames. They make me feel smart and deep and artistic and yet chic and New Yorkian. I'd like to be rid of them though. Must onwardho to University to meet Amma and Acchan to go to eye doctor appointment to see if can do Lasik, that is why am late, and that is also why have glasses lenses instead of contact lenses.
Amma's b'day today. She's 53. I told her it's a good age, to be proud of it. I wasnt lipservicing or nothing, I meant it. It has a weight, a significance for her presence on earth. I would love it if she would become her goddess. Blech. Too bad that phrase and concept has been coopted and corrupted by pieces of kaka like Venus razor company.
Gone. Be.