Isn’t it ridiculous that I make decisions based on monetary considerations? If I choose the logic that says take the highest offer, work for more, refuse a piddling amount, why I am here? See you in Saudi Arabia.

What does it mean when I, others, say that I, we, no longer speak the same language? A paradigm shift is a bullshit, 21st century phrase that only signifies if you understand your present paradigm. If not, wander along and leave the thinking to the media which tells you what to eat, wear, say, watch, read, study, love, hate, forget. Remember.

Can you really change in 18 months? What is it that you changed? Did you change it, or did it change you? What does ¨it¨ mean? These are the ramblings of one looking for an answer using a system of signs that, although they permit, do not promote, introspection.

There is a story that Socrates (or Plato, depending on whether or not you even believe Socrates existed) related in one of his early teachings. When writing was first created, the god who created it took the idea to the wisest person he knew. This person, a king, offered numerous objections, rather criticisms. He said that writing would make people forget. If you don’t have to memorize anything, i.e. you can write it down, then what will you remember? Also, the king said it would make fools feel they had knowledge. Anyone can go to a teacher and listen, take notes, then repeat the words written on the page. This, in no sense, signifies understanding, knowledge.

As you might imagine, the god was none too pleased with this reply. He had created the first artificial technology, writing, and wanted what any inventor, and god for that matter, does: praise. Not receiving the appreciation he felt he deserved must have been quite a blow. But, he was a god, and in general, life is pretty good for the gods. Eternal life, wild and outrageous powers, good times.

My argument lacks both novelty and entertainment value. Those two definitely work against me as the old and boring are often brushed aside in favor of something shiny, shimmering, still in the plastic. Retire meant community.

Walking around this city you see the influence of us(a). actually, you must work not to see it, and then, really, you are simply lying to yourself. Progress. Such an innocent word on its surface, especially as a verb, yet the problems arise when you make it a noun. As in, ¨gazing out from her 25th floor apartment balcony, the steel, glass and general progress the city had made were blinding.¨ she cannot see anymore. Probably does not want to, truly. Can you explain to someone without vision what a skyscraper looks like? Can you impart the sound of a jackhammer to someone without hearing? These are artificial creations, to be sure, but substituting these for natural examples makes no real difference. Language, then, fails. The break down occurs, and you either move on to something else and forget, or, repeatedly knock your head against a wall. Which is better? The result is roughly the same.

Is progress really a gift? Everything I see here tells me it is. The people are often eager to remind me of wonderful advances the city/country has made in the last 15 years. I am typing on a laptop by the way. My hypocrisy knows no bounds.

So maybe this lack of understanding is simply a feeling. Poets, authors, bryan adams and the bee.gee´s have been trying to educate us on the finer points of feelings for a long time, yet I think we still have not come to understand them very well. If we did, would we still need these people or simple rewind the tape and listen to it again?

Have I explained it? Does it seem like I really even tried?

I must say relationships down here are interesting. Dating, in general, involves something more than what I was used to. Of course, every ex of mine would probably say my main problem was not really trying. Not investing. Sure. I wont disagree simply because I, apparently, could care less. So what is different down here? Knowing that there is difference between us, more than male/female stuff, simple communication becomes rather interesting. When we all speak the same language, we think we understand. When we don’t, we know that we are missing something. But somehow, you cannot really know what that something is. I would argue it was always a lie to assume we understood each other. The same language ensures that the words will be familiar, not that the meaning, intentions, feelings, implied by those words will be comprehended. I have dated girls that speak excellent English and those that speak none. As you might have guessed, the level of English has nothing to do with it. It is the part where you want to understand the other person that makes one viable and the other a flop. So is that so different from any other relationship?

I use the dating metaphor for a reason. At some point or another, everyone reading this has been on a date of some kind, or been in some kind of loving relationship (gender is not important here). I cannot assume any more than that, but I would imagine there has come a time (unless you happily married/became the permanent partner of the first person you ever dated) when you think that you and the other person do not really speak the same language. The words are there, clearly there are some types of feeling (revulsion, hate, indifference, etc.), but the words you both use no longer (if they ever did and you were simply not delusional-in love) signify the same thing. Then, you may make the analogy that one person is speaking a separate idiom (Spanish, Portuguese, Italian) than your own. Try explaining that to someone not involved and you will often receive a look of sympathy, which probably implies that the person either does not really care or thinks you don’t know what you are talking about. Either way, you come off sounding odd.

Hence, me saying that I do not speak the same language as many people in my own country seems either quite strange or stupid. However, that has no bearing on the fact that I feel as I do.

On a side note, I feel like a teenager again. I met this girl about 4 months ago and have had a lot of interaction with her since, but now somehow I feel different toward her. But then you don’t want to make a move and look like an idiot if she does not feel the same way (our relationship is not one of simple friendship, it is a little more complex than that). So what do you do? Well, if you are a coward, like me, you do nothing different. You make an effort to see the person more, but then you wait. Why? Weakness is all I can imagine. Well, that is not true. of course I can rationalize it any number of ways to make myself feel better, but I wont. In the end, I might just simply enjoy feeling strange around this person.

I built a table today. Pretty exciting. Went to the home depot, bought some 1x4´s, ½ inch plywood for the top (I doubled it up). 42 inch square top, 32 inch legs (I am finally putting into practice my dream of making things my size- I have often thought sinks, toilets, counter tops, etc. were made for people not my size). I am making it like a cantina table (which if you have not been to mexico you probably don’t understand). Each leg is two 1x4´s nailed together at a right angle (this make a small pocket in between them) which opens to the outside, and inside this angle I made two shelves, about 20 inches apart, so that you can put a drink, or two, in the leg- this frees up the surface for cards, computer, books, food, whatever. I am going to make a lip around the top edges that will rise about ¼ inch over the top of the surface- this will make a shallow, I don’t know, pool for lack of a better word. The logic behind this is that if my friends and I play cards you can toss a card across the table and it wont fall on the floor. Basically, I have created something that would be excellent for small children and babies- difficult to knock something off the top onto the floor and it keeps liquids away from the action (like a high-chair probably). I did not have a table before, so now I can type at home, do work here more easily, have people over to eat without having them sit on the floor or eat from their lap in a plastic chair. Mighty domestic of me. I also now have a place to put things when I come home from school, etc. otherwise, everything goes on the floor. Not really hygienic I guess. I suppose it is time for me to start getting it together. It also implies a sense of permanence I was never really ready for before. The less you have the easier it is to leave it. That might say more about my personality than I care to admit, but there it is.

I am going to build bookshelves next. My dad and Anthony can be proud that I finally put to use the skills I learned with them. Working with wood is fun. A hammer, nails and tape measure really go a long way. I also have an artist friend who is going to paint the table for me. Not sure about the design just yet, but I will try to take a picture of it at some point to show you. Somewhere in Richmond jimmy d is proud of me. Or paul, z-moves, sinc. I am certainly not on a par with them, but hey, you have to start somewhere.