The Red Balloon

Rediscovering this world with the realization of an adult but the nuances of a child carrying a brand-new red balloon as it trails behind them in playful glee.

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Location: Sugar Land; Lubbock, Texas, United States

Living the life of an excentric elfen artist in a world of logic and numbers.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

The Angry White Man


Jordan forwarded this to me. At least somebody has a brain out there to put it in a newspaper.










Editorial from the Aspen, Colorado local newspaper:

There is a great amount of interest in this year's presidential elections, as everybody seems to recognize that our next president has to be a lot better than George Bush. The Democrats are riding high with two groundbreaking candidates — a woman and an African-American — while the conservative Republicans are in a quandary about their party's nod to a quasi-liberal maverick, John McCain.

Each candidate is carefully pandering to a smorgasbord of special-interest groups, ranging from gay, lesbian and transgender people to children of illegal immigrants to working mothers to evangelical Christians.

There is one group no one has recognized, and it is the group that will decide the election: the Angry White Man. The Angry White Man comes from all economic backgrounds, from dirt-poor to filthy rich. He represents all geographic areas in America, from urban sophisticate to rural redneck, deep South to mountain West, left Coast to Eastern Seaboard.

His common traits are that he isn't looking for anything from anyone — just the promise to be able to make his own way on a level playing field. In many cases, he is an independent businessman and employs several people. He pays more than his share of taxes and works hard.

The victimhood syndrome buzzwords — "disenfranchised," "marginalized" and "voiceless" — don't resonate with him. "Press 'one' for English" is a curse-word to him. He's used to picking up the tab, whether it's the company Christmas party, three sets of braces, three college educations or a beautiful wedding.

He believes the Constitution is to be interpreted literally, not as a "living document" open to the whims and vagaries of a panel of judges who have never worked an honest day in their lives.

The Angry White Man owns firearms, and he's willing to pick up a gun to defend his home and his country. He is willing to lay down his life to defend the freedom and safety of others, and the thought of killing someone who needs killing really doesn't bother him.

The Angry White Man is not a metrosexual, a homosexual or a victim. Nobody like him drowned in Hurricane Katrina — he got his people together and got the hell out, then went back in to rescue those too helpless and stupid to help themselves, often as a police officer, a National Guard soldier or a volunteer firefighter.

His last name and religion don't matter. His background might be Italian, English, Polish, German, Slavic, Irish, or Russian, and he might have Cherokee, Mexican, or Puerto Rican mixed in, but he considers himself a white American.

He's a man's man, the kind of guy who likes to play poker, watch football, hunt white-tailed deer, call turkeys, play golf, spend a few bucks at a strip club once in a blue moon, change his own oil and build things. He coaches baseball, soccer and football teams and doesn't ask for a penny. He's the kind of guy who can put an addition on his house with a couple of friends, drill an oil well, weld a new bumper for his truck, design a factory and publish books. He can fill a train with 100,000 tons of coal and get it to the power plant on time so that you keep the lights on and never know what it took to flip that light switch.

Women either love him or hate him, but they know he's a man, not a dishrag. If they're looking for someone to walk all over, they've got the wrong guy. He stands up straight, opens doors for women and says "Yes, sir" and "No, ma'am."

He might be a Republican and he might be a Democrat; he might be a Libertarian or a Green. He knows that his wife is more emotional than rational, and he guides the family in a rational manner.

He's not a racist, but he is annoyed and disappointed when people of certain backgrounds exhibit behavior that typifies the worst stereotypes of their race. He's willing to give everybody a fair chance if they work hard, play by the rules and learn English.

Most important, the Angry White Man is pissed off. When his job site becomes flooded with illegal workers who don't pay taxes and his wages drop like a stone, he gets righteously angry. When his job gets shipped overseas, and he has to speak to some incomprehensible idiot in India for tech support, he simmers. When Al Sharpton comes on TV, leading some rally for reparations for slavery or some such nonsense, he bites his tongue and he remembers. When a child gets charged with carrying a concealed weapon for mistakenly bringing a penknife to school, he takes note of who the local idiots are in education and law enforcement.

He also votes, and the Angry White Man loathes Hillary Clinton. Her voice reminds him of a shovel scraping a rock. He recoils at the mere sight of her on television. Her very image disgusts him, and he cannot fathom why anyone would want her as their leader. It's not that she is a woman. It's that she is who she is It's the liberal victim groups she panders to, the "poor me" attitude that she represents, her inability to give a straight answer to an honest question, his tax dollars that she wants to give to people who refuse to do anything for themselves.

There are many millions of Angry White Men. Four million Angry White Men are members of the National Rifle Association, and all of them will vote against Hillary Clinton, just as the great majority of them voted for George Bush.

He hopes that she will be the Democratic nominee for president in 2008, and he will make sure that she gets beaten like a drum.



Monday, February 11, 2008

Stuff Movies are Made Of


So I guess I've been thinking more, or this little elfen muse has a muse of her own. Either way, here is another post in the same month! Amazing isn't it! lol

Valentines day is usually the bane of my existance, but this year I actually have a wonderful boyfriend AND it will be our 6 month anniversary.

I decided i should make a list of the things that I want for Valentines and I know I will never get, because I ALWAYS have crappy valentines days.

1. a ring: Jordan and I have gone back and forth about this. I want a promise ring. He doesn't think its necessary. But, i'm a girl, and I am reminded of what a wonderful relationship I have when i have something placed on my finger. Weird, I know, but i'm a wild child.

2. flowers: Steve was the last guy to give me flowers. They were for my birthday, and it was wonderful. Poor guy, he wanted to take me out for dinner, but by that time i had pretty much committed to Jordan. I think the other time i recieved flowers was for my art show opening...rarely do i recieve them from a lover...and not a family member.

3. a nice dinner with candles: i know i'm really getting mushy with you guys, but you have to realize, i've never had a romantic dinner. Derek tried, i'll give him that, once...but...well...i'm leaving it at that. Anywhos, the stuff you see in the movies is truly that...the movies...

4. a quiet evening watching movies: happened once with Jordan, and only because I was really sick.

5. surpise me: i've never been surprised...ever. Well, scratch that...James did suprise me once by taking me to an art studio to see some majorly awsome sculptures. But for a romantic...anything...i haven't been surprised. Honestly, for once I would like to be told, "put on something nice and sexy, we are going out" and that be that. Well, yeah, Jordan and I are both in college but you can still do that and have a nice picnic. *shrugs*

EXTRA
I guess overall, i find valentines the second most hated holdiay on my list. (Christmas being the first). I don't like the color pink, and honestly even though it is a holiday to express your "love" for someone, that should be expressed regularly and not because some day tells you so. There is not much good that I have experianced that has come out of this day. Well, scratch that...the KY commercials are pretty funny. And truly, they have the heart of the holiday..."Happy Valentine's Night".

-Reijn

Sunday, February 10, 2008

What is Love?


This is something i found in another blog. I just wanted to comment on afew, while i read it. I wanted to say the experience that Jordan and I are going through right now, and how this compares to what is written. We are in love, period. But does that mean that what is written below defines our love? I don't think so. That is why i am commenting in red.

The True Meaning of Love
What is Love?

Love is a slow kiss goodnight.
It's anticipation.

Anticipation? For what? It doesn't seem logical to me.

Love is flirting outrageously and still remembering that the person at your side is not obligated to do anything.
It's respect.

Respect, yes, but what does that have to do with flirting? When Jordan and I flirt it usually revolves around poking, tickling, silly faces, maybe a punch or two, then always ending with a kiss. Last night, I worked a long shift at the bar and Jordan grabbed me and twirled me around on the dance floor then dipped me and gave me a kiss. That is love...that is respect...that is knowledge. He knew i needed him.

Love is an imperfection in yourself not bothering you.
It's acceptance.

I think its the other way around..."Love is seeing imperfection in your partner, but it not bothering you."

Love is passing up an opportunity because the time isn't right yet.
It's patience.

Love is a back massage that starts above the hairline and ends around the insoles.
It's exploration.

It's tenderness.

Love is not having to say "Let's make love," because you know what the other person wants.
It's understanding.

Pshah, Jordan asks me that only because he is being polite, and curtious.

Love is being given an honest chance to say no when you thought you were committed.
It's consideration.

Love is both of you remembering protection.
It's responsibility.

Love is saying the perfect phrase to make a solemn embrace dissolve into giggles.
It's humor.

Jordan is perfect about that. He will be saying the most amazing thing, then he will break it all with some stupid phrase. Its typical him. I love him for it...and hate him at the same time. lol!

Love is being told "Stop and I'll kill you".
It's desire.

Its usually the other way around..."Stop or I'll kill you" But either way, we desire eachother because of the stupid stuff.

Love is reviewing the damage to your living room and realizing personal effects are strewn in a clockwise pattern from the front door to the bedroom.
It's abandonment.

The sad thing...its so true!

Love is seeing what your lover really looks like for the first time.
It's truth.

It's realization...it's purity.

Love is knowing what time it is and not caring.
It's joy.

It's personal happiness.

Love is the arms around you tightening their embrace.
It's ecstasy.

The first thing that struck me as wonderful, is the first time Jordan and I slept in the same bed. He would always turn around and wrap his arms around me...even when I would try to wiggle away from him so i could get comfortable...he would grab me and pull me in closer. It struck me as amazing. His arms would not slack off in sleep, but they would stay tight, wrapped doubly around me. I realized right then, that I had the opritunity to feel safe...be protected, for forever. It's protection...its security.

Love is seeing a new side of a person you thought you knew.
It's renewal.

Love is telling a person if you have to leave, you will let them sleep, and being told they would rather be woken.
It's tenderness.

Its stupidity of you ask me. I have to leave many of the times when Jordan still is asleep. I kiss him on the forehead and tell him, "goodbye my love, I'll see you when I get home." I let him continue sleeping. THAT is tenderness.

Love is waking up to find the subject of the dream you were having asleep on your shoulder.
It's where fantasy meets reality.

Or in my position, i'm asleep on his shoulder..."Love is waking up to find the subject of the dream you were having asleep, arms wrapped around you." Its where fantasy meets reality.

Love is being there to wake your lover. Slowly.
It's sensuousness.

I love it and hate it when he does that. Its rare, but I love the feeling, and I hate being woken up.

Love is belatedly knowing why you bothered to buy a queen-sized bed three years ago.
It's practicality.

or a king.

Love is two people only taking up a third of a queen-sized bed.
It's closeness.

or a king...when we get one, someday...with TONS of blankets!

Love is knowing you gave the extra set of keys to your apartment to the right person.
It's trust.

or leaving the door unlocked...

Love is saying good-bye and knowing you will be back by mutual consent.
It's faith.

I hate saying goodbye...i can't. Especially when i know i'm leaving the person I love behind.

Love is stretching your arms and discovering the real meaning of the word "sore".
It's a lesson in human frailty.

Isn't that the truth.

Love is opening your medicine cabinet and finding your tube of toothpaste turned into a pretzel.
It's adaptation.

we haven't gotten there yet...and hopefully never will. I guess for us, its our shampoos and conditioners...we never seem to be able to keep it in the house. That and water.

Love is sitting at the window, looking out and remembering who you were with the night before.
It's reflection.

I would rather say, "Love is sitting at the window, looking out and remembering who you were before you met "them"...and knowing who you are now...and who you can become..." Its reflection.

Love is hearing the weather forecast for a winter storm and wishing you could spend it in bed with your lover.
It's loneliness.

Oh isn't that the truth. ESPECIALLY when you have to get out in it.

Love is stories that will never be told.
It's personal.

Love is looking in that person's eyes and smiling...just knowing.
It's personal.

Love is Music and You!

Music?! Love is indescribable...if you can describe it then Hallmark should hire you. Or at least you should win some sort of prize.

- Reijn

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Paige Says...Toys R Us


Ok, i know it is not December any more...nor is it January. You can't blame me too much. School gets in the way of my updating. Again, i apologize in almost every post, but I feel like it is necessary.

It is February. Boy, has life been busy. I have actually hand written some blog entries over the past couple of weeks, but alas, they are probally not going to be electronically posted. I really don't have the time to sit down and type it all up. Its a miracle that i have gotten this one up.

Quick Synopsis.
Well, not much has really changed...school, classes, homework, Jordan; small social life. The only thing that has really changed is that I have a job now. I am a waitress at a local bar here in Lubbock, Bash's Riprock #1. I started on Saturday, and am actually enjoying it greatly. I already spend ungodly amounts of time there, might as well be paid to do so. I'm not making the big bucks, nor do I really expect to do so, but it is enough to have some pocket change. That's all I really want. I also have an art studio now. It is my neighbor's old apartment. They moved down to Houston but did not break their lease, so they are allowing me to use it until the lease is up. It is very kind of them, and I love them so much for it. (I love them even if they didn't do what they did, but they are just amazing people to begin with!) So, on that note, I have been painting, and studying in that new space. I already have a commission or two! It really makes me excited. I am finally doing what I love, AND getting paid for it! Slowly, I am becoming the artist that I want to be. Jordan and I are doing wonderful. Not much has changed in our relationship. Afew fights, but they have made us stronger and taught us our boundaries with eachother. Its good...in a way. Six months will be Valentines day. Ironic, especially in my life (if you know my dating history). We both are planning to work that day, so we may have to celebrate on a later date. Its ok. I won't complain. I love him no matter what. That fact does not scare me at all. I have found happiness in someone who will not hurt me, who will look after me, and who is my rock...or as Paige states it, "I'm acid, and he's my base." We both have men in our lives that stabilizes us out. Something we desperately need. It is such a wonderful feeling.

Weather.
I don't know what it is about Lubbock, but it will be cold and snowing one day, then the next it will be in the 60s. Back and forth, back and forth. It is the wierdest thing, and the most annoying. I'm not quite sure how to dress...or what to stock my draws with. lol

Profound.
Most blogs are designed for social ranting. It is "much to do about nothing". But I have read several blogs that actually have good discussions/topics. It is something I have always wanted to do in my own little space on the web. I did that once, but I really don't do it anymore. Maybe its something I should start again:

Today's topic is reality.

I went to a dorm today to grab some lunch, and what I saw surprised me. It didn't shock me...because I had known of its existance, but I had forgotten. Freshman. Little wanna-be sorority and frat freshman who all need an attitude adjustment, a clue about style, and all of thier cell phones broken. It brings me back to what a friend told me the other day, "Reijn, you have really changed, you're alot more mature now then you were back then." The "back then" he was refering to was the summer of my Freshman/Sophmore year and my entire Sophmore school year. I, personally, have not seen this change, but my peers have. I guess this is a good thing.

I now surround myself with people who are much older than me, and I can converse with them quite easily. Its wonderful infact. Seeing all those Freshman reminded me of what I was at one point. Responsibility was not something that was high on my priority list.
Some times when we are forced into a situation we have to rise to the occasion. Freshman courses that don't require any form of brain functions hinder the personal social growth. But in just the same, taking Junior and Senior level courses forces you to present yourself with your peers in a dictated manner. Thus, we have to be something. We are all forced to grow up. At the age of 21, I am towered down by the prospect of becomming a big kid and finding a real job. Not my night bar side job.

I was told by two returning alumni at the bar the other night, is to enjoy college while i still can. They told me of the monotomy that one falls into when working a daily job. They highly glorified taking that week trip to South Carolina in a hippie van with a friend of mine. He said that "work" was almost like loosing your childlike perspective on things...the glories of learning...exploring. The world is still viewable through rose-colored sunglasses. Growing up is never fun. But it is something we all do, eventually...some more than others.

I don't want to grow up at the age of 23...nor do i really want to grow up at the age of 26. Its going to happen at some point. I watched my friend at the age of 21 get married and have her first child. At the age of 22/23 she is pregnant with her second. At the age of 23, Paige got married and found a grown-up job. So did her husband. Their friend, age 21, already has a grown up job.

It brings me back to what a small boy said to me over the summer, while I was working retail...I asked him how old he was. He answered me quite promptly, "Five."
I replied, "FIVE?! Wow, I wish I was five again."
He stood there. And he stood there...thinking. About seven min. later he piped up, professionally stating, "You know, if you think back to when you were five, you will be five again." I laughed. But six months later, I still think about what he said. Even though, I laughed and initially blew him off, what he said was quite profound. A normal five year old doesn't come up with those things. As adults we forget how it is to be five again. We forget our childhood, in a sense. We mature, and become functional human beings within the boundaries of society. In a way, we lock up Toys R Us and open up the doors to Office Depot.

-Reijn

Cites:
The picture of the boy in gear is from a wikimedia commons page about the Make A Wish foundation. Evan Moriarty is five years old, and survived cancer.