tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65032701227629097092024-03-06T23:18:21.886-08:00The Awkward Epiphanythe chimerical bluster of a windstorm in disguise (my farewell to past lives as i set sail for higher ground.)the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-31680172638823895152008-06-21T05:51:00.000-07:002008-06-21T05:55:45.372-07:00i'm sitting on the bed in our hotel room...seaside heights, new jersey...mom pops out of the bathroom and immediately offers the following sagely advice to my notoriously constipated little cousin.<br /><br />"If you're having trouble pooping, just think of something funny...like our cat Leo."<br /><br />hrmthe awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-87003366737911808202008-06-02T14:11:00.001-07:002008-06-02T14:12:28.729-07:00my issue with whalesi was talking to an imaginary person inside my head today. this person was a huge whale fanatic.<br /><br />me: "I could never be fanatic for whales."<br /><br />her: "Why not?"<br /><br />me: "Because they live in the ocean."<br /><br />her: "So!"<br /><br />me: "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW SCARY THE OCEAN IS?"<br /><br />it's an entirely logical argument. loads of people think sea creatures such as dolphins, whales, and starfish are cute, but i guarantee you that if you spent a single day with any of these specimens in their natural habitat, you would be grossed out of your gourd.<br /><br />and besides that, you would drown...<br /><br />so just get the f*** over whales.the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-45968486643248843752007-12-18T02:17:00.000-08:002007-12-19T05:52:41.338-08:00Tentative Titles<table id="HB_Mail_Container" height="100%" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="100%" border="0" unselectable="on"><tbody><tr height="100%" unselectable="on" width="100%"><td id="HB_Focus_Element" valign="top" width="100%" background="" height="250" unselectable="off"><p>Somewhere<br /><br />Blue Monday, Au Revoir<br /><br />Everybody's Crush on Blue<br /><br />Supernova Tuesday or Tuesday Supernova<br /><br />Shingo, Au Revoir </p></td></tr><tr unselectable="on" hb_tag="1"><td style="FONT-SIZE: 1pt" height="1" unselectable="on"><div id="hotbar_promo"> </div></td></tr></tbody></table>the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-44618274261561177612007-12-17T15:48:00.002-08:002007-12-17T15:49:48.638-08:00"These are......mediocre times, Mrs. Dunn. People are starting to lose hope. It's hard for many people to believe there are extraordinary things inside themselves as well as others. I hope that you can keep an open mind." -Elija Price (Samuel Jackson), Unbreakablethe awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-75223580693642619142007-12-17T01:50:00.000-08:002007-12-17T03:21:23.698-08:00Ten Great Original Screenplays<table id="HB_Mail_Container" height="100%" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="100%" border="0" unselectable="on"><tbody><tr height="100%" unselectable="on" width="100%"><td id="HB_Focus_Element" valign="top" width="100%" background="" height="250" unselectable="off">As according to a boy who doesn't typically watch pictures that precede the advent of color, and who has still yet to have seen many acclaimed contemporary films including Chinatown, Annie Hall, Taxi Driver, Memento, Terms of Endearment, et al.<br /><br /><strong>All of the following screenplays were original works, not adapted from a previously published body. </strong><br /><br />Rushmore - Wes Anderson and Owen Wilson<br />Harold and Maude - Colin Higgins<br />Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - Charlie Kaufmann<br />Raising Arizona - Ethan Cohen and Joel Cohen<br />Do the Right Thing - Spike Lee<br />The Royal Tennenbaums - Wes Anderson and Owen Wilson<br />Apocalypse Now - John Milius and Francis Ford Coppola<br />American Beauty - Alan Ball<br />Groundhog Day - Danny Rubin and Harold Ramis<br />Pulp Fiction - Quentin Tarantino and Roger Avery </td></tr><tr unselectable="on" hb_tag="1"><td style="FONT-SIZE: 1pt" height="1" unselectable="on"><div id="hotbar_promo"></div></td></tr></tbody></table>the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-28990255949576393172007-12-16T21:27:00.000-08:002008-05-16T11:32:40.584-07:00Alabaster of the Sea?I dreamt again about alabaster. This time some random girl on a bus was explaining to me what it was, like its chemical properties and the fact that it was very malleable. Naturally when I woke up I decided to wikipedia alabaster and found that it does have some religious significance and that it is in fact easily carved. What its significance was in my dreams, I can't say.the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-10062283459246528452007-12-06T16:12:00.001-08:002007-12-10T00:58:58.905-08:00The Blue of Wabi Sabiand its crush on melancholy.<br /><br />Indolence and ambition: one is a discernible devil, and though the other an angel, together they make a superior hell.<br /><br />If sloth has you, man, pray to be relieved from the torture of bold dreams.the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-49591167625911972002007-12-05T19:00:00.001-08:002007-12-05T19:01:55.578-08:00Now I Know That the Time I Lost Was a Gift to the Devils of Forever<table id="HB_Mail_Container" height="100%" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="100%" border="0" unselectable="on"><tbody><tr height="100%" unselectable="on" width="100%"><td id="HB_Focus_Element" valign="top" width="100%" background="" height="250" unselectable="off">The womb was a cannon, lit by the paternal prick of a Seattle man with a subpar sperm count—though otherwise hardy genes. And when his phalic flame had consumed the embryonic fuse of my mother’s mortar, so was discharged a new creation, baby J, along with my destiny, which discovered the sky in a sudden upward heave-ho, a burst, whereupon it sprawled and sprayed then stalled and spelled letters that stayed, in a clearing amidst the cottony grove of a nimbulous supra-land. <em>See you in 2012!</em> it said. Since the day of my birth and this promise, I have been standing here on my own fly ball version of planet Earth, slouched slightly as I always am, hands pocket-bound as they always are, eyes allergic to the sun and so cast down to the ground forever. It’s been twenty-four years of beat breath after breath. Everything is still up in the air, though destined to descend like everything. Meanwhile, I’ve just been waiting here, beneath all these different rotating suns, observing as fate’s shadows grow larger.<br /></td></tr><tr unselectable="on" hb_tag="1"><td style="FONT-SIZE: 1pt" height="1" unselectable="on"><div id="hotbar_promo"></div></td></tr></tbody></table>the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-18618681573554141672007-12-02T11:41:00.000-08:002007-12-04T15:35:49.420-08:00x-mas wishin'<table id="HB_Mail_Container" unselectable="on" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" height="100%" width="100%"><tbody><tr width="100%" unselectable="on" height="100%"><td id="HB_Focus_Element" unselectable="off" background="" height="250" valign="top" width="100%"><a href="http://www.vonnegut.com/confetti.asp">original kurt vonnegut screenprint</a><br /><br /><a href="http://blog.makezine.com/archive/2007/01/a_low_impact_wo.html?CMP=OTC-0D6B48984890">a low-impact woodland home </a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.shopping.com/xPO-Sony-ICD-MX20VTP">handheld digital voice recorder </a><br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scandinavia">ticket to scandinavia</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.allabouthorses.com/">what the hell, i love horses</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.powerscoots.co.uk/acatalog/Eco_Tornado_Spoked.html">eco-bike</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.sublet.com/Area_Rentals/NewYork/ParkSlope_Rentals.asp">apt in park slope</a><br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:GlennF5top.jpg">rustic 14th century minstreling device</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.perfectpancake.net/">perfect pancake maker</a><br /></td></tr><tr unselectable="on" hb_tag="1"><td style="font-size: 1pt;" unselectable="on" height="1"><div id="hotbar_promo"> </div><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:GlennF5top.jpg"></a> </p>the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-61778688673846675232007-11-28T18:46:00.000-08:002007-12-04T15:41:07.201-08:00a man who can only see the horizon from a distance, but can never move in on it<br /><br />vs.<br /><br />a man who can only see a red brick wall, the horizon behind him though he doesn't know it<br /><br />man #1 grabs man #2's shoulder, tries to turn him around so that he can see what he sees.<br /><br />:) what do you think of it?<br />:( it's brilliant.<br />:) isn't it?<br />:( yeah, but so what...it's miles away.<br />:) true, but what if we took a step towards it ever day. wouldn't that eventually be enough?<br />:( i suppose...yeah, theoretically, but how many steps have you taken so far?<br />:) well, none.<br />:( none? well then what the hell did you show me this for?<br />:) i thought that we could go there together.<br />:( listen it's a nice idea, but...tell you what, tap me again when you're on your way.<br /><br />man #2 went back to face his wall, while man #1 kept staring at the horizon. after a while, man #1 joined man #2, to see what his view was like.<br /><br />:( what do you think of it?<br />:) i have to say, it's pretty lame compared to my view.<br />:( yeah, but look...<br /><br />man #2 reached out his arm and dragged his fingertips against the rough surface of the red brick wall.<br /><br />:( ...you can touch it.<br /><br />man #1 did the same, dragging his fingers against the surface of the wall.<br /><br />:) you're right...this is real. i can actually feel it.<br />:( so i guess you just have to ask yourself...what's more important to you? a pretty view or something lesser that you can actually feel.<br /><br />man #1 was too engrossed by the intricacies of the cracks and the dull color variations of the wall to even operate his slack jaw to give an answer.the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-29169883255040825742007-09-14T05:01:00.000-07:002007-09-15T16:58:59.086-07:00The Best News You've Heard All WeekHere are perhaps the top ten <em>positive</em> new stories from the past week.<br /><br /><a href="http://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory?id=2974418&page=1">Billionaire opens mansion to homeless<br /></a><br /><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/14/us/14health.html?ex=1347422400&en=df72c1538394329f&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss">San Francisco offers care for every uninsured adult</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/15/world/asia/15zhao.html?_r=1&ref=todayspaper&oref=slogin">China releases jailed New York Times employee<br /></a><br /><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/15/world/africa/15briefs-darfur.html?ref=todayspaper">Sudan leader vows cease-fire</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.vnunet.com/vnunet/news/2198751/google-shoots-moon">Google sponsors private moon race<br /></a><br /><a href="http://www.goodnewsdaily.com/show_story.php?ID=2146">Nursing-home encounter proves that love will find a way </a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.christianpost.com/article/20070829/29099_12_Korean_Hostages_Released_by_Taliban.htm">12 Korean hostages released from taliban<br /></a><br /><a href="http://mypetjawa.mu.nu/archives/189039.php">Coalition soldiers rescue 2-year old Iraqi boy from well </a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.goodnewsdaily.com/show_story.php?ID=1760">Life-saving instrument distributed at no charge<br /></a><br /><a href="http://www.goodnewsdaily.com/show_story.php?ID=1536">Korea summit means massive aid for North-analysts</a>the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-17751519628831545102007-09-13T21:22:00.000-07:002007-09-13T21:25:09.819-07:00dynamism and creativity unfolds"When the circular movement of the subject partner and the object partner on a single plane becomes a spherical movement in a three-dimensional orbit, the dynamism and creativity of the universe unfolds. Variations in each orbit's distance, shape, state, direction, angle, force, and velocity are manifest as the beauty of creation in its infinite variety."<br /><br />-Divine Princple, <em>Creation 2.3.4</em>the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-89159566983640872612007-09-07T01:40:00.001-07:002007-09-10T06:41:57.123-07:00i am a priceless bum<ul><li>Jack Kerouac was a priceless bum. Life beat him, like life beat them all. But he tried, and you know God always blessed the ones who tried—for whatever they could scrounge from the pockets of their existence as an offering. God blessed Kurt Vonnegut, too. He wasn’t faking, he was just trying. He never pretended to be okay, though he was sometimes—you know, when he stopped to notice. God blessed Nietszche because he lived so dangerously that he lost his mind. And God blessed Alfred Nobel when he invented TNT, because God knew that he’d create an award for peace as pennance. God blessed Hitler because his treachery gave Viktor Frankl his life’s mission, and made our sweet Anne Frank the world’s dear. God blessed Satan because the devil felt so sad, and in sadness He could relate and feel the company of those He had lost and missed so much. In fact, whenever anyone feels sad they can just look up and say, “You, too?” and He’ll love them for that, and He’ll bless them for that, because it’s a priceless thing to say. I, too, am a priceless bum, and the Lord blesses me for trying. May we all die blessed and trying. </li></ul>the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-13906174133120416572007-09-04T00:13:00.000-07:002007-09-07T01:41:55.826-07:00if you should leave this earth too soondo everything that you were going to do in 40 years in 20 years, or everything that you were going to do in 80 years in 40--then dying young won't be so bad. if you should happen to live a bit longer, do everything again, only differently and with greater force.the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-36772011281891073552007-09-01T04:01:00.000-07:002007-09-01T10:12:39.003-07:00a place to spend the morning<em>here's the first paragraph of a flash fiction piece i wrote on a whim in the wee hours of this morning:</em><br /><br />Seymore, seventeen and heading west, in the just-dawn hours of an August Wednesday, was between the cross streets of 4th and 5th, on 2nd, in the Park Slope neck of the Brooklyn woods. He was trying to remember the words to a sad Elton John song he had heard that night when he suddenly spotted a very tall gentlemen heading east on the opposite side of the street. It was the very moment that Seymour had noticed this man that the stranger, who had been and remained staring obliviously down at the ground before his feet, abruptly altered his angle, cutting hard across the car-less road and forming an efficient line in his direction. Observing this, it occurred to Seymour that he should ask this man, as he passed, a question.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.xanga.com/the_awkward_epiphany">the full piece</a>the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-13707654698940916772007-08-29T06:00:00.001-07:002007-08-29T06:15:33.640-07:00i believe in tangerinei'm back in new york where i will belong, just as soon as i do something that will help me be worth belonging.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/dysonf07/dysonf07_index.html">here</a> is a great article written by a princeton physics professor putting the global warming issue into a well-minded perspective. the article is also a call for young heretics to stand up and challenge today's orthodoxies.<br /><br />here is an excerpt from the log i kept while traveling the rails cross country:<br /><br />I’m seated before the godzilla windows of the “sightseer” lounge, aboard the #8 Empire Builder train as it whistles through the upper-lefthand corner of a pink-skied North Dakota. It’s just about dark now. This part of North Dakota is wonderful at this time in the evening. They should name the different parts of magic hour, and the different types of magic hour depending on the geographical circumstances of the experience. For instance, right now I am experiencing the “late end of the prairie magic hour”. It’s really almost dark now. The horizon to the right is a very dark blue, but to the left it’s pink becoming orange with great swirls of dark blue (clouds) interrupting. We’re leaving the pink-orange behind and rolling into the dark blue now. Soon it will overtake us and lure the tired into its bed.the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-50030627394486499682007-08-24T15:50:00.000-07:002007-08-25T17:10:20.013-07:00Trains, PlanesTomorrow, the trains--a three day journey through Chicago from Seattle to Grand Central. Of course, I could fly, but then I wouldn't have all of those comfortable hours to burrow into quiet hiatus, would I?<br /><br />Not to mention the leg room, and scenery.the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-50005797993724181232007-08-23T19:44:00.001-07:002007-08-24T15:47:53.872-07:00Brave New World GemsI'm reading Aldous Huxley's <em>Brave New World</em>, and am withdrawing my formerly dour opinion of the moral philosopher as a fiction author (an opinion born from my experience reading <em>Island</em>). Here are my favorite literary gems from this unfortunately timeless dystopian tale.<br /><br />"What man has joined, nature is powerless to put assunder."<br /><br />"Rosy and relaxed with sleep, eighty little boys and girls lay softly breathing. There was a whisper under every pillow."<br /><br />"Swallowing half an hour before closing time, that second dose of <em>soma </em>had raised a quite impenetrable wall between the actual universe and their minds. Bottled, they crossed the street; bottled, they took the lift up to Henry's room on the twenty-eighth floor. And yet, bottled as she was, and in spite of that second gramme of soma, Lenina did not forget to take all the contraceptive precautions prescribed by the regulations. Years of intensive hypnopaedia and, from twelve to seventeen, Malthusian drill three times a week had made the taking of these precautions almost as automatic and inevitable as blinking."the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-88068017384595017632007-05-21T01:15:00.001-07:002007-05-21T11:05:56.318-07:00The Original EpiphanyMediocrity is the plight of the weak-willed's resignation. Greatness is the quality of the hero's. And the distinction between the two is like that between the valience of lending one's body to the winds versus the cowardliness of submitting oneself to the serenity of quicksand. In other words, there are two types of "letting go"; one is active, the other passive.<br /><br />The initial revelation was a sense of greatness, the affirmation that I could be so. And though there was little rational comprehension of how I could practically achieve such a quality, still, the feeling of what greatness meant for me, and the confidence that this kind of life was somehow fated, was solid enough to add an entirely new and wonderful dimension to my perspective. And thus, the stars in my eyes were born and I became what I had never been before, "wonder-filled."<br /><br />But then I lost it, that distinct feeling of hope, over the debacle of a three-year course. I'm fighting, now, not to strengthen it--as was my initial effort--or to even keep it alive--as had been my efforts subsequent to early failures--but to rediscover that original epiphany from which I had been born, and through which the "actual world" had been revealed to me.<br /><br />And what is the actual world? I have not yet found its words, though there have been many signs, pointing me closer to its refuge every day. And still I fall almost every day. And if my course were a sequence of numbers it might look like: 0-1-0-1-0-1-0-1-0-1-0....<br /><br />So how high of a number do you think is heaven's?the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-58154805240912136822007-02-24T10:35:00.000-08:002007-08-22T14:02:40.516-07:00Notes to Self-wear more muscle tees<br /><br />-finish scarf while the enthusiasm's still warm<br /><br />-study korean language and finally befriend 7/11 employee who uses poor english as an excuse not to talk to me.<br /><br />-get back into the habit of brushing teeth every day, work way up to twice a day as gums gradually toughen<br /><br />-no death metal at the wedding<br /><br />-learn how to disguise insensitivity as humor....learn how to disguise all negative traits as humor<br /><br />-grow larger muscles or overdry muscle tees to make them shrink to appropriate size<br /><br />-love the peoplethe awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-5557603338608396532007-02-23T10:27:00.000-08:002007-08-22T14:08:36.387-07:00Mourning WonderLast night I had a sudden urge to watch The Wonder Years, my favorite TV show from childhood. I hadn't see<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj1gKkT2t6r8-Cxt3pt3-WXEpGk_68f0g2-7IX4lEMlBI1_CB-4OoVXTFQCkNhDj66V1cd-mR6eTeWxRS6yfnIOYiHkUIiXaxHTPw00BKvXKLP-B0X3D5raaIKyeLulO08103tSJEjs/s1600-h/wonder.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034809702588822018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvj1gKkT2t6r8-Cxt3pt3-WXEpGk_68f0g2-7IX4lEMlBI1_CB-4OoVXTFQCkNhDj66V1cd-mR6eTeWxRS6yfnIOYiHkUIiXaxHTPw00BKvXKLP-B0X3D5raaIKyeLulO08103tSJEjs/s320/wonder.gif" border="0" /></a>n the show in years but I realized with the advanced state of online entertainment I could probably find it pretty easily. Sure enough.<br /><br />Aware that I would too easily get swept off into zombie eye land by the familiar glow of old sitcom faces, I allowed myself only two episodes. I decided to watch the pilot show and the series finale back to back. As old worlds unfolded, what began as healthy nostalgia soon developed into full blown melancholy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HV6yZpJDGYXRYGUx8o8OLu4W3AxeXar6wEMxWywcxI_Z0LtrZw9jvewuIr07UIiSz179QotUrpOaNnVfp0y7SIGAGGT3UAcU3ya-yswOlvpjLnuObGLcz9aX87o2tzzet3WFleGVLko/s1600-h/kevinwinie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034809844322742802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HV6yZpJDGYXRYGUx8o8OLu4W3AxeXar6wEMxWywcxI_Z0LtrZw9jvewuIr07UIiSz179QotUrpOaNnVfp0y7SIGAGGT3UAcU3ya-yswOlvpjLnuObGLcz9aX87o2tzzet3WFleGVLko/s200/kevinwinie.jpg" border="0" /></a>When the finale ended, right where it had begun with Winnie and Kevin in arms, I walked over to the door of my apartment, opened it and stared out into the stark suburban night. It was a bleak sight, no soft edges or cozy colors. "It's not the wonder years anymore," I spoke out loud. The sadness was overwhelming.<br /><br />But this isn't right! I shouldn't be mourning childhood like it was the last time life was good. I realized then that we mourn childhood more if we're unhappy with how thing's have become, but if I was proud of who I was and where life had taken me then I wouldn't be sad right now; I would just be happy to recollect good memories. And I would leave them in their place without comparing them to now.<br /><br />So I came to the conclusion that to indulge in nostalgia in order to induce melancholy (as superficially comforting as that melancholy might be) is no less lamer than indulging in any other form of self pity. I know that the soft edges and cozy lights will return with a good life lived, and that the comfort of the world, or lack thereof, is only a reflection of my spirit. As a child, the spirit takes place more naturally, but as an adult its more determined by our actions and standard of life. Love is no longer an easy present for carefree afternoons in parks or backyard football with neighborhood friends. It's not an automatic thing anymore.<br /><br />I believe that the good love comes through one's responsibility in this world fulfilled. And if we're not doing what we need to be doing, the affect of that will be the feeling of having lost something long ago. And the longer we carry on at half-standards the more we'll start to believe that that something's lost forever. This is my own situation anyway. But I'm determined to bring back the wonder.the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-68498020995502216532007-02-20T15:42:00.000-08:002007-02-21T16:10:03.137-08:00The 8 Most Impressive People Under 20It's a bit humbling when I think back to what I was up to as a teenager compared to where these young individuals are at.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66G52qVkvVAlRL80E0DSBWwPC0FPiqyU9FcC-qaeChm3QmuzLiZDZ46EyObw-wxnYYEuiAhlAZvTBSuyljbwylsqEyM88g1Qd6yomOXypIMdhkGBLliCOpRLSy1iZPXABzfjkd_CEH2s/s1600-h/marco.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034077032707731922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66G52qVkvVAlRL80E0DSBWwPC0FPiqyU9FcC-qaeChm3QmuzLiZDZ46EyObw-wxnYYEuiAhlAZvTBSuyljbwylsqEyM88g1Qd6yomOXypIMdhkGBLliCOpRLSy1iZPXABzfjkd_CEH2s/s320/marco.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,0)">Marco</span><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,0)"> Lunz, 18:</span><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,0)"> </span>German socialite and heir to the Heinz fortune, Marco does for Munich what Paris Hilton does for Hollywood. Sole beneficiary of a $400 million prosperity, the young cosmopolitan aspires to someday become a respected philanthropist and patron of the arts. "Though I have no great skills or personal ambitions per se, I do have some talent for recognizing deserving groups and individuals. " To date, Mr. Lunz has made significant donations to such organizations as <a href="http://72.14.209.104/search?q=cache:4Hj87ogcmG8J:www.norm.org/%2Bnorm&hl=en&ie=UTF-8">The National Organization of Rest</a><a href="http://72.14.209.104/search?q=cache:4Hj87ogcmG8J:www.norm.org/%2Bnorm&hl=en&ie=UTF-8">oring Men</a> as well as <a href="http://www.plainenglish.co.uk/">Plain English Cam</a><a href="http://www.plainenglish.co.uk/">paign </a>and <a href="http://www.uprightcitizens.org/">The Upri</a><a href="http://www.uprightcitizens.org/">ght Citizens Brigade</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjv94PRm2FdZJCQjoxC_5cg38lffoBnkcIa7Lc1ULllIAoOe49J6OM_-77PxoUYwNGvMEix9CuT4MUK3MowP97zgWxGFro0G8a38cGCuNNeWt5hUQzMe1EEgu1ws-DTW1syXsL3zqMBr8/s1600-h/laurene.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034072145034949042" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjv94PRm2FdZJCQjoxC_5cg38lffoBnkcIa7Lc1ULllIAoOe49J6OM_-77PxoUYwNGvMEix9CuT4MUK3MowP97zgWxGFro0G8a38cGCuNNeWt5hUQzMe1EEgu1ws-DTW1syXsL3zqMBr8/s320/laurene.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,0)">Jeun Bee Choi, 19:</span> An artist bored with tired trends and forms, Jeun Bee was on a mission to find a new creative medium. "I feel like art, as we've experienced it thus far, is for the most part primitive. I believe that true art, in its noblest form, has something to do with silence." Ms. Choi's motto is "sufficient in my Suchness", a phrase that refers to being without pretention--as are elements of nature, inanimate objects, the calm ruffles of a coat sleeve, things that in their natural way are more perfect, more beautiful than any trying creature could ever mean to be. "I've come to the conclusion that quiet is the only <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">truly</span> beautiful thing that somone still attached to their ego can be."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLhTeBiwsXNSt9Bw7d4crQi5_LGs1Jt9YreK0DDBO48-0C0wlX9xhfhNJ2h3qYGKxLyID6OmSGIKoZPPH7Lb9h7SED1dx3REJ4eRDLOTU9oNaUGZy9l6uAigLreQ1-bG224VgL6Ro2UI/s1600-h/chen.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034059797003972882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLhTeBiwsXNSt9Bw7d4crQi5_LGs1Jt9YreK0DDBO48-0C0wlX9xhfhNJ2h3qYGKxLyID6OmSGIKoZPPH7Lb9h7SED1dx3REJ4eRDLOTU9oNaUGZy9l6uAigLreQ1-bG224VgL6Ro2UI/s200/chen.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,51)"><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,0)">Lin Chongo, 19:</span> </span>Born on the first orange moon in the 89th year of the 20th Century to a pair of nomadic Hebrew-Chinese parents, Chin marks the exact second of his birth to be the very hingepoint of the 'great cosmic transition'. "This is where everything in existence was lumped into either half of two opposing sides represented by the yin and yang life forces. And <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">I</span> am the presiding yingmaster, a position my ancestral line had prepared for many generations. Who knew it would fall on a dude like moi."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipTkBaBH_bHCoskNyBYQfe9MDExnhQG065ZV_lvqNBWnBBFXDY15Jd-M3j7x1h7KrXk4QGhAnlRVvYu7SoTFO07Dqzx3gPQL8Uk1XR6AIrjBPJDBwWWgbSU43s9id3E-H6nl-1j6IzQqc/s1600-h/amber.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034072522992071106" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipTkBaBH_bHCoskNyBYQfe9MDExnhQG065ZV_lvqNBWnBBFXDY15Jd-M3j7x1h7KrXk4QGhAnlRVvYu7SoTFO07Dqzx3gPQL8Uk1XR6AIrjBPJDBwWWgbSU43s9id3E-H6nl-1j6IzQqc/s200/amber.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,0)">Liz Berge, 16:</span> Youngest member of Guiness to hold more than a dozen world records in unrelated categories. Claims to fame include, "Longest time spent repeating the same word without stopping (<em>regatta</em>, 85 hours)" and "Longest duration of <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">This is the Song</span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"> That Never Ends</span>." Explains Ms. Berge, "I attribute my success as a record-holder to my appreciation for 'beautiful monotony'. I find magic in everyday life and feel that repitition is a trigger for enhanced perception."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5Mccag9pal24yWgldrcg8cMI6n2UUX-990YhZBvT5sRdXYNdQFCX5_m5vI3OqwX3Qk7tes9X4CNpRXKHhFy_7Un85Ja_Tlz_YKkWnA8E0KG6uyRxPlD82AY6r1d2xlU96KYuGUZ-u2o/s1600-h/boonie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034069258816926018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5Mccag9pal24yWgldrcg8cMI6n2UUX-990YhZBvT5sRdXYNdQFCX5_m5vI3OqwX3Qk7tes9X4CNpRXKHhFy_7Un85Ja_Tlz_YKkWnA8E0KG6uyRxPlD82AY6r1d2xlU96KYuGUZ-u2o/s200/boonie.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,0)">Boon de Leon, 17:</span> Boon is the last known descendent of Juan Ponce de Leon the famous Spanish conquistador of the 15th century. "I get a lot of attention due to my blood connection to the Ponce, but those who know me well will tell you that I absolutely do not know where his lost treasure resides. That is clearly certain. As they will tell you."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8HGZCgzQzNZ344grsiPYaBxDs4HJhtRMRRYW3mEkaxaVKHZqVKKIOhGm5tKDlL4J_ysTPvvandwUO-FUEGuQa0Vk-AWL9jksCKiSyTHhIui7BneNgoR6FyT6F3Jj8hY2ZwOwAAcq-Gtw/s1600-h/audrey.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034077221686292962" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8HGZCgzQzNZ344grsiPYaBxDs4HJhtRMRRYW3mEkaxaVKHZqVKKIOhGm5tKDlL4J_ysTPvvandwUO-FUEGuQa0Vk-AWL9jksCKiSyTHhIui7BneNgoR6FyT6F3Jj8hY2ZwOwAAcq-Gtw/s320/audrey.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,0)">Mil Figgins, 14:</span> If you've attended the Santa Rosa County Fair in Milton, Florida any of these past five years, chances are you've seen Figgins doin' what she does best. Five consecutive blue ribbons for a competition folks say didn't really even exist before Lil' Mil came around. And what exactly is her unique talent, you ask? "I can transcend space and time in order to reincarnate into various livestock." In her first three years of competition Mil reincarnated as a nanny goat, not realizing until her fourth year that she could do other animals as well. "I've done everything now from brown cows to Clydesdales to most varieties of sheep and even some sheep-goat hybrids." Witnesses say Mil's miraculous ability usually manifests as a flash of blue sparks followed by a wave of cold shivers that at once spread throughout the crowd.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXX0yP9-x1tTjDDzHjFCB0g7jYBndQ5i6Yw7N4uzO0UP0i-1Hdb2f2WKN-uMHQIj-XHzhRkVljDCZtiFxSHDO_AyUL3Q7cjDd2NgsL7BporvgVXxgUQSiCsNT9Xzx1yuGtvLeBcRwOEaY/s1600-h/tymon.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034069705493524834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXX0yP9-x1tTjDDzHjFCB0g7jYBndQ5i6Yw7N4uzO0UP0i-1Hdb2f2WKN-uMHQIj-XHzhRkVljDCZtiFxSHDO_AyUL3Q7cjDd2NgsL7BporvgVXxgUQSiCsNT9Xzx1yuGtvLeBcRwOEaY/s200/tymon.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,0)">Tymon White, 17: </span>Founder and CEO of <a href="http://www.exammaster.com/">FlukeBrick.com</a>, a Fortune 5000 company responsible for more artificial brick materials sold in 2006 than any of its competitors combined. "When I was 15 I recognized the increasing need for fake bricks due to the high risks involved with using real bricks. My company cut the ribbon before my 16th birthday and the rest as they say is history."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqwyV5ve9GcoqfsAJkBbavw_WxXlhcndc20ylZjYV0W3eRTFAnhaBmnYy-7_aOcxw_bLIDyd5tqY7h2n18D9Uf2yLjMriK-FO7AuUp5JJ077F4uDIi2h0xpcCdtwTE6kWuR4o8jV9l-r0/s1600-h/joanna.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034069993256333682" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqwyV5ve9GcoqfsAJkBbavw_WxXlhcndc20ylZjYV0W3eRTFAnhaBmnYy-7_aOcxw_bLIDyd5tqY7h2n18D9Uf2yLjMriK-FO7AuUp5JJ077F4uDIi2h0xpcCdtwTE6kWuR4o8jV9l-r0/s200/joanna.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.fromamouth.com/milkymoon/">Joan</a><a href="http://www.fromamouth.com/milkymoon/">na Newsom</a> is an elf or some similar type of fairytale entity. I know this makes me sound like some kind of weird conspiracy theorist or something, but I am not accusing her of anything that she should feel ashamed about. Come out of the woodland creature-closet Joanna!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj2kXx5aTC9EiSOMvjlEw6d20XC1r2qQIXCDhY8B9u6D3jZHqrNPn-gy0gCzUxLBbQIndec5Tq8xe7cTVsRGaSzUZ4ECB1JWL6Cp_JZz1zgbhgwMlD4MfSAUEpfsF-nhPy0GdQ_Bsen40/s1600-h/darrick.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034079399234712050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj2kXx5aTC9EiSOMvjlEw6d20XC1r2qQIXCDhY8B9u6D3jZHqrNPn-gy0gCzUxLBbQIndec5Tq8xe7cTVsRGaSzUZ4ECB1JWL6Cp_JZz1zgbhgwMlD4MfSAUEpfsF-nhPy0GdQ_Bsen40/s320/darrick.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,0)">Jeff Metzner</span><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,102,0)">, 18:</span> Jeff is the younger brother of my old college roomate. He has an inflated sense of self-delusion and unfounded confidence to excel in areas completely irrelevant to where his few abilities actually lie. What I can say about him is that he can kick anyone's ass in Minesweeper and is a fairly decent swing dancer. I told him I'd add him to this list if he fixed my computer.the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-84219387605161958272007-02-20T06:31:00.000-08:002007-02-20T09:18:00.114-08:00How to Recognize Narcissistic Personality DisorderDo you ever get that eerie feeling that the people in your life are not actually people at all but really just a crowd of walking, talking egos? I believe that many disorders stem from one disorder, and that is the distortion of our Selves through our personas.<br /><br />Aldous Huxley said that "Each man is an island universe." and he also said, "Everyone is overacting their favorite character in fiction." I've created a short list to help you distinguish the real people from those lost in the abysses of their own created egoland.<br /><br />1. How often does he or she express concern or sadness for someone else? Have they ever taken action on such concern or sadness?<br /><br />2. Identify if whether the person, when in conversation, is really talking "with you", which includes actual listening and response, or whether he/she is just waiting for their turn to talk. If it's the latter, you may notice he or she responding irrelevantly, consistantly cutting you off, or their eyes glazing over when it's your turn to speak.<br /><br />3. Does he or she only listen to music, watch movies, read books that they come across themselves? Is recommending something to that person a surefire way to immediately turn them off to whatever it is you've recommended?<br /><br />4. Is this person always seeking admiration and praise from others?<br /><br />5. Does he or she tend to look at their self as this great or tragic hero and their life as this extremely interesting epic saga? Do they seem to live in a world of their own?<br /><br />6. Is this person frequent to self-loathing, self-pity, and other emo-like tendencies?<br /><br />7. Does he or she feel that they are of such a unique caliber that only a handful of, if any, people in the entire world could possibly understand them?<br /><br />8. Has an unfounded self of entitlement, is always expecting to get what he/she wants, and automatically assumes the role that they see fit for themselves.<br /><br />9. Is often envious of others or believes others are envious of them.<br /><br />10. When they overhear a conversation in their near vacinity, their immediate reaction is to assume that they are either being spoken to or spoken about--even when it's just two other people having an unrelated conversation with each other. (i.e. "Were you talking to me?" "Uhm...no.")<br /><br />Anyway, don't feel too crummy if you suffer from many of these symptoms--it is rare to find someone who doesn't. I'm certainly not claiming innocence.the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-54512324464380322832007-02-18T10:05:00.000-08:002007-02-20T07:00:19.464-08:00What I Love Most About Being Rich<p class="MsoTitle"><span style="font-style: italic;">The following was written, at my request, by my 84-year-old next door neighbor. He has asked to remain anonymous, but the few things I can mention of him are that he is worth somewhere between 150 and 200 million dollars (my best estimate based on his former position, the current value of his company, and the years he's been in business) and that he is not only the kindest millionaire I've ever met--albeit, I've not known many--but he is also one of the nicest individuals I've known period. Here is the short introduction he's written, followed by his answer to my question, "What do you love most about being rich?"</span><br /></p><span><br />Although my early years were spent as one of seven children in a typical lower-middle class home, I was only twelve or so when I first started to become confident that one day I would go on to prosper as a significantly succesful, and concomitantly wealthy, individual. What founded this early assumption of mine was the fact that, for whatever God-given reason, I had never been distracted in my adolescence by the many cheap hooks and hedonistic snags that so often stole the attention of my peers.<br /><br />Though I lacked in other facets and suffered my own particular hang-ups and self-inflicted misfortunes, the three gifts that somehow always seemed in me both effortless and ample were focus, creativity, and passion. It was these qualities that produced in me a solid work ethic and fervor for life; as well, instilled in me a certain trust that I was somehow "geared" toward great sucess.</span><br /><br /><span>I want to make clear that becoming superficially successful or superfluously rich were never aims of mine, but merely what I considered to be the likely byproducts of my </span><span style="font-style: italic;">actual </span><span>aspiration, which was simply to prevail in my intentions to live a full and honest life. My emphasis was never on business; my emphasis was always on family and my soul's own personal growth. When I founded my company in the early fifties, my motivation was to do well enough to be able to invest in the things I loved and believed in, both in the larger community and my immediate family. I wanted to be a philanthropist, a father, a husband, a friend, a brother, a son, and little else.</span><br /><br /><span>I am retired now, at least in the professional sense. I live in a nice, but not extravagant, home. I drive an old MG convertible because it's the first car I ever loved. I have three wonderful, financially independent children who have each gone on to make their own small fortunes and live worthwhile, altruistic lives. My beloved wife died twenty years ago, but I am happy to say that I have remained faithful to her (both in body and in heart) to this very day. I will die soon from a progressive illness that originated a few years back, but I am not afraid to go.</span><br /><br /><span>My friend and neighbor has asked me to make a list of what I love most about having earned my fortune, which was to have been preceded by the short introduction that I've just concluded here. So here it is now: how I find love through my millions and resultantly </span><span style="font-style: italic;">for</span><span> my millions as well. Being the fan of Letterman that I am, I'll arrange my list in a "Top Ten" format.</span><br /><br /><span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">10. </span>Leaving $100 bills in the tip jars of baristas, clerks, attendants, etc. who impress me as good people. The best is to do it when their back is turned.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">9.</span> Spinning the globe, dropping my finger on a random point, and flying to the location that night to spend a weekend making friends with the locals.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">8.</span> Never-ending college courses at all my favorite universities.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">7.</span> Coming across a great short story written by a rookie fiction writer, and paying that person to author their first novel. And similarly, funding a great film project that no production company would ever dare to make.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6.</span> Paying people to do the things I don't have time for. Like create and run schools, hospitals, orphanages, non-profit organizations, etc.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5.</span> Finding people who from humble positions are attempting to do great things, and donating toward their efforts.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4.</span> Reading about sincere individuals trying to make the best of tragedy and find purpose in their suffering, tracking those people down, and providing them with the financial means to begin their new start.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. </span>The letters I frequently receive from the thousands of children from third-world countries whom I've sponsored over the years. (Many of them are now succesful, healthy adults with families!)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. </span>The irony of having been able to give my children everything that they ever </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >really</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> needed without having actually needed myself a single one of my dollars to do so.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1.</span> The handful of people who I know genuinely love me </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >despite </span><span style="font-size:100%;">my financial assets. Without my wealth as a test I never would have known the true extent of my friendships with these inviduals.</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><br /><span><br /></span></span><span>These items are in no particular order. And by them, I do not mean to boast or judge less generous individuals of the financially elite. I simply trust the intentions of my friend with the simple question he posed to me, and wanted to do the best that I could to provide him with an honest answer. Also, I would like to close with this final plug. Last year, my children all came to the consensus that they did not want to receive any monetary inheritance from me after my death. Honoring this wish of theirs, I will be on the lookout in my final years for good people who could use a little help. After all, I have no need for what I got for where I hope I'm going. </span><span><span><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:12;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:12;"><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:12;"><o:p></o:p></span><br /><br /><i><span style=""><span>Confession: The above was actually not written by my 84-year-old next-door neighbor. He does not even exist, though I hope that there are individuals out there like him that do. I myself wrote this entire piece as a work of fiction. I am a 23-year-old something-or-other who earns about $1500 a month. My questions to you are, “Do you think many individuals like the philanthropist I’ve created here actually exist in the world?” “Who are the best examples of this type of character amongst the current financial elite?”<br /><br /></span></span></i><a href="http://www.digg.com/offbeat_news/What_I_Love_Most_About_Being_Rich"><span style=""><span>Digg This</span></span></a><i><span style=""><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span> </span></i>the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6503270122762909709.post-53126483639763435592007-02-13T08:25:00.000-08:002007-02-13T08:33:07.212-08:00Horse Clip from Amelie<a href="http://www.cyclingboard.com/ftopic134.html">Do you remember the short clip from <em>Amelie </em>of the horse that had joined the bicycle race?</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.cyclingboard.com/ftopic134.html"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031056244769501090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQ4X3csuBmwm-AOOg8QOpoXGIOIwpUsLp9dLU40RlyjvGHrh2HijExv8WCq9gcf0kG2bO604S4mfoQmAihqfTW4d4nGJ8mDrLzlJuK-EwWawLfsTtJQI1wLuM25NawkqjaCuW-a8MegE/s320/horserace.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong></strong><a href="http://www.cyclingboard.com/ftopic134.html"><strong>Here's the whole video.</strong></a>the awkward epiphanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09503688693828480231noreply@blogger.com3