Mi Media Naranja

Dude. Ever since Philosophy existed, people have been thinking about love. (Which is kinda like fighting for peace... and we know what that's like.)

Plato, in The Symposium, writes about the purpose and nature of love. This philosophical text is allegedly where we get the phrase "looking for our other half," the idea ironically introduced by the comic playwright character Aristophanes.

Oh, the elusive SOULMATE. Where art thou?

Don't get me started about Platonic love, aka Secret Love or Unrequited Love. From Wikipedia: "In short, with genuine platonic love, the beautiful or lovely other person inspires the mind and the soul and directs one's attention to spiritual things. One proceeds from recognition of the beauty of another to appreciation of beauty as it exists apart from any individual, to consideration of divinity, the source of beauty, to love of divinity."

Platonic love brings you closer to God and all things beautiful. And Buddha would say Love is Desire is Suffering. Overlaps? Ponder that! I say.

Thought of the night

How would you like to spend your day? How do you actually spend your day?

I think Happiness lies in how much those two answers overlap.

Day 9: Feenin' for Facebook

I wanted to log on so badly today. What was life like before I had a Facebook home page with notifications about everyone? I know I exist outside of my FB account, but what about everyone else? What is my brother who is stationed overseas up to today? Did he remember to wish our other brother a happy birthday? Oh wait. I think that's what email is for. What about that distant acquaintance that was part of my performance art group? What is her witty and clever self up to in Scotland? See? Why do I need to know that? I don't. Especially when I should be doing other productive things like writing Chemistry lab reports, catching up with my pregnant BFF, or knitting.

At least I remembered a few important birthdays without needing a birthday reminder. Dementia and serious memory loss have not set in yet, though on some days I wish I could convincingly plead old age. That way I can be excused for my crabbiness and irritability. Although.... I think that men get a better deal. Mean old men are still charming in a way. LIke, "Ha! It's so awesome how Old Man Wilson cusses everyone out for no reason." Old women are expected to be sweet and grandmotherly. Otherwise, she's just the bitchy old hag with too many cats or something.

Ok. enough with my rant. Maybe I just need good conversation and human contact.

Half dome planning

permits

Cold French Fries.

Until this past summer my dad had commuted 80 miles a day, round trip, every weekday between work and home. It was a dependable routine. Wake up, make coffee, shower, take lunch, start driving, eat breakfast, work for 8 hours (with lunch break), drive home, get home in time for dinner, or dinner and the Lakers (during bball season), pack leftovers for next day's lunch, a little more tv, sleep.

When I was younger, he would sometimes buy his lunch at an eatery near work. It was always the same: fried chicken and french fries. Maybe with vanilla tootsie rolls for a sweet snack. I knew what he ate because he would bring some home of his leftover meal for me and my brothers and I to eat. The french fries were cold but I loved them. Growing up we occasionally went out for fast food, but the majority of the time my mom cooked. And fries were GOOD. (Not actually delicious, but if you are a fry lover who doesn't eat them daily, leftover fries are yum... and please be reminded, memories are constructs.) If Dad came home with a styrofoam to-go box in his hand I knew that I could have a pre-dinner snack of sometimes reheated, often not, french fries. I'm not sure whether he couldn't finish it or whether he knew we'd eat them, but there was always leftovers from his bought lunches.

I ate a couple of cold fries yesterday at work, leftover from the meal I had hours before. It brought be back my memory of those times, when life was simpler and we were all less wasteful. Oh, my nostalgia fries. Granted we were poor, but it didn't matter. Or we didn't notice because my parents worked hard and did an awesome job. I want that. I want sweet (not the flavor, the feeling).

I want simple.

Day 1: My Facebook Hiatus

Yesterday I changed my FB status to read something like "Kim Ta is conducting a test. Going on a FB hiatus for the month of November. Will I become more or less distant from people? If you need to reach me, please call or email."

I realized I had been spending entirely too much time on the social networking site, updating my status, clicking here and there on peoples' links and pictures. It was at least an hour at a time, no less. I had an idea of what my FB friends were up to even though I didn't hear their voices. I'm glad I can find out about things like the passing of an old friend (not a FB friend) via the site. There are awesome events people tell me about. And I get excited to see what clever and fun things people are sharing. But I started feeling like I forgot how to really be in touch with people. What if I started speaking like I was updating my status? What if I lose the meaning of a friendship with the friends I have FB friended? Or with the friends that are NOT my friends on Facebook? That would suck.

Who knows... maybe I'll be more productive and proactive with my time.

So I'll post updates about how this experiment is going from time to time. I wonder what I will me missing. Or gladly not missing from not signing on. OR maybe the point is to stop wondering and pick up the phone.