It's almost Christmas, which is lovely but I am in no mood to be talking Christmas. So here is some Anti-Christ(mas) blogging for ya.
Lately I've been restless. I know because I've been pacing up & down my room, talking to myself & that's something I do either when I am brainstorming or when I am restless. To be fair, the two are pretty much the same, therefore the only valid consclusion anyway is that I am restless. Ta-daaaaah.
In a search for answers to premature questions, I will give them a voice & maybe ask if you've had similar restlessness?
I get scared that I'll fail being monogamous, and once the novelty of my lovely mindblowingly happy and healthy relationship (yes, the same one i've been mentioning for the past 7 months, tired of it yet?!) wears out, i'll do something stupid. Do y'all fear the same? How do you battle it? The other day i had a realisation- this shouldn't be a battle between me and monogamy, rather it should be about me & my partner, playing for the same team, our team. And all you sexy people are on the other team. My competitive nature figured it out: it's "us" vs. "them", really, and we'll win.Cos i'm a competitive mada fuka.
I've also been scared that I will one day be a lesbian. Pause for reaction. This was as much a pause for reactions "oh, her, a lesbian? Yeah, like that's* gonna happen!" as much as it was for "Combat boots and dungarees in one day? I am surprised you're not shitting Ellen Degeneres by now!" Mind you, lately i've been shitting Christmas as my festive mood kicked in, but Ellen's awesome. I'd be happy to have her come out of any orifice of mine. That came out so wrong. Sorry, Ellen, if you're ever reading this. Being bisexual is awesome but it sure has some drawbacks- can i spend - SPOILER ALERT, sleazy premature statement will follow- my life with one person? Can i only spend it with one sex? (not to be confused with one-time sex, that for sure we know i can't do) I am happy where I am in my relationship & we've been getting ahead of ourselves as it is without the pressure of the future. I don't need women now and that's all good. Silly, maybe, but i look at some lesbian couples, (i won't lie, some of them belong to the TV realm) and i cannot help but think "I love the dynamics they have". Maybe that's something i feel because i haven't been in a proper, long term woman-to-woman relationship (yes, ex-bitch, that's partly your fault.) Maybe it is just different, being with a woman. No matter how much it bugs me now, though, i will just have to wait and see.
I am bugged by children- I think I want to have them some day, I definitely know I want to be pregnant some day, it looks awesome. But should I have children? I may be just a step too self-focused to be able to be any good at it. Again, probably something I shouldn't be worrying about, especially if I turn to lesbianism, but isn't the name Matilda just adorable? I wish i had a pacifier to plug my mouth & thoughts with.
I am bugged by the realisation of how inevitable death is. Oh, I welcome my own- what an easy getaway that would be! But the death of my family, my wife, my best friends, my partner doesn't seem bearable. Ironically, I thought earlier today that hey- i should have a partner because it makes the death of family members easier to handle somehow. Of course, having a mortal partner means that I need friends to help there. And more friends to help the loss of the better friends. Fcuk.
So how's that for Christmas optimism at 3.59 on Dec 14th?
I bet your fears are just as bad as mine.
Tuesday 14 December 2010
Wednesday 10 November 2010
Why did the chicken cross the road? The grass was greener on the other side.
Look outside. Do you see the bad weather? Or maybe you see the trees and the leaves dance?
It's all about the perspective. Some call it "glass half full" vs "glass half empty", but that provokes another question "What is in the glass?" I guess the question is just another indicator of my personality- questioning, not taking face value and sometimes being a little skeptical. I get honestly pissed off with overly jolly people- you know the kind- who go bird spotting and seem high on happiness, they are slow and unrealistic and deserve a punch in the back of the head. However, these slow hippy people have one thing I don't- a permanent smile on their face. You know you hate them, but partly the reason why is because you secretly want to be a little more like them.
Do you whine a lot? I do.
I imagine that, even if one should find themselves coming from a less privileged background, having been unfairly treated, there are always things to be thankful for that we overlook. Taking for granted benefits like potable water at home is the first such example.Yet, we curse our little priviliged heads off when there's engineering work and there's no water for 2 hours. You know me well enough by now to know I am no hippie, but the point is valid- what about people who have no potable water to begin with?
It becomes that much easier to get lost in technicalities of yelling at the bitch in front of me in the queue taking too fuckin' long to take out her purse and get the hell out, and forget all I have to be thankful for, when I haven't earned most of it and when i've always had commodities. But it's a two-step process: first, we forget to appreciate our life as well as the beauty around us, that can be found in the smallest thing, as we choose to focus of the smallest negative thing instead. It's easier to be miserable than it is to be happy. The second step is that, following such short-term memory of the good things, we then become demotivated. Motivation is the product of discrepancies. You're poor but you see that you can earn more- so you push yourself to get there. You notice you're unhealthy when climbing stairs and being out of breath- you then exercise a little more to get fitter. Examples go on and on. But when you don't realise the good things that you already have, nor the smiles around you but focus on the negativity and idiocy around, how can you expect to have a smile on your face?
I'm in that 1% in the world who have both their parents alive, who have been brought up in a loving environment, who are healthy, who can afford quality life, who look moderately attractive, who have had very good education, who know what they want and who can get it, who have friends to rely on and a partner to come home to, who have motivation to progress and driven forward. To find something to complain about demands a special kind of talent but it is also a slap in the face to those who have my life what it is at this moment.
Smile. What are you thankful for?
It's all about the perspective. Some call it "glass half full" vs "glass half empty", but that provokes another question "What is in the glass?" I guess the question is just another indicator of my personality- questioning, not taking face value and sometimes being a little skeptical. I get honestly pissed off with overly jolly people- you know the kind- who go bird spotting and seem high on happiness, they are slow and unrealistic and deserve a punch in the back of the head. However, these slow hippy people have one thing I don't- a permanent smile on their face. You know you hate them, but partly the reason why is because you secretly want to be a little more like them.
Do you whine a lot? I do.
I imagine that, even if one should find themselves coming from a less privileged background, having been unfairly treated, there are always things to be thankful for that we overlook. Taking for granted benefits like potable water at home is the first such example.Yet, we curse our little priviliged heads off when there's engineering work and there's no water for 2 hours. You know me well enough by now to know I am no hippie, but the point is valid- what about people who have no potable water to begin with?
It becomes that much easier to get lost in technicalities of yelling at the bitch in front of me in the queue taking too fuckin' long to take out her purse and get the hell out, and forget all I have to be thankful for, when I haven't earned most of it and when i've always had commodities. But it's a two-step process: first, we forget to appreciate our life as well as the beauty around us, that can be found in the smallest thing, as we choose to focus of the smallest negative thing instead. It's easier to be miserable than it is to be happy. The second step is that, following such short-term memory of the good things, we then become demotivated. Motivation is the product of discrepancies. You're poor but you see that you can earn more- so you push yourself to get there. You notice you're unhealthy when climbing stairs and being out of breath- you then exercise a little more to get fitter. Examples go on and on. But when you don't realise the good things that you already have, nor the smiles around you but focus on the negativity and idiocy around, how can you expect to have a smile on your face?
I'm in that 1% in the world who have both their parents alive, who have been brought up in a loving environment, who are healthy, who can afford quality life, who look moderately attractive, who have had very good education, who know what they want and who can get it, who have friends to rely on and a partner to come home to, who have motivation to progress and driven forward. To find something to complain about demands a special kind of talent but it is also a slap in the face to those who have my life what it is at this moment.
Smile. What are you thankful for?
Tuesday 19 October 2010
Why did the female chicken not cross the road but watched football, drank beer and cursed like f*ck instead? Because she was acting like a cock.
Men are said to be from Mars and women- from Venus but the truth is that, there's no such thing as "THE woman" or "THE man". What we think of when we hear the term femininity, is, as you may guess, a generalisation which derives from superficial descriptions of the behaviour of some women. More importantly- even these superficial descriptions are not a biological inevitability but rather a social line of behaviour, which has been programming us for a while now to be slim, or wear make up, go a few tons overboard with shopping, we're not necessarily "naturally" less competitive. In other words, women don't biologically have pigeon brains, they just act like they do.
The inspiration for this article came after reading a story in an otherwise useless english gossip magazine, titled "Why I won't tell anyone the sex of my child". Confession about the ambition and free thinking of a mother in Sweden tells about her attempts to raise a child, not burdened by the social chains of the sexes- the kid is dressed in both blue and pink, the room is painted a neutral colour, the toys are varied. The kid is not addressed with pronouns, and until the moment they decide how to self-identify, who to sleep with and how to dress, they will be "sexless", or accordingto some- a hermaphrodite. Clearly, this is innovative. Such ideas provoke thoughts and criticism about what is biologically determined to be different in men and women, and what is socially formed?
Here, the subject forks. To me, at least, it is important to ask- is there such thing as genuine femininity or genuine masculinity? Of course, my idea here is clear that the social factor is undeniable, but the real question is, to what extent is that the case. Raise your hand if you're a woman with good sense of orientation, who drinks beer, knows what an off-side is (the rest of you, please figure it out, it's been too f*cking long!), who doesn't know what size clothes she wears, let alone where there are sales? Me! But, also- whose eyes sparkle when they see quality shoes, and who downloads TV shows every tuesday? Me again. In that line of thoughts, my partner asked me who I thought was the man in our relationship, and the answer was the same. Me. Here it becomes crystal clear that, even when we don't tick the box "feminin" but do what we like instead, that means that we tick the next box "masculine". This is how I ended up being the man in my relationship, because i am competitive, ambitious, dominant and pleasantly curvy, as carrot cakes are more of a priority than diets are.
It is easy to escape traditional femininity and to play alongside the boys, to mock the female race for acting superficial, yet realising my own rigidity. It is practically impossible, however, while avoiding being feminine, to not be classified as masculine or, God forbid, butch. Ergo, people need to be able to work with such generalisations, in order to know how to treat the others. In other words, in our daily interactions, there is almost nothing left original, genuine, not predetermined, and our social reactions are almost entirely repetition of what we've heard by our parents, friends, teachers, neighbors... This is not our song that we gayly hum throughout our lives, rather it is a half-worn out tape in a smoky karaoke bar, that we apatheticaly sing a few out of tune notes to....
Yet, the only category that genuinely matters, is the one we place ourselves in. The people in our life, with a few exceptions, are there temporarily and it seems undeserved to take their opinions too seriously. Many tend to forget, the most important person in your life is you. As long aswe can look ourselves in the mirror every morning and with bleary eyes to smile to the person staring back at us, then any other frowns don't matter anymore.
The inspiration for this article came after reading a story in an otherwise useless english gossip magazine, titled "Why I won't tell anyone the sex of my child". Confession about the ambition and free thinking of a mother in Sweden tells about her attempts to raise a child, not burdened by the social chains of the sexes- the kid is dressed in both blue and pink, the room is painted a neutral colour, the toys are varied. The kid is not addressed with pronouns, and until the moment they decide how to self-identify, who to sleep with and how to dress, they will be "sexless", or accordingto some- a hermaphrodite. Clearly, this is innovative. Such ideas provoke thoughts and criticism about what is biologically determined to be different in men and women, and what is socially formed?
Here, the subject forks. To me, at least, it is important to ask- is there such thing as genuine femininity or genuine masculinity? Of course, my idea here is clear that the social factor is undeniable, but the real question is, to what extent is that the case. Raise your hand if you're a woman with good sense of orientation, who drinks beer, knows what an off-side is (the rest of you, please figure it out, it's been too f*cking long!), who doesn't know what size clothes she wears, let alone where there are sales? Me! But, also- whose eyes sparkle when they see quality shoes, and who downloads TV shows every tuesday? Me again. In that line of thoughts, my partner asked me who I thought was the man in our relationship, and the answer was the same. Me. Here it becomes crystal clear that, even when we don't tick the box "feminin" but do what we like instead, that means that we tick the next box "masculine". This is how I ended up being the man in my relationship, because i am competitive, ambitious, dominant and pleasantly curvy, as carrot cakes are more of a priority than diets are.
It is easy to escape traditional femininity and to play alongside the boys, to mock the female race for acting superficial, yet realising my own rigidity. It is practically impossible, however, while avoiding being feminine, to not be classified as masculine or, God forbid, butch. Ergo, people need to be able to work with such generalisations, in order to know how to treat the others. In other words, in our daily interactions, there is almost nothing left original, genuine, not predetermined, and our social reactions are almost entirely repetition of what we've heard by our parents, friends, teachers, neighbors... This is not our song that we gayly hum throughout our lives, rather it is a half-worn out tape in a smoky karaoke bar, that we apatheticaly sing a few out of tune notes to....
Yet, the only category that genuinely matters, is the one we place ourselves in. The people in our life, with a few exceptions, are there temporarily and it seems undeserved to take their opinions too seriously. Many tend to forget, the most important person in your life is you. As long aswe can look ourselves in the mirror every morning and with bleary eyes to smile to the person staring back at us, then any other frowns don't matter anymore.
Friday 17 September 2010
Why did the chicken in a relationship cross the road? ...Duh.
You need time for yourself.
Nobody's company is more valuable than your own. I meet many people, usually young, who get offended if their partner suggests time off. We're not talking about time off that means "we were on a break!" , we're talking about spending friday night each to their own. To be even more prosaic, I think the inspiration for this article partially found me at fuck o'clock in the morning, just as I was falling asleep, when Carrie & Big's argument came to mind- is it OK to spend 2 days off their marriage per week? I think it is.
As I have previously recently stated, to me the most important thing in one's social life is to be comfortable in your own skin, to be self-sufficient. You then can enjoy your social interractions that much more because they are not a necessity, but a bonus. The next step up the ladder of the metaphorical internal satisfaction is self-sufficiency when you're with others. The free spirited young lady with a heart of a single promiscuous gal that I am, the thought of being monogamous or tied down in any way gives me an itch. (yes, an even more irritating one than the itch that comes with promiscuity, I know you thought about it too!) Luckily for both of us, in practice, being in a relationship with my current partner is easier than I had expected & I am convinced that this is in no small part due to mutual honesty about needs & expectations. We spent a lovely holiday, which meant 3 weeks this summer of 24/7 contact and given that we've only been together for a few months, that's a lot. We were happy to give each other space but I hear most couples have a hard time doing it.
I wonder: why is it that we often get offended when instead we should embrace the possibility to spend time with ourself, to do what we want, to decompress, to be quiet, to be loud, to have our PMS undisturbed or to watch a game without the numbingly stupid question "So... what's an offside?"...
To me, having my space is an absolute necessity. This is how I recharge my batteries, and if I don't manage to get my "alone" time, I get grumpy like most men do when they're hungry. My need for personal space doesn't change with my relationship status, I need the time to take care of myself & do my silly favourite things, and this is why it is called personal. It is not called personal only when we are single and it isn't a way to kill time because no-one will f*ck us, it is personal time for just you because this is the time to discover new interests, read, learn, develop. Learning is not a privilege of the kids, it's an exploration that lasts a lifetime and, apart from the obvious advantages, it also means that it makes you an even more attractive person to be around.
You're the center of your world, this is the only way it can be, and in order for you to have the energy to be smiling during your day, you need to make sure you spoil yourself & smile to yourself first.
R.
Nobody's company is more valuable than your own. I meet many people, usually young, who get offended if their partner suggests time off. We're not talking about time off that means "we were on a break!" , we're talking about spending friday night each to their own. To be even more prosaic, I think the inspiration for this article partially found me at fuck o'clock in the morning, just as I was falling asleep, when Carrie & Big's argument came to mind- is it OK to spend 2 days off their marriage per week? I think it is.
As I have previously recently stated, to me the most important thing in one's social life is to be comfortable in your own skin, to be self-sufficient. You then can enjoy your social interractions that much more because they are not a necessity, but a bonus. The next step up the ladder of the metaphorical internal satisfaction is self-sufficiency when you're with others. The free spirited young lady with a heart of a single promiscuous gal that I am, the thought of being monogamous or tied down in any way gives me an itch. (yes, an even more irritating one than the itch that comes with promiscuity, I know you thought about it too!) Luckily for both of us, in practice, being in a relationship with my current partner is easier than I had expected & I am convinced that this is in no small part due to mutual honesty about needs & expectations. We spent a lovely holiday, which meant 3 weeks this summer of 24/7 contact and given that we've only been together for a few months, that's a lot. We were happy to give each other space but I hear most couples have a hard time doing it.
I wonder: why is it that we often get offended when instead we should embrace the possibility to spend time with ourself, to do what we want, to decompress, to be quiet, to be loud, to have our PMS undisturbed or to watch a game without the numbingly stupid question "So... what's an offside?"...
To me, having my space is an absolute necessity. This is how I recharge my batteries, and if I don't manage to get my "alone" time, I get grumpy like most men do when they're hungry. My need for personal space doesn't change with my relationship status, I need the time to take care of myself & do my silly favourite things, and this is why it is called personal. It is not called personal only when we are single and it isn't a way to kill time because no-one will f*ck us, it is personal time for just you because this is the time to discover new interests, read, learn, develop. Learning is not a privilege of the kids, it's an exploration that lasts a lifetime and, apart from the obvious advantages, it also means that it makes you an even more attractive person to be around.
You're the center of your world, this is the only way it can be, and in order for you to have the energy to be smiling during your day, you need to make sure you spoil yourself & smile to yourself first.
R.
Thursday 2 September 2010
Why did the chicken stop in the middle of the road? Because, in a relationship, you have to meet halfway.
My expertise may lie elsewhere but, from my understanding, what shapes a relationship, be it intimate or friendly, is comfort.
You, first of all & by default, have to be comfortable with yourself. Single or committed, you have to accept the swiss-cheese-orange-peel skin on your bum and the fact that, yes!, you will become like your mother. [should you be lucky, she's cool. If you're not lucky, then...tough shit.] I am a firm believer that you can never be truly happy unless you can accept that a partner is only a cherry on top of the colourful, multiflavoured ice-cream that your persona is. A partner is not someone who completes you. You're not someone's half, you're a whole self-sufficient person, and I wish more people would understand it. You think I am wrong? Try to enjoy sex while thinking about how big your tummy is, or ask your boy whether he thinks your ass looks fat in those jeans, and then tell me- how can you ever be comfortable with them, if you don't love the person they love, i.e. you?
I'll put it simply- if you don't love you, why the hell would anyone else love you!?
Only then can you learn to be comfortable with others and their flaws. Face it, nobody is perfect, and no, you're not [a] nobody. Moving on from the mediocre wordplay, it is so much easier to accept that your partner snores, has funny toes, wears animal print clothing, or has different hobbies to yourself, if you've already had to accept the imperfections of someone much more important- you.
I find comfort in a third place in relationships- the comfort to challenge your partner. It's easy to be comfortable & snuggly when you're watching a film together on a fat, cold night in. It's not so easy to be still comfortable when you receive a challenge by someone so close. Bear in mind, a challenge may be positive- the inspiration to want to develop yourself, to read more, to work more...to be monogamous, in my case, and to cut down the smoking, in my partner's case. Whatever it may be. A challenge may be aggressively phrased in the question:"why so arrogant today, biatch?" Either way, a challenge may not always be something one should rise to, but sure as hell, in a healthy relationship you have to be comfortable with the idea of confrontation, you cannot be afraid to have the talks that really matter.
It is comforting to know, though, that if you have built the trust, you'll have the luxury of being accepted just as you are, by yourself first, and by others, second. WIth such a strong foundation, a healthier & more comfortable life for you is a step away.
You, first of all & by default, have to be comfortable with yourself. Single or committed, you have to accept the swiss-cheese-orange-peel skin on your bum and the fact that, yes!, you will become like your mother. [should you be lucky, she's cool. If you're not lucky, then...tough shit.] I am a firm believer that you can never be truly happy unless you can accept that a partner is only a cherry on top of the colourful, multiflavoured ice-cream that your persona is. A partner is not someone who completes you. You're not someone's half, you're a whole self-sufficient person, and I wish more people would understand it. You think I am wrong? Try to enjoy sex while thinking about how big your tummy is, or ask your boy whether he thinks your ass looks fat in those jeans, and then tell me- how can you ever be comfortable with them, if you don't love the person they love, i.e. you?
I'll put it simply- if you don't love you, why the hell would anyone else love you!?
Only then can you learn to be comfortable with others and their flaws. Face it, nobody is perfect, and no, you're not [a] nobody. Moving on from the mediocre wordplay, it is so much easier to accept that your partner snores, has funny toes, wears animal print clothing, or has different hobbies to yourself, if you've already had to accept the imperfections of someone much more important- you.
I find comfort in a third place in relationships- the comfort to challenge your partner. It's easy to be comfortable & snuggly when you're watching a film together on a fat, cold night in. It's not so easy to be still comfortable when you receive a challenge by someone so close. Bear in mind, a challenge may be positive- the inspiration to want to develop yourself, to read more, to work more...to be monogamous, in my case, and to cut down the smoking, in my partner's case. Whatever it may be. A challenge may be aggressively phrased in the question:"why so arrogant today, biatch?" Either way, a challenge may not always be something one should rise to, but sure as hell, in a healthy relationship you have to be comfortable with the idea of confrontation, you cannot be afraid to have the talks that really matter.
It is comforting to know, though, that if you have built the trust, you'll have the luxury of being accepted just as you are, by yourself first, and by others, second. WIth such a strong foundation, a healthier & more comfortable life for you is a step away.
Monday 26 July 2010
Why did the chicken cross the road? There were olives on the other side.
I love olives. Love 'em. And believe it or not, it's exactly olives i'll be talking about.
See, I have this theory about food. And maybe, now is the time to thank Ilina, a dear friend and a *fan*, who has inspired me to finally sit on my a*s and verbalise this interesting idea.
I find that, in many cases and in many ways, people's choices of food and of partners are related. I wonder, there may even be a causality factor.
When I started writing this blog, I was dating someone, and this is when the theory started forming. Now we've split up and I am in a serious relationship with someone else, with whom I may have a real future. Yet, the theory remains. In fact, i've only become more convinced.
The olive theory. There was a vague idea for a while, lingering in the corners of my mind, and it was much later that it was verbalised in the TV show How I Met Your Mother, that a successful couple- be it friends or partners, is constituted of a person who likes olives and one who doesn't stand them. The logic behind it, unsurprisingly, is that in such a pair, people compliment each other- one wants the other person's olives, and the latter is happy to have gotten rid of them. Imagine the disappointment if you both like olives but there's only one! Or having to waste an olive because no-one wants it... Such a realisation slowly formed in my head, after years of experience of going to restaurants with my family and my friends- often, they would push a lonely olive around the corners of their round plate, and I would hesitantly submit to the temptation of asking, with some definite hope in my voice, yet still attempting to play it cool: "Oh... do you not want your olive?". "Naah." "Score!", i would think.
Some foods, it is good if only one of you likes. Such are olives. Other times, it is preferable that your opinions of such foods match. Onions and garlic. And blue cheese.
The reason why it matters- olives are whole, you can separate them. The sharp taste of onion and deadly stinkyness of garlic stays with you forever, even if you only kiss someone who's had a garlic bread 2 weeks ago. However, my partner chops the onions and garlic even before he knows what he's cooking. We've decided on a compromise- I will make my fantastic 3 cheese pasta when he's not around, and he'll consume his chopped-in-small-white-pieces-of-death garlic 2 weeks before he sees me. It is an entirely different situation to the olive one, you see, but it indicates what your relationship is like, nevertheless. In this case, it is not about compatibility but about compromise. I am happy my friends and my partner are willing to compromise.
Finally, different styles of cooking tell a lot about the cook himself. My mum, she cooks rarely and usually, when she does, it is purely out of necessity for food in the house. My dad, on the other hand, when allowed in the kitchen, along with the mess, makes home-y food, food for the soul, if you will. He is a man of imagination, and can make a meal from scratch. These two different styles reflect their personalities closely, in many aspects. My mum is more organised, and my father is a more chaotic. She is an engineer, he is in radio business. Where do I stand? I am much like my dad, both in life, and in the kitchen. Our attitudes match. We are both victims of gluttony. Which clearly explains why we seem to get along better and with fewer words.
I have been in four relationships, including my present one, and three of my partners didn't like olives. You can let my Olive theory "marinate" with you, you're welcome to put it to the test, but I promise you, next time you find yourself in such a "salad" situation, you'll almost inevitably remember my article and will hopefully experience a deeply intimate moment, when you realise that you and your partner, or friend, compliment each other in more than the obvious ways. It will make you smile, and it makes me smile right now, as I type these words, to know that I may have caused it, regardless of whether it is a stranger, or a friend smiling. Let me know if and when you do. :)
See, I have this theory about food. And maybe, now is the time to thank Ilina, a dear friend and a *fan*, who has inspired me to finally sit on my a*s and verbalise this interesting idea.
I find that, in many cases and in many ways, people's choices of food and of partners are related. I wonder, there may even be a causality factor.
When I started writing this blog, I was dating someone, and this is when the theory started forming. Now we've split up and I am in a serious relationship with someone else, with whom I may have a real future. Yet, the theory remains. In fact, i've only become more convinced.
The olive theory. There was a vague idea for a while, lingering in the corners of my mind, and it was much later that it was verbalised in the TV show How I Met Your Mother, that a successful couple- be it friends or partners, is constituted of a person who likes olives and one who doesn't stand them. The logic behind it, unsurprisingly, is that in such a pair, people compliment each other- one wants the other person's olives, and the latter is happy to have gotten rid of them. Imagine the disappointment if you both like olives but there's only one! Or having to waste an olive because no-one wants it... Such a realisation slowly formed in my head, after years of experience of going to restaurants with my family and my friends- often, they would push a lonely olive around the corners of their round plate, and I would hesitantly submit to the temptation of asking, with some definite hope in my voice, yet still attempting to play it cool: "Oh... do you not want your olive?". "Naah." "Score!", i would think.
Some foods, it is good if only one of you likes. Such are olives. Other times, it is preferable that your opinions of such foods match. Onions and garlic. And blue cheese.
The reason why it matters- olives are whole, you can separate them. The sharp taste of onion and deadly stinkyness of garlic stays with you forever, even if you only kiss someone who's had a garlic bread 2 weeks ago. However, my partner chops the onions and garlic even before he knows what he's cooking. We've decided on a compromise- I will make my fantastic 3 cheese pasta when he's not around, and he'll consume his chopped-in-small-white-pieces-of-death garlic 2 weeks before he sees me. It is an entirely different situation to the olive one, you see, but it indicates what your relationship is like, nevertheless. In this case, it is not about compatibility but about compromise. I am happy my friends and my partner are willing to compromise.
Finally, different styles of cooking tell a lot about the cook himself. My mum, she cooks rarely and usually, when she does, it is purely out of necessity for food in the house. My dad, on the other hand, when allowed in the kitchen, along with the mess, makes home-y food, food for the soul, if you will. He is a man of imagination, and can make a meal from scratch. These two different styles reflect their personalities closely, in many aspects. My mum is more organised, and my father is a more chaotic. She is an engineer, he is in radio business. Where do I stand? I am much like my dad, both in life, and in the kitchen. Our attitudes match. We are both victims of gluttony. Which clearly explains why we seem to get along better and with fewer words.
I have been in four relationships, including my present one, and three of my partners didn't like olives. You can let my Olive theory "marinate" with you, you're welcome to put it to the test, but I promise you, next time you find yourself in such a "salad" situation, you'll almost inevitably remember my article and will hopefully experience a deeply intimate moment, when you realise that you and your partner, or friend, compliment each other in more than the obvious ways. It will make you smile, and it makes me smile right now, as I type these words, to know that I may have caused it, regardless of whether it is a stranger, or a friend smiling. Let me know if and when you do. :)
Saturday 1 May 2010
Why did the chicken cross the road? There were 10 things to be done on the other side.
Silly pountchline, but I've been tagged by beloved Lenival, to say 10 things about me, and 10 things that may be surprising about me. I am a very open person, so it's unlikely that anything will be new but the point is to have fun.
So, 10 things about me, completely spontaneous, i promise.
1. I am a dog person. Cats are ok, but I will always prefer having a dog than a cat. And, just to clarify, those little Paris Hilton things are not dogs- they are rats with expensive coats and they make for fantastic door mats.
2. I have a complete obsession with left-handedness. Lefties, as well as other conditions that result from, or are at least related to, right brain hemispehre dominance- synaesthesia, possibly homosexuality, have the power to amuse me endlessly. I am currently left-handed. And one day I will find a left-handed partner, you'll see.
3. I am probably one of the 4 people in this world who prefer margarine to butter. It's marga-licious. No matter, being misunderstood is a sign of being a genious. :) Margarine rocks, it smells amazing, it's better for your cholesterol, and you don't have to wait 20 mins to warm up to be able to spread it.
4. Hyacinth is possibly my favourite flower. And I am not much about flowers but the smell of hyacinth is intoxicating.
5. I love olives. I have a whole "olive theory"- best couples are made of one person who loves them, and one who doesn't. Hugs for my "person", who's reading this and smiling. We're golden, darlin', aren't we?! :D
6. I have a tattoo on my lower back, of a tree, the roots of which spell out "sophia". It's awesome.
7. I have a very hard time, accepting being called "girlfriend". But when I do, you know I'm yours. At least for a bit ;)
8. Surprise, surprise- I am a city girl, and I probably always will be. I like the buzz of the city, that you can get lost in it, or just take a walk, the parks, the people (when there's not too many of them), the scenes, the trees, everything.
9. I pull off all-nighters for the purpose of sheer pleasure and emotional sanity. I think it's a habit resulting from the fact that i work best under pressure, so I tend to write assignments on the night(s) before they're due.
10. Last one, I better make it good...I am really a man! Ok, probably not in the same way you're thinking. But I can't wait for the World Cup to begin, sit with a cold beer in hand and scream agains the TV. I hate shopping and dieting, i don't want to get married, i'd rather swear, pick up girls, and watch football.
And here are a few things that may surprise all 3 of you who read it:
1.I am very down-to-earth. None of that artsy-fartsy indie music and arts. Most irritating thing, and i think many would agree- pseudo-intellectuals, like Duchamp and Warhol. And feminists.
2. I like rain. Summer rain. When everyone else is running home, but i walk slowly, smelling the rain, and the little bit of dust, when I am soaking wet... i can walk for hours under the rain.
3. I am an atheist who studies theology. And media.
4. I very rarely eat fish. I spent 3 years, off fish, but recently I started eating it, even if occasionally. Because of the penguins. Watch "Happy feet" and if tell me you didn't cry, you have a heart of stone.
5. On that note, i have much more sympathy for animals, than I do for humans. Humans are mean, stupid, lying and cheating, slick, cruel, ignorant and arrogant. Then again, I am sensitive to human emotions- i locate them often in the smallest situations, and when I see genuine kindless and love, especially from a stranger, I cry.
6. No, i am not one of the crazy, green, save-the-planet people. Don't they annoy us all, by being as selfless as most of us can never be?!
7. I've never broken anything. Not a bone. Yet.
8. I hate clubbing. As in going to clubs. Clubbing people, though, makes up for a fantastic thursday afternoon. And it's good cardio ;))
9. I play guitar, clarinet, saxophone and a bit of drums. Ok, i used* to play some of them. But left with an instrument for 2 days, and internet access, I'll play them again. The technique is still there.
10. I love blond-jokes! They are hillarious. Exactly because I am blond. Though, those who know me, know my hair colour is the least permanent part about me.
Ok, so that's that.... :)
Should you have any questions, comment.
So, 10 things about me, completely spontaneous, i promise.
1. I am a dog person. Cats are ok, but I will always prefer having a dog than a cat. And, just to clarify, those little Paris Hilton things are not dogs- they are rats with expensive coats and they make for fantastic door mats.
2. I have a complete obsession with left-handedness. Lefties, as well as other conditions that result from, or are at least related to, right brain hemispehre dominance- synaesthesia, possibly homosexuality, have the power to amuse me endlessly. I am currently left-handed. And one day I will find a left-handed partner, you'll see.
3. I am probably one of the 4 people in this world who prefer margarine to butter. It's marga-licious. No matter, being misunderstood is a sign of being a genious. :) Margarine rocks, it smells amazing, it's better for your cholesterol, and you don't have to wait 20 mins to warm up to be able to spread it.
4. Hyacinth is possibly my favourite flower. And I am not much about flowers but the smell of hyacinth is intoxicating.
5. I love olives. I have a whole "olive theory"- best couples are made of one person who loves them, and one who doesn't. Hugs for my "person", who's reading this and smiling. We're golden, darlin', aren't we?! :D
6. I have a tattoo on my lower back, of a tree, the roots of which spell out "sophia". It's awesome.
7. I have a very hard time, accepting being called "girlfriend". But when I do, you know I'm yours. At least for a bit ;)
8. Surprise, surprise- I am a city girl, and I probably always will be. I like the buzz of the city, that you can get lost in it, or just take a walk, the parks, the people (when there's not too many of them), the scenes, the trees, everything.
9. I pull off all-nighters for the purpose of sheer pleasure and emotional sanity. I think it's a habit resulting from the fact that i work best under pressure, so I tend to write assignments on the night(s) before they're due.
10. Last one, I better make it good...I am really a man! Ok, probably not in the same way you're thinking. But I can't wait for the World Cup to begin, sit with a cold beer in hand and scream agains the TV. I hate shopping and dieting, i don't want to get married, i'd rather swear, pick up girls, and watch football.
And here are a few things that may surprise all 3 of you who read it:
1.I am very down-to-earth. None of that artsy-fartsy indie music and arts. Most irritating thing, and i think many would agree- pseudo-intellectuals, like Duchamp and Warhol. And feminists.
2. I like rain. Summer rain. When everyone else is running home, but i walk slowly, smelling the rain, and the little bit of dust, when I am soaking wet... i can walk for hours under the rain.
3. I am an atheist who studies theology. And media.
4. I very rarely eat fish. I spent 3 years, off fish, but recently I started eating it, even if occasionally. Because of the penguins. Watch "Happy feet" and if tell me you didn't cry, you have a heart of stone.
5. On that note, i have much more sympathy for animals, than I do for humans. Humans are mean, stupid, lying and cheating, slick, cruel, ignorant and arrogant. Then again, I am sensitive to human emotions- i locate them often in the smallest situations, and when I see genuine kindless and love, especially from a stranger, I cry.
6. No, i am not one of the crazy, green, save-the-planet people. Don't they annoy us all, by being as selfless as most of us can never be?!
7. I've never broken anything. Not a bone. Yet.
8. I hate clubbing. As in going to clubs. Clubbing people, though, makes up for a fantastic thursday afternoon. And it's good cardio ;))
9. I play guitar, clarinet, saxophone and a bit of drums. Ok, i used* to play some of them. But left with an instrument for 2 days, and internet access, I'll play them again. The technique is still there.
10. I love blond-jokes! They are hillarious. Exactly because I am blond. Though, those who know me, know my hair colour is the least permanent part about me.
Ok, so that's that.... :)
Should you have any questions, comment.
Tuesday 6 April 2010
"Sir , why did you follow the chicken that crossed the road?" -"Shit, a chicken crossed it too?"
I've gotten myself hallucinating, just like the guy who crossed the road without realising that he was in fact following what now has started to become a good friend of ours, the chicken.
I don't know what this fictional character did to hallucinate as much as to not see a chicken crossing a road. But i know exactly what I did- I didn't get good sleep for 12 days.
Enjoying the silence and calamity of the night is what drugs, alcohol or religion is to others. Allnighters are a complex, escapist and a drop of emotional sanity.It is relaxing just as much as it is an active process of reflection and creation. The beauty of the all-nighter hides in its overlooked simplicity: like a radio switched from short to long waves, cathartic exhaustion creates thought, even certainty in the most simple way: tiredness changes our perception, and what we take for axiomatically true becomes a theorem, instead. Doubt is a source of progress, and I tome this doubt is priceless.
How do we know what we think we know?
A good friend of mine, and a former teacher, told me just before I entered my senior year of highschool, that no matter how much work there is piling up, no matter how important this work is, one has to always find the time for oneself and for one's mental sanity. If you feel like playing guitar for 30 mins, then damn!, play that guitar in between writing the introduction and the body of that essay due tomorrow. This advice maybe actually saved my arrogant butt from a break down, now that I look back at that year- it was extremely stressful, with major changes which managed to provoke full-blown panic attacks; a half-wrecked relationship I had to recuscitate, despite my partner having signed a DNR; family issues... and among all that, I pulled myself together, do my work and do it well, and to even play that guitar...
If you'd like, imagine you're a contractor and you've been paid to build a two-storey hotel. You estimate, though, that the money you have will only suffice to build the ground floor properly, or you can lay down the basics of both floors, without leading it to a presentable, sellable finish. What do you do? You build the ground floor, open the hotel and after a while you have made enough profit to build the second floor, then expanding the business for even greater profit.
If that seems like the logical conclusion, why is it that so few times we actually take the time to first fix ourselves, before we move on to externally-induced problems?
I've set this space up as an expression of my arrogance and self-centeredness, so I'll indulge a bite more- all-nighters are my time to be left the fuck alone, to be quiet. This is no brag about my pseudo-intellectual moments of reaching truths that others miss out on when snoozing at 4 am. I don't claim to get to major explanations of why life is this way, who God is, or how we know what we think we know. Mind you, there is no God as far as I am concerned, so I am saved a lot of time there. Instead, I get to my little conclusions: I should've listened more, rather than speak so much to that fella at the party yesterday, so I make a decision to try to listen to people more often. I should be calmer and more grateful when it comes to my family. And, damn, I shouldn't have had that yoghurt after dinner, i'm so full now. Please. Dieting is for insecure girls with body image problems. But I don't like feeling so full. I feel like watching a good movie. Nothing overly dramatic, no politics/war movies. Just a simple film that I will remember and tell people about.
Where do hallucinations come in, then? I started the article with hallucinations. I get hallucinations when I don't sleep for more than 3 nights. And, damn if they aren't fun in a twisted way. I have more time to appreciate the world in its details, outside the inertia of the mundane. Yet it is not extraordinary to talk to my friends on the other side of the big pond, or getting high on caffeine, see the sun rise, dance, paint my nails, read a book, all that jazz. All That Jazz is an overstated movie, by the way. Guess how I know?
So, this is what I do that gets me smiling for no reason and makes you wonder what I might be up to. What do you do?
I don't know what this fictional character did to hallucinate as much as to not see a chicken crossing a road. But i know exactly what I did- I didn't get good sleep for 12 days.
Enjoying the silence and calamity of the night is what drugs, alcohol or religion is to others. Allnighters are a complex, escapist and a drop of emotional sanity.It is relaxing just as much as it is an active process of reflection and creation. The beauty of the all-nighter hides in its overlooked simplicity: like a radio switched from short to long waves, cathartic exhaustion creates thought, even certainty in the most simple way: tiredness changes our perception, and what we take for axiomatically true becomes a theorem, instead. Doubt is a source of progress, and I tome this doubt is priceless.
How do we know what we think we know?
A good friend of mine, and a former teacher, told me just before I entered my senior year of highschool, that no matter how much work there is piling up, no matter how important this work is, one has to always find the time for oneself and for one's mental sanity. If you feel like playing guitar for 30 mins, then damn!, play that guitar in between writing the introduction and the body of that essay due tomorrow. This advice maybe actually saved my arrogant butt from a break down, now that I look back at that year- it was extremely stressful, with major changes which managed to provoke full-blown panic attacks; a half-wrecked relationship I had to recuscitate, despite my partner having signed a DNR; family issues... and among all that, I pulled myself together, do my work and do it well, and to even play that guitar...
If you'd like, imagine you're a contractor and you've been paid to build a two-storey hotel. You estimate, though, that the money you have will only suffice to build the ground floor properly, or you can lay down the basics of both floors, without leading it to a presentable, sellable finish. What do you do? You build the ground floor, open the hotel and after a while you have made enough profit to build the second floor, then expanding the business for even greater profit.
If that seems like the logical conclusion, why is it that so few times we actually take the time to first fix ourselves, before we move on to externally-induced problems?
I've set this space up as an expression of my arrogance and self-centeredness, so I'll indulge a bite more- all-nighters are my time to be left the fuck alone, to be quiet. This is no brag about my pseudo-intellectual moments of reaching truths that others miss out on when snoozing at 4 am. I don't claim to get to major explanations of why life is this way, who God is, or how we know what we think we know. Mind you, there is no God as far as I am concerned, so I am saved a lot of time there. Instead, I get to my little conclusions: I should've listened more, rather than speak so much to that fella at the party yesterday, so I make a decision to try to listen to people more often. I should be calmer and more grateful when it comes to my family. And, damn, I shouldn't have had that yoghurt after dinner, i'm so full now. Please. Dieting is for insecure girls with body image problems. But I don't like feeling so full. I feel like watching a good movie. Nothing overly dramatic, no politics/war movies. Just a simple film that I will remember and tell people about.
Where do hallucinations come in, then? I started the article with hallucinations. I get hallucinations when I don't sleep for more than 3 nights. And, damn if they aren't fun in a twisted way. I have more time to appreciate the world in its details, outside the inertia of the mundane. Yet it is not extraordinary to talk to my friends on the other side of the big pond, or getting high on caffeine, see the sun rise, dance, paint my nails, read a book, all that jazz. All That Jazz is an overstated movie, by the way. Guess how I know?
So, this is what I do that gets me smiling for no reason and makes you wonder what I might be up to. What do you do?
Monday 22 March 2010
Why did the chicken cross the road? Because it hoped there was something better on the other side.
Granted, I am in the kitchen at the moment, It's my 'creative' space, but when I say that I find myself in a weird, uncomfortable, challenging yet memorable and cherished space, it's not the kitchen I am referring to.
It's a space of change. I am neither my old sarcastic, misanthropic promiscuous self, nor the well-rounded calm, smiling and girly self that I'm slightly headed towards. Obviously, this is me being simplistic. Indeed, though, I have been making this big turn in my life and it has repercussions on all aspects- how I feel the relationships in my life should be, thus further affecting my style and external presentation, as well as my studying habits, my interests, even my hairstyle. And, inevitably, at a certain point, it becomes overwhelming. I am in the middle of this turn I am making- i've definitely started, much has changed as far as my outlook goes and I can't go back. Luckily, it seems like this change, or turn, is the right choice so I don't want to go back, either. I simply don't find within me the verbalised knowledge of what I want exactly, to come out of the turn.
I'll probably do well to be more specific. A simple thing, and it is unlikely i'm the only one who found themselves in such a situation- this new person I start to identify myself with, it simply needs a new avatar. Most of my clothes are literally exhausted from time and wearning, and I would enjoy to create a somewhat new style to match what I think i have become. However, since I haven't finalised the process, or maybe simply due to habit, i don't know what fits me. Ok, I can't say I care much about fitting into labeled boxes but not knowing how to describe yourself is frustrating. Except for the word "different"- different from my old self, and different from others, too. Maybe that should be my guideline.
There's some definite good news! I may not have the details od dresses and shoes down but I've reached an understanding with myself on what I want out of life. My summer 2010 is shaping up to be dedicated to work and internships, which is overwhelmingly positive and something I really am looking forward to. It's amazing what would have felt like 'sacrifice' at a certain point of maturity, or career pressure, becomes inspiring and a priority. Sure, the few weeks i will probably spend in Sophia will be anticipated to but anticipation makes it better, someone used to say. Though, it's probably not what he had in mind.
Being single is something i've enjoyed immensely but all good times must come to an end. I am ready to tip the scales in the opposite direction. If there's anything i've learned in the past two months, it's that I am ready to give. Of course, the difficult part is not deciding to give but finding whom to give it to.
As it goes, I've always had someone beside me to receive from. It's time that I gave some of it back. My lovely Yulianka has been there for me, though thick and thin for 14 years and she's been there for me in these last months of self-improvement, doubt and motivation. My family, too, have been a support for since I can remember, and despite all turbulent times, I can honestly say nothing compares to the calamity of coming back home. I can only hope they see a better person, when I am all done with carving and polishing the new me- I intend to smile more, love more and be a kinder person. I really do.
It's a space of change. I am neither my old sarcastic, misanthropic promiscuous self, nor the well-rounded calm, smiling and girly self that I'm slightly headed towards. Obviously, this is me being simplistic. Indeed, though, I have been making this big turn in my life and it has repercussions on all aspects- how I feel the relationships in my life should be, thus further affecting my style and external presentation, as well as my studying habits, my interests, even my hairstyle. And, inevitably, at a certain point, it becomes overwhelming. I am in the middle of this turn I am making- i've definitely started, much has changed as far as my outlook goes and I can't go back. Luckily, it seems like this change, or turn, is the right choice so I don't want to go back, either. I simply don't find within me the verbalised knowledge of what I want exactly, to come out of the turn.
I'll probably do well to be more specific. A simple thing, and it is unlikely i'm the only one who found themselves in such a situation- this new person I start to identify myself with, it simply needs a new avatar. Most of my clothes are literally exhausted from time and wearning, and I would enjoy to create a somewhat new style to match what I think i have become. However, since I haven't finalised the process, or maybe simply due to habit, i don't know what fits me. Ok, I can't say I care much about fitting into labeled boxes but not knowing how to describe yourself is frustrating. Except for the word "different"- different from my old self, and different from others, too. Maybe that should be my guideline.
There's some definite good news! I may not have the details od dresses and shoes down but I've reached an understanding with myself on what I want out of life. My summer 2010 is shaping up to be dedicated to work and internships, which is overwhelmingly positive and something I really am looking forward to. It's amazing what would have felt like 'sacrifice' at a certain point of maturity, or career pressure, becomes inspiring and a priority. Sure, the few weeks i will probably spend in Sophia will be anticipated to but anticipation makes it better, someone used to say. Though, it's probably not what he had in mind.
Being single is something i've enjoyed immensely but all good times must come to an end. I am ready to tip the scales in the opposite direction. If there's anything i've learned in the past two months, it's that I am ready to give. Of course, the difficult part is not deciding to give but finding whom to give it to.
As it goes, I've always had someone beside me to receive from. It's time that I gave some of it back. My lovely Yulianka has been there for me, though thick and thin for 14 years and she's been there for me in these last months of self-improvement, doubt and motivation. My family, too, have been a support for since I can remember, and despite all turbulent times, I can honestly say nothing compares to the calamity of coming back home. I can only hope they see a better person, when I am all done with carving and polishing the new me- I intend to smile more, love more and be a kinder person. I really do.
Sunday 14 March 2010
Why did the chicken cross the road? Because the hen told him not to.
The pountchline of the joke, this week, is there to pose the question: what is left when it's all over?
One of my closest friends is someone I split up with 7 years ago, how is this even possible at my age?.... We've spent countless hours since, talking about our new relationships, there was even a failed engagement in the menu of things to talk about.Some days it's as simple as an ice cream and a walk in the park...Other times it's as heavy as the snow outside while we're sitting inside drinking tea at 11 pm days before Christmas talking about depression and life-goals. It's what you make it to be.
Do you not find it absurd, then, to give up a friendship potentially so good just because of past physical closeness? It is an odd oxymoron, and you can't spell oxymoron without "moron"...
A former partner put in my mouth the first chunk of dark chocolate with orange and spices, a taste as intense as his character- a bite of this same chocolate while I write these lines brings into the air the touch of his skin.A song...I have to make the effort not to close my eyes and open them in a room, 4 years ago, listening to this same song, next to someone who is now on a different continent.The question forming in the eyes of my first lover while hopefully reading this, wondering where is the acknowledgement of what the two of us had. The smell of hyacinth in my room right now is intoxicating, rich, full and it reminds me of this someone "purple". So here it is- this acknowledgement that long after you've split up with someone, inevitably tastes, smells, sounds will remind you of them.
But memory is partial and selective. And this is the crucial point. Sure, some people just tend to remember the good and some tend to remember the bad, and it is a matter of choice as well as variance of personalities. Me, I remember the good. I insist on walking the extra mile to keep my ex-es in my life, and surprising for the lazy bastard I am, I enjoy walking that extra mile. Once having decided to accept you in my life, romantically or as a friend, you are likely to be welcome to stay there. In a way, it is almost a utilitarian approach- you've spent energy in getting yourself acquainted with a whole new world of a whole new person, so to throw away this knowledge, effort and time seems inefficient.
Whatever it is that pumps that black luquid through the veins of my clinical-about-love body, skipped a beat when I picked up the Skype incoming call from my high-school boyfriend: to hear his voice, coming transatlantically, virtually and for the first time in two years was quite the experience. There was no hope or agenda in the 3 hours we spent talking online, to get back together or to even meet, I am sure he will agree. Just to hear how the other is doing, listen and share. With the 3 years that had passed, we'd found some new topics to laugh about, to add to the old ones. Despite its futility, this call was more comforting than anything i'd experienced in a while. In fact, talking to ex-es has that effect: the comfort of familiarity which is safe by default- you know their flaws, they know yours, there are no unpleasant surprises, just the same old voice that voluntarily or not, you associate with hearing the words "i love you" over and over again. And yes, the words "you're full of shit, you arrogant bitch", too.
So, just because there is "ex" in "sex", is that a reason enough to put the "ex" in the X-files when the "sex" has ex-pired?
Thursday 4 March 2010
So... why did the chicken...?
I am concerned with why the chicken supposedly crossed the road, simply because the answer is relevant to a bigger question: why did the man cross the road? Well, that we know. The man crossed the road because he heard the chicken was a slut.
Ergo, if the chicken was indeed a slut, it crossed the road for 1 of 4 reasons:
1) it had reasons to believe there was more clientelle on the other side of the road.
2) it had already performed sexual services on the man, who subsequently crossed the road too, and was trying to get rid of him. Possibly to find someone else to screw for money.
3) there was a KFC outlet, whose deliveries had fallen through that day and the chicken had to get lost asap. Starting with crossing the road.
4) The chicken was utterly hammered and didn't know what it was doing. So it zig-zagged across to the other side of the road.
Of course, I am well aware that the validity of the argument is dependant on the major presupposition that the chicken which crossed the road was the exact same chicken that the man followed. Furthermore, the argument is also based on the presupposition that the rumour of the man-who-crossed-the-road-because-he-heard-the-chicken-was-a-slut is factual and not fictitious.
Concluding, I have briefly outlined, in a vivid manner, some of the problems hidden in otherwise simple anecdotes, such as this one. With further questions, confusions, logical equations or news on the whereabouts of the chicken, please write back.
Investigative reporter: The Velvet Pumpkin
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