Anyone who writes or somehow expresses opinion, is also silently in search of affirmation of his audience. I just seek affirmation of a chosen few. After my last posting, I received a note from a dear friend who merely pointed out the statement that included the word “judgment”. Her note really made me move around the statement because I value her ideas. I asked myself whether I was judgmental for casting an opinion on false-intimacy ...

… human mind is naturally dynamic. I don’t know about others, but my mind goes places and joyfully gets engaged in the act of forming views. My mind forms these notions sometimes instinctively, and sometimes logically, but never ideologically. My mind doesn’t even get close to be compliant with an unchanging principle, or a predetermined standard - because that’d be conformity which I passionately dislike. The baselines based on which I form opinions have evolved to be vastly overlapping and intersecting. For instance, I used to believe that a good thirteen percent of people are assholes, but over years I learned that every single person could be an asshole thirteen percent of the time. Such realization made it easier for me to let go of cheap complaints.

I agree that “Judgment” carries negative connotations which are basically initiated by religious beliefs, but at the same token, religions encourage their followers to make snap judgments about people and situations -as a critical act to wellbeing and survival. I believe “judgment” becomes negative when we start attaching our opinions to individuals. The other form of “judgment” shapes up when we assume that we were correct, and not being open to evidence otherwise -- should circumstances change. Those are among the main reasons as to why I never discuss individuals here. I discuss issues. I don’t care if people wear their baseball hat backwards but I discuss inappropriate actions that (I believe) coarsen or erode the quality of life. I discuss the sin, not the sinner.

I’ve come to believe that shrugging my shoulders when something disturbed me was a passive way of not having an opinion. I believe every single person has at least one characteristic we can adore. Here, I just happen to discuss that entertaining thirteen percent that everyone (including me) seems to have. That being said, I can’t help myself not thinking whether this blog is my way of being an asshole thirteen percent of the time.

Categorically speaking, I don’t like categories because they are only about different ways of being, and not, offering much of anything about not being.

One of the greatest signs of social immaturity is those breezy friendships that come and go fast. These encounters shape in happy moments and get dismissed in a blink of an eye in great insouciance. Categorically speaking, I’m not prejudging anyone here ... I’m bluntly and shamelessly judging them … as these once-idealistic friendships steadily and rapidly deteriorate into a ceaseless cycle of bickering because those individuals strive to retain their egocentricity in this conformity-obsessed world of picket fences and perfectly manicured nails.

I almost never make myself subject to i-am-dying-for-you-and-can’t-live-without-you friendships and wait for a long time. So much so that I have been at times perceived as arrogant. The “wait” isn’t about making a decision, it is about acceptance. The acceptance of all that I can bear in another person I’m about to call “a friend”. But that’s me: a guy who keeps finding himself on the wrong side of social equilibrium …

It was around 1:30 in the morning and I couldn’t sleep. I looked outside and there was almost a foot of snow on the empty road sloped up toward the top of the hill. I drank some water and tried to go back to sleep. The phone suddenly rang into the silence of an already curious night and it was one of my relatives on the other side: my father’s cousin. I often compare her to “Miss Havisham” in Great Expectations - because of her contradictory character and her direct and wordy conversational style. She is too combustible and indiscreet. Her attitude towards life often consists of a clumsy sense of gum-chewing dismissal. Her enigmatic writing style always makes me feel like I have a subnormal intelligence - because she uses big words in complex and never-ending sentences.

The whole situation was already feeling like a horror movie. She mockingly got to the point asking me “what do you do besides work?”. I groggily mumbled around a bit, and explained that I was doing a few things … she continued by saying that she had had a conversation with my aunt about me. And then, with a polemical tone she asked me to pick up a blank paper and write this …

“Unique individuals love contradiction, good stories, long conversations, individuality, people, and humor. They seek order in disorder and they search for disorder in order. They have an average IQ and a high EQ. They care for the ones in pain and need to love. They are dreamers and dissatisfied with conformity. They’re interested in voices, harmony, and language. They understand that persistence is enough for being exceptional …”

… and she ended the conversation by saying “go back to sleep and don’t forget to think!”

Cafrinn,

I hope that life is finding you in good spirits. I have a feeling it is, you're a smart girl. I hope in the places you go, you'll see the place where you're from. I hope you see the people you know, in the people you'll meet ... in this giddy lifelike dream you've tailor made for yourself.

Peace,

I have been blogging since January 14, 2006 which is about a month short of three years. My first few postings were about technology trends, but characteristically the tone of the blog changed to my long-standing favorite subjects: people, disorder, and inconvenient situations where almost everyone shows what s/he is made of.

I first chose the title of the blog as “Dichotomy: where I vent and rant when I’m red, blue, or even purple” which was reminiscent of my mindset that includes different opposing inclinations. Throughout, I’ve found frustration and irritation (red), sadness and sorrow (blue), or leniency and moderation (purple = red + blue) equally motivating for my writings. On the other hand, the occasional comments and feedback have been [and hopefully will continue to be] an invaluable part of the effort. I read and listened to them carefully. More than anything, some of the pointers proved and reconfirmed how relative these subjects could be. A dialogue that is a calm conversation for one, could also be an apoplectic fit for another.

Today, I’m changing the title of the blog to “Relatively Speaking”. I have been doing my best to listen and learn. I’ve been trying to be opinionated but not prescriptive. I have never stated anything like “right or wrong, this is my opinion” -because I think that’s intellectually insecure, but I will never use phrases like “in my humble opinion” either --because if it is an opinion it can hardly be humble.

I’m now almost three years older than when I started blogging. I felt those years should have counted for something. Going forward, if I’m going to be a cavalier, it will have to be on my own dime.

... courtesy of late George Carlin (modified for this blog)

I'm a modern man. A man for the millennium. Digital and smoke free. A diversified multicultural postmodern deconstructionist, politically, anatomically, and ecologically incorrect. I've been up-linked and downloaded, I've been inputted and outsourced. I know the upside of downsizing I know the downside of upgrading. I'm high tech and low-key. A cutting-edge, state-of-the-art, bi-coastal multi-tasker and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.

I'm new wave but I'm old school and my inner child is outward bound. I'm a hot-wired, heat-seeking, warmhearted cool customer, voice activated and biodegradable. I interface with my database and my database is in cyberspace, so I'm interactive, I'm hyperactive, and from time to time I'm radioactive. Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, riding the wave, dodging the bullet, and pushing the envelope. I'm on point, on task, on message, and off drugs. I got no need for coke and speed. I got no urge to binge and purge. I'm in the moment, on the edge, over the top, but under the radar. A high concept, low profile, medium range ballistic missionary. A top-gun bottom feeder. I wear power ties; I tell power lies; I take power naps; I take victory laps.

I'm a totally ongoing bigfoot, slam-dunk rain maker with a pro-active outreach, and a raging workaholic. You can't shut me up, you can't dumb me down, cause I'm tireless and I'm wireless. I'm an alpha-male on beta-blockers. I'm a believer and an overachiever, laid-back but fashion forward, up front, down home, low rent, high maintenance, super-size, long lasting, high definition, fast acting, oven ready, and built to last. I'm a hands on, footloose, knee-jerk head case, prematurely posttraumatic. But I'm feeling; I'm caring; I'm healing; I'm sharing; a supportive, bonding, nurturing, primary caregiver.

My output is down, but my income is up. I take a short position on the long bond and my revenue stream has its own cash flow. I read junk-mail; I eat junk food; I buy junk bonds; I watch trash sports. I'm gender specific, capital intensive, user friendly, and lactose intolerant. I like tough love; and the software on my hard drive is hardcore. I bought a microwave at a mini-mall.

I eat fast food in the slow lane. I'm toll free, bite size, ready to wear, and I come in all sizes; a fully equipped, factory authorized, hospital tested, clinically proven, scientifically formulated medical miracle. I've been pre-washed, pre-cooked, pre-heated, pre-screened, pre-approved, pre-packaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double wrapped, vacuum packed, and I have an unlimited broadband capacity.

I'm a rude dude but I'm the real deal, lean and mean, locked, and ready to rock; rough, tough, and hard to bluff. I take it slow; I go with the flow; I ride with the tide; I got glide in my stride; driving and moving, sailing and spinning, jiving and grooving, wailing and winning. I don't snooze, so I don't lose. I keep the pedal to the metal and the rubber on the road. I party hardy and lunchtime is crunch time. I'm hanging in, there ain't no doubt, and I'm hanging tough, over and out.

People come in different flavors: smart, greedy, careless, benign, pretentious, incomprehensible, selfish, influential, compassionate, cold, amiable, iffy, flaky, fair, snappy, reasonable, boring, trustworthy. They come and go in waves and in different wavelengths. Though, there seem to be a very tiny set of individuals who leave you in a moral maze, forcing you to enrich your talent for survival, and teach you to cut and run from cut-and-run.

Trust as the main ingredient of friendship, evolves! By definition, trust is an act of reliance that establishes predictability in our interactions. Unfortunately, trust and its associated credit is highly fragile. There is this accepted notion that: it only takes one moment of doubtful encounter to fracture a trustworthy relationship, which is usually something that’s taken years to establish ... “Oh yeah, absolutely correct!” people respond to that notion. People even don’t blink to agree with such idea as if it’s a tenet. Well, it is not, it’s only a human behavior that’s become a mediocre norm. The rush to discredit is rooted in our insecurity and is more or less, a protective mechanism.

One of the most common patterns of breaking trust is when people get into heated arguments. We always lose things when there is fire. But, there are those teeny-tiny set of individuals who teach you lessons by being on the abnormal side of the norm. My late friend Hamid was one of them. He left us four years ago. There are many attributes and traits of his that could describe him, but certainly, the most intriguing and unique characteristic of his, was the fact that he was forgiving. So much so that, he never expected to predict his friends behaviors, but he trusted them anyway. He always put all the weight on himself, and never expected much from others. He was sincere, but perhaps, too sincere for his own good. His transition to the better place was our fire, and his presence was what we lost in that fire.

Hamid is now smiling. When someone smiles, it's a disconcerting cause for celebration …

Cheers,

It has become such repetitive theme and like a broken record. They listen to the music and ask “Who is this? Where can I get it from?”. So I decided to add another list to the blog on the top-right side and call it “Rife Tracks”. The name of the songs and artists are provided, and are clickable.

The idea was born based on the feedback from:

                                                                Shelli                 Rebecca

                                                                           Behnam          Tanya

                                                                     Aida           Lisa

Complexity kills! Except for, rejuvenating complexities of an artistic expression.

An article requires balanced choice of words, smooth flow, and relevance of sentences. A smart piece of writing includes internal references and an element of surprise - where the main message isn’t lost in all the innovative features. A perfect script is an awfully multifaceted and complex piece of art.

Visual arts go down as a sea of complexities all by their own merits. Involvement of three dimensional (and in some cases moving) objects, light patterns reflected from those objects, and creativity drawn in representation by means of lines and colors, are only a few aspects of a dreadfully convoluted process called visual arts.

Music is ultimately an expression of the feelings and inner-thoughts that can’t be verbally expressed. The process of composing music requires an initial structure, position of highs and lows, tempo, rhythm, and melody. All all of the above should be organized in time and on top of sonic qualities of texture and reverberation.

Combining script writing, visual arts, and music formulates cinema. Set aside, shooting, editing, and theatrical aptitude. It is by all means a complex process. The History of a Sign (original name: Historia de Un Letrero) is a six minutes short film presented in Cannes Film Festival. Every time you watch this short movie, there is something new to discover. The music (by Ennio Morricone), the message, focus on shoes, the beggar, and the flow of the story are all there to convey a message. It may move you to tears in the end, but the main story hides deep in the references of the film to Il Postino. Enjoy!

Webster defines the word “Perfect” as : not lacking or faulty in any particular. It implies the soundness and the excellence of every part, element, meeting all requirements, or quality of a thing frequently as an unattainable or theoretical state. Perfect is being complete of its kind and without defect or blemish.

There are many requirements to a perfect party. People, food, music, drinks, venue, time, … to call a few. And on top of all that, the art of harmonizing it all together to create good times. Now, why people would serve caviar in a paper plate is beyond me. To clarify, I don’t like caviar. It is too heavenly for guys like me – who dearly dig chicken wings and beer. But, I can’t help myself not thinking about the details and logic behind the decisions that led to the combination of “caviar” and “paper plate”. Most definitely, caviar is an expensive delicacy, so money hasn’t been an issue. It also makes people who provide it look upmarket and luxuriant. Caviar in a paper plate, leaves me with the only option of thinking that the host is both pretentious and lazy -- as s/he doesn't want to worry about the dishes afterward.

As I said, I really don’t care about caviar but I do take my drinks very seriously. No one can ever ask me to drink beer in a wine glass or a plastic cup. I refuse to do it. The whole concept is flawed by definition to say the least. If one wants to throw a perfect party, one needs at least four types of glassware:

1- Coupe : for short drinks

2- Double : for mixed drinks

3- Flute: for Champaign

4- Highball : for water, beer, or high ratio mix spirit

On a more serious note, the gap between “good” and “perfect” isn’t much. One flawed particular, qualification, or requirement is enough to make a perfect thing, a good one. This concept applies to every aspect of our lives, not just the parties.

The weather and the confluence of some events have made me focus on significance of several insignificant trends. Some individuals never fail to fascinate me, especially when it comes to their choices in social settings.

At times, people make choices in order to be perceived in certain way by design. But there are times when they just want to be comfortable, so the driving force behind the choice is their contentment. I, personally, find the former funnier than the latter – when things go wrong.

Either way, this is how I perceive you if you act in certain way:

• Red Drinks - make you look like a guy who got divorced recently, and suddenly wants to socialize and look cool
• White pants – make you look like captain Kirk when encountering future Starfleet officers
• Sandals with Socks – it screams “Dork” and it makes you look like an Italian bus driver in Perugia. What I don’t get, though, is the point of wearing sandals is mainly to expose your feet to the fresh air. Don’t socks kind of defeat that purpose? If it’s too cold for bare skin, why the heck are you wearing sandals?
• The Croc - it makes your foot look like a plastic hoof. How can anyone take a Croc-wearing man seriously?
• Yellow Cars – make you look like the owner of a strip club called Purple Beaches
• Cell Phone on a belt clip - Nothing says “Jackass” quite as well
• Bicycle Shorts - let's face it; unless you're on a bicycle side-by-side with Lance Armstrong, there is no reason to ever wear bicycle shorts
• Wife-beaters: If you want to dress as if you never got out of bed, just stay in bed

Be more amazed!

It’s been a long time since my last posting. Generally, I write because writing allows me to be relentless. Through the process of writing, I can accurately unravel things and put them back together. That's a hazardous exercise. Like any other creative process, writing could be fragile because you’re always at the edge - trying to constantly reassess the danger-free zone. In that context, first hand experimentation of the things we write about, could be destructive in real life - because mystery could simply become confusion.

The fact is, I started posting my writings on this blog because I wanted some people to read them. In a mischievous way, I have been hoping that some people would read my postings more than others. Because, there has always been a real story behind everything I wrote. Except, I’ve been unfailingly faithful to "the code" of not mentioning names. Because, the discussion should always be about the problem and not about the people. Last weekend, I had a come-to-Jesus moment with myself. I thought I can't stop writing just because it takes a long time and great deal of energy to abstract problems away from people ...

... every good idea starts like a boutique. You do your thing in the corner, and you get noticed after a while. And then, the attention becomes a problem either by the virtue of perception, or by the state of preference. I know my writing style could be perceived as if I critique a great deal. But read my postings as if: it is just you, me, and a beer ...

I have been asking myself some serious questions lately. Kind of keeping it real. No matter how strong your conviction are, if you have a touch of humility, you should suspect or at minimum reexamine your opinions and principles - every now and then. To keep myself in check, my personal rule has always been: if it takes you more than one minute to identify an asshole around you, then you are the asshole.

Keeping yourself in check is all about asking yourself uncompromising and hard questions. At times too much humility leads into letting others walk all over you in life. But what if one of your principles is to stay intellectually curious, socially selfless, and personally conscious!

One of the serious questions that has been swirling around my head is the question of "Do I have enough?". And by that I mean enough of everything. It's indeed a loaded question but if one can find the answer, then bliss will follow. The question at the core is: Enough compare to what or who? It is absolutely clear that comparison and difference is hidden beneath the question. It goes back to the same majestic belief of Human Beings Always Compare. They compare parallel or different things and weigh them for their claims to be greater. These comparisons take place in multiple ways and in association with multiple groups of people such as:

  - Inner Community: Family and Friend
  - Extended Community: Neighbors, High School friends, Coworkers, Childhood pals, ...
  - Some Sameness: Same city, Same Opinion, Same Hobby, Same Employer, ...

I venture to say that comparison with the first and last group is simply stupid and pointless. For instance, if I'm comparing my life with my brother and sister's, something else is profoundly wrong with my value system and life priorities. On the other hand, if I care to weigh myself against the people of the "same" category, then I have let myself down - because my life has become a pursuit of "approval of others".

I'm just thinking out loud here and the answer (if exists) seems to be getting complicated more and more ... I'm continuing to think and write about this. In the meantime, I ran into an interesting and relevant piece from Bob Sutton which states:

"... This attitude fuels a quest for constant improvement that has a big upside, leading to everything from more beautiful athletic and artistic performances, to more elegant and functional products, to better surgical procedures and medicines, to more effective and humane organizations. Yet when taken too far, this blend of constant dissatisfaction, unquenchable desires, and overbearing competitiveness can damage your mental health. It can lead you to treat those "below" you as inferior creatures who are worthy of your disdain and people "above" you who have more stuff and status as objects of envy and jealousy.
Again, a bit of framing can help. Tell yourself, "I have enough." Certainly, some people need more than they have, as many people on earth still need a safe place to live, enough good food to eat, and other necessities. But too many of us are never satisfied and feel constantly slighted, even though - by objective standards - we have all we need to live a good life. I got this idea from a lovely little poem that Kurt Vonnegut published in The New Yorker called "Joe Heller," which was about the author of the renowned World War II novel Catch 22. The poem describes a party that Heller and Vonnegut attended at a billionaire's house. Heller remarks to Vonnegut that he has something that the billionaire can never have, "The knowledge that I've got enough." These wise words provide a frame that can help you be at peace with yourself and to treat those around you with affection and respect ..."

I don't know the source if this piece but I found it interesting enough to post it on my blog.

"I want to live my next life backwards!

You start out dead and get that out of the way right off the bat. Then, you wake up in a nursing home feeling better every day. When you are kicked out of the home for being too healthy, you spend several years enjoying your retirement and collecting benefit checks. When you start work, you get a gold watch on your first day. You work 40 years or so, getting younger every day until pretty soon you're too young to work.

So then, you go to high school: play sports, date, drink, and party. As you get even younger, you become a kid again. You go to elementary school, play, and have no responsibilities. In a few years, you become a baby and everyone runs themselves ragged keeping you happy. You spend your last 9 months floating peacefully in luxury, spa-like conditions: central heating, room service on tap.

Until finally...you finish off as an orgasm."