Toronto night life

Friday, February 29, 2008

I've Learned

You cannot do person love you. All you can make is be person who can be loved. The remainder is up to them.

No substance how much Iodine care, some people just don't attention back.

It takes old age to construct up trust, and only secs to destruct it.

It's not what you have got got - it's who you have in your life that counts.

You can make something in an blink of an eye that volition give you grief for life.

It's taken me a long time to go the individual I desire to be. You should always go forth loved 1s with loving words - It may be the last time you see them.

The people you care about most in life are taken from you much too soon...

We are responsible for what we do, no substance how we feel. Either you command your mental attitude or it commands you.

Credentials on the wall make not make you a nice human being.

Our background and fortune may have got got influenced who we are, but we are responsible for what we do.

Maturity have more than than than to make with experiences you've had and what you've learned from them- and less to make with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

You should never state a kid their dreamings are improbable or outlandish- nil is more demeaning and what a calamity it would be if they believed it.

Even when you believe you have no more to give, when a friend shouts out to you - you will happen the strength to help.

Heroes are the people who make what have to be done when it necessitates to be done - regardless of the consequences.

No substance how bad your bosom is broken - the world makes not halt for your grief.

Your household won't always be there for you. It may look funny, but people who aren't related to you- tin take attention of you and love you and learn you to swear people again. Families are not always biological.

In Memory of My Grannio Anna Franz Kline October 05, 1920 - November 05, 2002 (She went
to Heaven on my lone son's 5th birthday - he still makes not know...) May GOD

Thursday, February 28, 2008

The Strive4impact Philosophy

I have got been raised to believe that I can be whatever I desire to be.

Growing up, I was always told that I could make whatever I wanted to do, and go whatever I wanted to go in life. This is because I was given the tools from a very immature age to seek to see the world around me with unfastened eyes and an unfastened heart. When I was in 7th grade, I saw a film called The Power of One. For many reasons, the film really acted as a combustible to a fire that I had; A strong desire to make the world a better place, and a belief that I could do it.

I have got been defeated in many ways over the past many old age by people's apathy, including my own. However, that have been equally matched, and very often surpassed, by the overpowering feeling of knowing that I cognize hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people who are really doing things to do the world better.

I believe I can change the world, now that I'm getting aged and better! What I have got learned is that I'm not going to be able to change things alone. We're all, globally, going to necessitate to come up to an apprehension that the human bosom is the same around the world, and when we larn to halt focusing so much on this thought that it's somehow 'them versus us', as individuals, as groups, as religions, as races, and as countries, we will larn how truly similar we are. This volition let us to observe our differences, and work towards a more than common, peaceful, and practical future.

Do Iodine believe this volition be easy? No. Bash Iodine believe it's possible? Absolutely! We're already seeing it. Unfortunately, it's often coming at the disbursal of other civilizations giving up their thoughts to American dad culture, but you can read more than about that elsewhere on this

Call me an idealist, phone phone call me a hopeful, call me a dreamer. I give thanks you for all these compliments. Idealists, dreamers, and aspirants are those who have got got made the inventions which have changed the world. Imagine if person had never idealised that the world could be round; conceive of if Seth Thomas Thomas Edison had never dreamed of such as a thing as a visible light bulb; conceive of if Orville and Wilbur Willard Huntington Wright never hoped that they could larn to construct a machine that would fly. We would not be anywhere without hopefuls, idealists, and dreamers. There are those who would reason that warriors and economic experts alteration the world, but a warrior have got no weapons, if person hasn't first idea of them, and people have nil to buy, sell or trade without dreamers who create. Therefore, economic systems make not be without the inventions of dreamers.

Tell me it's impossible to change the world, and you supply me more than motivation. State me it will never happen, and I'll state you a story about a adult male working in the U.S. Office of Patents who in 1897 said, "everything worthwhile that tin be invented have already been invented." (No cars, no telephone system, no Internet, no email, no microwave, no television, small apprehension of electricity, no radio.) Basically, everything we see to be of import to our mainstream lives in America, he apparently considered to be not worthwhile a small over lone 100 old age ago.

I acquire demoralized along the way, and that's portion of why the Strive4impact doctrine is something that Iodine transport with me. I'm tired of getting discouraged by people telling me that alteration isn't possible, so I trust to hear from you who are doing good things, who are making positive alteration in this world a reality.

The other chief ground for the strive4impact doctrine is an effort to battle peoples' apathy, and to animate and inform those who are looking for some manner to make a positive difference, but don't cognize where to start.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

From Experience: Is It the Circle of Life?

All of it in one manner or another a portion of my lifetime and not an analytical survey of the manner that concern have changed but a comparing that is not at all difficult to follow or see. What happened to our state now looks to be elusive alterations that occurred as the old age passed by.

Always a ground behind a pay difference always because of the state of the state or because of the existent company I was working for.

Basically it have all boiled down to the ultimate apprehension that it was just the criterion of life country broad had taken a bend for the worse and no one, definitely not me…wanted to acknowledge it or expression at it.

Yes, beyond my capableness to actually crunch Numbers and really see what was happening somehow the American manner of life have changed and it is harder than ever to make what necessitates to be done financially.

Beyond my privation to cognize at all of what have really happened, and understand it. Because the state that I grew up in, the state that was so just to all was slowly changing. So much that it wasn’t really noticeable immediately and if you were too busy trying to do ends ran into possibly you didn’t even believe about it or happen it unusual or sad. It really is sad, but real.

Unions can’t do it anymore. Why? Because we as Americans will not pay the terms of labour labor labor unions and don’t have got to because unions no longer do a difference. Our authorities states that we can unionize and yet it will let the companies that have got had labor unions for many old age to bail out on pensions that were portion of labor union understandings and contracts. What good is unionizing when it intends nothing?

What once was not the norm is now. Women have got got worked for decennaries at destroying the American household as it once was and now just as work force did before us we vie with one another and with them too.

We for the most portion took the original American Dream and turned it into a ego serving egotistical mental attitude and had no existent thought of when we had it all.

We as women went past the married woman and female parent facet of being female and ran to the far side of the concerns and corporate business offices out of some depraved sort of green-eyed monster and why I have no idea.

I cognize that at this point we are far beyond being able to turn around and travel back. I cognize that many would without a 2nd idea throw me to the domestic dogs for even mentioning it.

Still there was a better time and place for all of us and it isn’t going to be easy to happen a place like that in the future. Families that always relied on each other for emotional support now trust on each other to do ends meet.

Families that had a chemical chemical bond of love that nurtured our immature people to great accomplishments and finds have got got turned into households that have a bond that is produced by basic needs.

The college alumnus of today is now in a state of affairs many times of having to look back at a coevals that seriously lived beyond its means. At the same time there are those who for one ground or another establish a place in society that allowed them to come in a comfortableness zone that is now turning into a place of uncertainness and the concern of yesterday coming back to stalk the hereafter is real.

Generations that lived through the Great Depression knew how to dwell without. Our authorities for how many old age now have got told us that there is no recession, no depression and that our state is on a house footing.

In my lifetime I retrieve someone…saying that we would retire in our fifties, that we would have more than time to pass at home…a 4 twenty-four hours work week. Are it my imaginativeness or portion of a novel I read in my school days?

It did not go on and no 1 looks to cognize why.

A time when there was a breadstuff winner in a household and one individual could financially back up a family.

Did we utilize it all up? Did we somehow over make it? What went incorrect with the state and where did all of the dreamings of retirement, educational superiority of our state and the research and happen so of import to our state and our tomorrows die?

The comfortableness zone is fading away and now the political sphere challenges anyone who listens to find a side and take the walking to the extremes that are a regular portion of the state that I grew up in.

If not for the belief that something larger than all of us is out there I would state that there is no hope that it volition acquire better.

Doom and somberness is a awful thing especially for the privileged who have got no thought of what it is to make without.

Has our coevals primed our children to believe that there will never be a time when we will dwell through another time in this state where more than will be life in poorness than during the Great Depression?

I retrieve someone…way dorsum saying that the United States was on the top.

Have we thought seriously of how it would be if history were to reiterate itself and another depression drop upon us?

Life have been good for many. Life have been difficult at times and rewarding at other times. Many of my coevals grew to be far wealthier than their parents could have got imagined and yet is that wealthiness a impermanent oasis that volition resolve and bend into nil more than a memory of what was?

Is it our government, our society, our ethical motive or the rhythm of life that volition tax return us to where we came from?

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Unguided Men

Humanity - the sole endeavor of sanctity in every man, the moribund symphony serenading in all perceptions, the extinct deference suggestive of life—humanity. Something already sold to that trait of the individual defined as war.

War is never introduced but is in the presence of man as in birth, it is left to man to either seek its vice or pertain himself to the fountainhead of life – humanity. Self is the greatest, yet the most malicious proposition of existence introduced to man. We are men - of flesh, blood and avarice. The flesh is of self, the blood is for self and the voracious avarice is self. And just to promote this very self – the audacious euthanasia steps forth onto the threshold of existence.

We are mortals, mortals to whom the commandments of life are to tread only on those roads that commence and conclude in us. We encroach the realms of life and intervene the capricious horizons with prospects that are concerned only for the likes of the me and the I. In us lies the yearning that teaches the ever-dubious laws of life - To live for self, to cheat for self, to slaughter for self and self-alone. Fidelity to ourselves, deference for our existence and a narcissist approach to life is the only erudition, we actually do attain. We lead ourselves by the hand in a world of darkness following a path paved not for any man to trudge upon and claiming all that which wasn’t destined to us because in a world where men seek the visions of greatness they stand blinded to the paths taken to immortality.

We want to rule this human because for us this human is senile, meager and impotent. We want to slay the living because we believe that the human is a race that runs the world but in itself is even dubious of its own existence. Our adamant urge to never be one of the many, our defiance of all truths of veracity and our ideals to annihilate the existent verity made us what we are today – men.

But what about the man? Not men. But the man. The destitute man with his insipid life, monotonous definitions of every concept ideal to living and the man to whom dawn is as impertinent as dusk. What about him? He will writhe, suffer and die. For where only the profound, the sublime, the infallible, the potent – the men survive the magnitude of the man is and shall ever be just demise.

We lie ensnared in this division of the humanitarian and the capitalist side of the human soul, where one end is engrossed in the emancipation of existence, the other prepares the elixir to cure the plague that runs the world — human. They say the end is approaching, cloaked, disguised, incognito, yet encroaching, this might sound incredibly sickening but I believe that this is not the end, only the beginning of a beginning.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

The Need to Learn... Anew

THIS entity FEAR,
giving birth TO FEAR,

YOU struggle WITH FEAR,
IT draws YOU,



IN cognition FOR YOURSELF.

OUTER structure STOIC,





By Stan Lewis

Saturday, February 23, 2008


There was blood on the paper and he continued to stare at the cut like it was some word form of beauty, a perfect mercenary circle that even Plato would bow down his ‘crystal-clear’ thoughts to. He continued to stare at his ain redness substance, wondering ‘why make people name it “blood”?’ His manus was starting to experience somehow asleep and maybe a small bored. All he wanted to make was stretch it to the extremes or even better smack it as difficult as he could to the large bookshelves that were all around the room. Yet, he just continued to stare until his vision started to experience that soft sense of a moony air.

The world became little and he was upside-down. His eyes, coughing merely mascara-toned looks, and his anterior nariss were perfectly smooth and hairless. Then he touched his shirt with fingers that had no nails. The shirt felt strange, like a combination of animate being tegument and flower pores. Obviously, the trousers were followed by the same concerted unidentified material. He looked somewhere down. Interestingly, there were people staring at him, doing gestures, dancing, combustion animals, crying, screaming at him, vocalizing and even bowing their caputs in respect, like he was some sort of Supreme Being…

They all looked suffering to him, and while he wondered why were they doing all that material and why was he so high, on top? Gradually a adult female came up.

‘Who are you?’, asked the adult male eagerly. ‘Your companion, your servant, your love, your hate, the female parent of your children, maybe your ain mother. I am your boss, your neighbor, your past, your present, your future…’ said a alone voice. Stumbled, but more than eager the adult male asked again:
‘Why did you come up up here?’

The adult female responded:
‘To protect you, so you can be afraid; to be protected, so you can be proud. I came because you came first; I arrived because you could never be here without me.’
The adult male studied her. ‘A human masterpiece’ helium thought, and asked again:
‘What is your name?’
‘My name is not important’, she said, ‘You volition love me as a woman, and in other times you will turn me into a man.’
This response stuck him. It made no sense at all loving a adult female and turning her into a man… Was that possible? He looked down. People were more than suffering than ever. Activists and Protestants with large postings where was spelled an unknown region word ‘FEMINISM’ were everywhere. In presence of them other people. Angry-looking shapes and sizes, ready to blast and detonate on whoever was going to upset their way. Sad faces, soiled eyes and crying everywhere…
‘What is going on?’ helium asked her.

‘This’, the adult female said, ‘is called the modern world, where every inch you look, you will happen something modern, different, strange, but acceptable; weird, but beautiful; not equal, but living. Come with me and let’s go a portion of it. This is the concealed past, the growing present, and the damned future. As long as we are together the twines shall stay tuned. I’ll convey you felicity and you’ll convey me joy. Give me your hand, come up up with me…’

She started to come near and closer, until his manus felt that crisp sense again and helium came back to his drone reality.

‘No! Don’t leave!’ he thought. But the adult female was not there anymore. All of a sudden life seemed so far away and for the first time he knew he was going to lose it. But his head was getting colder, every second, or it was just his body… Helium couldn’t tell. All he could recognize was that he kept staring at that reddish matter people called ‘blood’, piece it flowed from his carpuses like a river filled with emotion.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Who Am I

It is said that behind every great adult male there is a great woman. This could not be additional from the truth!

Next to the side
Of every great man
Every adult male wishing to make great things
For God’s Kingdom
Is a great woman.

Each adult male should admit his wife
Let her know, without a doubt,
That she is great.

I have got a great woman
At my side,
And Iodine am blessed.

WHO americium I
americium Iodine CHERISHED BY THE WORLD,

WHOM americium I
FOR WHO WILL rain praise ON YOU,


arsenic IF YOU HAD nothing OF IMPORTANCE,
outside THIS TIME.
YOUR radiance pursuits AWAY
THE sunglasses OF MY UNKNOWNS.

MY unknowns ARE KNOWN.
arsenic SUCH,
-By Stan Lewis

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

On Being Human

Are we human because of alone traits and properties not shared with either animate being or machine? The definition of "human" is circular: we are human by virtuousness of the places that do us human (i.e., distinct from animate being and machine). It is a definition by negation: that which offprints us from animate being and machine is our "human-ness".

We are human because we are not animal, nor machine. But such as thinking have been rendered progressively less tenable by the coming of evolutionary and neo-evolutionary theories which posit a continuum in nature between animate beings and Man.

Our singularity is partly quantitative and partly qualitative. Many animate beings are capable of cognitively manipulating symbols and using tools. Few are as expert at it as we are. These are easily quantifiable differences - two of many.

Qualitative differences are a batch more hard to substantiate. In the absence of privileged entree to the animate being mind, we cannot and don't cognize if animate beings experience guilt, for instance. Bash animate beings love? Bash they have got a conception of sin? What about physical object permanence, meaning, reasoning, self-awareness, critical thinking? Individuality? Emotions? Empathy? Are artificial intelligence (AI) an oxymoron? A machine that bases on balls the Alan Turing Diagnostic Test may well be described as "human". But is it really? And if it is not - why isn't it?

Literature is full of narratives of monsters - Frankenstein, the Golem - and humanoids or anthropoids. Their behavior is more than "humane" than the world around them. This, perhaps, is what really put world apart: their behavioural unpredictability. It is yielded by the interaction between Mankind's implicit in immutable genetically-determined nature - and Man's kaleidoscopically changing environments.

The Constructivists even claim that Person Nature is a mere cultural artefact. Sociobiologists, on the other hand, are determinists. They believe that human nature - being the inevitable and grim result of our bestial lineage - cannot be the topic of moral judgment.

An improved Alan Turing Diagnostic Test would look for knotty and planetary forms of misbehavior to place humans. Pico della Mirandola wrote in "Oration on the Dignity of Man" that Man was born without a word form and can mold and transform - actually, make - himself at will. Being predates essence, said the Existentialists centuries later.

The 1 defining human feature may be our consciousness of our mortality. The automatically triggered, "fight or flight", conflict for endurance is common to all life things (and to appropriately programmed machines). Not so the catalytic personal effects of at hand death. These are uniquely human. The grasp of the fleeting translates into aesthetics, the singularity of our ephemeral life breeds morality, and the scarceness of time gives rise to aspiration and creativity.

In an infinite life, everything happens at one time or another, so the conception of pick is spurious. The realisation of our finitude military units us to take among alternatives. This enactment of choice is predicated upon the being of "free will". Animals and machines are thought to be devoid of choice, slaves to their familial or human programming.

Yet, all these replies to the question: "What makes it intend to be human" - are lacking.

The set of properties we denominate as human is subject to profound alteration. Drugs, neuroscience, introspection, and experience all cause irreversible alterations in these traits and characteristics. The accretion of these alterations can lead, in principle, to the outgrowth of new properties, or to the abolishment of old ones.

Animals and machines are not supposed to possess free volition or exercising it. What, then, about mergers of machines and world (bionics)? At which point makes a human bend into a machine? And why should we presume that free volition discontinues to be at that - rather arbitrary - point?

Introspection - the ability to build self-referential and recursive theoretical accounts of the world - is supposed to be a uniquely human quality. What about introspective machines? Surely, state the critics, such as machines are PROGRAMMED to introspect, as opposing to humans. To measure up as introspection, it must be WILLED, they continue. Yet, if self-contemplation is willed - WHO volitions it? Self-willed introspection takes to infinite arrested development and formal logical paradoxes.

Moreover, the impression - if not the formal conception - of "human" rests on many concealed premises and conventions.

Political rightness notwithstanding - why presume that work force and women (or different races) are identically human? Aristotle thought they were not. A batch offprints males from females - genetically (both genotype and phenotype) and environmentally (culturally). What is common to these two sub-species that brands them both "human"?

Can we gestate of a human without organic structure (i.e., a Platonian Form, or soul)? Aristotle and Seth Thomas Thomas Aquinas believe not. A psyche have no being separate from the body. A machine-supported energy field with mental states similar to ours today - would it be considered human? What about person in a state of comatoseness - is he or she (or it) fully human?

Is a new born babe person - or, at least, fully human - and, if so, in which sense? What about a hereafter person race - whose characteristics would be unrecognisable to us? Machine-based intelligence - would it be thought of as human? If yes, when would it be considered human?

In all these deliberations, we may be confusing "human" with "person". The former is a private lawsuit of the latter. Locke's individual is a moral agent, a beingness responsible for its actions. It is constituted by the continuity of its mental states accessible to introspection.

Locke's is a functional definition. It readily accommodates non-human persons (machines, energy matrices) if the functional statuses are satisfied. Thus, an humanoid which rans into the prescribed demands is more than human than a encephalon dead person.

Descartes' expostulation that one cannot stipulate statuses of uniqueness and personal identity over time for discorporate psyches is right only if we presume that such as "souls" possess no energy. A bodiless intelligent energy matrix which keeps its word form and personal identity over time is conceivable. Certain artificial intelligence and familial software system programmes already make it.

Strawson is Cartesian and Kantian in his definition of a "person" as a "primitive". Both the corporeal predicates and those pertaining to mental states use equally, simultaneously, and inseparably to all the people of that type of entity. Person beingnesses are one such as entity. Some, like Wiggins, bounds the listing of possible people to animate beings - but this is far from rigorously necessary and is unduly restrictive.

The truth is probably in a synthesis:

A individual is any type of cardinal and irreducible physical thing whose typical physical people (i.e., members) are capable of continuously experiencing a scope of states of consciousness and permanently having a listing of psychological attributes.

This definition lets for non-animal persons and acknowledges the personhood of a encephalon damaged human ("capable of experiencing"). It also integrates Locke's position of world as possessing an ontological position similar to "clubs" or "nations" - their personal personal identity dwells of a assortment of interconnected psychological continuities.

Sunday, February 17, 2008


Type Type Type Type A friend AND ME.

Iodine SAID Iodine get ANOTHER right AWAY

A cup OF cooler TEA
TO put option UPON MY TONGUE.
Iodine SAID Iodine get ANOTHER right AWAY

HE SAID IT WILL rich person TO DO

AND put option TOGETHER MY best BATCH
THAT WOULD knock HIS tastebuds FLAT
stack high UPON A silver TRAY

-by Stan Lewis

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Ed's Poem

Ed Gallagher Dec. 11, 1907 - Sept. 5, 2004

This poem was written for Ed Gallagher, a good friend and neighbour on the day his wife called me to let me know that he was in the hospital and wasn't expected to live. I was asked by the family to read this at the gathering after the funeral service and copies were given to all his family members.

It is important to recognize that we will miss our loved ones, despite the fact that they have lived to a good age, and especially when they die young.

People will say
That you lived a good life
You had many years
With your kids and your wife.

You lived a good life
Yes, it is true
But that doesn't mean
We won't miss you.

The sound of your voice
The pace of your step,
These are things
We won't forget.

Your years on the farm
Were not spent in vain
You raised quite a crew
Through your toil and strain.

Though your sight and your hearing
Had begun to dim
Your mind was as sharp
As a tack or a pin.

Your head was filled
With all kinds of facts
Sports, people, farming,
Living life to the max.

When I came to visit
You expected a hug
And a simple kiss
On your smiling mug.

The light in your eyes
When you talked with a friend,
Those are the memories
That will never end.

You will be missed
Of that there's no doubt
And we'll think of you often
When we're out and about.

Or when we are watching
A game on tv
And hear them announcing
He scores, or strike three.

You lived a good life
Yes that is true.
But that doesn't mean
We won't miss you!

copyright September 2004

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Read This Article if You Do Not Believe in God

Are you one who makes not believe in God? Well that is one manner of looking at things, but it implores the replies to some inquiries doesn’t it? Answers that faith have conveniently provided for the believers. For case if you chose not to believe, then you now will have got to turn to some very ambitious and perhaps awful inquiries won’t you? Not believing is a batch harder than believing isn’t it? The easy manner is to simply travel for all the accounts of a chosen faith and go forth it at that. No that would not take very much idea would it? If you have got chosen not to believe in a God, Gods or Statues, then here are the inquiries you must first address;

1.) How did the Universe Start?

2.) Who Started it?

3.) Why was it started?

4.) How should I dwell my life while I am here?

5.) What haps to me when I die?

6.) How will the existence end?

Not exactly an easy set of inquiries to reply considering the limited information available is it? Well, if you make not believe in a Supreme Being or Gods you will necessitate to be thinking of possible other replies for these inquiries or you can chose to simply acknowledge you make not cognize and bury these tough questions. For one to be a true atheist they must be willing to accept this challenge and continue to assist themselves understand. Being an atheist in this lawsuit is a much more than intellectual chase indeed. Think on this.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Encourage Each Other












Psalms 121:1-8

I wrote “Upon The East Wind.”
To encourage my wife and come along her side.
We should always seek to encourage those we love,
In difficult times,
To look to where
There strength comes really comes from.

Sunday, February 10, 2008


Growing aches sometimes;

saying adieu to friends,

to things you’ve known and done

to things you wanted to do.


Growing heals sometimes

the smashed dreamings and hopes

of a life you once knew

leading you to a new cognition of yourself.


Growing is merriment sometimes

meeting new friends

learning new things

making alterations that feel good and moving on.


Growing is necessary always.

Without alteration there is stagnation

death instead of life.

To take to dwell is to take to grow.





Copyright 2002

Friday, February 08, 2008

Christmas From the Heart

Family grows and moves on, but yet our hearts are always together. Getting ready for a family reunion, this poem was written with the heart and soul of a mother waiting for the return of her family from far away places. A son from the danger of war in Iraq, a daughter off in a far away place making a new life for herself waiting for the love of her life also to return from the war, a new grand daughter she has yet to meet.
While nestled in the mountains of Colorado, the horizon is big and far and the pull of the heart will bring the family back to her side, if even for a short while.


Watching the horizon

Feeling the distance between us

Pounding Heart, Tearful Soul


Sleepy little eyes,

Struggling to see the world

Make your mark, Leave your prints

Pounding Heart, Tearful Soul


Tonka trucks and care bears,

Kindergarden, 4th Grade

High School Dances, dreams being made

Growth and Adventure, Walking down the raod

Make your mark, Leave your prints

Pounding Heart, Tearful Soul


Returning to my side

Always coming home


Root of Love, Root of Life

Watching the horizon

Feeling the distance between us

Pounding Heart, Tearful Soul


Victoria Blatzer

Thursday, February 07, 2008

When Humans and Dogs Collide: Negotiations for Today's Changing Times

This morning time I decided to happen myself. I originally looked forward to the Negro spiritual journeying that would define who I was as a person. But then I looked into my mirror and realized that the individual I saw in that mirror was me. Sol I then figured, why pass all this time determination myself when I already cognize where I am?

Since I allotted around 80 old age for this pursuit and finished it in about eight seconds, I had some free time that I needed to give to a cause. I had a great idea: I would purposely drop a domestic domestic dog so that the proprietor of that dog would inquire me what I was doing, to which I could respond, “Well, my cause was to see your reaction and my consequence was, indeed, your reaction.” This would do my cause and consequence almost the same. But I had to give up on trying this experiment, because — after all — where would I possibly happen a dog?

Dogs are amusing people in that people claim to love them, but when it come ups down to it, we have got so many negative footing which go around around them. For example, if you are told that you are being sent to the doghouse, that doesn’t mean value you are being tossed to an country of luxury. More so, you will be sent to the same place as the dog, some little country consisting of a leaky roof and a nutrient bowl. Although proprietors seek to convert their domestic dogs that this is some kind of phantasy land, the world is that most proprietors wouldn’t desire to pass more than than 15 proceedings in one. Those who make pass more than than 15 proceedings are only doing so because they are stuck in the location...

On the other hand, we also have got the sporting statement, “Hey, buddy, I dogged you in that race.” Of course the statement can be without the “hey, buddy,” but what merriment would that be? Such a statement means, basically, that one individual defeated the other in a race in such as a manner that a domestic dog would overcome a human. Now, this is the opposite of the kennel reputation, because here the domestic dogs are given more than recognition than world as opposing to less. This could only intend one thing: the domestic domestic dogs negotiated this with the world in order to guarantee regard from the general populace...

But who are these dogs? And, more than importantly, who were the world asked to negotiate? I don’t have got a job with dogs, but if we are going to negociate with them, I believe we should direct some of our best world to make so. Otherwise, conceive of the possible chaos:

Human: Okay, so let’s negociate here.

Dog: How about you give us the powerfulness to speak, like I am right now, and we will let you to rename tree covering to “speak” instead of “bark”?

Human: You are too fair. Let’s make that immediately. But to do certain you are not getting ripped off, we will throw in some table garbage from an all-you-can-eat-restaurant where everyone believes they are larger feeders than they really are.

Dog: Agreed.

Human: Bark!

But I digress.

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Creating Texture in Watercolor Paintings

Creating Texture

This is the best portion of creating a picture for me. I've learned to see beyond the preliminary washes that start to give form to a picture and expression forward to what can be done with texturing. Sometimes those first washes that set up the composition can look bland and uninteresting. For a beginning watercolorist, those first phases can be the most discouraging. It doesn't look like I desire it, you say. That's where texturing come ups in to convey those forms to life.

I utilize respective tested and true techniques to accomplish the expression I want. My tools are a few very worn brushes, some with just a few bristles. For a worn look, I utilize scumbling quite often. This technique affects using a dry to muffle brush, with fairly concentrated colour is hang-up colour onto a shape. Look at the bowl on the right in this painting. To see this image, chink here.

Those darker Marks are scumbling. Dry brushwood is similar, but with this technique, the colour is more than like being painted on, with a dry brushwood and concentrated color. The surface of the table was dry brushed to give that wood grain look. Another favourite technique of mine is splatter. I'll utilize it on most anything I desire to give a worn/used visual aspect to. You can see it on the less right of the bowl. All these texturing techniques give fictional character to an object. The bowl instead of being just any bowl is a well-used one. Tons of dinners or bars probably started in that bowl. It also gives it an old-timer feeling, a feeling I wanted to give this rustic still life.

More subtly, shadows, like those under the onion and of the Allium sativum on the onion, aid to set up form. Highlights will make the same thing as also seen on the onion and bowl. I often happen that highlights, whether I've saved the achromatic with masking or I've scrubbed off or am using a spot of titanium White really are the icing on the cake. So if something in your picture looks a spot lifeless, give it a life of its own, with some texturing.

Happy Painting!

Saturday, February 02, 2008


I detest geese. I am an animate being lover extraordinaire, with the exclusion of geese. You may inquire why this peculiar species engenderers such as anathema, what could make a sane, rational, mature adult female who is otherwise very kind, to experience the manner I do.

When I was five old age old we moved from the seashore of Beaver State to Montana. My Grammy and Grandpa had moved there to homestead and my parents decided to travel out too. The ocean air was difficult on my lungs and I was ill all the time. There was a 100 acre farm for me to run around on, to construct up my strength.

We drove to Treasure State in a Chartreuse 1950 Ford. Mama filled the dorsum place with pillows and set my babe blood brother in an apple box beside me. Iodine was in complaint of him because I was dependable and loved babies. I could change a nappy as well as women four times my age. There were no place belts back then, so our nest was for safety as well as for sleeping.

I was so excited the twenty-four hours we left. We were going on an adventure. To a sallow small miss who only attended four hebdomads of 1st grade, and spent the residual of the time in bed, sick with fever, this was the best thing that ever happened. I had been set in first class at five. By then I read out of medical books and immense cryptic tomes. They passed me to 2nd class by having instructor give me a accomplishments test. I loved school, read everything and made up rimes all the time.

My blood brother Richard was my obsession. Unlike an aged kid who resents the newcomer, I drop right into taking attention of him and would sway him by the hour. He was four months-old when he rode to Treasure State in an apple box. Everything about him was sweet-smelling and fascinating. Mama had given me two coloring books and a box of crayons, but I spent most of the trip fussing over the baby.

As we were crossing the mountain pass, getting stopping point to our destination, I heard my Mama pant and the adjacent thing I knew she was over the dorsum of the seat, holding my face into the pillows, shrieking, “Don’t look!” It was old age later that I learned there had been an accident and a adult male was decapitated, his exanimate caput on the hoodlum of his pickup. Most likely Iodine would never have got looked, but the incident loomed big in my child’s head and I was crazy with curiosity, and my fertile imaginativeness went right consecutive to work. A large trade only goes a large trade if person points it out. When I raised my children I remembered this incident and forced myself not to overreact to something a kid might not even notice.

The snowfall in the base on balls captured my senses. That was the first snowfall I had ever seen. There may have got been snowfall on the Beaver State Coast, but it was never in such as huge, random piles. Near the top we had to halt and wait for a route grader to plough a way for the autos in line. A airplane pilot auto would choose five waiting travellers and guide them across to the start of the down side. Respective times during our slow microscope slide down, households of cervid would hop down hills and run across the road. Dad would use the brake system and curse word at the deer, but we didn’t hit one. There were all sorts of animate beings around. I would inquire Mama what each 1 was and transcript it down in my hoarded wealth book.

Daddy and Mama took bends driving the Ford. I had to maintain Richard absolutely quiet while Dad napped in the rider seat. Dad was a good man, a difficult worker and a just man, but he had a mean value pique to him, and everybody worked existent difficult to assist him not lose it. I would hold Richard to my thorax and Mama would bind a dish towel around him and necktie it at my back. For hours I would coo to him and stone him. The most particular feeling in this world is a warm small babe next to your heart. He was the first of many babes I mothered. Now the babes are grown, but my two black-footed ferrets now have the rocking. My female will kip for hours being held.

I could state when we were going into Montana. Dad stopped the John Ford on the crushed rock to the side of the road. Mama got out and they took bends taking images of all of us underneath a large mark that said, “Welcome to Montana, the Big Sky Country”. There was a long manner to travel yet, but this was the functionary sealing wax on our trip.

The air had go sweet and warm, and Dad rolled down the windows. I savored that fresh air blowing across my face. The smells were wonderful. Flowers and farms and immense Fields of corn each contributed to the intoxicant brew. Everything was new and different, and though I had cried about having to go forth the ocean behind, this state set its enchantment on me from the start.

Grammy lived seven statute miles outside of Kalispell. We went from the main route to a pitch route and then to a crushed crushed rock road. Mama had lived in Treasure State before. She had kinsperson everywhere. My grandfather and his immature new married woman lived in Whitefish with their three children, my mother’s step-brothers and step-sister. Iola was a big, comfy adult female who taught school in Whitefish for years. I didn’t desire to betray my loyalty to Grammy, so I tried existent difficult not to wish her, but she was so sweet it was impossible.

For the minute though, these were future people. Grammy’s spread was manner out in the country. Finally my Mama sighted the house that was captured on movie by Grammy’s old Kodak with its fold-out lens. I hadn’t cognize what to expect, so I was enchanted with everything. All the manner out my folks had murmured about Grammy’s imaginativeness and how the spread was just a apparent old homestead. As we turned down the crushed rock route to the soil path I tried to imbibe in every single sensation. To memorise everything I saw. A fantastic small achromatic bungalow sat off the road. There was a large redness barn out back and respective outbuildings. There were flowers everywhere. Grammy passed her love of horticulture on to me.

There was dither and disturbance as Mama and Grammy cried and Walter, her new husband, and Dad shook hands. Grandpa swooped me up and asked me what I thought about everything. I was mute. Centripetal overload rendered me speechless. But Grandpa still smelled like Grandpa…a mixture of flannel shirts and the old sweetbrier tobacco pipe he kept clenched between his large yellowness teeth. He understood that the babe would be the centre of attending and took attention to do me experience of import too.

Grammy still peered quizzically through her wire-framed glasses, her sweet bluish eyes a small spot out of focus. She was a small spot of a woman, not even fold to five feet tall. So Grandpa set me down and she swooped me up in her floury, flowered apron and I felt repose fill the world.

The electrical hadn’t yet made it the seven statute miles out to Grammy’s. Grammy hated the electrical anyway. Warm tapers and kerosine lamps set soft borders on the world at night. There was an privy manner out back, and once I smelled it, I understood its isolation. Right behind the house was a large hill with a door in it. The root basement that kept nutrients over the winter. I excused myself to the bathroom, or privy in this case, and began running down the well-worn path. I had just passed the first outbuilding when something came boom out of hiding, hissing and squawking, wings a million statute miles wide. It was there I became acquainted with the species cognize as goose. Before Grandpa could attain me these disgusting domestic fowl pushed at me with their wings and screeched so loudly Iodine was certain I would travel deaf.

Candy and Dandy, the spread geese. One or the other of them kept nipping at my shirt and trying to acquire their beaks around my thin arms. Grandpa finally rescued me and sent the homicidal couple to the side of the shed. The grownups were all riant and I realized it was something I was supposed to happen amusing.

Candy and Bang-Up stood at the border of the outbuilding, still hissing and flapping their tremendous wings. Grandpa walked me on past them and allow me go on to the outhouse. I had never used an privy before. Since there were no gas stations or remainder countries back then, travellers establish a brushy topographic point to do a stop, and I had done that many times. The privy stood on a small hill, and had a half-moon inch the door. The boards were unsmooth and uneven. When I pulled on the leather strap to open up the door a cloud of flies were buzzing inside. Big bluish bottle wings that shone glistening in the sunshine peering through the sides. The odor hit me and for a minute I considered just going back to the house, but I had to travel so I stepped up inside. There were two holes with wooden eyelids and the obligatory Sears and Roebuck catalogs.

Somehow I managed not to fall into the rancid holes and wiped myself with a page of wringer washers. I would have got got taken a deep breath, but the malodor would probably have leveled me.

Watching carefully through a cleft in the privy door, I looked around for the black duo. They were no where to be seen, so I started down the way to the house. As I came even with the tack room I heard murmuring noises. My immature miss inherent aptitude just knew it was the geese again. It was. Out from around the tack room they came, pagans from hell.

Grammy’s spread was wonderful. I ran around so much that first twenty-four hours that I was awake all nighttime screaming with cramps. It was my first memory of pain. Grammy and Mama took bends massaging my calves. Grammy got a jar of bear lubricating oil and worked it into my legs. Finally I drop asleep, after one of Grammy’s hot toddies. The nastiest material you ever set in your mouth. It was her remedy for everything and I grew to apprehension any mark of frailty that mightiness phone call for forcing that noxious unstable down my throat. It had another benefit though. It was whisky laced with lemon and who cognizes what else. I never had to worry about becoming a drinker - just the odor of whisky nauseates me.

Next twenty-four hours the time finally came when I couldn’t set off a trip to the privy any longer. I prayed one of the grownups would bodyguard me past those Nazi geese. Wrong. I was a large miss and they were only geese. As soon as they got used to me everything would be fine.

So, there I went, wobbling on legs that threatened to fall in beneath me. Ardent hurting from my calves pulsing with my heartbeat. I slunk along as quietly as I could, looking for any mark of Candy and Dandy. About midway I heard a rustling and my bosom went cold. It was a rustling of goose wings. Waiting, I knew I would never do it to the outhouse. Here they came! Bullying, biting and beating with their wings. Until they caught wind of the bear grease. Their beaks shook like bones as they tried to pass over the lubricating oil off that they had gotten onto themselves from me.

Apparently geese don’t like the odor or taste sensation of bear. Both of them backed off and turned to waddle away. Not feeling particularly sympathetic, I raised my weaponry out broad and went after the devilish duo, squawking at the top of my lungs. Then I began making bear noises, or what I perceived as bear noises. Those geese goose-stepped arsenic fast as they could go. Shrieking in absolute rage, the geese headed for the barn without looking back.

I was drunk with power. For the adjacent few old age I rubbed myself with bear lubricating oil every day. It wasn’t much appreciated at school, but I didn’t care. As long as it kept those atrocious geese away from me, I was thrilled. My small behind remembered the feeling of being goosed and I questioned Supreme Being as to why He had to blow time making geese.

Bring on kings of beasts and hippos, Tasmanian Devils - I’ll take them all on. But if I never saw another goose again in my life I would be delighted.

Friday, February 01, 2008

DNA, Fiction and Society; How it Affects Thought

A book called the Seven Daughters of Eve by Richard Sykes is worthy of a read and negotiation about what we have got learned about the flowing of human beingnesses populations through deoxyribonucleic acid research. Thus it is safe to state that certain members of our species have got developed differently and in different ways, meaning the encephalon also larns differently. As Scientists look at different human encephalons while doing assorted undertakings and ticker which countries visible light up with energy as it works through these different ideas and undertakings we are finding just how alone and different each head really is.

Yet as we larn more than than about the encephalon we indeed add more inquiries to our studies. Why makes adult male demand to think. Why makes world feel the demand to share these ideas and conceptions in their writings? It looks that the flowing of idea may be the single most of import portion of life. The procedure of idea is probably the single most of import portion of human life. “I believe therefore, I am” Are you, is that it? So what is it with this big composite body? Are it to function the brain? Or is the encephalon to function the body? With these inquiries and the philosophers of anterior time periods and the authors and minds of today we can all hold that idea is one of the most of import parts of ego and of human life, if not the lone true of import portion of life.

Then why make we let thought to be controlled by religion, governments, other men? If we analyze the dialogs of Plato, Galelio, Copernicus, etc. we see that adult male have often muffled thought and that often fiction is the lone manner to let for truth or thought. So we therefore dwell in a world with a history of imprisoning dissentient or disagreeing views. But for world to travel forward we necessitate to halt this and let free thought. As we see modern twenty-four hours people of deep idea effort to convey forth their finds and enlightenment, we see them doing so by manner of fictional works. We see great ideas in our movies, novels, stories; why should we have got to conceal truths in faery tales. Why can’t we cognize postgraduate to the adjacent degree without such as forced barriers? Think about it?