"We're all afloat in a turd soup."
“Every cigarette you smoke takes seven minutes off your life.” As a kid, hearing this from presenters at school frightened me – my dad was a smoker (I still am, cause I am a big dum dum). At the time, I wasn’t a smoker, but I was concerned that my dad was shortening his life span. I was young and had zero concept of statistics or narrative. So I assumed these presenters were some how capable of calculating that the seven minutes was coming off the entire life span of a human. So the average smoker was taking years off the end of their life each month.
As I grew older, I thought about it (didn’t research it) and came to a conclusion – “The motherfuckers lied to me”. I don’t like being lied to and I was pretty sure there is no way to know how long a life span is (with 100% confidence), but you would have to know: a human’s lifespan, the amount of cigarettes smoked, and then you would be able to calculate the total length of lifespan someone had lost. With these pieces of data, you just divide by the amount of cigarettes, and boom, seven minutes becomes the amount of time you lose off your life when you smoke.
My dad is my hero, he always has been because of the sacrifices he made for my family (my mom is also my hero, but she gets her own blog post about how she killed snakes to protect her kids). So, when someone told me my dad was literally knocking off seven minutes with each cigarette, I grew sad; I didn’t want to lose my dad sooner because of his horrible habit (the irony that I smoke is not lost on me).
Now, while I hate that someone instilled that fear in me, I am grateful because it became the first instance where I learned how you can use words and truth (bended) to trick someone. The seven minutes they are talking about comes from the length of how long it takes to smoke a cigarette. So it isn’t you shortening your life, it is you wasting seven minutes of your life to smoke a cigarette (but I usually smoke and read so that doesn’t impact me).
Either way, I need to quit smoking. Maybe tomorrow…
Read MoreThen the wolf ran to a baker and said, “I have hurt my feet, rub some dough over them for me.” And when the baker had rubbed his feet over, he ran to the miller and said, “Strew some white meal over my feet for me.” The miller thought to himself, “The wolf wants to deceive someone,” and refused; but the wolf said, “If you will not do it, I will devour you.” Then the miller was afraid, and made his paws white for him. Yes, that’s how people are.
~Brothers Grimm
Two things before I begin: 1) this project was launched based on the post: “Project Grimm” if you want to know more about the format go read that post, and 2) an update to that post: my friend doesn’t call satchels man purses, rather, he calls them purses. Now that the housekeeping is done, I will jump into the analysis, so click [Read More] only if you don’t care about spoilers.
Read MoreRecently, I realized that I had too many backpacks; I only use two, but I have all of the ones from my childhood. Throughout time, I have slowly shifted them out of use and ended up with my current configuration (a messenger bag (man purse as my friend calls it) and a backpack that can carry two laptops (corporate work and writing work – I keep my functions completely separated for obvious reasons)). So, while cleaning, I was pleasantly surprised to find that my old college backpack held a treasure I had been missing for some time: Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales. I had looked for this leather bound volume for a year (picked it up for seven dollars on sale (I would never buy a leather bound book unless it was cheap as they are a pain in the ass to hold while reading), bought one for myself and the friend who calls messenger bags man purses but that isn’t relevant). While reading tonight, I realized that I love the morals of these stories and found a weird dichotomy playing out in my mind (there was the moral for the good characters, but also, a moral for the villain).
Because I am clearly not busy (as my hair turns white just writing this post), I have decided to create a new goal for myself. I will read these short stories and write blogs on each one. The format is simple:
I am unsure if my initial format will hold true till the end of the project, but I believe projects are meant to shift and change. The outcome that matters: I will end up reading more of these short stories and thinking about them. As my old professor used to say and I am paraphrasing: “You must read everything and from different cultures, otherwise, you are only going to write in one tradition”. His advice has led me to my current writing style: the amalgam abomination. So, look forward to these new pieces on the website (I am still writing fiction and revising my manuscripts (Bohr’s Bathos is currently on the chopping block)).
Read MoreEnveloped by Ivy
humidity cultivates
heartbeats grow heavy
~Theodore Maestranzi
Read MoreSo I walk into the little lunch area at work and I am grabbing some water. You know, just my fourth liter of water by lunch. My foot begins tapping against the tiles and then I get a whiff of something foul, perhaps it was fowl, but I am cannot be 100% sure of the contents of the microwave at this time. Based on the funk and the potency, my best bet was a can of tuna, but this is a hypothesis. Perhaps we will never know.
Yet, it did prompt me with some small questions:
So, are there certain foods you shouldn’t eat at work because of their funk? It it your place to tell your coworkers what they cannot eat? Or did you notice I said microwaving a can of tuna and clue into the fact that you shouldn’t ever microwave metal? Cause if you caught that piece, then you are correct. Eat whatever you want, just don’t microwave metal (no one was actually microwaving metal) but the definitely deployed a solid tuna melt funk all over that area.
Once again, Theodore Maestranzi asking the tough questions.
Read MoreIt may come as a surprise to you (it shouldn’t), but I am Italian (technically, Italian American). One of my biggest regrets: I can’t speak Italian. Now, my parents speak fluently, but being the last child, I didn’t benefit from them speaking the language at home. By the time I was born, they were mostly speaking English in the home. Now, I can listen to Italian and deduce what is happening, but I can only respond in English. As such, for most of my life, I have had the desire to learn Italian. I love my heritage and read history books on Italy (in the read more section, I will actually share some knowledge I’ve gained about the ol’ boot).
So, when I made the decision to dive deep into learning the language, I quickly came face to face with the sheer amount of time needed to study. The goal is two hours a day, which means, I am severely impacting my writing/reading time during the weekdays. Between painting, learning a language, work, writing, and reading, I am beginning to burn out. As such, I will be maintaining writing/reading as I love it, but I will be (for the first time in 6 years) prioritizing something above reading and writing. The goal, at this point, is to come home from work, study a lesson or two of Italian and then use whatever time I have left to write/read/socialize. I know my output will drop, but I expect that I will be able to maintain 80% of my focus. [Click “Read More” for some knowledge on Italy]
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