Is this the axe with which you killed me?

I found a couple of neat paradoxes here.

http://www.paradoxes.co.uk/

One of my favorites isn't there, but goes something like this:

A year ago, you killed a man with an axe. You're standing in your garage with your axe in hand. The man comes back and asks you, "Is this the axe you killed me with?"

Two months after you killed him, the head fell off and you had to have it replaced. A month ago, the handle broke and you replaced that, as well. How would you answer him?



There's also a really neat online quiz somewhere, possibly on Beliefnet, that I had some fun with years ago. In one of the hypothetical questions, the technology exists to make copies of your personality and place it in your body. It runs through several scenarios where you have to decide whether you would keep your body or your mind intact. At the end of the quiz, it runs through the various beliefs of what life is and whether or not your decisions would leave you "alive" according to any of them. I ended up as a zombie! (Well, I'd not have been "alive" as defined by any of the theories of life, but I'd still have a working body and mind.)
If anyone can find it, I'd love to bookmark it.

One of these days...

my curiosity about people is going to get me in a lot of trouble. Tonight, I met the local pimp/hustler. I learned such fascinating things as "black women have ugly pussies" and I have "an ass like a black woman's." If ever I want to score anything, I now know where to go. If ever I want a job being a ho, I know where to go. How could I turn down a job like that, you ask? Well, gee, I wonder. ;)

It was an overall entertaining half an hour (yea, really, the things people tell me... If I were a cop, he'd have been out of luck.) Why people feel the need to tell me all their dirty secrets, I really don't know.

Oh, and if I want an acorn, or a pecan, or some other type of nut (I'm sure he wasn't talking about sex, really...), I know where to go. See that little white house over there? I'm serious, girl. You sure you don't want to come inside? My treat on whatever your preferences is.

Owning your Place.

I've moved more times in my life than I have years. I've always felt like the most vital part, for me, of settling in was learning the area. Until you know the shortcuts and the fun roads and the incredible sights well enough to tell someone else how to get there, you're not truly part of your new place. Just walking around, if you pay attention, can give you insight on the people who live there, as long as you are willing to get off the main roads.

"I've just moved here recently and am trying to get to know the place. Can you tell me where something interesting is?" is always a good conversation starter. Most people will ask what you're looking for more specifically. I respond with, "Anywhere worth going." Listen, ask questions about things, and you'll meet some fascinating people. But you have to listen to what they're saying. Sometimes, they'll even share their favorite secret place with a complete stranger if you really listen.

When I visited Norfolk, if I'd stayed on the main roads, I'd have never known the depth of poverty there. The main roads are like new aluminum siding slapped on over termite-infested wood. You can go to a fantastic habichi place, but one block over is a soup kitchen in an area that's dangerous to walk alone at night. Church Street is another of those areas where one shouldn't walk alone, but it's an extension of one of the main raods downtown. You'd never see this, if you followed the signs. Because I listened to someone down there, I ended up seeing the Atlantic Ocean for the first time from a cozy, little private beach on my birthday. The view was amazing and the houses looked like something from a 50s postcard. It was, perhaps, the best present I have ever received.

I went walking to the beach on the bay earlier, down here in Sarasota. Huge houses with marvelous trees and everywhere, there are leezards. (This morning one leezard was good enough to eat the spider that was keeping me from going outside. Good leezard! Have another bug!) There are still a lot of roads to learn and people to meet while I'm exploring, but I'm starting to own my place.

Hmmm, my place. I like the sound of that.

What is an American?

As I was stumbling along online, I came across this little gem, written by an Australian:
http://www.juedische.at/TCgi/_v2/TCgi.cgi?target=home&Param_Kat=3&Param_RB=16&Param_Red=8009

"Because Americans are not a particular people from a particular place. They are the embodiment of the human spirit of freedom. Everyone who holds to that spirit, everywhere, is an American."

It was refreshing to see someone talk about Americans in a positive light. I know many of us are outspoken, stubborn, loud gits at times. We're raised to believe that we have a right to say whatever we want whenever we want.

Read that again. "We're raised to believe that we have a right." How many things can you put after "We're raised to believe that we have a right" that are day-to-day events in the States? Now, go back and look at it again and try to come up with things that you take for granted that you missed in the first pass. Things like "We're raised to believe that we have a right to make as many babies as we want." Because, really, the people with the power can set any limit they want to on their people, as long as they have the firepower and a populace not willing to fight back.

There are things that we take for granted here that are seen elsewhere as the epitome of freedom. We can speak our minds, without fear, on how badly our leaders are screwing things up. Even in a lot of more advanced countries, you don't get to do this. In most places, we can shout obscenities without landing in jail (although there are a few places like Virginia Beach where you might get a ticket for saying shit too loudly). As a woman, there are a lot of socially-acceptable behaviors that I can do here that would lead to things like, oh, death elsewhere. Being a girl-child isn't an instant death sentence like it is still in too many other countries.

Many of the things we take for granted are truly privileges, but we see them as rights. Why do we take these freedoms for granted? Because we can. Because we were raised in an environment where these privileges are seen as rights. That's just how it is.

Because kids never think to thank their parents and grandparents for things that are this ingrained into them. It hit me, this Independence Day, how much of what I've always taken for granted is a privilege and why people continue to fight elsewhere over freedoms. It's a great loss of power for those in charge, really. When you balance safety and freedom, one of them has to give way to the other. Tightening security for overall safety, even a bit, causes a huge stir here. And it should. Freedom isn't something to take for granted. We're lucky that we can, since someone else died for us in years gone by.

Our ancestors fought like hell to give us this freedom. Some of our people are fighting elsewhere to let other places have a chance at it and to help preserve it here. Go do something to support those who are fighting to protect Freedom. While you're at it, stop thinking being free is a right.

Musings on Moving.

I recently found myself with no job, thanks to a departmental RIF and relocation. Deciding that I'd had enough of the company and the DC metro area, I asked for a new place to call home. (Yes, yes, I know. Usually with a RIF, you don't get to decide about whether or not you like the company and want to stay. When the VP of another department found out about me leaving $large_isp, I was called and told that she would create a position within her department for me, if I was willing to stay. Yes, I am that good at what I do. Down, Ego, down!) I wanted to stay on the East Coast, but closer to the water's edge, set my rent amount firmly in mind, and outlined a few very general things that I would like from my new home, intentionally leaving out a location other than "East Coast, close to a large body of water." Two days later, a friend of mine from high school posted about a room she had to rent near the Gulf, two blocks from the beach, in my price range, and matching every other thing for which I had asked. Now, it occurs to me that if you ask $deity for anything and you get a speedy response like that, you should be going where you're being pointed, as quickly as you can.

Three weeks later, I found myself knocking on the door to my new house in Florida. Whether or not this place is my new home remains to be seen. I am quite enjoying the new location and feel more at ease here than I ever did near DC. Entertainingly, a friend of mine and I were talking, not even three months ago, and the following words came out of my mouth:
"I don't think I'd like it down there. I can't see myself living in Florida."
I've eaten my words so many times in the past that I have the perfect sauce for them. They barely taste like leather boot at all.

In essence, I have left everything that I know and great job security to move to an area I had never set foot in before. Again. For the third time. The only difference is that this time, I've also moved to an area where there is no work in my chosen field. When I told $old_orkplace's AUP Queen and privacy lawyer about my plans, she applauded me for being willing to leave my security blankets to go in search of Grand Adventure.

I have driven out of range.