Too much time...

Above is a piece of space dust. Someone somewhere on some blog posts pictures of these miniscule little snipits of space debris. I am not exactly sure why, but its reasons are unimportant to me.

This weekend I spent time wandering about with just my thoughts and the world around me as company. As I wandered I came to notice all the little things that would otherwise escape my eye: the drifts of petals on the sidewalks, the multitude of cigarette butts collecting at drains, childrens' laughter reaching me across hundreds of yards. Every single thing, regardless of its matter, makeup, etc. has some story to tell. Not all of them are interesting or harrowing or exciting or happy, but they are all nonetheless important. As humans, our interactions with these objects are how we make our own stories, and these artifacts carry our finger prints long after we've left them. This idea is in no way novel. For one to come across a novel idea in this world is a rare and special gift. I have not been blessed with such an experience and do not expect to during my lifetime...far too grand for a pawn like me. But for someone to reach a conclusion (whether original or not) on their own is still cause for minor celebration. I am writing this mostly because I want to get it out of my head where it will be lost and put somewhere more stable.

That piece of space dust has a whole story unto itself...a huge and vast story. Boy if that dust could talk, we could learn a lot! Its interaction with humans is minute compared to all of its other experiences. All I am really saying is that all of these stories are connected and its really the fabric of what binds us to one another. When you approach the world in this way, you are very quickly overwhelmed by all of the overlaps and complexities of these stories. This patch of grass here in the park...these blades have overheard countless conversations, they have felt earthquakes that only a few computers in Berkeley knew about, they have been trampled and cut and soaked and dried and they are still going. They may not be able to talk or fight back but their experiences are honest and important. I am not going so far as to assign a "spirit" to these blades of grass. I am saying that they are a medium through which stories can be transmitted. And suddenly I felt a huge amount of reverence for every single thing about me...everything felt special and important, including me! It got me thinking about the infinite set of untold stories that lie all around us.

So I started to realize that each of us, humans, are carving and creating our own stories through our space of time here. I have lots and lots of fingerprints all over me, and fortunately (unfortunate for some) I have a voice. I can communicate. The idea of a story really compels one to think about the past, but is it such a far leap to also project into the future. I had to ask myself...what kind of story do I want to tell? I know what I have told and what clings to me to this day, but I still have some control on the kind of story I want to tell. It gave me an immense appreciation for my mistakes and missteps along the way. It made me realize that at that instantaneous spot between past and future, I am perfect...I have made mistakes (past) and I will make mistakes (future) but in that moment...well...there I am...part of a story that comprises all the wonderful and horrible experiences of my life - but not just my life...everyone's lives. I pick up pieces from other people's lives all the time. Factory workers the world over have touched and left their impressions and finger prints on all of the plastic nonsense that I buy. We are connected across oceans and cultures...

Those were really the two points I needed to get out. I wasn't as elloquent as I had hoped, but the bare bones of the ideas are there for future consideration and molding. This is Josh signing off!

Big MAC, Mc DLT, A Quarter Pounder with some cheese, Filet 'o Fish, a Hamburger, a Cheeseburger, a Happy Meal...

I turn 29 this year...almost three decades of life on this rockin' rock. While that feat is unbelievable in and of itself, what I am about to tell you is even more implausible and will leave you with a feeling of incredulity that you will struggle to accept for the next several years. I promise - you will be haunted with thoughts and wonders and concerns. You will wake up at the witching hour (3am by most clocks) with a cold empty feeling in your gut. ALL reminders of this very moment...

Up until April 9, 2007, I (JJB) had never once supped upon the odd feast that is a Big Mac, a delicacy I am sure so many of you have long consumed and shitted away without any thought. Well, kiddies...Monday was my introduction to this all-American delight, and it did not disappoint. It certainly didn't change my life or anything and it certainly did not divide my life into two distinct parts - life before the Big Mac and life after the Big Mac. Even though my near thirty years are still in tact, this was a big moment in my life...truly.

As a young lad, we had frequent trips to McDonald's and I found myself the proud recipient of many a Happy Meal, complete with a toy and the paltry pickin's of a small fry and some hamburger with weird onions on it. Wendy's finally told me what they were on a hateful television commercial years later...they were "reconstituted onion" - - - ew! So I just didn't eat McDonalds hamburgers...I would eat even grosser things like McNuggets or a Filet 'o Fish, but I would NOT eat their burgers...with the reconstituted onions. As a child and to a slightly lesser extent as an adult, I am not one to be entirely bold with my wants and needs. If my coffee is a little too cold, I pretend I am Goldilocks and decide that it's "just riiiiiiiiiiiiiight." If the meal that comes to the table is not entirely what I ordered, again...it looks like the feast that was set out for little baby bear...good enough for me. So when my mother suggested that I just ask for a burger without the yucky onions, I was a little nervous, but she encouraged me so I went for it and ordered a quarter pounder with cheese (I couldn't abide Happy Meals - I needed more food to maintain my roly poly physique) and none of those reconstituted onions. Well, my mom and our friends all got their orders lickity split and I just buzzed around the counter like a fly waiting for my little tray of trash and offal to appear so I could finally land and consume. I waited and waited...finally the tray was weighted down with some weird looking package...this wasn't the typical yellow paper that normally would crispily contain a quarter pounder...this was NOT right at all. My "special" burger was in some weird blue packaging and it wasn't fast food at all. It certainly did not have any onions on it, but it had about 20 pounds of guilt on it. I would NEVER try to be special again...and remember this was years before a certain other fast food giant would alleve our fears with "your way, right away at Burger King now!"

So years passed and I continued to avoid any kind of special treatment in the food world...though I started to send red wine back to be chilled if it was served too warm. I was starting to peek out of my shell a little. I mean, I've been in therapy for months...things are changing. In an effort to address some body image issues I was ordered to go and order a Big Mac at McDonalds...well this put me face-to-face with an even older issue. I had always avoided Big Macs because I didn't want to have to go through the special order process again. So I went to McDonalds about a month ago - full of shame. I just knew people were judging me, laughing at my fat ass going into McDonalds...I was so overwhelmed with fear and shame that I balked at the last minute and ordered a Grilled Chicken Meal instead...cuz they were lighter and wouldn't come with onions. My therapist was not impressed with my improvisations. I wanted cookies.

Flash forward to Monday of this week. Kids, I did it! Not only did I order a Big Mac with NO ONIONS but I ate and enjoyed every bit (yum yum!). Of course, no McDonalds meal would be complete without Diet Coke...ha! Remember though, this was but a moment in time, a mere homework assignment. I have since discovered Light Smoothies at Jamba Juice - much better! Moral?? I realized I need to be bolder, louder, messier - take up more space (not physically - heavens NO). So don't be surprised to see me one day, with a crisp blue wrapper in my hands. I am going to start special ordering life, with a side of satisfaction!