He is middle aged without children nor spouse. He lives in a boarding house and has very little privacy. He has an unspecified illness and lives off of disability insurance. He recently won the largest single jackpot in Canadian History. He does not have much going for him. His life will undoubtably drastically change.
I want to win the lottery. I'm not going to lie. I would like not to have to worry about paying rent and my phone bill. I would like to not have to order the cheapier options off the menu because I can't afford the really expensive stuff. I would like to have the luxury of shopping without having to look at the price tag. It would be lovely if I could travel, if I had the time. But that's the thing, even if I won the lottery, I wouldn't have the time.
Money can't buy you everything.
So unlike the most recent winner of the 6/49, my life would not necessarily change all that drastically. Having more money wouldn't make me smarter or a better academic. Winning the lottery wouldn't make me more talented or a better singer/actor/dancer. Being the richest man in the world wouldn't make me more creative or a better artist. In fact, being wealthy may hinder my artistic process. Sure, maybe I could afford more time to study by quitting my job, or afford singing and dancing lessons to help my career as a performer, but that doesn't guarentee success. Having money to afford the time or the classes to improve myself still relies on me as a person primarily: just paying for the classes, or having the time for studying will not insure improvement. So, I must conclude that, even if I won the lottery, I would still be doing everything I can do to get into grad school and would still be practicing before every audition. What matters most in life, what is important to me, money will never be able to purchase.
Money can change a life, but it can't buy you skills, smarts, or talent.
That doesn't mean that I don't want to win the lottery.
I have my ticket in my pocket.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Friday, June 08, 2007
Beauty and Desire Has No Gender
No matter what you pronoun you use, they are beautiful.
Sitting on the subway, I watched as the young -person- got onto the train. They were at least six feet tall. Well muscled. They had alabaster smooth skin. Deep big eyes. A ball cap circled their head. A white tank top, covered in black grease stains, held tightly to their torso, accentuating either developed pectoral muscles or small breasts, I couldn't tell which. The tank top revealed toned muscled biceps though. From their hips draped a pair of cargo pants, highlighting a small but round ass. A hammer hung from their belt loop, almost seeming stereotypical. I stared as they stood. Just stood. But with an air of confidence to the point of machissmo, maybe even arrogance. He was definitely masculine.
It took a moment of staring for me to entertain the idea that this beautiful body maybe a she, not a he. If I see a body that inspires desire, I immediately assume it must be male. This was an exception. Then it occurred to me that this person maybe transgendered, in between being a he and she. What parts did they have?
I was definitely attracted to this body, but could I have sex with that body if that body had a vagina? Still enamoured with this beauty in the underground, I easily convinced myself that I could indeed have sex with them, even if they are a woman. They were definitely masculine enough, and apparently, that's what matters. At least to me.
I was definitely attracted to this body, but would I be attracted to their personality? How much would their gender influence my perception of who they are as a person? Maybe it isn't the female body that I don't sexually desire, but the female personality, if there is such a thing.
Is it cultural or biological?
No matter if it is cultural or biological. That body, the body on the subway, was beautiful.
It still haunts me.
Sitting on the subway, I watched as the young -person- got onto the train. They were at least six feet tall. Well muscled. They had alabaster smooth skin. Deep big eyes. A ball cap circled their head. A white tank top, covered in black grease stains, held tightly to their torso, accentuating either developed pectoral muscles or small breasts, I couldn't tell which. The tank top revealed toned muscled biceps though. From their hips draped a pair of cargo pants, highlighting a small but round ass. A hammer hung from their belt loop, almost seeming stereotypical. I stared as they stood. Just stood. But with an air of confidence to the point of machissmo, maybe even arrogance. He was definitely masculine.
It took a moment of staring for me to entertain the idea that this beautiful body maybe a she, not a he. If I see a body that inspires desire, I immediately assume it must be male. This was an exception. Then it occurred to me that this person maybe transgendered, in between being a he and she. What parts did they have?
I was definitely attracted to this body, but could I have sex with that body if that body had a vagina? Still enamoured with this beauty in the underground, I easily convinced myself that I could indeed have sex with them, even if they are a woman. They were definitely masculine enough, and apparently, that's what matters. At least to me.
I was definitely attracted to this body, but would I be attracted to their personality? How much would their gender influence my perception of who they are as a person? Maybe it isn't the female body that I don't sexually desire, but the female personality, if there is such a thing.
Is it cultural or biological?
No matter if it is cultural or biological. That body, the body on the subway, was beautiful.
It still haunts me.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
The Perils of Writing OR That's Not What I Meant
Even though the words of my latest blog, "Not Corporately Recognized", were my own. Even though I apparently clearly laid out certain circumstances of my own life accurately through language. Even though I shared my disappointment with not having my relationship recognized by a corporation, that last blog didn't seem to communicate what I really met.
Of course there is a special bond between mother and son, one that I hope will never be disrupted between my mother and I, and one I hope I will never disrupt between anyone and their mother. I just wanted to note how, in our uber capitalist and consumer world, corporate recognition matters along with other more personal forms of relationship recognition, such as committments and acts of affection.
Yet, no one who has responded to my blog seemed to have interpreted it that way. I thought it was clear: I didn't finish the post with a comment about his mother, but about my (non-existent) presence on his corporate phone account. Yet, that was not enough to communicate the intended meaning.
Do you get what I'm trying to say here? If you don't, just call me, and we can get together and I can explain it to you in person. It's easier that way.
So, I hope that I have been succesfull in communicating the meaning of this blog to you. That meaning being that it is difficult to communicate meaning through the written word, because the written word is open to interpretation.
Of course there is a special bond between mother and son, one that I hope will never be disrupted between my mother and I, and one I hope I will never disrupt between anyone and their mother. I just wanted to note how, in our uber capitalist and consumer world, corporate recognition matters along with other more personal forms of relationship recognition, such as committments and acts of affection.
Yet, no one who has responded to my blog seemed to have interpreted it that way. I thought it was clear: I didn't finish the post with a comment about his mother, but about my (non-existent) presence on his corporate phone account. Yet, that was not enough to communicate the intended meaning.
Do you get what I'm trying to say here? If you don't, just call me, and we can get together and I can explain it to you in person. It's easier that way.
So, I hope that I have been succesfull in communicating the meaning of this blog to you. That meaning being that it is difficult to communicate meaning through the written word, because the written word is open to interpretation.
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