Lovey the Clown

Hello All:

Perhaps you recall about a year ago my mention of a robin in my backyard that fell under a terrible spell of delusionment. He spent the entire weekend, pecking and head butting the windows that faced our backyard. By the end of the weekend, our windows were covered with bird saliva, grinded up beak and even blood.

And why was he doing this?

Well, understand that robins—just like all birds during the mating/nesting season—are territorial. If a robin has a nest nearby, he won't stand for having another robin invade his territory. Birds don't understand reflections in the glass. And as far as the delusioned robin in my backyard was concerned, the reflection that he saw was a threat to his territory.

"SMACK...! SMACK...! SMACK...!" He never gave up. He might have even died in his ongoing battle with the phantom bird.

I believe that people, unfortunately, do the same thing. We spend much of our lives interpreting the world around us and injecting our own perceptions to form an individualized reality. Preconceptions, inferences, prejudices, unfounded conclusions, and the expectations that we have on other people; they all form a nightmarish funhouse of a never-ending maze of mirrors. Will we ever be able to see beyond the reflections and understand reality as it truly is?

It should become our objective at some point in a lifetime to smash through these mirrors and banish those phantoms that haunt us day after day. We can do this by transforming the mind so that it is like a still body of water that reflects the surrounding world. Perhaps when we reflect the outside world instead of presenting  our own reflections to that nightmarish funhouse that we've created, we can finally see reality as it truly is.

***

Today's featured writing is a brand new clown story for you. I mentioned in the last clown story that if we every want to move forward with clown literature, we need to move away from John Wayne Gayce and Pennywise the Clown. I do this in today's story.

I bring you, Lovey the Clown.

Lovey the Clown

Charles is a lonely, old man who never married. He’s had only two women in younger years that could remotely be considered partners in romance. He attributes his bad luck with women to the fact that he is ugly. You see; Charles has always been ugly, starting with his deformed lips that make a nasty hair lip which exposes his gangly, yellow teeth. Then there’s his terribly scarred-up face that was brought on by bad acne in teenage years.

But one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Although ugly, Charles is a really, nice guy. He is so kind, caring and good natured with a great sense of humor. But what about those two lovers from younger years? If Charles was such a great guy, why didn’t they stay with him?

Well, maybe those young women weren’t so great, themselves.

There was Annie, a pretty girl in high school who dated Charles for only about a week. It was the first girl that Charles had ever kissed. But he managed to get only one from her—a simple peck to his nasty, deformed hair lip that exposes his gangly, yellow teeth.

“You never kissed a girl?” she asked while sitting next to Charles on a park bench late one night.

“No…”

“Mwah!”

It was over before Charles realized what happened!

Really, Annie only dated Charles to get even with her boyfriend who supposedly cheated on her. Once jealousy had been triggered in this boy, and he seemed to learn his lesson, Annie ended the short-lived romance with poor Charles.

Then, shortly after graduating high school, there was Stacy; a beaten and battered young and chubby brunette with very, low self esteem who simply needed a rest from being physically abused by her boyfriend. Charles became involved with Stacy shortly after her wrist had been broken from being shoved to the ground during a beating.

“I feel so comfortable and relaxed with you.” she professed while sitting across the booth from Charles at Denny’s, and eating her slice of pumpkin pie.

“I hope so…” answered Charles. “And I just want you to know that you make me so happy.”

“Where have you been my whole life?” asked Stacy. “For so many years I’ve been with jerk guys. I never realized that what I needed was a nice guy like you.”

The relationship with Stacy lasted longer than the one with Annie. But so disappointing; Charles never managed to kiss Stacy. He tried, once, but she turned her face so that Charles could only kiss her cheek. His nasty, deformed hair lip that exposed his gangly, yellow teeth must have turned Stacy off.  There was, however, plenty of hugging and cuddling in their relationship. At one point Charles believed that he could make love to Stacy through just hugging and cuddling.

The entire romance lasted from November of that year, all the way to April of the following. But alas, one early evening in spring, Stacy made an unbelievable announcement. “I think I want to go back to him.”

“Go back to him? No! Why? He beat you!”

“I think he’s changed.” Stacy rebutted. “He came over to see me the other night, and I think he’s had some time to think about things. He told me he’s sorry. I can’t deny that I love him, and want to give him another chance.”

Charles was dumbfounded. He wanted to cry out, “Well what about us?” But he realized what most rebound men of abused women soon discover: battered women always crawl back for more.

And more she received! Two weeks after returning to her abusive boyfriend, Stacy was beaten into a coma and died two days later.

Poor Charles was grief stricken and heartbroken. He loved Stacy, obviously more than her murderous boyfriend. And at the funeral home he couldn’t even view her in the casket, for it was closed. You see; the beating was so severe that Stacy’s physical appearance would have deeply disturbed mourners.

There are some who say that those who appear the happiest and laugh the most are actually masking sadness. I suppose this might have been what happened with Charles. Some months after much grief, Charles’ depressed personality suddenly changed into that of a comedian. He joked and put on hysterical performances for family and friends. Some people even suggested that he go into the business of entertainment.

But instead of using his newfound talent to explore professional entertainment, Charles landed a job as an overnight janitor at the local department store. He remained there for several years. Charles never bothered going to college, or pursuing greater career options. He lived with his parents, remained single and never bothered to date women. As poor Charles understood, he was too ugly for romance. And he truly believed that Stacy was the one and only woman meant for him.

Then, one morning as Charles drove the floor buffer machine through the main aisle of the Men’s clothing department, he saw an unbelievable sight. A young woman who looked, exactly, like his murdered Stacy walked along the perimeter aisle of the Men’s clothing department, and over to Children’s. She didn’t even bother to take notice of him. Perhaps she felt that someone riding a floor buffer machine was a loser—someone clearly out of his league. Then again, maybe she just didn’t see him.

Charles wasn’t going to take any chances. He was definitely interested in the young woman, but realized he had to go about matters carefully. How to approach the young woman without revealing his hideous appearance and sad circumstance in life; he pondered this in anguish—morning after morning, week after week—as he watched her enter the department, seemingly without taking notice of him. Why would she? Charles was an ugly nobody.

Then, one night upon awakening from a dream—a dream in which Charles worked as a circus clown—he came up with the perfect solution. “I will dress up as a clown!” he exclaimed. “I will disguise my ugliness with the brilliant colors of a clown. I will cover my scarred up face with paint. I will figure out a way hide my nasty hair lip that exposes my gangly, yellow teeth; and paint a smile on my face.”

And so Charles spent many nights before the mirror, creating the most brilliant clown ensemble for himself. Now approaching his late twenties, his hair was terribly thinning—nearly bald. This was now masked by wearing a shaggy, blue clown wig that he managed to spike and fluff up so that it resembled one of those troll pencil toppers. His scarred and hideous face was entirely painted with the color pink; red-colored rose flowers and hearts painted on each cheek to symbolize his longing for romance. To rid himself of the nasty hair lip, Charles used costume clay to patch it up; and then used red paint to create a large smile. Finally, Charles dressed up in an outdated, oversized, green suit with blazer that was extra long. It was worn over a white shirt with obnoxious checkered neck tie. He looked, exactly, like a ridiculous clown.

***

On a Monday morning, Charles seemed to appear out of nowhere and stood at the cash register in his clown ensemble.

The young woman who resembled Stacy from years ago had her back turned for only a moment. When she turned back to the cash register, there was a clown standing before her. “Oh my gosh! What the…?”

“Hello there beautiful, young lady! I’m Lovey the Clown! He held out his white-gloved hand in a motion to shake.

Cautiously, the young woman fit her hand into his. “I’m Erin…” But before she could finish her sentence…

“BUZZ!”

Something tickled and zapped Erin’s hand. “Aggggghhhhh! What was that?” she asked.

Lovey the Clown laughed, “I’m just full of gags like that!” Then he asked, “Did you say your name is Erin?”

“Yes…”

“Erin; that’s a pretty name.”

“Well thank you!” Erin was unsure of how to react. Standing before her was a clown who—just like all clowns—found it necessary to pull obnoxious gags on people. But he also complimented her; greeted her as “beautiful, young lady” and then told Erin that her name is pretty. If she didn’t know any better, this clown was really sweet.

“I have something for you—just for you.” Lovey announced.

“What? What is it?” asked Erin.

Lovey reached into the inner pocket of his oversized, green blazer and pulled out a red rose.

“Awe… So sweet…” Erin’s heart nearly melted.

But just as she reached for it, a stream of cold water sprayed from the center of the flower.

“Ugggghhhh!” she exclaimed while wiping the water off her face.

“I’m the funniest clown you’ll ever get to know!”

“I don’t know whether to be annoyed or laugh!” Erin said. “But I think I’ll laugh. I need a little humor in my life. You’re a very, funny clown.”

“Well thank you.” said Lovey. Then Lovey did something that he thought he would never do—at least not for some weeks or even months. Perhaps it was the clown ensemble and the ability to hide behind his persona that provided him with the boldness. Lovey asked, “Well if you want to laugh some more, maybe you can give me your number. I’ll call you and give you plenty of great jokes!”

“Are you asking me for my number?” Erin asked.

“Absolutely!”

Erin pushed the receipt feed on the cash register and tore off some blank paper. Then she wrote down her number. “Don’t call me at work!” she warned. “I can get in trouble. Call me in the late afternoon or in the evening when I’m home.”

“You’ve got it! And I’m honored to have the number of such a beautiful, young lady. And it was a pleasure meeting you, Erin…”

Later that night, Charles sat in his bedroom in just ordinary clothes and without the clown make-up. He spoke on the phone with his newfound friend who he hoped would soon be his girlfriend. But while speaking to Erin, Charles learned of her sad circumstance.

“...Yeah, my mom is terminally ill with COPD. She’s home on life support—a ventilator. Both my brother and sister moved out of state, and my father died a few years ago. It’s just me, all alone, to take care of my dying mother.”

“Awe… that’s sad… that’s very sad.” commented Charles. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

Erin continued, “Now you know what I mean when I said that I needed some humor in my life. I guess I could use a clown to cheer me up.”

“Well that’s what I’m going to do!” reassured Charles. “But you know, I was thinking; maybe you need more than just a clown to tell you jokes and make you laugh. Maybe you need to get out of the house for a few hours—have dinner and see a movie.”

“You mean like a date?” asked Erin.

“Yes, a date!”

“Sure…” agreed Erin. “When would you want to go out?”

“How about we go out this upcoming Friday night?” suggested Charles. “How about I pick you up at 7:00? I’ll think of something.”

“7:00 would be great!”

***

When Charles said that he would think of something, Erin might have interpreted this to mean that he would think of a place to go for dinner, and decide on the movie to see. But this is not what Charles meant. Charles was referring to picking her up. You see; although Charles has his driver’s license, he doesn’t own a car. He walks everywhere, even to work.

“Dad?”

Charles still lives at home with his parents and entered the family room after ending his call with Erin.

“Dad?”

“Yes, what it is, son?”

“I’ve got a date Friday night with a really, nice girl from work.”

“You do? What’s her name?”

“Erin…”

“Well good for you!” congratulated Father. “Do you need some money?”

“No, I was going to ask if I could borrow the car.”

Father sighed, “Son, unfortunately your mother and I are going to a wedding reception on Friday night. I’d let you use the other car, but we only have one.”

Charles sighed, “Oh no… I hope I don’t have to cancel my date with Erin.”

“Well, maybe you can buy a car before Friday and take her out in that.” suggested Father.

“Hmm… I’ll have to think of something.”

Soon, Charles telephoned his good friend, Sam.

“Hello?” the voice of Sam greeted.

“Sam, this is Charles.”

“Hey man, what’s up?”

Charles began, “I need a favor.”

“Sure, what do you need?” asked Sam.

“I’ve got a date on Friday night. My Dad said I can’t use the car. Could I borrow yours?”

Sam sighed over the phone. “I’m afraid I can’t do that; not for Friday. Sherry and I are going to a concert. I need my car.” Then Sam thought of an idea. You see; he’s a garbage man, and has access to plenty of garbage trucks. Might he have been able to allow his good friend to borrow one for Friday night? “Hey…” began Sam. “You don’t mind what sort of vehicle that you take your date out in, do you?”

“No, anything is fine as long as it gets me from point A to point B.” answered Charles.

“Well if I show you how to drive one, would you be interested in borrowing a garbage truck?”

“A garbage truck?” asked Charles. “You mean one of those big and noisy trucks that pull up in front of the houses to collect garbage?”

“Yup!” answered Sam. “Are you interested?”

“Sure! It’s a little awkward, but maybe my date will get a kick out of it.”

***

“He’s a clown, Mom. That’s all I know about him.”

It was Friday evening, about 6:45 pm as Erin stood over her mother’s bed. Poor Mother was nearly lifeless as she lay there and listened to her daughter give the details of her Friday night date. Right near the bed, the annoying hum of the machine could be heard as it pumped and supplied necessary, life-sustaining oxygen to a terminally-ill COPD patient.

 “... a clown… a clown is coming here…? Mother whispered through the oxygen mask.

“That’s what he does… I think…” answered Erin.

“... you think…?”

“I don’t know, Mother!” argued Erin. “He’s just a guy who is taking me out on a date. It’s just a date, nothing serious! Can’t I go out on a simple date?”

“... but he’s a clown…”

“So!” snapped Erin.

“... you shouldn’t trust clowns… they hide their evil intentions by being funny…”

“Oh Mother! You’re crazy, you know that?”

With a shaky hand and finger, Mother weakly gestured her daughter to come closer. “... come here…”

Erin did as her mother ordered. “What, what is it?”

“... please don’t stay out late… come home at a decent time…”

“I promise, Mom. I’ll be home before midnight.”

Suddenly the doorbell rang.

“It’s him!” exclaimed Erin. She dashed out of the bedroom, down the hallway and over to the front door.

From the bedroom, Mother listened carefully.

“Oh my gosh! You wore your clown costume…! Come on in… Meet my mother…”

Seconds later, in walked Erin with A CLOWN following behind her.

“... good heavens…” whispered Mother behind the oxygen mask.

“Well hello there beautiful, young lady I’m Lovey the Clown!”

“... save your flattery…” whispered Mother. Terminally ill, she wasn’t feeling so young and beautiful.

“Can I call you, Mom?” asked Lovey.

“... I never gave birth to a clown…” whispered Mother.

“Oh Mother! Don’t be so grumpy!” argued Erin. Then she looked over to the clown. “Come on, Lovey. Let’s get going.”

“Sure thing!”

And with that, both Erin and Lovey the Clown left the room.

But seconds later, the clown danced and pranced back into the bedroom and rushed over to Mother’s bed. He brought his face close to hers and reassured, “Don’t you worry about a thing! I’ll have her home before midnight!” He quickly turned and dashed out of the bedroom. But while doing so, Lovey tripped over the fish hose that ran from the oxygen machine to the mask on Mother’s face. This pulled the hose out from the machine which meant that Mother would no longer receive her much-needed oxygen.

At first Mother didn’t realize what the clown had done. It wasn’t until the front door closed—Erin out for the evening—that she began to feel the effects of lacking oxygen. “... what…? She turned her face over towards the machine and could see the hose yanked out. “... help… help…” she whispered. Mother was too weak to sit up let alone try and repair the yanked-out house. “... help… Erin… I should have never trusted a clown…”

Meanwhile, outside, Erin laughed and laughed at the sight of Lovey’s crazy ride—a garbage truck. The engine noisily rattled and clunked as it sat parked in the street.

“We’ll be cruising in style, tonight!” boldly declared Lovey. “Come-on, let’s check this baby out!” Like a gentleman, he opened the passenger side door and motioned Erin to climb aboard. But before she put her foot on the ladder, Lovey stopped her. “Wait! I feel like dancing, don’t you?”

“Dancing?” asked Erin with a queer expression.

“Sure! I just so happen to have a transportable dance floor for us. Come-on!” He motioned Erin to the back of the garbage truck where he pushed the hydraulic control lever to lower the packer blade from the trash hopper. Inside, there was an illuminated, battery-operated disco ball hanging from the ceiling. On the floor was a retro, portable stereo which might have been referred to as a “ghetto blaster” back in its day.

Lovey climbed into the hopper and pressed the play button on the tape deck. He began to dance at the sound of the music.

Outside the hopper, Erin laughed at the crazy clown who actually converted a garbage truck into his own, personal nightclub. How was all of this possible? Where did he get his hands on a garbage truck?

“Come on in!” shouted Lovey. “Let’s dance!”

At first, Erin hesitated. She shook her head and pushed her hands out in an effort to communicate, no.

“Come on!” urged Lovey. “It’s fun! You’ve got to get used to doing crazy stuff like this!”

Erin shrugged her shoulders, smiled, and then carefully climbed into the hopper to be with Lovey. Soon the two danced. They danced and danced like never before.

About ten minutes passed when Lovey suggested, “You want something to drink?”

“What?” shouted Erin over the music.

“Do you want me to go to the bar and get something to drink?”

Dumbfounded, Erin stared at the clown for about a second. “Sure…”

Lovey climbed out of the hopper and left his date inside. He only intended on going up to the front of the truck to grab Erin a drink. But then something bad happened. While climbing down, his foot pressed the hydraulic control lever which began to move the large packer blade inside and towards the back.

“Oh no! Stop!” shouted Lovey as he struggled with the hydraulic controls.

A jolt of adrenaline and fear spiked through Erin’s veins as she realized that the situation had become dangerous “Hey!” she screamed while running towards the front. But it was too late! The large packer blade took up the entire entrance of the hopper and continued to move towards the back. If it continued moving, Erin would be crushed to death!

Desperately, Lovey tried to stop and reverse the packer blade. But there was something wrong. One might think that simply shifting the hydraulic control in the opposite direction would reverse the blade. But the control was apparently under some sort of automatic reset in which the packer blade would make an entire sweep inwards and then out.

“STOP! STOP!” Lovey cried out while running up to the front of the garbage truck. He reached up to the driver console and turned the engine off. But wouldn’t you know it? For some reason, the hopper and packer blade were under battery control. The blade continued to move deeply inwards until it stopped on its own volition. Then it reversed and inched its way out and to the back.

Horrified, Lovey observed the mangled and crushed remains of Erin mixed with a smashed ghetto blaster and battery operated disco light.

***

The following morning, the news reported the shocking report to the world. “Police walked into a gruesome murder last night. They say that a man dressed up as a clown entered an elderly woman’s home who was terminally-ill with COPD. He apparently removed the hose from an oxygen supply pump, effectively killing her. Then he murdered her daughter by crushing her to death in the back of a garbage truck. Police say it’s the most bizarre clown-style murder that they have ever seen.”

THE END!

White Hole

 White Hole

White hole: the theoretical posterior of a black hole—the discharging end of where one universe's devoured cosmic energy and matter is ejected into a new universe. Some scientists theorize that a black hole is a collapsing or imploding star that began its new existence by grabbing onto nearby mass and energy. The end result is an eternal implosion that gets larger and larger. White holes are a feasible theory when considering the mystery of where all that devoured matter and energy goes. It has sometimes been theorized that our own universe was created by a star in another universe that died out, imploded and fed life into our own by delivering astronomical amounts of mass and energy through the receiving end of the black hole; the white hole.

I woke up this morning not looking forward to facing the day. The previous evening I learned that because of a minor flaw in financing, one of my real estate buyers would be unable to close on a listing of mine. Worse yet, this created a domino effect that killed a double whammy transaction. The buyer was supposed to purchase a listing of mine, and the sellers of mine were supposed to purchase another home I had sold them. Losing the sale was only half of the grief. I also felt guilty because three couples—possibly four—had learned that they were not going to close. I believed that I was the one who was supposed to make things happen for these people. Imagine waking up one morning with such horrible thoughts of guilt before even putting your feet on the floor.

In further frustration and hopelessness, I began to beat myself down while reminding myself that for a couple months I hadn't seen a sale. Was real estate the job for me? Then, just as I rolled over to push myself out of bed, I glanced at the floor and noticed a Christmas ornament that had somehow fallen from the tree months ago, and ended up near my bed. It had about a dozen braids of gold that when hung as a decoration would look like a golden icicle. The way it laid there, it reminded me of an ancient statue called the Hindu Dance of Creation. This suggestion catapulted me into speculating the different theories of how the universe was constructed which did give me some sort of relief from the despair I was feeling.

Suddenly, I remembered a dream from the previous night in which I was way out in space and observed an enormous hole radiating the most beautiful, brilliant, white light I had ever seen. It was likened to being a tiny bug in a swimming pool that observed the jet end of water shooting out of a pool filter. I could actually see the light as bubbling mass that ran out like water and flowed all over the cosmos.

That's when it hit me! Inside of me was a black hole that consumed all of my energy. It definitely felt like a dying star. But there had to be receiving end to the black hole, right? With this speculation in mind, I declared that every time a real estate deal fell apart, or my luck seemed to be down; I would become a white hole in space that radiates light and energy comparable to trillions of suns. New life... New Energy... A NEW UNIVERSE INSIDE OF ME!

I sprang up (but was careful not to wake the wife) and went to the kitchen to make coffee. "Look at all that mass and energy converting grinded beans into coffee!"

I poured milk into my cup and was amazed, "Look at the gravity pulling the mass out of this milk jug!"

Only moments ago I was careful not to wake my wife while getting out of bed. But now I had to wake her just to show her the wonderful phenomenon.

"Honey, wake up! Look!"

She looked confused and concerned as to why I woke her up.

"This milk jug represents an entire universe of mass and energy trapped in a black hole. The gravity on the outside is like a white hole when I tip the jug over and pour the milk into the glass! See how the milk jug is a beautiful white hole in space, radiating an astronomical amount of mass and energy!"

She nearly smacked me on the head. "You woke me up for that?"

***

Later that day I visited a potential client to present a market evaluation. The husband and wife wished to sell their home and were curious of its market price. But why not sneak in a little sales presentation along with it? Among the items used for this presentation were a few small containers of milk. This was going to be a new tactic that I called "White Hole Marketing". It would bring new life into my usual, boring sales pitches.

"So what are you going to do when your home has been for sale for a long time?”It's priced right, and you're getting all the exposure with no offers? Are you going to feel down? What are you going to do when you are a few weeks from closing and find out that the buyer lost his job and can't close on your home? Are you going to fall into despair? No you are not! You will become the receiving end of a black hole way out in space. You will be like a white hole radiating new energy comparable to trillions of suns. See this small container of milk? This container represents you; an entire universe! The milk represents all your hopes and dreams. But what do you do when your hopes and dreams are smashed to pieces like me throwing the container of milk on the floor and jumping on it like this..."

I threw the container of milk on the floor and jumped on it which made the container explode and spray milk out all over the kitchen. I grabbed another and another and repeated so the seller would get the idea, "See... you are a beautiful white hole in space... THIS IS HOW WE SELL YOUR HOME!!!"

Suddenly, the husband leapt out of his seat as if struck by sublime motivation. But what was this? His choice of words was most unexpected. "Alright, you can leave! Get out of here before we call the police! Does your broker know you do this?"

I didn't let the rejection get me down. I figured my energy was too intense for the sellers, and they were not ready for a Realtor of such magnitude. I drove off and couldn't wait to meet the next seller or buyer with my "White Hole Marketing" presentation.

Early in the evening I watched a news story on TV that reported plans were being made to launch the first manned mission to Mars in the next couple decades. I thought about what a perfect opportunity it would be to seek out new, prime real estate on Mars. From that moment, on, I decided to become the first Re/Max agent to land the Re/Max balloon on Mars. I formulated the future advertisement in my head, "When the first human foot touches the soil of Mars, Re/Max will be there, scouting out prime real estate for residential and commercial needs. Why not list your home with an agent who is going places?"

***

And that's what selling homes is all about. You've got to be a source of energy and new ideas for your buyers and sellers. You've got to think and act quickly. You've got to be cutting edge, and you have to realize that for every opportunity, there is an obstacle; and for every obstacle, there is a new opportunity.

The Screaming Worm

      I used to enjoy a little fishing every now and then. I wasn't too serious with the sport as most fishers would laugh at the idea of me using worms -- the mark of a truly-inexperienced fisher. If one is truly experienced and plans on going after large fish, the technique of casting lures is used.

I gave up fishing with worms the day I baited a hook and could hear the poor invertebrate-creature screaming. I kid you not: the worm was making a high-pitched hissing noise that I identified as screaming -- evidence that the worm was traumatized by what had happened. I looked in the container purchased at the bait shop and felt as though the worms were watching me and saying that I would pay dearly for my atrocious acts of violence. I never baited another worm ever again!

The Eye

 Hello All:

Here's another strange story I had included in one of the Hello All portions of a column back in 2000/2001. I wish I could remember the inspiration for writing this story. Was this a dream I had, or was this one of those strange thoughts that become real when you are alone?

The Eye

Well it’s Monday again. Everyone knows by now that Monday is my favorite day of the week. This Monday was a little strange for me. I got up in the late afternoon like I do every Monday. My wife does not get home until 7:30, so I got myself ready for the day and proceeded to clean the apartment. As I went to the guest closet where we keep our vacuum cleaner, I had a strange urge to look out of my peep hole to see if someone was at the door. What I saw shocked me. An eye was peering through the hole and touched mine and felt as if it was scanning my brain. I think that who or whatever was out there was controlling my brain because the next thing I did was open the door to let “them” in”. I could not believe that I did this! I was terrified of who was out there, but I let them in. I have no recollection of anything after that. I only remember thinking about what happened while I was vacuuming. I proceeded to make dinner, and did not tell my wife about the incident. Not much time had lapsed between the opening the door and vacuuming. “They” must have been inside the apartment for seconds and then left.

Silence, Beautiful Silence

Silence, Beautiful Silence

Famous quote: Music is the pause between the notes! Many people might argue that music is about sound, so how could the silent pauses between the notes be music? But if you think about it, if the music was a constant surge of noise, it would just be unintelligible noise.  There has to be an empty space in-between each note for the sound to be recognizably music. Oh sure; today's modern music offers high-energy, high-speed tunes that makes some people wonder if it's music, but if you listen closely, there are brief pauses in between the notes -- as small as those pauses might be.

From the moment a child wakes up, his or her day is constant sound, stimulus, and chatter. If you've ever asked a child to enjoy the silence for a brief moment, it is not understood by the child. Silence with no stimulus is boring and depressing to a child. Enjoying the silence could be another way of saying, "You are being punished!" But to a parent, silence is a wonderful thing. Many parents seize those small moments when they are alone to enjoy the silence -- peace and quiet. So what is this need to enjoy peace and quiet? Why do some people crave a few moments of silence?

The human brain is a complex organ that was designed to be constantly active. It constantly seeks information, and constantly thinks in words. Many times the brain urges you to communicate thoughts and ideas. The brain just never shuts up, even when it is asleep. But often we steal a moment to find a time and place when we can deprive our brains of stimulus and silence our internal dialogs. Isn't it strangely un-natural? The brain wants to keep going, but there is a certain part of us that want it to shut down for a while. Sometimes people meditate and concentrate on silence. They actually have to force the brain to be silent. In the metaphysical world, we are told that humans live in idea-construction realities. The very place we exist is fueled by constant thoughts and beliefs. And the reason we sleep is because we no longer have the energy to sustain the idea-construction reality. It takes time to restore this energy before we are ready to once again form that world we live in.

So why do wide-awake people crave silence, and why do they wish to silence their thoughts? Is it because they realize they miss something by totally existing in this idea-construction reality? Is there a point in people's life when they want to enter situations without any pre-conceived notions altering their decisions or the things they say?

Ask yourself, "Do you like commercials?" Sure, some of them can be entertaining at times, but can you honestly say you enjoy having -- say for example -- car commercials with finance options being broadcasted into your brain? Or do you like it when you go to work and someone starts broadcasting all their woes and negative gossip about work into your brain before you even sit down to your work station? I would bet most of you like to start your day off with a fresh, clean mind and really don't care to have car commercials and negative gossip flooding your mind.

Silence is a very difficult concept to write about. But I would bet most of you agree that silence is a beautiful thing and a very useful tool to gather strength, energy, and insight. Someone once asked me what kind of music I like to listen to at home. And my kind of music goes like this: I sit down on the floor and close my eyes with head tilted slightly up. I relax my abdomen and breathe easily and relaxed. There is no noise around me, no stimulus, and no outside information to be digested. Soon my eyes begin to relax and seem to focus on the darkness of my mind. Ah... the peace and quiet can finally be felt within.

Forget IQ; It's EQ that Matters Most

Hello All,

The rules of society have changed as far as courtesy is concerned. What do I mean by that? Let’s say your neighbor started a party on Sunday afternoon, but it is now Monday morning at 1:30 am and there are a few heavy partiers still lighting fireworks, and listening to loud music. You need to get up for work early, and as far as you remember, it was courteous to keep the noise down to a minimum after 10:00 pm so people can sleep. If you go to your neighbor’s house to ask him to please keep it down, you are now being the rude person! In today’s society, you are being self-centered by expecting a great party to keep it down after 10:00 pm!

Or, suppose you and your spouse go to a nice, expensive restaurant one evening and at one of the tables nearby is a couple who brought their two-year-old son who has been screaming and crying the entire dinner. The other couple doesn’t seem to be doing anything to keep the child quiet and if this were McDonald’s it would be okay to bring a noisy child to dinner. But as far as you remember, it was courteous to at least quiet down or remove a screaming child from the table at an expensive restaurant. If you complain or expect the other couple to do something about the screaming two-year-old, you are being the rude and self-centered person. The rules of society have changed! But I wonder if that same couple, years later, would follow the same rule and be okay with another couple leaving their screaming kid in an expensive restaurant. Or would they now expect some courtesy and expect differently?

I am taking a critical thinking class by a professor who is a clinical psychologist. In a recent lecture, he introduced a concept of EQ which basically over-shadowed the traditional IQ as a measurement for intelligence. I’m not sure if my introduction above has anything to do with EQ, but half-way through the lecture, I was delighted to hear that the 5 characteristics of someone with high EQ matched people with courteous and thoughtful attitudes. It was like a small beacon of light of promise in a world where rudeness prevails… being rude gets results… and people are learning not to care about other people. Today’s column is a summary of the 5 characteristics of high EQ

 Forget IQ; It's EQ that Matters Most

For decades, the primary test and measurement for intelligence was the IQ test. The higher your IQ score, the higher your intelligence. IQ measures how fast someone’s brain can process information, memorize series of numbers and answer trivial questions such as “How long did the Civil war last?”, “Who was the 23rd president of the United States?” The theory is if someone can retain that much information and process information at a high speed, then the amount of intelligence must be great.

IQ cannot be developed. You are born with a certain amount of IQ and that is all you are going to have. And as you age, your IQ decreases – unless of course you continue to challenge your brain throughout your lifetime.

Intelligence has been associated with an ability to make money and be successful. So naturally, someone with a high IQ would be considered someone most likely to be successful. Look at the high school yearbooks. They usually have recognitions such as “person most likely to succeed”. These assumptions are usually based on how well the student did in high school.

Define success: we could say it is the ability to be happy. Recently, studies suggest that IQ has absolutely nothing to do with success and personal happiness. The new thinking is that IQ is similar to rating how fast a CPU processes data. A new measurement called EQ (emotional intelligence) just might be the gage that determines how successful and happy someone can be. And guess what? Unlike IQ, EQ can be developed throughout your lifetime! It can also be taught by parents, teachers, and peers.

EQ can be defined as an ability to be aware of ones feelings and emotions as well as the feelings and emotions of other people. With this awareness, someone with high EQ can control his or her actions and ultimately take control of his or her own life. 

There are 5 elements of EQ: self awareness, self control, delay of gratification, empathy, and social skills revolving around an awareness of others. The elements can be further classified so that EQ becomes a two-tiered model containing Intrapersonal skills and Interpersonal skills.

Intrapersonal Skills

Self Awareness

Self Control

Delay of Gratification

Interpersonal Skills:

Empathy

Awareness of Others

Self Awareness: A simple thing like paying attention to what is going on inside of you and knowing how it is that you feel can be an important step to developing EQ. Many people are not consciously aware that today “they are a little irked from what the boss said at the meeting”, or “maybe a little nervous about meeting that important client at the end of the week”.

Jill went about the whole day at work being short with some of her co-workers. She never took the time to think that later in the week she had an important sales presentation and was a little nervous and this was manifesting itself by being short with co-workers.

Jane on the other hand was in a really bad mood while driving home from work. She realized that being that she lost an important account for the company, it was making her feel worthless. She actually went home and told her husband of the bad news instead of keeping her feelings buried in her subconscious for them to manifest later.

Self Control: Conquering thoughts or emotions that could create obstacles in attaining happiness and success is another characteristic of someone with high EQ. Okay, you are in a bad mood from work, but do you really need to take it out on the spouse and kids at home?

Some things got John upset at the office today. He knew he had a bad day, but when he went home, he yelled at his wife for not having dinner ready on time and severely scolded his kid for not taking out the garbage. It made for a bad evening.

Steve on the other hand came home from a bad day and made sure he was nice to his family despite the way he felt from work. Being home with his family and keeping things peaceful actually made him feel better before going to bed.

Delay of Gratification: Many people are in tune with instant gratification. The need to seek out pleasure now is a natural human instinct. But a characteristic of high EQ is an ability to put off a pleasurable experience now for a higher cause or reward later.

Jim stops at a local bar on the way home from work and decides to have a few drinks after his long day at work. He knows that he’s been trying to cut back on drinking and promised his wife not to drink heavily – much less drink on a Tuesday afternoon. But once he has a few drinks, he ends up drinking more and gets hammered! How can he conquer his drinking problem without delay of gratification?

Betty on the other hand sticks with her diet despite the fact that her co-workers are all going to Taco Bell for lunch. She would love to pig out on half-dozen tacos and probably more, but she stays at the office and has her brown bag lunch with healthier food.

Empathy: Everyone is born with a natural inclination to be empathetic. If you go to a day care and a child falls down and cries, the other children who come from nurturing environments will surround the crying child to see if he or she is okay. But if the daycare is in an environment where moms and dads are not so nurturing, the other kids will not go to see if the fallen child is okay. In fact, some of the un-nurtured kids will approach the crying child and tell him or her to shut up, even slap the crying child!

Mary comes back to work after grieving the loss of her mother. No sooner does she sit down at her desk, her boss slaps a stack of papers down and tells her the assignments due and to hurry up because they fell behind while she was gone. He never even extended sympathy for the loss of her mother!

Minutes later, some of Mary’s co-workers approach her and extended their sympathies for the loss of her mother. And although Mary refused, her co-workers offered to take some of her assignments so she can catch up and let her know they can help if needed.

Social Skills (being aware of others): You are at a party with a mixed group of people all having different beliefs and values. If you are sensible, you know of the standards and etiquette used when engaging in discussion. You must be considerate of those around you and contemplate whether something you say could upset someone. And I’m sure you’ve seen them, but there are plenty of people out there who don’t do this!

Mark is standing with a group of people at a party and a discussion begins about a recent bank robbery down the street. Because the suspects at large are two black men, Mark makes a comment that if we get rid of all the black people in this country we’ll be better off. He never considered that Susan standing with the group of people had a black husband! And to top it off, her husband was a police officer!

Carl gets up from the table during a dinner with friends and steps outside to take a phone call. Rather than drown out the dinner discussion and gross out his friends with the details of his colonoscopy, he steps outside to quietly discuss the results with his doctor. And no, he doesn’t return talking about the details during dinner!

NEWSWEEK Feb26-Mar3, 4022--America In Crisis!

Hello All:

And now lets talk about the future. There was once a time when science fiction writers wrote about the future. Home computers, massive Internet connections, regular trips into space. Guess what? The future is already here! What about tomorrow? Has technology gone so far that we can hardly imagine what the next couple of centuries will bring? One author has fallen short of his predictions on the future. Arthur C. Clarke promised that by 2001 we would have computers that are self aware and self creating. In his book 2001 Space Odyssey, which was later turned into a movie, the HAL9000 computer was fully self aware and functioned like a human brain. So why haven’t we seen this sort of thing? Oh well, I’m sure that will eventually be made possible… 

NEWSWEEK Feb26-Mar3, 4022--America In Crisis!

Thousands of androids and supporters marched outside the nation's Capitol this week demanding equal rights for androids. The androids claim that the time has come for them to be accepted as humans. 

These are highly developed robots that are so human like that it is difficult to notice that they are machines. But these are not ordinary machines. These androids eat, sleep, they are warm to the touch, they have emotions, and many of them have complex human relationships with humans. 

One of the latest trends is for humans to marry an android; a highly controversial institution which has caused many marches in itself. In fact, many of the androids that marching outside the Capitol are accompanied by their spouses. They demand the right to breed with humans. The technology is there, and science is advanced enough to allow this. 

Just yesterday it was discovered that for over a decade, human to android hybrids have been created in an underground laboratory in Los Angeles. It is unclear as to just how many human to android hybrids are living out in society.

So what is America going to do with this crisis? There is a large percentage of the American population that still view androids as machines. And the thought of breeding with them is an outrage. Let’s look at the history of the development of these complex androids.

2005: Scientists and technologists have perfected the synthesis of human walking for mobile robots. After this date, walking robots were made available for commercial and industrial use.

2026: The first self aware microprocessor is made available to consumers world wide. In honor of Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001 Space Odyssey, the product is called the HAL9000. Businesses put this processor to use for advertising, marketing, music composition