I found my answer.
I don’t know where to go from here…. I want more questions, I want more answers. I don’t know what else to find.
I found my answer.
I don’t know where to go from here…. I want more questions, I want more answers. I don’t know what else to find.
You’re right, I’ll never be that cool. I’m okay with that – I’m rather happy being uncool, if it means I can dream about it.
So, you know me, I’m Rogue. I’m a bouncy, trixie, on-the-go terrier. I’m playful, I’m smart, and not always the best known for etiquette. I dig, I look for treasure, you never know where you might find a squeaky toy hiding somewhere.
I’m lovable, active, and I know a dozen tricks! Oh, my Master? My Master is 20% cooler and made of awesome! He gives me pop or juice in my water bowl when I’m really really good! He also makes me hot meals for dinner! When I’m especially good, sometimes he even makes me jello or ice cream for dessert!
He’s taught me a lot of tricks, and he loves giving me back scratches! My favourite though is when he rubs my belly and tells me I’m a good girl! He loves to watch my antics, laughs when I start chasing my squeaky toys. Sometimes I get to be too much, and then he puts me in the corner for a time out. No matter what though, I love him and I know he loves me just as much!
Edgar? That’s our cat! He doesn’t like me much, he always chases me around. Sometimes we play peek-a-boo and chase each other. Master says he’s half-Siamese and that’s why he meows so loud. He’s also 3 year’s old. I love Edgar, and so does the rest of the family.
I hope I can hear you guys too. What’s on your puppy mind?
What is true, and untrue? Lies vs Fact. Do I believe in such things? I’m a skeptic at best, so the answer is no. However; I do have some theories about stories such as these, and why they’ve become so well known in our lives. The power of thought, especially on our fears, is extremely powerful, as are our own memories.
This is inspiring. Not only is this a beautiful car, but the very idea is so extreme- it’s genius. I had to share it with ya’ll.
Sex is a subject that everyone knows about, but rarely speak about it out loud. It’s ‘dirty’, ‘taboo’, ‘intimate’, ‘beautiful’, ‘sinful’. Why?
Let it be known, I am not shy about talking about sex, nor will I deny my absolute love for it. Like most things I’ve grown to love, I often do a TON of research on the subject beforehand. I’m not talking about porn either. Going through my teens, I was often intrigued by ‘mating’ animals. To me, it felt more like a mechanical ritual, something that we’re programmed for in order to reproduce, nothing more. For that main reason, I never thought of it as ‘dirty’ or ‘wrong’, but rather something we couldn’t help but crave. No emotional attachment, no love, no truer reason. I also understood it was an intimate action between two people, and sacred.
However; I still remember a sex-ed class in Texas. We were presented a question that went something like this.
There’s a house party, a girl and boy have been drinking and the girl has been hinting and hitting on the guy. She says she’s tired and goes to a room and shuts the blinds and lies down in a bed. The boy, who has been recieving mixed signals from her all night, is confused. Before she falls asleep, she asks if he wants to lie down with her. She falls asleep, and he has sex with her. Later, she cries out ‘Rape.’
The teacher asks the class ‘Did he rape her?’. The majority of the girls, and some of the guys raised their hand. I wasn’t one of them. The teacher asked those who disagreed, why.
I was one of the only girls to disagree, and this is what I said (I think). I replied, no, it wasn’t rape. The boy was acting on what information he had. She had been hitting on him all night, invites him to a room, and then asks for him to lie down with her. This is confusing, and he should not be blamed completely for his actions. The only reason why this could be rape, is that she passed out and was unconscious.
The counter-argument was “well, if she’s not responding – then why didn’t he stop?” At the time, I couldn’t answer. I now understand that a person can still react to sex, even if unconscious. The boy probably thought she was enjoying it, especially if she moaned and followed his movements.
I’m not sure how the conversation went from there, but I remember making the conclusion: Love isn’t real, and it’s especially true for boys. They just want sex, that’s it. I made this conclusion when I was around 12 or 13.
I also made the vow to not have sex until I was at least 18, and with someone that wouldn’t just be a one night stand.
I was never popular to begin with. In fact, I convinced myself no one could ever be my boyfriend/girlfriend. Who would want to spend that sorta time with me? It wasn’t love I was looking for, even into my mid teens, I still didn’t believe it existed. Lust for sure, but not love. Still, evidence was growing to prove the contrary. Couples holding hands in the hallways, kissing, being cute, why? What was driving people to ‘hook up?’ This was something I couldn’t do first hand. I hated myself, and pushed away anyone who tried to court me. High school it was getting harder to stay isolated. I was still convinced boys couldn’t love, and I wasn’t looking for it. I just wanted the attention. I wanted to be with a person who I could hang out with and hold their hand.
The few boyfriends/girlfriends I had – the first thing I said was ‘if you’re looking for sex, go somewhere else.’ One guy was determined to break this vow. After repeatedly telling him ‘no’, he finally threatened to kill me if he found out I had sex with someone else but not him. Lucky for me, he’s no longer in town.
Then I met my husband. He managed to break every false conclusion I’ve made since Texas – and above and beyond what I thought was possible. Unconditional love in the truest sense. He didn’t care I wasn’t popular, he did his own research on my conditions with Depression – he’s even had to wipe my ass for me. 7 years, we’re still together. The first time we had sex – it wasn’t perfect, but it was sacred. It was an act of binding, strengthening our bonds and connecting as one. It’s not mechanical, it’s not horrendous or bad. It’s beautiful, intimate and important. It reminds us that we’re one person in two bodies, that we love and trust each other. We’re together for a reason and not just another person.
If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s my distaste for slut-talk. I’m not sure what else to call it, and I’m not calling anyone a slut. An example of this form of … conversation would be like hearing a bunch of girls talking about who they’d rather sleep with. Not celebrities or certain guys, but faceless guys of certain races, dick size, body size. Girls basically talking about their ultimate hunk they want to hump, and look for a new one the next day. There’s nothing wrong with discussing something like this, and most of the time, you can easily avoid getting caught up in ‘slut-talk’. However; when you start adding in details that are NOT needed, start talking about multiple partners in comparison, start bragging about the number of partners… I do my best to exit if possible.
Cosmo is horrible for this – as is most magazines that advertise “Sex Secrets Here!” It’s watered down slut-talk that you’d hear at a bar.
Of course, then you have the exact opposite of slut-talk to Fear of God. Those who say sex is a sin to those who are unmarried or gay. This has led to a few anger explosions on my part. First of all, my husband and I weren’t married the first time we had sex, second of all – most of my friends are gay, and I’m bisexual.
Sex is not a negative thing. It’s not positive either. Sex is Sex. Rape is a Sin – Love is not. Love not in Marriage is a Sin, but Rape in Marriage is not (according to some beliefs). You see the confusion?
Sex is like anything else – treat it with the sacredness that it is, and you’ll be okay. Treat it like it’s a weapon, and it is. Treat it with fear, and it will consume you.
It’s been 15 years since my first thoughts about my views of sex. A lot has changed, and some remain the same. Sex to me is the subject of intimacy. If spoken with respect, it’s no longer taboo. I can have conversations with my friends, of any gender or orientation and it’s not dirty, it’s a simple conversation. Sex is the act of truth, knowledge and understanding both biological and spiritual. It’s not wrong, it shouldn’t be taboo and it’s okay to talk about. It’s a subject that needs respect in order for it to no longer be taboo.
I miss singing and dancing, I miss hearing the drums and the smell of sweet grass. I miss the language, the feeling of family. I wish I payed more attention, and took the time to remember what the culture was suppose to be. All I see now, is what it’s turned into.
My cousin Stephane posted a picture of him, playing a traditional Cree drum. The first thing that I remembered: singing(howling) at my Great Grandma’s funeral. Then I remembered the festivals and celebrations I used to dance in. Growing up, I was so proud of being Cree. I was proud of my name.
I’m part of one of the largest Cree bloodlines, many of my close relatives have a name for themselves. Winston, Wanda, Stephane, Elsie (I love you Grandma). Yet, I distance myself.
The pride I used to have for being Native, was immense when I was growing up. I was proud to dance. I was proud to know the language, even if it was only small fragments. I loved and cherished my true birth name. N,tanis (which is prounced En-taun-ce, best I can do.) Growing up in Texas, being the only Native family – it was different. Americans portray Natives like in Cowboy movies, very traditionally. Growing up when I was in Canada, I only really knew the traditional Native ways. Coming home, things started to change.
The Wuttunee family is a very large family, though I’m not sure how the numbers are now. A lot of Wuttunee’s have had their names well known across the country and oversea’s. Winston Wuttunee – my God father – has been producing records since as long as I can remember. Stephane Wuttunee – who’s picture is above – an author, adventurer and a person who has embraced the old ways with the new. Elsie Wuttunee… my grandmother, who was commanded by Queen Elizabeth the Second herself, for tea.
Grandma (Elsie) once asked me who I wanted to marry, I was 8 years old. I told her I wanted to marry a man from France. 15 years later, give or take – I met my husband in high school. He’s the first born Canada, his family is from France.
She would be appalled by me right now. Not because I was right, but because of what I turned into. The little girl who had big dreams, big idea’s, and the shine that could blind – grown up into a being who has thrown away her pedigree, and turned into a stray. If she saw me now, I don’t think she’d recognize me. My long thick black hair, now mostly shaved, with a few pieces left behind. Tanned skin that once was the envy, now paled and dull. My sense of belonging, severed. I hold no rights to the Wuttunee name, I’ve disgraced it. Not only have I become something she would be ashamed of, but I’m only adding the numbers that want to crush what she’s tried to accomplish.
Elsie was an educational worker, with the mission to improve relations between Natives and Canada. Funding for schooling, so that Natives had a better chance to go to post-education programs. Metis rights. She fought for a lot of things, we now take for granted. Money that would mean I had a brighter future, a chance to make something of myself. I could do it, still. So why haven’t I?
Most people wouldn’t have a clue I was Native, and those who do, are often surprised. Why? For one simple reason. I’m not what they expect.
Racism exists! It will always exist! It’s not our faults. Stereotyping exists, and this is with good reason. These are related, but not the same thing. For example.
“I hate how immigrant cab-drives drive.” <— This, is racism. This is also, stereotyping. If you have ever been to India, you know how the rules of the road are vastly different. It’s basically move where you can, and try to make it there alive. It’s not surprising that many cab drivers are a bit scary. However; let’s say everyone from India was the same race, and still drive like they do – we would still go “Stop driving like you’re in a big city!”
“Fuckin’ injuns need to get a damn job.” <— That’s racism. My town’s ‘homeless’ population, are mostly native. Most ‘Natives’ we think about ,especially on reserves – are heavy drinkers and gamblers. They rely on the gov’t to look after them. They take what’s given, and flip off the white man for beating them down.
I can’t speak for anyone else. This is just what I see. It’s what I see with my own eyes, and how I watch others.
I am so afraid to take money from the Gov’t to go to school. I want to go, I really do. I don’t know what I want to do, but school is something I want. All I have to do is bring my family records, and get my Metis status. I don’t qualify for Treaty. So why haven’t I done it yet?
My perception of what Native means – is not the same what it meant when I was growing up. The sense of belonging, of pride… it’s disappeared. I have physically removed myself from my immediate family. My parents, my brothers, even my niece. I know I’m running out of time with my father. Every day, I know my dad is suffering, missing me. I also know that going home, would only bring harder aches.
At least I know where I stand. Here, I’m safe. Here, I have options. Here, I’m not at risk of being bullied and harassed by people who I’m suppose to love.
The blood that runs in my veins is strong, but it’s also why I’ve retreated so far away from. How can I cherish a name, a culture – when going home to the people I’m suppose to love – send me back to the shadows? I love my family. I miss my family. I don’t miss the verbal massacres from simply walking through a door.
At least where I stand now, I have a family who I can trust. A family who has taken the time to help me, understand me, and work with me.
I miss what my name stood for.
I’m doing an experiment using information about how our subconscious actually does most of the work. This information I’ve gathered from my own theory of discovery, and Horizon: Out of Control? documentary that basically blew my theory out of the water.
IF what they’re saying is true, and our brain does most things, like knitting, walking, and even brushing your hair – then can we trick our actually conscious of doing the work?
So the experiment is going to go something like this.
I HATE DISHES! I mean, passionately. Nothing that is normal motivation for most people, really works on me. Disclipline, rewards, even routines – I hate doing chores with a passion.
However; I also know how to do dishes really well. Once I’m doing them, I just get bored because it’s automatic. If it’s automatic, that means my actual perception is free. I hate doing dishes because, well, I’m lazy. I’m also bored. Extremely bored, and I need something to focus on. For some people, it’s TV. That doesn’t work, I get distracted. I need something that is invisible.
I should also make note: This is not new – I’m not pretending to be on something big, but I am curious to see how it works for me. Can it work for me, and if so, how?
Most people daydream when doing household tasks, it’s why some people really enjoy them. Unfortunately, this also doesn’t work for me. Thinking too much on my own, tends to leave me loathing the chores. So, what can I do instead?
I am going to listen to a playlist that I know I like, in order to feel better.
This music is fun, energetic, and makes me dance immediately. I am going to completely focus on the music, and try to ignore the task at hand as much as possible.
Warning – Incorrect action. Smoking two puffs of weed during an intermission. Experiment contaminated due to altered state of mind, giving no clear data. Experiment VOID
My hope is that while focusing on the fun music, I will be able to get dishes done, and not feel horrible.
I honestly believed I would not lose track of what I was doing completely. I also thought that I would lose myself in thought as deeply as I did. I know I was seeing the world around, I was aware of my surroundings completely and I knew I was doing the dishes. However; I found having to say that is rather odd. I had times when I suddenly knew I was doing the dishes. I suddenly became highly aware of lyrics, while others I couldn’t recall. It made me realize how often I’m on autopilot. Again, not new information.
However, due to a flaw on my part during the experiment, this is void. Therefore; inconclusive until a better test is conducted, under stricter conditions.
Inconclusive as a whole. However – results appear to have strong evidence of providing an answer. So far though, yes, I do believe that distracting yourself allows your subconscious to take over. I also believe that with all the variations, answer will never be conclusive, but rather flexible in terms of outcomes. This however – remains inconclusive due to improper procedures during half of the procedure.
Depending on the conclusion, if successful – what can contribute? What are possible variation’s that could change the outcome?
No, I’m not an idiot. I only managed to turn something well known and used for years, as an experiment to motivate me to do dishes. It’s just amazing what you can learn about yourself, simply by asking simple questions. Chris does the same thing when he walks to work. Puts on headphones, listens to music, and just go on his journey.
This is not a new concept to me in the least. In fact, I usually have music in the background when I’m doing chores. This really wasn’t about that though. The actual question I asked was “Why does this work?” Sometimes, working backwards is the best way of getting your answer.
I’m not doing this to go “lawl, I’m so smoark:”. I’m merely adjusting my glasses and testing the waters.
By figuring out how I can improve myself – I’m also figuring out how things can piece together. It’s also why this is voided for the use of weed. It tainted the data.
This experiment was also a form of art, I guess you could say. I took a complex idea – the idea of making yourself go in autopilot – without hypnosis or any other form of pseudoscience – and gave it a simple process of how your life relates to that. I broke it down into parts, so that I could basically slow down time, and watch the process from different angles. I also found that people have a hard time understanding a concept when they feel it doesn’t apply to everyday life. To me, nothing is as beautiful as expressing a new concept, in a way that people can understand. I’m breaking down ‘logic’ in other words.
I also know that people are going to look at this in one of two ways:
I honestly don’t care what you think.
I have known I needed to get into contact with someone about my theories for awhile now. Michio Kaku, a physics expect, who I believe would understand the concept I am trying to portray. No, I am not going to write out the email. Not yet. If I don’t get a response within the month of July, I’ll post it. If I get a response before then, I’ll post the original, and then the reply.
This was either extremely brave of me to send my personal data out in hopes of getting into contact with him, or extremely stupid. I also know, whatever the outcome, I’m not giving up.
No. This was EXTREMELY stupid. The moment I sent that email, I was really thinking I was onto something. Oh stumbleupon, you work with the Gods, I know you do.
Literally hours later, I found this documentary
Which basically proves my theories all correct. Damnit!
This made me feel like an idiot for sending that email to Profressor Kaku and embarrassing, as well as discrediting, myself. What I did learn was something remarkable.
I am on the right track, and the fact that, while the information I’m getting is the same information everyone else has – I’m starting to actually observe. I’m actually starting to observe the world around me, ask questions about how it’s presented – and figure out what’s important. Key facts of what is actually being presented, and then piecing all that together with other data that I’ve collected. I am learning, I am starting to ask questions now. I also know, I’m am way WAY behind where I need to be to solve that equation.
Now I actually need to find out what Einstein was using in his equations. What numbers, and why? I also know, I need to keep doing what I’m doing, and figuring out what I can discover on my own.
The Theory of Discovery has been proven years ago. That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on trying to do something new.
I’m seeing a very strong, very bad pattern emerging. I gotta break it before it’s too late.
What’s the pattern? Starting something exciting, learning about it, getting bored, dropping it.
I’ve done this several times, World of Warcraft, Knitting, and dare I say Puppy Play. Oh yes… I’ve started a lot of life changing things simply because I was bored with it.
Puppy Play not withstanding – that’s more of conflict of interest at the moment due to life explosion. Everything else was boredom. It’s also why starting a blog is a big deal. I have a tendency to drop things like this. I’m already starting to notice my inability to stay active.
I want to design the blog so it’s more “attractive.” I want it to get attention, and I know in order to do that, it needs to pop. I’m not good with things like that. I want to create it in my vision, but I don’t know how.
So here’s how I’m stopping myself from abandoning this dream of theory. I’m going to write everyday that I’m at home. At some point, maybe the blog will change. I’m not sure when, or how – but I will find a way to make it more mine.
This random blog is brought to you by 4:30 am. Good morning sunrise, pleasure to see you.