opheliaswims

OCD

Our Obsessive Compulsive tendencies used to be private, and they were hidden because we were ashamed of our compulsiveness.

But that all changed once we got a hold of “blogs”. There is a blog for everyone and every compulsion. From bad cake decorating to a fascination with the morbid. Out there, there is someone else totally fascinated with Monkeys made from stuffed athletic socks, and they want to be your friend. MORE>

“Oliver Twist has asked for more!” – Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

We are a lucky lot to be able to ask for more and not be recriminated for it. It is American to ask for more, more of everything. The more you have, the higher the standing you have. You can sit on a mountain of collected “stuff” and be the King of the Hill. In other countries, all they have fits in one bowl, and that bowl is emptied as soon as it is filled. How lucky are we that we can empty our half empty bowls and fill it to the brim just because we can? How lucky.

The Bowl as a Metaphor:

Yet we hold our hands over the top of the bowl when it comes to ideals we find distasteful, we even go as far as to turn the bowl over to show that we don’t want that. And then we turn other peoples’ bowls over so that they cannot have it as well, even when they protest. We swat away those hands, and keep a vigil to keep open; it is a constant battle scooping out the detritus that falls in and coats the sides. However with the freedom to be able to fill our bowls with whatever we please, we also have to allow everyone the choice of what they want in their bowl and not to slam it upside down. Because if that happens, then we come to the point when we will ask for more, despite the consequences.

I sat on a panel up in Portland OR, the topic was DIY and will it threaten the livelihood industrial designer.

Since the beginning of time we have been a DIY society. DIY is about saving money by “doing it yourself”, from home repairs to making a sweater for your son. The idea of a homemade dinner brings up nostalgia of a past we might not have ever experienced, but as a shared memory from the collective conscious. We value the craftsman, the hand tailored, the one of a kind item that no one else has, it makes us feel special.  MORE>

Image: Ophelia Chong / Loving & Knowing

“There is no difference between Time and any of the three dimensions of Space except that our consciousness moves along it.” From the Time Machine by H.G. Wells

Before the internet, change was measured in increments that spanned years, now it is measured in versions. MORE>

Not in my backyard, or to be more precise, not in my Facebook.

I received an invite to join BranchOut, a new application on Facebook that allows me to see where my friends work, where friends of friends work, and to expand my career network. MORE>

The large light filled room was white; the cool light from the blue sky gave the space an underwater crystal sharpness, I was wearing a flowing blue and white halter dress, music played in the large foyer. I looked over to the musicians and one of them was my ex-husband. I looked around and walked to a white wall, it was covered in a stucco, giving it a pebbly feel. The wall separated me from the band and David. I slid down the wall and sat down, hiding from him. As I sat down, he leapt over the wall and sat next to me. He was dressed in blue and white, if anything this dream had a color theme.

He held a plexiglass box, similar to the ones I had to fabricate at Art Center during my undergrad years. It was filled with blue and white bits of paper.

“She’s had two affairs already.”

I thought “Now you know how it feels.” I felt relieved that now I was not crazy anymore. My past hurt feelings had been validated by his, his present mood was the footnote to my story.

“My father died from a liver cancer. You know he died?”

Yes, I did. He died about 5 years ago.

“I still love you.”

I was not taken back by what he just said, I was comforted that I was loved, and could be loved.  And that there was forgiveness on both sides.

He then started to lick my face.

“Party like 1999….”  blared from the clock radio and I opened my eyes and stared out the window to the blue sky.

Image: Ophelia Chong / Searching

I was a Columnist for the critically acclaimed technology/business blog How To Split An Atom for the amazing Steve Spalding.
How To Split An Atom

Articles for How To Split An Atom
Purgatory
The Fun Fair
True Believers
Hand Over Hand
Wind Sock
The Handshake
31 Million Flavors
You Are Invited
Anatomy of a Coffee Stain
The Dead Mail Dept.
The Dinosaurs of Tomorrow
Only On Sundays
There is no more Internet
You Know Too Much
Nice Threads You’ve Got There
If You Love Me You Would Google Me

A whole new blog. Yeah, you know you want it. Starch, animal fat and deep fried to a golden crispiness. More than your run of the mill food blog, we will take you down memory lane and up the superhighway of foodlishness. Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a burpy night. Written by myself and Katie Abbot Copeland.

Visit Starchy and Husk here.

Opposable thumbs A thumb that can be placed opposite the fingers of the same hand. Opposable thumbs allow the digits to grasp and handle objects and are characteristic of primates and teenagers.  MORE>