Friday, February 26, 2010

Bringing back Saturday

Don't you miss Saturday mornings?

Cartoons, play time marathon and the day you wake up to realize you won't have to go to school.
(Saturday) was named no later than the second century for the planet (Saturn), which controlled the first hour of that day according toVettius Valens. The planet was named for the Roman god of agriculture Saturn (Latin Saturnus). It has been called dies Saturni ("Saturn's Day"), through which form it entered into Old English as Sæternesdæg and gradually evolved into the word "Saturday".  -- wikipedia
Some people think that this is the official Sabbath day (or holy day of rest) instead of Sunday (it's a long story). Some would even insist that this is God's mark for his people vs. the 666 mark (non-observance of the Sabbath). And that is an even longer story.

This is the "bath day" in Scandinavia; the reason being is that Vikings usually take a bath in this day. And you might squirm in disgust at the thought of six days with no bath (for tropical people) but to be fair, it's a pretty cold place.

I remember a favorite quote from Mr. and Mrs. Smith (2005). When Mrs. Smith asked Mr. Smith what she looked like the first time they've met, he answered, "You looked like Christmas morning." Very suave and sweet.

It's the events attached to the symbols and words (e.g. Christmas morning, saturday morning, anniversary) that make the latter worth something. Each word elicits a stimulus, a sense and a feeling. Every word and every symbol corresponds to a meaning, to a thought, to a dream, to a story. When you say "coffee" you think about mornings, "mornings" you think about waking, "sex" you think about pleasure, "money" you think about greed, "death" you think about sadness.

And now after you've really read the links above, when I say "saturday" you might think about Vikings taking an "it's-not-gay-if-balls-are-not-touching" bath. (Some people are not very good at this "connecting words and events" thing)

More or less, that's the power of words. A metaphysical scribble to represent the very forces of our sensory worlds. We can only imagine what is its impact when we say them to people and most importantly to ourselves. That's why there is as much power a truth has as with faux truth. The question is: which truth, or lie, do you choose to believe. (Maybe sometime later, you will realize how silly the phrase, "to see is to believe" sounds like.)

For example, an atheist doesn't associate a certain event, a certain stimulus, with the word God. That's okay. Atheists are a happy lot. They don't believe in God and that he doesn't exist, and they are telling the truth. God doesn't exist and they are logically correct with all the scientific facts to prove it and the happiness to weather life and existence. But when a backslider does it, he'll surely miss the big guy. If you want to be happy, be an atheist. But that doesn't necessarily mean you won't be happy or you'll be illogical believing in a God especially when you've met the guy. (Going further, have you? really?)

But I digress.

Sometimes for us it goes vice versa. An event corresponds to a symbol and a symbol corresponds to an event. And sometimes symbols get lost in translation, aging-wise. Sometimes events get lost in translation. Sometimes we lose one... period; one or both.

I woke up this morning saying to myself, "I miss Saturday mornings." But do I? Saturday mornings will always be there. And with people waging wars which is the real Saturday, I doubt I could tell one morning from the other. But still, I miss Saturday mornings and/or its Saturday morning-ness. Especially, I miss mine.

The harsher reality is that I miss alot of things other than Saturdays.  Not only because they aren't there physically or even metaphysically, but because they aren't in there anymore. We fail to account for events and words we've lost to memory and forget. Do words and phrases such as "bike", "commuting to school", "taking a bath by yourself", or "seeing a computer" mean anything to you these days? Mean different to you these days?

Do you want it to mean like that?

If it makes me sad, yes. But will that make me sad throughout the day? Not really true. Not if I can help it.

So, help bring back Saturday. (treat me to a movie or food or both)
Become a fan of "Saturday mornings"

Sunday, February 21, 2010

hello world, again

I had a promise.

Someone asked me to create a new blog. I have a strong opinion against it. But then, if it's free why not.

One day when I was in high school, in one of the many bouts I've had with boredom, I decided to turn one notebook into a sort of journal. Just a simple Cattleya filler notebook, consisting of a few pages, on which I crafted the constitution of what I would write. I called it a "psychograph"... not knowing that such a term existed before and all the while praising myself for the genius of what I just created.

I was the world's first "psychographer".

After a few years of more writing, a few disillusioning and enlightening courses of psychology (where I learned a different kind of psychograph), and the big hype and shebang of the internet, I found that the "psychograph" is the first incarnation of a blog that I published.

This blog is just another one of the many incarnations of that notebook. As is with my first one, my second, my multiply, my website, my tumblr, and with the other unnamed ones I published in mid-air and forget. If that makes me a blogger, why not?

I am writing, yes, but if I'm a writer, I haven't decided yet; but it sure feels good to consider yourself as one.

Until that time, I keep this blog and I keep my psychograph and I keep striving to get my grammar lapses in moderation, the readers amused, bemused and c-mused, and keep this little hobby of writing healthy as long as I can. I don't promise to be the best and I don't promise to be politically-correct.

What I can promise is that you'd learn a new thing or two. If it would mean something to you, it's up to you. I don't promise that as well.



This psychograph is as quack as what I've invented.