Friday, December 14, 2012


There are so many theoretical interpretations of the burdensome quality that "things" bring to a human life.  They tie us down, the create clutter, they free us from the bondage of everyday life.  But, there is a difference between the materialistic consumer, hoarding his Wal-mart possessions in some sort of trophy display case and the artist or the one who wants to create a sense of "space".

The Deputy has been a rolling stone for most of his life and therefore has had to cast off ties to most of his belongings in order to speed up the roll and ensure that he gathered no moss.  But then a point came in this stone age that brought Deputy a new scence of the aforementioned philosphies of "things".  He found himself collecting goods on the streets and bringing them home, palettes and discarded jewels.  After careful reflection and pontification, the Deputy noticed that it was a sort of nesting, a creation of comfort, an establishment of home. 

Now that the Deputy has engaged in a quest to set roots in foreing soil, he attempts to surround himself with things that nuture those roots.  So the "things" have become a comfort blanket, a sense of belonging and security.  As every traveler knows, no matter how much you are on the move, the comforts are the things that really bring relaxation.  Like a backpacker who picks up a candle whose smell reminds him of home, the Deputy is creating a 360 sense of self in his new surrounds.

So dear readers, though the Deputy advocated for years about the importance of being without belongings, he found that belonging sometimes is only created belongings themselves.  Hm, the word itself both exists as a noun to constitute a possession, but whose etymology aligns with the verb to be a part of something else.  Interesting, may the message spread.

Monday, December 3, 2012

A Smile Goes a Long Way

The Deputy had a very spontaneous and interesting weekend.  One that became scheduled on a series of whims and turned out to be quite a fortuitous endeavor.  The Deputy specifically wants to account this one Christmas party he went to at an apartment on Saturday night.  With the smell of Swedish Christmas glögg in the air and a number of 20/30 somethings milling about, the Deputy entered as he does every party, with the intent to conquer and win over each and every person at the event.

Some people enter rooms with different agendas.  I know some that enter a room and plan on continuing the conversation with exactly whom they came to the party with.  Encircling their social prowess amongst the familiar, these people tend to either be too shy to engage or too full of themselves to share the love.  Others enter a room and experience intimidation or self-consciousness.  The Deputy enters a room with a goal and a determination as a hunter enters the forest on the first day of the season.  Gun wielded and hunting dogs in place, the hunter flanks his first kill of the season, rendering them helpless and without any hope to find another fate.  Though this analogy has gone severely off course, at the heart of the issue is the essence that the Deputy seeks to win over people, rendering them helpless but to love the Deputy in all his wonder.  This is not an ego-trip or even an ode to the Deputy from the Deputy, since this can also play to a fault.  With every hunt that does not succeed, the Deputy does not react well to it and will actually compromise some very sincere core values in order to restore order, to lure the hunt back into the thickets and start again.

Consider this a lesson.  Full-proof almost, depending on the execution.  You first have to read the crowd.  What kind of party are we at?  A bourgeois gathering of social elite, wishing to rub off culture and finesse with others like their own.  Perhaps it is an alternative array of misfits, celebrating individuality and jagged edges.  Or even a party of burn-outs, wishing to recount war stories on the mushroom battle fields or of trips traveled through acidic means of transportation.  Either way the scene is set for your arrival and one's ability to adapt and camouflage will, as any good hunter knows, mean life or death.  The scene on Saturday night was of the first category.  A bunch of higher ups, dressed to the nine's, and an agenda to see and be seen.

In these type of situations, the Deputy must first find the host.  Since he was invited through a friend, it is always best to establish personal contact with the host or owner of the house so that you are not seen as a threat, as a variable, causing a whisper inquiry of my identity or motives of attending.  Once the host is met and the compliment is paid to the abode, there must be a quick attack at the heartstrings of the host.  A personal connection that only you too share.  The host is the key to the party, they know where the alcohol is but also know the who's who of the party.  Can be beneficial for later hunts.  But the host is a clever hare, one that cannot stay put too much, so the Deputy only holds the conversation for a few minutes unless prompted to continue.  Let the host wander, the contact has been made and impressions are setting.

Do a lap.  Make one round through the party to spot the key items that will make the hunt a success.  Like a ninja knowing his surroundings before a fight, the Deputy spots the cliques and reads them to know exactly where to strategically place himself to maximize party potential.  The Deputy quickly spots an upstairs, which one friend of the guest graciously showed as part of a tour.  The Deputy sees couch and bed dwellers in an upstairs bedroom.  Spotted.  There are bottles to spare and the leisurely, supine nature of the hang shows that these people are not as stuffy as those downstairs on the main stage.  A perfect nesting ground for a visitor who is not too known by the crowd.

As the Deputy is introduced, he always smiles and shakes hands firmly.  Without a smile, the hunt is lost, the prey starts doubting the trust of the attacker and steps back and to the side until behind a large shrubbery and requiring extreme care of the hunter to bring him or her back out to the open field.  Exposed.  Smile and contact made, the Deputy enlists the help of a few talkative targets to show the room that the Deputy came to befriend and not to beguile.  The talkative ones are never the highest targets, as the Deputy knows all to well that on his home turf, he never seems overly engaging to the new kids.  Their spot must be earned.  So once the talkative ones have landed and begun a conversation show-piece, an exit strategy is immediately planned.  It buys time to look around and determine the next target.  Though this target will not be attacked directly at all, an indirect step or two places the Deputy in a chess game where he must be two steps ahead.  "Oh funny meeting you here," he sneers while pondering that the calculated coincidence has manifested.

The night ended with a pass around of a few business cards and a few friend requests on the Book.  For an hour at a very stuffy, "pinky's up" type of party, the Deputy may have locked some key social pieces for later fun.

Do not think, trusted readers, that the Deputy is using this as a mere manipulation maneuver, in fact it is quite the opposite.  The fault that runs with such social calculation is that it is motivated by the genuine desire to engage, to meet and to later conquer.  Though this hunter does not serve his hunt for dinner to a family of four waiting at a local cabin.  The hunt in this case becomes a dear companion to the Deputy.  And knowing that the Deputy provides the utmost in friendship and loyalty, the hunt becomes all too excited to oblige.  Perhaps one would say it is Stockholm Syndrome.

Until next time, or until the next hunt...