eclectika

A Little About A Lot by Nabih Saliba To know a lot about a little Or a little about a lot Is a thing we should consider But in practice often not Know a lot about a little And it’s one thing that you’ve got But your view might be quite narrow Like a cage for every thought Fill your head with many subjects Then an expert you are not As your knowledge can be shallow When a little about a lot Should you aim to be an expert? Try to master just one thing? Then you’d have yourself a focused Special kind of offering. Do you wish to only sample? Try to gather wide but thin? Then when details are required You’ll just offer up a grin. Maybe what one should consider Isn’t what they know or not But what they know together With the friends that they have got For together we are smarter Sharing fact and view and thought On a lot about a little Or a little about a lot

Getting Along By Nabih Saliba To have patience just to listen And really slow things down So when eyes start to glisten You won’t greet them with a frown To listen is to understand Not simply wait to speak So when we lend a helping hand It’s for the thing they seek To share the pain is empathy Past understanding woe So when we offer sympathy They’ll know it’s not for show To carry someone’s burden In more than word or song Is how we’ll stop the fighting And learn to get along.

A Little About A Lot By Nabih Saliba To know a lot about a little Or a little about a lot Is a thing we should consider But in practice often not If a lot about a little Then an expert you will be Of the few things you have studied Or have done repeatedly Should you choose a lighter focus For the things that you can learn Then your interests will be wider With all details no concern If an expert on a subject Or someone who knows a lot Be it narrow or unfocused Make the most of what you’ve got In the end it only matters If you help your fellow man Use what knowledge you’ve been given To help us be the best we can To know a lot about a little Or a little about a lot Is not the thing that matters But in practice means a lot.

Remember... Captain Kangaroo , Sesame Street , Mr. Rogers , and The Electric Company ? Or how about waking up as early as you could to view the adventures of Mighty Mouse ? What about warming up your eyes to early Sunday morning cartoons? 'Toons such as The Groovy Ghoulies , Drak Pack , or The Robonic Stooges ? A Sunday morning may have also included clips from the Skate Birds , The Magic Door , HR Puff 'n Stuff or maybe even Dirty Dragon's Gigglesnort Hotel --that odd little show which took place in a unbelievably tall hotel steered by an old captain living in the penthouse and powered by a dragon who kept the broiler working in the basement. Nothing ring a bell yet? How about the good 'ol afternoon agenda? We start the line up watching Tom & Jerry or Bugs Bunny . Then things got real with  G-FORCE ! And as I recall it, the totally uncool alternative was the Mickey Mouse Club or the Banana Splits (I personally always loathed the perpetually happy Bra...

“Head down this road until you come to street with a large metal sculpture on the corner,” she said with a comforting sense of certainty in her voice. “Don’t turn there but keep going about two more blocks and you’ll see it on the right,” she finished with a smile. I repeated the directions to her and began driving down the road looking for what turned out to be a three-foot bronze piece obscured by a newspaper box—truly a marker for where not to turn. We’ve all received or even given directions like this at one point or another: clear and simple directions based on what not to do. It got me wondering about all the other types of journeys we convolute in a similar fashion. How does one find their way physically, emotionally and even spiritually in a world where tangents are easier to follow than the road itself? I was headed home from the printer ( Colorstep ) after approving poster designs for Madcap Theater . The air was crisp with Fall and the sun was beginning another glori...

Christmas is often described with many extremes—the happiest time of the year, one of the most emotionally difficult days for many who suffer depression, a controversial affront to the politically correct and even a giant commercial ploy to extract cash from all of the aforementioned. My Christmas day is finally coming to a close and I’m sitting here thinking to myself, “If today isn’t the reason for being…what is?” Perhaps I should elaborate the origins of that last statement before rambling forth with incoherent drivel about The Season, Holiday cheer and other such clichés… As evidenced by my lack of activity here [on this blog], my life has been filled with many competing demands for my time. During the past few months, I’ve become very involved with an Improv comedy club called Madcap Theater , helped my wife design and establish GreatIdeasForKids.com and enjoyed watching my children grow up into precocious little challenges. It has also been a time of soul-searching. I’ve bee...

“Life’s too short” is a phrase often used to begin arguments for seizing some opportunity or another. I know, I’ve used this well-worn phrase myself on numerous occasions. The most curious thing to me is how often opportunities flutter past me un -seized. It isn’t until the moment is well beyond my grasp that I notice how beautiful it would have been in my collection of life experiences. Each time this happens, I promise myself that I’ll catch the next one as I set my gaze firmly on all the things that could have been—this myopic perspective setting me up to miss another dozen or so opportunities most efficiently. Recently, I rustled the neat and stagnant rhythm of my life only to be surrounded by many new choices. At the end of each choice I could see exciting and frightening new directions for my life. Some of the opportunities, while beautiful and enticing were impractical for my current role as a husband and father. Others, however, danced ahead of me in tempting circles of r...

I saw this swami once. He told me that my life would shape the world. I hadn't thought too much about that flattering moment until today. I met a very interesting young woman this evening at dinner. My wife and I decided to try a new restaurant which recently opened and, much to my wife's delight, our server was someone she knew. It turns out that my wife and our waitress are both currently enrolled in the same Improv class. At this point, you're probably thinking that I was either entertained or annoyed by the spontaneous comedy brought forth by these two women. The truth of the matter is that I found the conversation engaging and refreshing. Rather than attempt dinner theater, our server offered intelligent conversation and witty banter. Each drink refill, course delivery or clean up brought more opportunities to explore the nature of idealism, social conventions and the never ending quest for purpose. While our waitress provided thoughtful points to ponder, it was in...

So I've spent quite a bit of time away from here. While there is a giant gap in content since my last post, I thought I'd offer up this post as a form of explaination. I've been going through a lot of changes lately. You might say I've been evolving. Yeah, I think evolve is a good word to use here. Now that my children are running the house, I have been forced to re-examine my purpose in life. It turns out, after all, that my function is to wait . To help better explain how rewarding I find the act of waiting, allow me to first define the term— wait: to assume a form of stasis whereby one remains open to additional instruction while maintaining an active queue of established tasks for prompt execution after stasis has been terminated but before anyone notices that nothing was accomplished during the time stasis was being observed. I find it interesting that as primitive beings we were physical creatures of action. Almost as if we were sharks—the ceasing of movemen...

Not being what one would call an ideal student, my report cards were usually less than impressive. So under-whelming were these progress reports that the bonus toy surprise in each package was a day’s worth of queasy feelings. Report card days were when I had to own up to all the schoolwork I had not been doing that semester. Often I already knew how bad the report would be long before receiving it. Sometimes, I’d even disappoint myself with lower-than-expected performance. Even though my low grades were disappointing to my father, our true conflict centered on honesty—my complete and total lack of it. Every morning and evening up to and including report card day, my father would ask me if I was keeping up with my schoolwork. My responses were varied but always full of assurances that things were on the up and up. The unease I felt riding my bike home with a report card was not dissimilar to what you might feel handing your executioner his axe. Remember the first time someone told ...

Every once in a while, as I stand in some supermarket checkout line, I’ll glance at the tabloids: The National Enquirer , The Weekly World News or The Star . Often, I’m satisfied to just laugh at the paper right there in the stand. Sometimes, the headlines catch my curiosity enough that I’ll actually purchase the rag and take it home for a few laughs. While there may be some that consider these papers to be the only true news, most (myself included) think of them as comic distractions. Every week it’s some new sensational headline about Elvis, aliens, governments, Nostradamus, the end of the world and Jesus. Sometimes, the headline manages to contain all of these things at the same time. Whatever can be said about the tabloids, no one can deny that the reporting style is designed to wow you into buying their paper. Apparently threatened by the tabloids, news agencies have decided to fight sensationalism with even more sensationalism. News items are now events complete with their o...

Victor was one of those children with an overdeveloped mean streak—if there was a fly to lose its wings or an ant to be burned, he was the chief executioner. Victor was also one of those kids always being sent to the principal’s office or running laps for the coach. Most parents had Victor’s parents on speed dial. When it was time to learn a new dirty word, we’d all go to Victor for our next lesson—the boy was the professor of profanity. Victor had the first collection of porn any of us had ever laid eyes on. He was also the one that showed us how to decipher breasts and other parts of the female body squiggling in and out on scrambled cable channels. Eventually our parents branded Victor a ‘problem child’ and his underground popularity grew like kudzu. As we got older, we saw less of Victor as his punishments began to involve authorities with a little more clout than the school principal. It was Victor who tried to shoplift some candy from the local drug store. When the school pla...

Once upon a time there was a pear. This pear was quite plump and all the other pears aspired to be as juicy. On sunny days, the pear would make sure to find a leaf or two that could provide adequate shade. No one knew exactly how the pear had become so plump and juicy. Some of the other pears speculated that it had retained all the water intended for some of the less fortunate pears on the branch while others simply reckoned it was blessed to be that way. One thing everyone could agree upon was that the pear was destined for something great. The pear itself knew the other pears were jealous but it couldn’t be bothered with such petty affairs—it was, after all, destined for greatness. Summer was coming to a close and all the pears were busy making their final preparations for the harvest season. Some would be chosen and others, if they had not grown enough, would be left to the birds and the fall frosts. Most of the pears were busy drinking up as much water as they could and spent t...

I have a confession to make. I’ve been having an affair now for the past several years. I've known her since we were kids but grew distant in high school. It wasn't until many years later when standing in line at the DMV that I bumped into her again. Having her with me in that line reminded me how much I enjoyed her company. We saw each other quite regularly after that until I met my wife a few years later. During the first year of my marriage, I couldn't maintain the affair but would often wonder if I'd ever see her again. It wasn’t until the second year with my wife that I started to rekindle the affair and found that things would go better at home after each encounter. When my son was born, of course, there were a few months when I didn’t make the effort to keep up the affair and lost touch with her entirely. These were dark days of stress and unhappiness. Eventually, I started sneaking her into the house and became less frantic. Looking back, it's a wonder I...

During my elementary and high school years, my father and I spent quite a bit of time discussing my future. I was of the opinion that school was simply a waste of my time and true potential. He thought I was going to be homeless. I say that my father and I discussed this during my elementary and high school years but the debate actually chased me into college. Eventually my dad gave up the fight and I dropped out of college. Armed with my low earning power, I ventured out into the world to prove my old man wrong. You know, it's really surprising how much employers care about a diploma. You could, in fact, show up for a job wielding the ever useful 'Bachelors of [the dead language] Latin Philosophy' and become the company's next big thing. I had to depend on my charm and good looks to achieve gainful employment. After the 3rd summer of living with my parents, losing my girlfriend and floating enough credit card debt to make M.C. Hammer look more like Charles Schwab, ...

My wife has secretly replaced her breasts with methane canisters. Every time she feeds our new baby girl, it isn't long before my daughter sounds like the trombone section of my high school band. While amusing, it loses its charm at 2am. I spend most of the evening between burping her and fearing the diaper change. Why fear change? Changing this baby's diaper is much like taking the cover off a cannon. I once saw a documentary about some birds in Africa that seal themselves up inside a tree leaving just a tiny opening through which they receive food and dispose of it. My daughter's range and accuracy reminds me of these birds. When the trumpeting and projectile pooping settles down, my little baby girl then decides that sleep is overrated and proceeds to stare at me. This is not the "are you my daddy? I think I love you" kind of stare. It is the, "I'm going to chew up your mind, body and soul before sunrise" look. No blinking, no smiles. Just two...

When I was a much younger child than I am now, there was a song we used to sing called, "This little light of mine." I think the words were something along the lines of, "this little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...all around the neighborhood, I'm gonna let it shine...hide it under a bushel? NO! I'm gonna let it shine...let it shine, let it shine, let it shine..." The lyrics were about sharing one's beliefs with the world so that others could benefit from the blessings given you. While something gets lost without the music, the lyric's message to me have recently been found. I believe that each of us has a part to play in the shaping of our world. Some influence the course of events in grand, sweeping strokes open to the scrutiny and criticism of all. Others simply keep the wheels turning my maintaining status quo—both are equally valid forms of social participation. In the last several years, however, I've noticed a trend both ...

It's now September. More importantly, it is the 1st of the month. What, you might ask, is so important about the 1st of the month? It is an opportunity to gather a little extra luck for the month ahead. If you don't believe in luck, that's ok too because for those of us who do, there'll be more to go around. At this point, most people figure they've got nothing to lose and ask, "alright, how can I have more luck this month?" Because I'm so helpful, I'll spell out all the steps and complex rituals needed in order to generate extra luck the first of every month for that entire month. Here is how this works: 1) When you wake, the first words you speak must be none other than, "Rabbit, rabbit." note: this is doubly important if your birthday occurs during the month as you will receive double the luck for your birthday month. 2) If, for whatever reason, you've forgotten to utter the words, "Rabbit, rabbit" before any oth...

Just off the well-traveled road of life is an interesting detour through a field of tidbits that surround the mountain obscura—its highest peaks cradling the Shrine of Trivia. Many have made the trip but few have done more than gather at the mountain's base for a spell before finding something useful to do. Guarded closely by irrelevance, the mighty walls of this great temple allow passage to a select few—dedicated monks who have taken the solemn vow of mediocrity. Those who have clawed their way up through the mountain's chaffy forest will soon find themselves caught up in a series of trials. For the first trial, one must successfuly negotiate the garden maze of minutiae—many who enter this maze become so caught up in the garden's intricate distractions that they never leave. Should you look away from the garden long enough to notice the threadbare rope of timely quips, a quick social climb will bring you to the platau of disappointment. It is here that most decide the...