Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Terrorism is far less dangerous than rich industrialists high on greed and stupidity
If the housing bubble and its resultant economic collapse have shown us nothing, it is that terrorists are far less destructive to the US economy, and with it the country's national security, than good, old-fashioned greed. The September 11th attacks killed thousands of people, completely obliterating two of the most significant pillars of capitalism on the face of the Earth in what seems now to have been the blink of an eye.
At the time, our economy slumped and stumbled, as we and our financial markets tried to absorb how radically our perception of the world had changed. It was obvious we were going to war, just as it was obvious that our country was far from impervious to the perils that had beset the world "over there" for decades. September 11th changed the game in much the same way Pearl Harbor did in 1941. Thousands of civilians died without a single rifle being fired. That sort of tragedy was not supposed to happen here, and absolutely not without such horrific effectiveness. But it did happen and America was on its heels. The country went to war with Afghanistan, the President's cronies decided Iraq was the next logical step, and the rest is history.
Things slowed, but the economy did not crash. There was no talk of another Great Depression, and there was confidence that our nation would quickly be back on course and steaming ahead once again.
Meanwhile, a housing boom began to gain momentum throughout the country, with Florida being one of the hottest of the hot zones for real estate. I remember it well, because I was house shopping around the time things began to really take off. The "interest only" and "80/20" loans, things I had not ever heard of before, were discussed repeatedly with the mortgage broker working on my potential deals, despite my stated desire for a 30-year fixed arrangement. Ultimately, I ended up going back to school, rather than buying a home, right around the time that the market peaked. People were buying homes they could not afford and banks were writing loans as if the good times would never end. Fast forward 2 years, and it is pretty clear luck was on my side at the time.
Apparently, the wealthy egomaniacs running America's financial institutions had decided that giving loans to people with below par credit ratings was as good as money, assuming one bundled all of these high risk loans into packages called mortgage backed securities. Unless you have been smashed beneath a financier leaping to his death, you are already well aware of what happened next. In less than 2 years, the economy has been ground down to a near halt. Many Americans are out of work because of failed businesses like Lehman Brothers and even more are expected to find themselves unemployed as the awareness that our economy is in deep trouble begins to sink in.
If you believe what the "experts" are saying, we are in an incredibly deep pile of dog dung. The credit markets have slowed to a halt, the government, which has already been running record deficits for nearly a decade, is now trying to find a means of committing $700,000,000,000 in taxpayer moneys it does not have to a bailout plan that no one is sure will work, even as many economists are saying that things can only get worse, before they will get better. This crisis has nothing to do with terrorism, or September 11, 2001, but it is much closer in size and scope to the sort of thing that could actually cripple this country for decades to come.
The company I work for has laid off over a thousand employees for no other reason than to cut costs, and plans to layoff hundreds more over the coming year. These people are Americans, being replaced by Indians with fewer skills and far less experience, undermining what is left of a dwindling pool of intellectual capital. These madmen share the mindset of greed and profits at all costs that guided Washington and Wall Street down this road to ruin. To these people, humans are not humans, they are corporate resources to be acquired, drained and discarded. Our executives have turned their backs on America and Americans, even as America and those Americans have worked to make them filthy rich, just as Wall Street seems to have turned its back on common sense and sound financial practices in favor of a quick buck. And just like Wall Street, a few people will reap the benefits, becoming even more obscenely rich, while a far greater number of Americans suffer. And what will be done about this treason? Well, I can assure you there will be no employee bailout.
In the end, corporate profits are more important than the collective health of hundreds, thousands and millions of Americans.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Friday, September 05, 2008
The eternal conflict
On the other hand, there is an obvious rebuttal to the idea that one is failing if one isn't having casual sex as often as the simple-minded souls I referred to in my last post. And I should probably explain what I mean by "simple-minded" in this context, or at least explain why I use the term. In my mind, physical gratification, whether it be sexual, adrenal, masochistic, etc, is a dumb form of gratification. When I say dumb, I use it in the context of a dumb terminal, meaning that it is biochemical and physical response to input. A dumb terminal does not process or manipulate data, it is only capable of relaying information that is input from external sources, hence "dumb". Our physical selves, particularly our bodies, are dumb. Our bodies do not process information, they merely react and respond to input. The body is a collection of tissues and fluids, but it is not sentient and without a mind to guide it, it is nothing but a lump of carbon-based matter and water.
Left to its own devices, the physical self would eat, screw, and sleep all the time. If it did not feel good or give pleasure, the physical self would not bother with it. The physical self is animal, and while I respect animals more than a lot of people, their drives are primarily survival oriented, and therefore limited to the basic needs of physical reality. These base drives often lead to self-defeating or self-limiting behaviors. As sentient beings, should we never transcend our physical selves, we are essentially nothing more than destructive, selfish animals with a very limited shelf life. The one thing that gives us any worth as humans, and perhaps our lone saving grace, is that we have the potential for more.
Giving into base physicality is a waste of potential and possibilities. A dog can be taught to sit, speak, find dead bodies by scent, or lead blind humans through a crowded world, but it is still a physical being willing to roll in the rotten carcass of other animals or eat its own shit. Bonobos and similar primates are considered to be our species' closest genetic neighbors, but five minutes of searching on YouTube will yield videos of chimps drinking their own urine and Bonobos flinging feces at one another. The scary part is, ten more minutes on the web and you'll very likely find video of humans doing all those things and worse. These are people living dumb lives.
The physical world is one of blood and guts and dirt and the temporary. There is no physical construct that lasts forever, so all things in the physical realm are transient and ultimately trivial. So then it stands to reason that the idea physical gratification is the end-all, be-all of one's existence is a very uninspiring and primitive worldview. Gentility, sophistication, nuance, reason, all of these things exhibit themselves in humans because of our potential for higher understanding. Nature is a beautiful mechanism and it works marvelously to build and maintain balance amongst its more naturalized citizens, but humans stepped outside that balance long ago, and for better or worse, we developed an intellect and self-awareness that obligates us to explore the nature of existence on a level deeper than "this feels good".
For some, that might be enough, and for these people, embracing a life of pleasure seeking is the most obvious choice, but such a life is dumb, plain and simple. Their chosen reality will have been a waste of time and energy, which is the real crux of the matter. We have a choice. Our lives can be wastes of time and energy, or they can be something more. Eventually the energy that forms our molecules, cells, organs, and collective selves will change states and return to the world. What we do in the meantime defines who and what we, the temporary personae that carry names like "Erik", really are. Are you a simple-minded machine whose only purpose is physical, or are you something more? Questions like that are the root most of my internal conflicts. Finding a way to ease up on "something more", while not being overrun by the overwhelming temptation to be "dumb" is a complicated matter...
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Opposites obviously
What happens when you put a good girl with values in the same room as a good guy with values? Not much beyond conversation and a ballooning sense of awkwardness. Their collective values and resultant insecurities create a 600lb gorilla that looms and lurks ceaselessly in the room. Neither individual wants to transmit an impression that they are one of "those" people, even if they understand that the two of them are in no way "those" people. So you have a situation where both people are unsure of how to move any direction but laterally, or worse, backward.
In my personal experience, the idea that I must not be associated with the usual male stereotypes is so powerful that I find myself essentially paralyzed around exactly the kind of girls I am most interested in. We can have enjoyable conversation, enjoy spending time together, but ultimately, the situation goes "friend zone" and eventually ends up staying there. It is an amazing bit of psychology that sees a confident person rendered completely ineffective when the very thing this person is seeking lies within reach.
The why and what behind such psychological handicaps is at the least headache inducingly complex, buried beneath a mountain of morality, personal myth, ideology, ideals, and issues. This soup of cerebral debris clouds the mind and smudges any sense of clarity. You start to consider abandoning all the time and effort and work, dumbing down becomes genuinely attractive and you begin to wonder if there isn't some intrinsic value in following one's dick around, rather than the heart or brain.
The physical is stupid, and easy, and obvious. An endorphin explosion is an immediate, chemical escape from problems, issues, worries, questions, or troubles. An endorphin rush seems so much more fun than contemplative solitude, that the simple stop looking weak, and start looking like the enlightened ones. Perhaps gratification is a worthy end in and of itself, and all other values are illusory.
I sometimes find myself wondering at the nature of strength...if restraining and controlling the physical is really strength at all.
Cliche, isn't it? The disciplined, consistent, steadfast man/woman begins considering that the other side might indeed have greener grass. Simply thinking of the possibilities brings about a sense of clammy dread that he/she might one day fall in line with the simpler animals..if they are simpler at all. He/She begins to wonder at the virtues of a simple sensibility, creating a sort of mythology in which the simple mind is actually the freer, more natural mind. Sometimes I wonder...sometimes I wish to be simpler.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
There is something wrong with the way I think
My problem isn't severe, or unique, or dangerous, or even particularly compelling, but it is mine and occasionally, it is fodder for random contemplation. I read an excerpt from the forthcoming book Night of the Gun in the New York Times Magazine. The book is an autobiographical tale from one of the Times' staff writers, David Carr. Mr. Carr is the father of three daughters, two of which are fraternal twins, a cancer survivor, and a sober drug addict. He is also a confessed abuser of women, recurring felon, former crack dealer, and self-described "fat thug". According to the excerpt, which I would highly recommend you read, the only reason he won custody of his twin girls was their mother's inability to beat her crack cocaine addiction, an addiction he played a major role in catalyzing. The excerpt and the information at the book's website (see link above) are compelling reads. There are even several videos available to add depth and texture to the promotional excerpt.
I like Mr. Carr's style. He recognizes that his story is just one more 'junky makes good' narrative, making sure to temper the 'terrible drug addict metamorphoses into wonderful dad and (eventually) husband' story with the cold reality of his life and behavior as an addict. And here is where the problem in my thinking comes to the surface. This is a feel good story, or at least it should be. At the very least, it should inspire the reader to believe in the power of redemption. But these kinds of stories are so common that they bore me to the point of feeling discouraged. It seems that the world is being taken over by recovered assholes and repentant scumbags, while decent, honest, genuine people become progressively more rare. Even though I am one of the faithful adherents to the idea that redemption is a real and even necessary thing, I feel insulted by the idea that a scoundrel who eventually embraces decency after a life spent running rampant will ever be the equal of a continually decent and honest human being. The recovered addict or repentant abuser will always have those psychological elements brewing and stirring in the recesses of their mind. They will always be compromised.
Yet, we make heroes out of the repentant and marginalize those who live their lives according to genuine values. All the cool kids dabble in sex and drugs and delinquency. To be exciting and interesting and edgy is to be selfish, dishonest, and caustic. We make heroes, martyrs, and demigods of drug addicts, even as we routinely send the message to what is left of America's decent population that they are outdated, irrelevant, and substandard. Music that glorifies drug dealing, drug taking, misogyny, and hedonism sells millions, while anything positive or intelligent is lucky to go gold. Interestingly, we still enjoy watching "the good guys" win on screen, as evidenced by The Dark Knight beating Spider-Man 3's single weekend box office records this past weekend, but I suppose such instances are best considered exceptions to the general rule.
And I am in no way innocent in all of this. For the better part of my youth, I was so disgusted with humanity that I gravitated toward just the kind of music and movies and literature I am questioning in this post. It wasn't so long ago that Slipknot released a song titled "People=Shit" and I found myself inclined to agree. But maybe that is closer to the crux of the matter, this thing that is wrong with my thinking, and why I am unable to be inspired by the triumphs of former drug addicts, criminals, and degenerates. My psychology is such that I seek out the flaws in nearly every thing and every person I encounter, myself not excluded. Even as I try my best to contribute something useful to this world during my time on it, I continually chronicle the woes of this world as an amplification of my own failings, grinding my teeth and spitting out any faith in the process. I cannot help but grow frustrated with a society that describes the reborn scumbag as a triumph of the human spirit, while taking for granted the quiet, humble, decent people that are truly the foundation for any hope we might have of truly knowing collective greatness.
Hero worship and the cult of personality are the byproduct of generalized simple-mindedness, which contributes to the larger dynamic of canonization that people seem so infatuated with. The weak-willed, abusive drug addict with a penchant for womanizing and narcissism is a god because he can write a powerful song, but the honest, small business owner with a spouse and two children in suburbia is irrelevant because all he or she does is the right thing. Run an upstanding business, remain faithful to your loved ones, and keep the greater good in mind as you walk through your days, and you begin to lose touch with the cutting edge of cool. Such a scenario is the definition of stupidity! Thinking this way is a roaring indication of deficient intelligence. How dumb have we become that the honest and forthright amongst us are seen as uninspiring and generally useless? We are a country in love with human clusterfucks, and by engaging actively in this love affair, we are progressively becoming a society of clusterfucks…and so what is left of my mind goes, and goes, and goes.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Friday, July 11, 2008
This old man
This Old Man
Take this old man's mind away,
Far, far away from present days.
One hundred years, ten thousand miles,
up and out to places alive with peace,
where sun-speckled lanes whisper
gently into the ear of giggling streams;
reminders of the promise in patience,
the sacred nature of innocence.
Once again to befriend the waves.
Fingers and toes tickled by sand
transformed to mighty castles,
cylindrical towers and conical parapets
tenderly eroded by the nudge of wind and water.
Each castle a monument to unfiltered eyes,
every laugh a jovial confession of faith -
belief in the sanctity of smiles and tan lines.
Take this old man's mind away,
this will and work and weariness undone
so All is wisdom's grin and radiance -
unfettered, unapologetic, unrestrained.
Free to bask in unencumbered sunshine,
or doze the afternoon's expanse
while shadows stretch into twilight,
troubled no more, sleeping well.
No more fear for the moon and stars,
their companionship a welcome visitation
as time races around and through
Aging skin held hand-in-hand
with the wide-eyed child at his heart.
Mystified and mesmerized by the world
Now as ever, this when and where so strange,
eyes still reaching toward the next horizon.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
The Sacred
So I'm working on character design, plot lines, and image style for this graphic novel "thing". At the moment, I am moving forward without even so much as having conjured up a working title, so for the time being, let's call it The Project. I capitalize because capital letters infer importance and formality. Who says no one learns anything in high school?
My hope is that The Project will develop into something very different from anything I have done before. A friend of mine agreed to let me use some details from a story (the mystery story) she shared with me, which is a very good thing, as I have the foundation for an imaginary space in which to play and explore. I'm not JK Rowling, but I do have an active imagination, and I am going to do my best to let it run wild with possibilities. With any luck, this will be the most interesting work I've done to date. If all else fails, it should be enough to get me a Bachelor's degree. The drawing from a couple posts ago? It's still in a state of pause, but I hope to get back to it shortly.
So that's about it for The Project, but not it for this post. My mind has once again landed on the idea of "the sacred" and its value in modern times. I think I have posted a lengthy diatribe on this before. In fact, I'm sure that I must have. One of these days I'll use the search function Blogger provides, but not to day. So I was thinking about my little kid version of "the sacred". These things I hold sacred, that many other people hold sacred, are constructed of the fascinations and preoccupations of my youth. I suppose this idea of what is sacred serves as one more string I tie around my fingers in hopes of not forgetting what it was like to be young, to be innocent, to be free-minded. Too many people surrender up those things, or are stripped of them by life, for me to let them go without a fight.
How important in our lives are the things we hold sacred? How do they change and metamorphose as we grow older? Important questions, in my mind. I know a girl who has floated in and out of my immediate awareness for something near 4 years now. She's a gorgeous girl, fun to be around, gainfully employed, and numerous other positive, attractive descriptors, but she was also once promiscuous and cold and the complete opposite of what I would find attractive. She is an interesting question mark I am led to examine once in a while.
Should something like sex be sacred? I have a feeling that opinions would vary greatly. Ask 100 people, you might get 100 different answers. I believe it should be, but not everyone can or will share that belief. Is it possible for people with opinions in polar opposition to one another on such a key issue to build anything resembling a relationship? A couple of years ago, I would have said no as surely as the sun will rise in the East. I had a fervor powering the opinion that left no room for compromise. Now, I think my thinking is more in line with the idea that it shouldn't, and probably wouldn't, but that the failure need not be an integrally bad thing. Failure is a significant part of every life, particularly where relationships are concerned. Most relationships fail, sometimes miserably, and on occasion, tragically.
A friend of mine from the Visual Arts program recently saw his marriage obliterated by his wife's affair. They had been married 10 years. Everything about this particular art friend tells me that he is not one to philander, but she apparently was. Rather than leave, she took on a sexual partner outside the marriage. He was crushed, is crushed, but I got the feeling that he would persevere. I haven't ever been married, haven't ever been close, so I have only the most limited concept of what he must be going through. But I cannot help but wonder what she held sacred. What does she value? Him? Their marriage? Her word? Her honor? Her integrity? What does she put in a position of worth that transcends all other things? Could it be experiences as base as excitement and attention and gratification? What is a promise worth today?
I don't know and have been trying harder lately to let not knowing bother me. I am trying very hard to accept that most people, and in my case women in particular, are question marks, billions of question marks. Where I might have once lamented all those looming questions, I feel more content to not have any answers. Maybe I have learned some lessons on this journey through the physical world, or maybe I am just getting old, but the further I go, the more I am certain of my sacred, and the less I am bothered by the uncertainty of those seemingly limitless questions. The frustration that once scorched my thoughts on the subject now only flares up occasionally.
I am 31 going on 12, with the dreams of a 10 year old and the temperament of a crotchety centenarian. I have my sacred, and not much else, but in the end, I have a feeling that sacred will have been more than enough. It will have to be, as it should be.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Turning point
I am going to put together a graphic novel. It will be created digitally, designed in Photoshop, Illustrator, Painter, and published through Acrobat and/or the web. It will be tied into the story behind the "This is her Zen" drawing I have been working on for what seems like forever now. I've made some progress, but nothing worth posting images...mostly blocking in color, working some shading and contour on the girl, but nothing substantive. I've had no frigging time!! I'm hoping to rectify that immediately, but in the meantime, there hasn't been much to talk about.
Which brings me to another item that has been on my mind for the past month or so, this blog and the purpose for its existence. Over the past year and an half or so, I've posted just about everything that came out of my head. Most of it has been disposable, a few items may have had some redemptive value, and I may have managed to sprinkle a few insightful tidbits here and there, but for the most part it has been little more than a brain dump. I have said just about everything I have to say that might be of any value. At this point, anyone on the net can browse through my thoughts and draw conclusions on who I am, for better or worse. There are more than 300 posts here, a few dozen more on Myspace, and even a few on Tampaforums.com, of all places, going back to 2006. After browsing through random selections of all that material, I am just not sure how much real value there is to be found in any of it.
So maybe it is time to stop sharing what I think with the admittedly tiny audience I have here. Chances are high that my life will not change the state of human existence. The odds are overwhelmingly in human nature's favor, and writing about that is not helping anyone. The conformists are still winning and honestly, I am tired of thinking about the whole damn thing. As bored as I am with the idea of "average", and as frustrated as I am with modern materialism, I spend an inordinate amount of time contemplating and struggling with the ramifications of materialistic ideology. All that is being accomplished by this effort is a rise in my blood pressure. Ultimately, the only outcome has been a dog chasing its proverbial tail. In that sense, I have been chasing my tail for well past a decade now and you know what, I still haven't caught it.
There comes a time when you have to accept the world around you for what it is and move on, or you run the risk of being perpetually lost in frustration. I can attest to this firsthand, as I have been lost in frustration for what seems like a lifetime now. I am finding that you do not have to abandon your ideals or aspirations, but you do have to accept that others (probably most others), do not share those ideals or aspirations, or at least do not feel adequately motivated to work toward them in hopes of making them a reality. So you do have to abandon a certain amount of hope and relinquish a level of perceived possibility, at least external to yourself. I find myself adopting a "we could live in an utopia, if only..." frame of mind, tempered by the understanding that my ideas of utopia are unachievable in a real world inhabited by real people. I think I might finally be OK with that. If it means interacting with people on a much more superficial level, then so be it.
Eventually, you have to find a way past frustrations with irrevocable aspects of human nature and move on. I am not sure that I have managed to completely divorce myself from those frustrations, but I have come a step closer to the disconnect necessary to be free. That's real progress for me, but until I actually get somewhere, I'm not sure there is much I have to say that is worth writing about, so for the foreseeable future, it will be updates on this art project, maybe a few unrelated drawings (I have another illustration project sitting on my mind right now), and possibly the occasional tangential anecdote.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Picture time
In my youth, I saw people as strange and intimidating animals. Most humans I interacted with behaved in ways that I did not understand or relate with, so life progressively became more and more like watching a movie or a nature study. My interactions with others metamorphosed into entirely external acts, so that no one was permitted access to my internal world, and I did not seek out a passageway into theirs. I became more disconnected from the shared reality most of my peers were embracing. Things went so far that I eventually found myself completely disassociated from just about everyone around me. The experience evolved into something akin to the oft lamented sense that I was an invisible being moving amongst organic obstacles, rather than just another person moving amidst coconspirators in the human experience.
In high school, I faded into the background almost completely, and became part of the legion of anonymous faces which served as extras in the high drama played out by more popular and more flamboyant teenagers. Such anonymity is one of life's oldest cliches, to the point that feeling alienated has taken on a degree of normalcy. Nonetheless, it was a potent experience for me that defined a large portion of my personality to the present day. I came to understand the power of the human drive for conformity and also came to understand the tragedy of conforming. I did this from a distance, as I had very little ability to interact with my peers with any sort of effectiveness. My assumption was that they knew something I didn't, or couldn't, because their lives seemed utterly foreign to me.
So the choice was conform and embrace the world of who-hooked-up-with-whom-in-a-drunken-stupor-last-weekend-and-who-hates-who-this-week or step outside of all that and take your chances. I was too socially retarded to get laid, so there really wasn't a choice. Of course, no one wanted to be outside, as being outside opened you up to becoming a target, but I managed to meander through high school anonymously and with little drama. I was blessed with above average intelligence, but not to the extent that my IQ scores would qualify me as a genius, so I was just smart enough to realize the absurdity of what was going on around me, but not quite clever enough to exploit or transcend it. My natural reaction was to reject what I saw as base behaviors, but never really found a niche, so I began to conjure up a new reality for myself. Instead of subscribing to the idea that intelligence, introspection, values, dignity, and morality were the things of losers and fools, I chose to embrace these concepts and pursue them in earnest.
Today, I have come to appreciate some of my decisions at that time. It was right to explore the intangibles of my existence in an effort to expand my comprehension of transcendence. I was right to embrace ideals, rather than succumb to the delusions of material existence, but with every positive there is a negative, for every dividend a cost. Things began to feel hopeless. Most of my peers were going one way, and I felt compelled to go the other. Who chose the correct track is debatable. I can say with absolute certainty that my 20s would have been more fun had I embraced the get-drunk-get-laid-have-fun philosophy. That's one thing the masses might have correct, but then I would have had to deal with the compromises and stresses of relationships, so I might look and sound more like my 30-something peers than I would like.
In the end, I'm just not sure I have anything original or useful to say anymore. The fact is, people are generally boring and predictable. As a person, I am not exempt from that. I am so predictable that anyone who has known me for any length of time probably knows what I am going to say before I have finished formulating the thought, which is to say, I am boring and I am bored with myself. At 31 years of age, I find myself in a job I cannot stand, in a pattern of living that is generally uninspiring, and convinced that the only reasonable thing to do is change. Life is very grey and there are very few bright points to offset the haze. I'm tired of words, and more interested in images, so I think I will stop writing for a while and start making pictures.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Friday, May 30, 2008
The Gecko
I killed a Gecko last night in probably the most horrible way I can imagine. It was an accident, but I still feel sick about it. He had gotten into the railing of my shower doors, presumably to find shelter from the giant monkey thudding around the building. When I decided it was time to clean myself up, the outer door must have run him over in its track as I slid it open. As a result, his back legs were completely ruined and he was partially disemboweled. I found him trying to drag himself away from the rails toward the bathroom floor. I cleaned him up the best I could, but it was clear that there was no saving him. So I did what I could, which wasn't much, and went to bed. By the time my alarm went off this morning, he was gone, and as silly as it sounds, I couldn't help but feel remorse. After all, this little gecko had done nothing to deserve the fate that had befallen him and to die under those circumstances must have been awful. Death is death I suppose, and his death was as inevitable as my own, but to be crushed and mangled in this way, without a quick end or any hope of recovery, is a terrible way to leave this life.
Now I understand that anyone reading this would probably be convinced, if they weren't already, that I am mentally ill, and at this point, I wouldn't argue with the idea. Be that as it may, I feel genuinely sad that I was the source of this gecko's destruction. Had I known he was there, I would have captured and released him in safety. As it happened, I destroyed him without even trying. Such is the nature of human existence. And I couldn't help wondering what I would be experiencing, were I in his place. Would I be afraid? Would I be calmly resolved to my destiny? I like to think I would be serene in my passing. I like to believe the understanding that death is little more than an inevitable transition from one state of existence to another, would soothe my passage from physical existence into something intangible. I like to believe that I would pass with some dignity, were something to happen and I found myself maimed beyond hope. But I am not 100% positive. I would not go screaming, that much I am confident of, but were I to be taken today, I am not sure I would be wholly prepared to go, despite my beliefs on the matter.
Were I to die today, I would go with a sense that I could have done more good in this life, could have been of more use in the losing war against humanity's destructive nature, but the reality is that I am part of that destructive force, as evidenced by this episode with the gecko. Buddhists believe that such accidental acts are not karmically staining, because there was no malicious intent or willfulness in the destruction of another life. Jains, on the other hand, would perceive this as a terrible turn of karmic events, though the degree of negativity would be mitigated somewhat by the unintentional nature of what occurred. Regardless, they would pay penance and seek a karmic cleansing. To the self-obsessed, ego-driven, Western mind, such an idea sounds absurd out of hand. After all, it was only a gecko, right? But in reality, that gecko was made of the same elemental components I am. We are both carbon-based, multi-cellular, flesh-and-blood beings. My superiority and his insignificance are purely and wholly perceptual concepts. In the context of the universe, which is utterly indifferent to homo sapiens' egomania, we are essentially equal. I suppose how much of that idea someone accepts as truth would determine how ridiculous my unease over what happened would appear to be.
I understand that the leather I wear when riding my motorcycle is the product of an animal's death, and I am sincerely sorry for it. I understand that I kill hundreds, if not thousands of insects when riding said motorcycle, or driving my car, or simply walking around, and I am sorry about that as well. Am I sorry enough to give up motorcycle riding and car driving? Not yet. Sorry enough to give up leather? Absolutely, should I find a suitable replacement in the world of synthetics. To the Judeo-Christian eye/ear, that probably sounds absolutely idiotic, but it's the truth. If one is to argue that good acts are more important than harmful ones and that all life has some value, the illusions of superiority, self-importance, even the self itself, have to be discarded. The idea that I somehow bring more value to the natural world than that gecko is asinine when my existence is examined objectively. I and my fellow humans have an infinitely more destructive impact on the living things around us than all of those living things combined have ever had upon us. If we do not recognize and consciously atone for that negative impact, we live in denial and only lose ourselves further in the lies we conjure to satiate our ravenous egos and fearful minds. In so doing, we become the servants of said illusions and falsehoods, thereby stepping further away from the fundamental truth that we are nothing more than matter and energy, the same matter and energy in all physical things. Nothing more, nothing less.
Labels: life or the lack thereof, spirituality
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Bleh...
Everyone has at least one part of their personality they wish could be turned off. I can point to two components on my cognitive self explicitly: my compulsive cataloging of other humans' behavior and the primitive drive toward companionship that makes the first such a massive liability. These two things combine to form something of an intellectual prison. Nothing I have tried, from mediation to social isolation has been able to stop my almost obsessive observance of, and absorption within, human behavior. My brain seems hard-wired to record, catalog, and contemplate the actions of myself and my fellow humans, particularly those of a negative or destructive nature. This is the pessimism the SIL referred to in previous comments, but there is something more than simple pessimism at work. This obsessive behavior is partly inate, in that I absorb and contemplate nearly everything I come into contact with, but it is also a part of how I have learned by watching, rather than by doing. Some lessons are better learned, and taught, by others.
It is said that a wise man learns from the mistakes of others and I tried to embrace that.
But where the train derails and I get it wrong is in letting the actions of others have a powerful effect on my perceptions of reality. I've written about it before and will probably write about it again, because the hopelessness of the situation vexes me to no end. The idea that, to be content in life, one must disassociate to the point of not caring what other people do with their lives, is an incredibly difficult thing for me to do. Why do I care? I don't know and I want to stop.
I suppose some of it comes down to a belief that utopia is impossible only because people lack the strength and will to make it reality. The only thing stopping us is us and therein lies the problem. There is no utopia coming, because people won't allow it to happen, but utopia could happen, if only people would let it. How are you supposed to find contentment with that sort of paradoxical nonsense constantly swirling around your mind?
The real question for me is, why aren't more people frustrated by this fact? Why isn't everyone pissed off that the only reason they are not living in paradise is the willful denial of paradise by their fellow humans? As far as I know, I harm no one, I take advantage of, manipulate, and undermine no one. My perception is that my life has had a nearly zero negative footprint on anyone's life. In my mind, something so simple as minimal negative impact has a major positive effect. What if everyone could say that? What if we all interacted on a benign level, at worst? I try to have a positive effect on the people I care about, but I actively try to have little or no effect on those I do not care about.
I am not an angel, but I wish I were. In that light, I approach existence. I am not claiming to have the answer to the world's problems, but I do believe there is great value in the idea of common decency. The idea that I do not have to like, enjoy, or even respect someone to exhibit common decency. Fact is, in my experience, common decency is not so common. But I'm rambling and I'm tired and I'm buzzed off of a couple drinks, so odds are that little or nothing I might type will make any coherent sense, but then very little seems to make sense these days, so perhaps I am making perfect sense after all. Who's to say?
I included the lyrics to a song by Atmosphere below. This particular song is off their new album, When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold. This track has struck me as being particularly poignant in my own life of late. I want things to make sense. I want to accept people for what they are and be OK with that. I want to lower my expectations to the point that I am content with expecting nothing from others. To date, in all of these endeavors, I have failed.
Atmosphere - Like the Rest of Us
See I've been here for thirty-some years
Lookin' at myself in the same dirty mirror
So it ain't like I don't comprehend
Open that bottle, swallow that friend
No crime to take a little too much
Got time to drink away a few months
Got a little cocaine habit
But he says he only does it if somebody else has it
Go do that shit, do that shit, lady
She went vegetarian for the baby
Third trimester, I see the kid kick
She showed me outside when she gave me a cigarette
Shit, there's no way to measure it
Not every pony grows up to be a Pegasus
Ya gotta let people be hypocrites
Count your blessin's and mind yo business
[Chorus: x2]
Stuck with yourself like the rest of us
Dirt gets done and then we back to dust
Runnin' in place
Sun in my face
Let me fly 'way
Heaven won't wait
Heaven won't wait
Let me fly 'way
Get in my way
Everyday
Heaven won't wait
Let me fly 'way
Get in my way
Everyday
Just tryin ta keep my mind on work
It's like that's the only way to love this life on Earth
It's like everyone takes number one in the race
'Cause we all keep runnin' in place
Here kitty kitty, can't train that fox
Must be drinkin' that name brand scotch
All of us cut from the same damn cloth
Some of us never cut the price tags off
She ended up on the pole
With her heels pointin' at her Jesus she used to know
Stripped her down to her naked body
We made her drown in a lake full of patriarchy
In between the pride and the misery
With the infinite supply of sympathy
Are these invisible walls that hold me
Like this goldfish bowl is the whole sea
[Chorus: x2]
Stuck with yourself like the rest of us
Dirt gets done and then we back to dust
Runnin' in place
Sun in my face
Let me fly 'way
Heaven won't wait
Heaven won't wait
Let me fly 'way
Get in my way
Everyday
Heaven won't wait
Let me fly 'way
Get in my way
Everyday
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Law and Order
Had the pleasure of being issued my first ever speeding ticket yesterday for doing 38mph in a 25mph zone. On the surface, that makes me look incredibly irresponsible. Thirteen miles per hour over the speed limit in a 25, what was I thinking? I was thinking that the road was 35mph and switched to 25mph around 1000ft from where I got popped. Unfortunately, I was looking for the Oldsmar library, as I was on my way to return some books, so I somehow missed the sign. One thousand feet before, I was totally legal and responsible, doing a pedestrian 3mph over the limit. That 1000 feet is going to cost me $165, which put a smile on my face. After all, I love donating money to the county government, because they do such a fine job of spending that money wisely and for the benefit of all. It is hooligans like me that need to be disciplined and I feel punishing me for violating a completely unnecessary reduction in the speed limit (low mph speed traps are the thing in Oldsmar these days) will surely teach me a lesson about responsibility and personal accountability…because I need such lessons. Well done officer, well done.
In other news, Ted Kennedy, youngest of the infamous Kennedy boys, was diagnosed with a brain tumor yesterday. Subsequently, the networks lit up with day long coverage and discussion. His diagnosis has been described as tragic, heart breaking, and horrifying. John McCain described Ted as the "last lion of the Senate". Am I missing something here? This is a man from one of America's most corrupt political families. He is infamous for his drinking and carousing, to the point that his drunkenness became a running joke during the 70s and 80s. He is the man responsible for the drowning death of Mary Jo Kopechne at Chappaquiddick. He is also the man who never paid any sort of legal price for his role in that death. It's good to be a Kennedy, I guess.
If you are a Kennedy, you can cheat on your wife, break laws with impunity, and even kill someone, all without ever having to face the proverbial music. In fact, people will love you, even feel sorry for you, and vote you into the Senate for next 40 years. People are funny that way. If Ted Kennedy had been born into a poor family without any power or influence, he would have been up on manslaughter charges for the Chappaquiddick incident. There would have been calls from the victim's family and friends to lock him up and throw away the key. In the Chappaquiddick case, the victim's family took a pair of pay outs and remained silent. Their daughter's life, and their silence, was worth about $140k in the end. Life is cheap, as they say. Ol' Teddy paid $90k of that from his own pocket, a pittance for America's most famous family.
After the accident, he made no 911 call. There were no panicked knocks at nearby doors, or pleas for help. In fact, he ran by 4 homes on his way to the hotel where some of his friends were staying. Once there, he called no one, but he did return to the scene of the accident with his friends, all of whom decided to do nothing. In fact, he did not contact police about the accident until AFTER the body had already been found. An honorable and courageous man, this Ted Kennedy. A man to honor, respect, and idolize…a lion indeed. With such a distinguished record of personal behavior, it is easy to see why he became a hero to the people of Massachusetts. Must be something, or someone, in the water up there (cue rim shot!).
Now, I am not saying the man deserved a malignant brain tumor. There hasn't been a time where I was motivated to wish the man ill, but is it too much to ask that people be more rational and intelligent about who they honor? I was highly disappointed to read that Barack Obama refers to the man as a friend and it is just plain ridiculous to champion this man as some sort of heroic American. If Ted Kennedy is the model for what it means to be American, I want absolutely NOTHING to do with being a model citizen. The man is no hero, he is not an example, and while I wouldn't sincerely wish cancer on anyone, I am in no way moved to shed tears for the type of person who engages in life the way Ted Kennedy has. Life is temporary for all of us, and there are certainly better people to extend an empathetic hand. Treating this coddled, sheltered, corrupted politician as some sort of tragic martyr figure is absurd and should be seen as an insult to the average human's intelligence.
Labels: life or the lack thereof, politics
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
We should all be as strong as a deafblind little girl
The argument goes that we need all grow up and act our age. While most people seem to see me as a fairly mature person, there is no doubt that peoples' perception of me will be tinted by the facts that I have not ever owned a house, or been married and had children. I enjoy machines and gadgets and spend a great deal of money on both. Most of my free time is spent seeking out impractical things, often of an intangible, transcendental nature. I have my 401k, some stocks, and a bit of money in savings, but for the most part, people probably see me as fairly stunted or immature in my priorities. But I would argue that their perceptions are more of a problem than my lifestyle.
I have occasionally asked friends for their honest opinion on my lifestyle, and the general consensus seems to be a simultaneous sense of envy and sympathy. On the one hand, I have had people tell me that they envy my freedom and independence. On the other, they seem to see my living situation and relationship history as being pathetic, to put it bluntly. But their perceptions are inherently skewed by elements of social normalization. The accepted thinking is that, at my age, I should want a house, I should be thinking about settling down and raising a family, I should be giving up on the naïve ideals of youth in favor of more practical and realistic hopes and aspirations. Norms dictate that we are not whole, or complete without these things, but norms are little more than benchmarks for individuals who are willing to accept the current concept of "normal", which throughout all human history has been an evolving and transient thing. Normal is a fabrication, as no one actually attains it or lives it, though most claim to seek it out, or be it in their lives. Chasing normal is a fool's errand.
So you give up on normal and norms and do your own thing. What then? In some ways, you come to understand how illusory the idea of "growing up" really is. Most people do not grow up in the commonly accepted sense that they gain wisdom and a deeper understanding. In my experience, most people grow out, physically, and recede mentally. Very few people follow their passions or explore their absolute potential, so the vast majority, the average, typically end up falling short of their hopes and aspirations. They live lives guided by practicality and safety, rather than impracticality and risk. The exploration and curiosity of youth is replaced by a desire for safety and security, and to a great extent, fear of uncertainty.
Of course, this gives them the advantage of relative safety, but in the end, no one is actually safe. Safety, like normalcy, is a fabrication of the mind. Helen Keller has a fantastic quote on this topic and I marvel at her wisdom every time I read it:
"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is a daring adventure or nothing at all."
Without ever seeing or hearing the outside world, Helen Keller attained higher states of education, insight, and wisdom than most able-bodied individuals ever manage. What does that say about the physically capable majority? Their fear and their conformity make them mentally and spiritually weaker than a blind, deaf woman. Helen Keller grew up in every sense of the word, but she never lost the childish idea that life should be an adventure. In my mind, that is the ideal; growing in every significant way without sacrificing a sense of child-like wonder for the world. The classical, Western idea of growing up sounds about as enjoyable and interesting as getting one's teeth drilled sans Novocain. Been there, done that, brush 3 times per day to prevent going back again.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Being a thinking animal sucks
I may have it wrong where women are concerned, but I think there is some merit to what I am saying, particularly where the collective sense of self-worth comes up. Generally, by necessity as much by choice, I tend to insulate and keep most of the women I meet at arm's length. In a place like this one, that is the only approach I have found that keeps the type of women I am attracted to at a safe distance. Perhaps that makes me a mess. I don't feel like a mess, but what is or is not a mess is as much a matter of opinion as anything else in this life.
Be that as it may, no matter how alienated or insulated someone becomes, there is always a part of them that desires human contact. As someone who has learned to live with long stretches of minimal or zero contact, that subliminal yearning for touch is one of the most incessant and annoying and distressing parts of the shared human psyche. I don't care how strong your will or resolve, it will be present, and it will make its presence known, like the ache of an arthritic knee. It comes and goes, but its presence is always felt. If not for that continuous ebb and flow, that nagging sensation that never seems to fully fade, I am sure we would all be better off.
Loneliness and the fear of it are the root of so much trouble for so many people. For the needy, it becomes a compulsion which justifies acquiring contact by any means necessary. For the more resolute, it becomes an ever present gorilla in the room with two fistfuls of carpet in its massive hands, always trying to pull the rug out from beneath you. The animal within us is so persistent in its desires and so completely indifferent to our well being that it truly is our greatest shortcoming. Buddhism characterizes such cravings as the greatest threat to our psychological well-being, and I would argue that this is just more proof that the Buddha was very much onto something 500 years before Jesus walked the Earth.
All of this makes a place like Tampa, which is characterized as much by its cultural vacuousness as it is by a lack of any real identity, something of an hostile environment in which to play out life's dramas. Cheap and easy...cheap and easy...everything here seems cheap and easy and superficial and generally dumbed down. Could we live any more Wal-Mart? I just don't get cheap and easy...nothing good comes from cheap and easy...and a big part of the frustration I feel is a result of a maddening desire for change coupled with my inability to willfully transcend the cardboard cutout nature of my surroundings. The lowest common denominator seems to coat this place like plaque on neglected teeth.
Originally, this was going to be a post about the reasons behind my becoming a fan of My Morning Jacket a couple of years back, but it spun out completely. In my mind, the key to My Morning Jacket's power is that they feel free to share some unapologetically awkward and/or goofy lyrics, but say the sorts of things most people are thinking or feeling at one time or another.
My Morning Jacket - Touch Me I'm Going to Scream Part 1
Touch me I'm going to scream if you don't
inside I know we got the feelin' that you won't
I know it sounds confusing
but it makes a lot of sense
row a boat across the ocean
dig a hole under the fence
Touch me I'm going to scream if you don't
inside I know we got the feelin' that you won't
I can tell it by the way you smile
I'm smilin' too, I see myself in you
I can tell by the sounds you make
when you are pleased
you see yourself to me
Touch me I'm goin' to scream if you don't
inside I know we got the feelin' that you won't
how many nights can a soul
so full of life remain untouched
how could a soul make the most of what is whole
and what is here
I need a human right by my side
Untied, untied
I need a human right by my side
Untied, untied
I need a human right by my side
Untied, untied
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Rain dance
I have been single for over 2 years now. In and of itself, being single is not a bad thing. As we all know by now, single is my normal and 2 years is not a long time to go without a relationship. Hell, 2 years is just a warm-up, I'm only just starting to stretch my legs! But 25 months is a long stretch of datelessness, even for me, and the unnerving truth is that the longer I go down this road, the wider the divide between myself and modern women becomes.
The aging process begins eliminating options by default. Eventually, no matter how well you take care of yourself, you begin looking older, so early-20-somethings become increasingly out of the question - barring a dramatic rise in income, power, or notoriety. Unfortunately, I have no interest in income, power, or notoriety. On the other hand, women my own age are typically looking to settle down, establish families, and start working on their version of the American "dream", which seems even less appealing to me than dedicating my life to money, power, and/or fame. Rocks and hard places are always a bitch.
So what we have is the sun beating down from above, conspiring to draw the well down to near nothing. I have come to see myself as a caricaturized, aboriginal shaman, dancing and chanting in hopes of inspiring new rain despite the increasingly arid nature of the ground beneath my feet. When I was younger, all the commotion and carrying on was much more enthusiastic. After all, it seemed like rain was always just behind the next gust of wind. Surely, the Fates would bring the rain and chances would always be plentiful! At 20, time seemed to be an ally in the process, you're meeting lots of people, doing lots of things, going lots of places, generally having a good time. The dance is something like the spins of a whirling Sufi, energetic and informed by a subliminal optimism. By 30, time is starting to take on a different character and presence. You learn that time makes no promises beyond its own perpetual motion and that the rain dance yields very little usable precipitation.
At some point, after all this movement has gone on for a while, you might find that you are dancing for its own sake. The belief that rain will come becomes irrelevant, and the dance becomes its own purpose. Of course, the act of fruitless rain-dancing brings its own revelations. You learn to survive without rain, and you begin to understand how much of the available water is acidic. When the rain does come, more often than not weeds grow in abundance - all too rare are healthy, flourishing trees. So the dance has to become an end unto itself, a sort of moving meditation that has less to do with rain than it does with expression, otherwise the shaman finds their knees on the ground, their lips and tongue lapping at a puddle of silt. What good is rain if its only product is shrubbery? What good is drinking gallons of acrid water when all it produces is toxic piss? A single shower of clean, cool, cleansing rain is a greater experience than a continuous drizzle of pollution. Am I crazy for thinking it is better to go thirsty for want of clean water than to surrender one's self to a life of settling for soupy dirt?
Is being alive, living on one's knees, suckling at puddles of mud, better than the alternative? When you stand up triumphantly with your teeth full of grit and your stomach full of silt, are you really winning? I would say no, but opinions vary. Maybe it is a tragedy to seek clear water in a world polluted by contaminants and darkened by muck. Life is short and our opportunities to drink are finite, so the argument goes. But I think it better to die seeking something clean and fresh and clear, than to live with the taste of soil on your tongue and dirt in your guts. The consumer of dirty water might enjoy greater quantities of the stuff, but will they be better for it? I would say no, but opinions vary.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Saturday, May 03, 2008
More late-night motorcycling
I've written about the late night riding experience before, but it is a topic that always leaves me contemplative. As I have probably said before, riding a motorcycle has not ever been about thrills and "the rush" people talk about. I have no interest in adrenaline infusions or thumbing my nose at the various dangers. Honestly, I am no big fan of late night riding, and try to stay within a few miles of home anytime there is a chance I might find myself on the road in the wee hours. Riding after 11:00 or 12:00 requires one to be doubly vigilant, despite there being far less traffic than normal.
But the late night air always beckons, particularly because there are fewer 4-wheelers to be found in motion over the pavement. The temperatures drop, the sky goes India ink, and the moon takes its post for the night. I have always been a night owl and the late/early hours have held a certain magic for me as long as I can remember. The world seems a more appealing place when most of the people are sleeping. It is quieter in a broader sense than just noise, particularly where the bike is concerned. Florida is an easier place to be during those hours.
Been spending lots of time down at the beach lately. Probably has something to do with phenomenal weather and bikinis, but who knows. :)
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Monday, April 21, 2008
Now squeeze...
Life feels claustrophobic, as if the bullshit and nonsense of modern life function as massive walls of granite slowly crawling together, so that the sense of being Han Solo stuck in the Death Star's trash compactor is becoming more and more tangible with time. A pervasive feeling that there is no escape from the ceaseless ridiculousness of humanity creates a subliminal sense of tension. From the tumbling economy to crumbling monogamy to mumbling hegemony, we are a fucking mess. As I fear for the job that buys my $3.65/gallon gas, politicians with no good intentions pay lip service to the genitals of corporate "America". How much America remains in the average American? The dream that never was is being spat out like so much extracted ejaculate, but those same mouths keep chanting "believe…believe…believe" and stupid ears keep pricking up, their mouths dutifully shaping the words "I believe…I believe…I believe". Without any idea what to believe in, and no will to seek their own answers, they plug in and let the answers be spoon fed down their throats.
What was once a rugged, idealistic, individualistic spirit has given way to unadulterated conformity and cowardice. We have taken what could have been a tapestry woven in vibrant, beautiful colors and turned it into the ubiquitous brown blanket the world reproduces ad nauseum. Wasted opportunity is wasted time and it seems pretty clear that much of our current time is being flushed, rather than invested. The America we have all been promised was little more than a makeup coated pig, and the drug soaked Boomers responsible for all this pork have plainly failed miserably in their quest to redefine the world. What choice do we have but to react and explore new directions? What choice do we have but positive action? Plenty, actually, and most of them seem to involve doing nothing at all. Watching television, being less involved with our own governance, producing little or nothing of any tangible value, changing little or nothing of significance, this is the new American way. We have become a people who avoid the responsibility of self-governance because it permits an escape from personal accountability. Handing control over to others creates an hallow of separation in which to hide when those others make a mistake or inevitably give into corruption. Laziness also plays a role, as the work required to make a Way, rather than following in the well worn footsteps of others, is more than the average individual is willing to shoulder.
Following others gives the follower freedoms from guilt that are not available to leaders and creators. Followers are free to claim a righteous path, while holding tight to the idea that someone else is to blame if things go wrong. The follower can tacitly participate in something as heinous as the holocaust, or something as insidious as the anti-labor movement infecting modern America, without having to take personal responsibility for any of it. Apathetic conformists are the engines that drive social destruction. As surely as they will be the first to condemn leadership in a crisis situation, they are the first to fall in line behind whoever is willing to lead.
Is your credit record a financial car accident with your credit score dipping into the double digits? Can you no longer afford your mortgage payment because your variable interest loan exploded? Blame the mortgage company and look for a government bail out. Are you the executive of a sup-prime lender that ended up getting burned because your company granted loans to people with credit reports resembling an Iraqi marketplace after a Sunni car bomb? Blame market forces and receive a government bail out.
Personal accountability is almost nil in the modern age. Industrialists escape guilt by hiding behind corporations, who answer to no one, and the proletariat escapes blame by hiding behind their childhoods, social pressures, or some other hardship. Where the only reasonable explanation is to put it on one's self and strive toward improvement, most people put their troubles on others and strive toward mediocrity, taking the rest of society down with them. The only way something as large and as powerful as America collapses is from within and the internal corrosion that brings such a monolithic power down starts with the people. I do not think there is anyone who can sincerely characterize modern America as a visionary, just, or thriving society.
More and more, Americans are becoming a people who are out of work, short on inspiration, and increasingly dependent on drugs, legal or otherwise, to quell their fears and anxiety. We have lost the fire that fueled us, and have begun giving in to fear. The only outcome of succumbing is the handing over of control to those who are not afraid. Unfortunately, that means giving the reins over to the same types of people that have benefited from fear since time immemorial, the greedy and power hungry. The decay is all around us, and it is fed by the collective efforts to ignore or redefine it. Yet people in Pennsylvania are offended when Barack Obama talks about “bitter Americans”, when everyone knows America is becoming more and more bitter by the day. They sink in the morass even as they deny its existence, so the walls continue squeezing, the space continues narrowing, and somewhere Darth Vader is having a laugh.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Friday, April 18, 2008
Up on a plain
Today's key to finding some form of contentment or acceptance is zero expectations. What do I mean by 'zero expectations'? I am talking about expecting nothing from your fellow human beings. While I am tempted to talk about having exceedingly low expectations as a way of avoiding disappointment, I think that sort of thinking is more a product of my personal biases and thinking in that way has not led me toward any form of contentedness. In actuality, I am probably less at ease now than I have ever been, despite having incredibly low expectations of human behavior, primarily because all too often, a large percentage of humanity does not ever fail to disappoint. So the solution is not low expectations, because low expectations still carry the burden of having an expectation, and the additional weight of disheartening ones.
Having no expectations frees us from the burden of anticipated behavior, either high or low, and removes a pathway through which the behavior of others can affect one's well-being. I am thinking more and more that there is a pressing need to untangle the individual's thoughts and ideas from what passes for culture in America today. If there is a way to stop giving any attention to what people are doing, and put one's focus exclusively on personal goals and endeavors in life, it only stands to reason that life would be more rewarding by default. Ignore the foundering of society at large and focus entirely on personal integrity, vision, and ascension. Of course, you run the risk of being labelled by any of The Conformed that might be aware of your presence, but what does a conformed person's judgment really matter, in the grand scheme of things?
Not caring may be a poor choice of words. Maybe a better way to put it would be to say that I need to disconnect from any craving to control, contain, or somehow manage the species' collective behavior beyond how it affects me directly. This is, of course, a very Buddhist notion, the idea that our personal suffering is rooted in various material cravings. The craving for behaviors in others that we perceive as being desirable, while potentially being full of positive intentions, is still just a craving. And the hard truth is, I am totally powerless to change the course of the masses. At best, all I can do is stand safely aside and watch the herd graze, meander, and occasionally stampede around, doing my best to stay out of their way.
The danger is that the majority tends to move as a unified mass behind one or two lead animals, so the threat of being run over is always high and anyone outside of the mob has to be aware of sudden changes in their direction, lest they end up under millions of feet. But finding a proverbial hill to watch their antics from has always been something I aspired to do. Maybe it's time...
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Not to whine, but...
Burnout is setting in like a gangrenous infection on an open wound these days. The simple act of thinking is becoming increasingly difficult, and I am beginning to feel like a kid with ADD. My focus is all over the place, my blood pressure is probably through the roof, and my energy level is through the shithouse floor. In short, I am stumbling along right now and it's as amusing as it is distressing. Amusing because I have the memory of a 90 year olds man, distressing because I am beginning to look and feel like a 90 years old man.
Work continues to whittle away at my well being, and school continues to be a load I am just barely carrying. In all my 30 years on this Earth, I have not been under so much continuous stress before in my entire life. Over a year of this is starting to make scribbles out of my mental processes. There are times when I will find myself drifting off into la la land in the middle of meetings. Just tonight, I lost track of what a woman in class was saying to me while in the middle of a conversation. She laughed, so I smiled and chuckled along, but I could not tell you what was so amusing to save my life. That type of thing is pretty discouraging.
On the flip side of that discouragement is something curious, something almost like optimism. While the stress and strain is taking a toll, it also strikes me as remarkable that I am able to hold up as well as I have. Somehow I have sustained this pace for a year and I feel confident that I can maintain it for the remaining 8 months of my time with Eckerd. I'm no longer certain all of this work will have even been worth it, at least in a tangible sense, but none of that matters now. In a weird way, I'm worried about what will happen after I graduate, since my work situation and the usefulness of my degree are both in question.
That's not say I am having second thoughts about getting a Visual Arts degree. Creating images is what I am good at, it is something I have always done, and I am getting better, so there really isn't any point in denying that in favor of a more utilitarian degree. There are plenty of business and finance majors in the same position I am, so there are no guarantees attached to any specific degree. The worry really arises from how to best leverage my next move using this degree and my experience. As of today, that piece of the plan is very much a work in progress.
But nothing is certain, in this life, so I try not to worry myself with that sort of thing. I do know one thing, I will finally be moving out again. Too many years after I originally moved back home on a "temporary" basis, I'm more sure than ever that it is time to get back out into the world. It's not that I have any trouble with 'rents, I'm just too goddamned old to be here, so it's time to go. Once I'm out, project Nótt begins. Nótt is the Norse goddess of night who gave birth to Earth and Day. Here is a brief entry from Wikipedia explaining her birth and position in the Norse pantheon:
There was a giant living in Giantland called Nörfi or Narfi. He had a daughter named Night. She was dark and swarthy, like the family to which she belonged. Her first marriage was with a man called Naglfari, their son was called Auð. Next she was married to Annar, their daughter was called Earth. Last, Delling married her, and he was of the family of the gods. Their son was Day, he was bright and beautiful like his father's side. Then All-father took Night and her son, Day, and gave them two horses and two chariots and put them up in the sky, so that they should ride round the world every twenty-four hours. Night rides first on a horse called Hrímfaxi, and every morning he bedews the earth with the foam from his bit. Day's horse is called Skinfaxi, and the whole earth and sky are illuminated by his mane. - Young's translation
So what is project Nótt? My next bike, of course! My brother has been slowly assembling his own custom and he's inspired me to see if I can make my own vision a reality as a sort of reward for having finally graduated college. Details to come, but needless to say I am stoked about the idea.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Fleeting moments
Every once in a while, seemingly out of the blue, I will be struck by a penetrating "everything is gonna be alright" episode; a feeling that things will work themselves out, regardless of how dreadful life may appear at the time. For some reason, I had one of those moments yesterday morning. Maybe this particular experience is tied to having done unexpectedly well on an exam I took Monday night, or maybe it is Friday's trip to Tampa's Buddhist Vihara. Whatever the cause, I welcome these episodes the way a tree welcomes sunlight! With all the work going on in my life right now, it is incredibly easy to lose sight of the fundamental fact that life, in and of itself, has not been an unpleasant experience. I fall into the intellectual trap of letting external forces, or my perception of external forces, apply far too much pressure on my thinking. An unfortunate side effect of "thinking too much", I suppose.
But then, thinking too much is probably a better idea than thinking too little. Thinking too little tends to be the primary catalyst for many an internet video, usually prefaced by those famous last words, "Hey y'all, watch this". I would wager more than a few cataclysmic life events started with moments of too little thinking. So the problem is not necessarily thinking too much, it is thinking about the wrong things too much and too often. In my own life, the situation is that I expend far too much energy contemplating what is wrong with the human animal at the macro level, rather than focusing on what is right in my life at the micro level. I am not certain how this works for others, but all too often, I will find my internal processes invaded by some tidbit of information that sets my mind to work on the eternal ills of the human species, i.e. a SEC filing detailing our lay-off happy CFO's $900,000k+/year salary, or a story on the resurgence of teen pregnancy. It is almost as if my subconscious is continually building a case against goodness in the species.
When you find yourself in that sort of cycle, it becomes more difficult to see one's own goodness. That's the danger of focusing too acutely on Humanity's collective failure. For better or worse, mixing and intermingling with the masses means being exposed to all of the behaviors, good or bad, that define the human animal. Unfortunately, a great deal of these range from banal and boring to outright disgusting and dangerous. Introversion and isolation would seem to be a logical response, but the unfortunate truth is that we are hardwired to be social animals, so disconnecting completely will bring about its own negative outcomes. So we're left with sucking it up and living with "them", which is a very difficult thing to get excited about. Subsequently, the only real option is to turn your focus inward, so as to keep the world, or at least most of it, at arm's length. This way, it becomes possible to pursue yourself as a means to an end without succumbing to the negative influences of society at large.
Let's face it, a majority of society isn't doing much of anything in the way of positive, inspirational work. Most Americans seem to focus their lives on TV shows, sports teams, fornicating, making money, and/or getting intoxicated. There is not a whole lot to be optimistic about and we certainly do not seem ready for the next stage in evolution, so all one can do is live in accordance with some kind of vision or ideal, if one is so inclined. In my experience, the closer you get to your vision or ideals, the easier life becomes. Lately, I have been inching a tiny bit closer, so that could explain yesterday's "everything's alright" moment.
Labels: life or the lack thereof
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Modern marriage may be the answer
I read that nearly 50% of America's families are headed by a stepparent. The divorce rate is floating in the 50%+ range. The obvious question is why are people getting married at all? A coworker and I had an email conversation that ended up touching on the subject and it occurred to me that marriage almost seems like a pointless enterprise in modern America. Honestly, I wouldn't bet $10 if I felt my chances or winning were less than 50/50, so betting my life on marriage, when over 50% of them are falling apart, seems like madness. I know I have written on this before, but my recent thinking on the matter has started opening new avenues of understanding for me and I think my attitude toward dating may be metamorphosing as a result. This idea ties into my previous post about not having a definitive idea of what to do about my annual case of Spring Fever.
Historically, I have had issues with girls' sexual histories, primarily because I have almost no history, so I do not relate with those who embrace the prevailing social norm that sex is a casual or disposable act. It always seemed logical that I have nothing to offer a girl with a prolific sexual history, since our ideas on sex, which serve as an integral part of a relationship in my mind, would be so vastly different. Promiscuous people fit better with other promiscuous people, if a long-term relationship is the goal. At some point, the difference in sexual attitudes and histories will surface, inevitably resulting in conflict. That just seems logical to me. The more people have in common, particularly on such an important thing as sex, the better their chances of having a healthy, long lasting relationship. Here's where my thoughts start to be conflicted.
Genuine issues like this one only become deal breakers when love gets involved and where love is involved for an extended period of time, we are socially programmed to start thinking about marriage. But what if you take marriage completely off the table? What if you declare it a non-option? What affect does that have on one's concepts of love? What does that mean If you have no intentions of ever being married, what difference does a girl's history make? If you reject marriage outright, does it become acceptable to refrain from allowing yourself to fall in love? If you reject the idea of marriage, do you free yourself from the confines of love?
At 30 years old, I have the relationship history of your average 18 years-old suburban kid. I'm not ashamed of that, quite the opposite actually, but I concede that my lack of sexual history speaks to the presence of dysfunction on some level. Whether that dysfunction is in my thinking and behavior, or in the functioning of modern females will inevitably depend on who you ask. My guess is, most people would point their fingers in my direction, but it has to be recognized that their opinions would be greatly influenced by their histories, ideals (if they have any), and the degree to which they embrace social conformity. Ultimately, the source of dysfunction is irrelevant, because I feel no need to change my attitudes toward sex and it is highly unlikely that society will pull back from the philosophy of promiscuity during my sexual lifetime.
So I am presented with a stifling conundrum. How does a sexual novice like myself function in a world of more experienced women, or women with other extenuating circumstances(children, addictions, mental disorders, etc)? I actually find myself physically and mentally unsettled by the question. Combined with my advancing age and the dwindling availability of options, the sense that I have painted myself into a corner feels more real than at any other time in my life. My only option is to start climbing the walls. Unfortunately, I can't go hog-wild and abandon the last 15 years of self-discipline and work. That just isn't an option, because doing so would mean sacrificing beliefs and ideas I am not prepared to live without. What I can do, and what has been on my mind lately, is find a way of freeing my approach to dating through the understanding that marriage and long-term commitment are not even factors. Instead of thinking, "is this the kind of girl I could be with for a year, or two, or three", I embrace the idea that there is no reason to worry about staying with a woman for an extended period of time.
If it happens, fine, but such an occurence is so unlikely as to be effectively impossible, so the energy spent thinking about it is best directed elsewhere. After all this time, it has become necessary to face the reality that I almost certainly could not function in a long-term relationship. Compounding the force of that realization is the fact that removing marriage as a potential outcome means that any relationship I enter into is ultimately fated to end at some point, regardless of my intentions. Just one more thing to think about as time races on...
Labels: life or the lack thereof