| In Loathsome Memory |
[18 Jun 2008|03:31pm] |
The more one reads, the more one—should—find his or her writing styles and motives for writing fundamentally flawed. Perhaps I am being too hard on myself…it is not a fundamental flaw in motivation, necessarily. After all, everyone is entitled to speak if so inclined. It is not the very idea of writing that is the problem. It’s simply this: the more one comes to learn, the more one realizes how little he or she knows. This is certainly proving to be the case for me, at least. For me to write existentially or to even express opinion feels like pretentiousness. To read uninformed opinions—and understand that it’s not entitlement that I am making a case against—feels like pretentiousness hurled at my head like a shovel-full of manure. To read informed opinions that are overzealous in their resolve strikes me as irritating closed-mindedness (in some cases, it can even come off as selfishness). The world of the weblog, then, doesn’t seem to present the sort of friendly place I had once considered it to be.
Is it that I do not like to be disagreed with? God, I certainly hope not! To be turned off by such inevitability would certainly be a folly of tremendous proportions! No, I don’t really think so. In fact, I have found this to be enjoyable in some cases. I think it might be the inescapable and persistently nagging idea that all of it—the arguments, the expressions of faith, hope, love, or intellectualism, the tenacious resolve—has been done before. That no idea is a new idea, and every expression, no matter how eloquent, has been said or done before…and better. To come to believe such a thing makes the environment I have created for myself here seem desperately childish.
I feel like the way I have conducted myself on this journal betrays my intentions when starting out. Perhaps the situation goes even deeper than that…perhaps my intentions betray my intelligence. Either way, this journal is far beyond repair as it stands now, and it cannot continue…I will not continue. Allow me to be perfectly clear: I am more than displeased with my livejournal, and I believe my writing style to be poor in taste and ability. Apparently I am not alone in my belief. I have wondered for years why I could not stimulate any interest in what I was writing. I could never place precisely what was off about my journal. Putting myself in the place of the reader, which I have done more recently than I have ever before, I have found that my particular brand of writing has been off-putting. It is vain, presumptuous, and arrogant. It is entirely too narcissistic and, despite my best efforts, even bordering on dogmatic. I wouldn’t want to read it…or at least most of it. With all of these things said, I am not interested in tripping over myself in apologies over it, though. I am so disinterested in the nature of my prior writings that I feel like apologies or excuses would only feed the vanity of an already engorged monster.
The only real killer is indifference. For that reason, this entry will be the very last of this particular journal. I have said before that the nature of the weblog has proven to be a bad fit for the type of interaction I have been looking for. I am not dead-set against writing in a similar forum in the future…perhaps I believe that the experience took the shape that it did precisely because that is what I made it to be. Perhaps even the response (or lack of response) of others was somehow fitting to the way I conducted myself here, and if I can successfully generate an inspiring, information seeking discussion rather than an ostentatious manifesto of absolutely nothing, I might find my efforts rewarded in a more gratifying manner. In the meanwhile, I think my life has reached a juncture where it would serve me best to focus on the development of my family, my education, my subsequent career, and my opinions/theories/beliefs/philosophies and write about these things at a later time and with fewer pretenses.
I really feel, however, that I should leave this all another way. I think that an ending like the one developing thus far is not fitting somehow. Let’s see…well, there is an accounting of the past. There is a general opinion about the nature of my writing thus far. There is a decision to end this chapter. Aha! I really should indicate where everything stands now, as me the person that I have become. Over four years’ time, I have developed from an over-stressed, insecure twenty-year-old college sophomore involved in taxing, lengthy studios, long-distance relationships (with my friends, family, and girlfriend) opening a weblog to express what I believed to be an already impressive general intelligence. I would make long-winded, painfully trite existential diatribes about American politics, television, eating habits, and whatever else, and I would approach the subjects as if I were the keeper of all knowledge graciously bestowing upon the ignorant masses (you) my bountiful intellectual gifts. After I guess it was two years of writing (which, I might add, went largely unnoticed…totally unnoticed, really), I found myself exploring short experiments in fiction (usually surreal, distressingly sadistic affairs), cutting-and-pasting verbose art-history essays, and generally offering more accounts of my day-to-day musings.
My graduation from college came and went, I migrated back to my very small hometown, I married my girlfriend, began my career, and sired a youngin’. I attempted to adapt myself back to the slower pace of life and restrain what had become an unmanageable intolerance for stress, but I found myself unable to make any sort of accommodation. As if I were out-of-body, I would helplessly watch myself tear apart (and ultimately destroy) lasting friendships. I tormented my wife, extended family, and whatever friends I had left until I finally saw no other alternative but to seek out professional help. After a year of counseling, prescription medications, and even surgery, I have finally achieved what I would consider to be a lasting contentment…a real peace of mind. That is not to say that I have perfected being Mr. Perfect, necessarily. But I am proud of the improvement I have been able to claim, and I see myself in an excellent position to attain more.
Well, as unfortunately brief as the account I have given is, I am bored with it already and eager to be done with this ghastly collection of writing. To those whom I can contribute loyalty, I thank you for comments, but I cannot allow you to come with me. To those that will happen across this journal after the posting of this entry, please let it be known that what you are reading is an obsolete account of a person who is, for better or for worse, dead. I wish you luck in finding my new journal, which I should be beginning in the next couple of weeks. No goodbyes, though…it would be silly to be so cliché in a self-proclaimed departure from the already wearisomely hackneyed. So that’s it.
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| Boredom on the Job Made Me Do It |
[22 May 2008|03:22pm] |
I really hate how bored I get at work. I am beginning to become fearful that the sort of apathy and lethargy that I am getting entirely too comfortable with will impact my performance when I return to graduate school this fall (well, return to school, anyways…as a graduate student this time). I have literally brought my own personal reading material to work (Slash’s autobiography, aptly named Slash as well as Brian “Head” Welch’s new memoir Save Me from Myself) just to pass the time. Now it appears that I will have to write some material to pass time. Thank God I only have two more months to pass in this terrible, terrible place.
Maybe I am too good at what I do for, um, my own good. I find myself having to pace my work in order to appear busy even in times when the office as a whole is jumping. I do not want to get a big head, but it is possible that this line of work naturally comes easy for me. You know what? I don’t believe that. No, I think I might know what it is: I am given tasks that are trivial given my training. That is most certainly the case! I have been trained in modern architectural design, art history, theory, mathematics, and physics…and here I sit drafting wall sections and assembling soils reports. I could have done this work without spending four painful years in Atlanta studying into the dirty hours and working sixteen hours a day in studio. Granted, I would more than likely be paid considerably less without the degree, but I want (and expected) more from my professional life than this firm is offering me. I cannot wait to get back into an intellectually-challenging forum with like-minded individuals in my company…people smarter than me. It will be thrilling. It is too bad that I will have to worry with things like grades, tests, essays, and studio reviews, though. If only my education were not based on such cut-and-dry methods of evaluation (that is not to suggest, however, that I have in mind a better system for quantifying or evaluating educational progress by any means).
Despite my rambling, I did come here with a subject for an entry in mind. I do have a plan. As I have said, I have been dealing with the tedious chore of entertaining myself in this down-period at work. Monday and Tuesday I completed the two aforementioned autobiographies (one of which I read in its entirety here at work over the course of that particular day). Wednesday and today I have hit the usual means of self distraction pretty hard…the internet. I spent some time on youtube listening to some of my favorite songs, watching illegal recordings of professional fights, what have you and so on. I have hit up ebaums world and browsed through its usual lineup of off-the-wall videos, images, jokes, and games. I have spent some time on homestarrunner.com watching, among other things, the new episode of “Teen Girl Squad” (eh, kinda funny). Then, for the hell of it, I went on livejournal.
I spent some time reading over my friends pages, and, please do not ask me why, but I felt compelled to read over Tony’s old journal entries. Well, I can probably tell you why I decided to do that. I recalled one of his most recent entries (recent is a relative term here)…something about a revival at “The Church of Wal-Mart and Latter Day Saints.” That was quite a piece…composed of the scariest kind of anger a civilized man can comprehend. By all means dangerous to the status-quo and endlessly entertaining for that very reason. Hell, I thought, if that is the revival, I sure would love to see the original written story about the dreaded Wal-Mart traveling preacher man. Tony wrote that it had been a year and a half since his first encounter with preach, so I knew I had my work cut out for me finding it.
Well, I found it. T’was interesting. I even commented on it those (now three) years ago (it is humorous to read how much respect Tony had for me at that time). But reviewing Tony’s very prolific journal brought me across a much more interesting find. Read for yourself:
I'm going to take a page from Glenn's book (or journal would be nearer to the mark) and allow everyone the opportunity to ask me six questions. No matter how off-the-wall, personal, random, or embarassing, I promise to answer 100% truthfully. So, come on, hit me with some of that Barbara Walters shit!
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
Post your questions, and I'll post my responses.
Ooh, a promise. A 100% promise! You know, there is no statue of limitations when it comes to those. Unfortunately for Tony, no one has, to date, posted any questions whatsoever. I cannot offer any speculation as to why that is…in my case, this is the first I have seen of this entry. If I had known about it sooner, I would have blown my chance with what would probably have been silly, trivial questions. It is clear Tony is looking for something substantial here. Who am I to refuse? Tony, I apologize for making a spectacle of the whole thing, but I simply must take advantage of the opportunity. It is with a profusion of profound thought and scrupulous effort that I have come up with the six best questions I can come up with. I expect the answers in the form of complete sentences and in MLA format.
Ultra-Mega-Death Question Number One: How are you today?
Ultra-Mega-Death Question Number Two: What is your biggest regret to date?
Ultra-Mega-Death Question Number Three: Did you gain any sexual excitement when your balls touched the balls of another man while double-penetrating his wife? I expect the 100% truth here.
Ultra-Mega-Death Question Number Four: What percentage of people in the world do you consider yourself to be smarter than?
Ultra-Mega-Death Question Number Five: What is the exact length of your erect penis?
Ultra-Mega-Death Question Number One: The sixty-four thousand dollar question here…Am I such a terrible asshole that you see no way in hell offering me forgiveness? Be elaborate, please.
Buckethead is probably the best living guitarist period! It is almost as if he is re-inventing the instrument. He is doing amazing things. He is also doing very bizarre things, but, if you will recall, Jimi Hendrix was booed off stage many times in his life, and he is considered far and wide the greatest guitarist of all time. The world may not be ready for some of the things that Buckethead is doing, but he has proven himself to be a phenomenal guitarist nonetheless and more than capable of playing the more pleasing guitar sounds (ie, the classics, shredding, whatever you’re into, really). But who is this man who claims to have been raised by chickens? Why the shenanigans? Shouldn’t he simply let his amazing ability be enough mystique?
Like I said…amazing.
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| Post-Surgery |
[08 May 2008|09:54am] |
The faulty parathyroid gland was removed successfully. My blood pressure is much better (averaging 110/65 with a resting heart rate below 50...the cardio training is paying off). The scar is ugly, the pain is pretty bad, and the nausea is terrible.
I will be able to write at-length about the operation a little later.
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| ... |
[02 May 2008|02:46pm] |
I am just returning from the hospital today. Clearly I have a tedious understanding of how our American healthcare system works. Obviously I did not receive my necessary surgery the week of my prior journal entry. In fact, I have just today completed my pre-op. I am scheduled for surgery on Tuesday (May 6). Supplemental testing has indicated that my condition is, in fact, an over-active parathyroid gland. Naturally the gland will need to be removed to return some of my hormone levels, my blood pressure, my blood calcium, and my inconstant moodiness back to working order. I look forward to the completion of the surgery and the observation of the subsequent physical and emotional changes, if any. Of course all surgery is serious, but this one, as far as surgeries go anyways, is pretty standard. I am not terribly concerned about my safety, but prayers are appreciated.
I really want to speak more on a sort of epiphany I have had the pleasure of experiencing just yesterday. It really put me at ease about a wearyingly exasperating mind-fuck. Even a casual reader of this journal would find in one glance that I have had extreme difficulty letting go of some personal resentments brought forth from a dispute between two former friends and me. It is never fun when any alliance of this magnitude—I would call them ‘best friends’—occurs, but I was particularly put off and hurt in this case, likely because of one real reason: I could not imagine how easily I was dismissed from a group of people I cared so deeply about (and assumed all the while that they felt the same way about me). I was extremely hurt and humiliated. I felt like I looked like a capital fool for making myself so vulnerable to a group of people who found it disturbingly easy to have fun at my expense. Even if a split was inevitable (and I believe it was), I wanted them to feel some compunction about the circumstances of the situation itself.
That is what it is. In the fallout of the situation, I immediately sought out professional therapy and consequently medication. These things were giving me some release, but there was still a nagging insistence somewhere in my conscious mind that wouldn’t let the situation go. Resentment swelled inside of me. I had a nigh-constant voice in my ear whispering why I should hate them, go kick their respective asses, kill them, get down on my knees and beg forgiveness…whatever. Something simply didn’t want me to let it go. Since I was actively involved in therapy, I felt like I would ask my counselor one last time if he could help me navigate the quandary that sucked the very life out of me.
“Do you remember the Enneagram personality types?” he asked me. I did. The Enneagram Institute published a model for personality and behavioral classifications that I found particularly useful. The model inscribes nine personality types (1. The Reformer, 2. The Helper, 3. The Achiever, 4. The Individualist, 5. The Investigator, 6. The Loyalist, 7. The Enthusiast, 8. The Challenger, and 9. The Peacemaker), each with two extensions to two other personality types. Every person, according to this model, can be classified within the bounds of a single personality type. If one is mentally and emotionally healthy within his or her respective type, he or she will follow similar characteristics to his or her healthy extension (that is, they will display some of the more positive characteristics of another linked personality type). Likewise, if one is mentally or emotionally unhealthy, they will display some of the poor characteristics of his or her unhealthy extension (hence the two extensions previously mentioned). Although I do not give the model due justice in my very brief summary, it is a simple model. You can find more information here.
He went on. “Tell me about Tony and John.” I proceeded to list some of their more defining personality features…some of the good, some of the bad. He listened while scanning a sheet of paper listing summaries of each personality type. Although I was not sure where he was going with this (that is to say, how it was supposed to help me with my problem), I was patient. At the very least, I found that the knowledge of my Enneagram personality has been a useful tool in understanding my own behavioral patterns.
Finally, after some silence, he looked up. “Tony and John sound to me like type sevens. Tell me if this sounds like them,” he commanded. I listened as he read aloud the paragraph-length summary of the personality type. Yes here, yes there…this sounds like them. So what? “Do you know how ‘Type Sevens’ deal with sadness?” he asked.
Before I go on, I think I will entitle my reader to the type seven personality description. The following is a quote directly from the Enneagram Institute (EI) website:
The Busy, Variety-Seeking type:
Spontaneous, Versatile, Acquisitive, and Scattered
Basic Fear: Of being deprived and in pain
Basic Desire: To be satisfied and content—to have their needs
fulfilled
Enneagram Seven with a Six-Wing: "The Entertainer"
Enneagram Seven with an Eight-Wing: "The Realist"
Type Seven in Brief
Sevens are extroverted, optimistic, versatile, and spontaneous. Playful, high-spirited, and practical, they can also misapply their many talents, becoming over- extended, scattered, and undisciplined. They constantly seek new and exciting experiences, but can become distracted and exhausted by staying on the go. They typically have problems with impatience and impulsiveness. At their Best: they focus their talents on worthwhile goals, becoming appreciative, joyous, and satisfied.
Key Motivations: Want to maintain their freedom and happiness, to avoid missing out on worthwhile experiences, to keep themselves excited and occupied, to avoid and discharge pain.
The Meaning of the Arrows (in brief)
When moving in their Direction of Disintegration (stress), scattered Sevens suddenly become perfectionistic and critical at One. However, when moving in their Direction of Integration (growth), gluttonous, scattered Sevens become more focused and fascinated by life, like healthy Fives.
The website goes on to list several famous people who share this personality type. Just for the sake of clarity as I go on with my narrative, I will furthermore list below the characterists of my own personality type, again cited directly from the EI website:
The Rational, Idealistic Type:
Principled, Purposeful, Self-Controlled, and Perfectionistic
Basic Fear: Of being corrupt/evil, defective
Basic Desire: To be good, to have integrity, to be balanced
Enneagram One with a Nine-Wing: "The Idealist"
Enneagram One with a Two-Wing: "The Advocate"
Type One in Brief
Ones are conscientious and ethical, with a strong sense of right and wrong. They are teachers, crusaders, and advocates for change: always striving to improve things, but afraid of making a mistake. Well-organized, orderly, and fastidious, they try to maintain high standards, but can slip into being critical and perfectionistic. They typically have problems with resentment and impatience. At their Best: wise, discerning, realistic, and noble. Can be morally heroic.
Key Motivations: Want to be right, to strive higher and improve everything, to be consistent with their ideals, to justify themselves, to be beyond criticism so as not to be condemned by anyone.
The Meaning of the Arrows (in brief)
When moving in their Direction of Disintegration (stress), methodical Ones suddenly become moody and irrational at Four. However, when moving in their Direction of Integration (growth), angry, critical Ones become more spontaneous and joyful, like healthy Sevens.
Perhaps one might already see some contention here among the two types. Surprisingly, the two are often attracted to one another in friendships and even marriages, although they tend to wear on one another more than any other two in a long-term relationship. It might also be worth mentioning that we (my therapist and I) did not pull these conclusions out of our asses. There is a criteria for making a decision about which personality type an individual will fall under. I was absolutely shocked, after said criteria were applied to me, how accurately my Enneagram type described me. Pressing on now…
“No,’ I answered, “I never really thought about it.”
“They avoid sadness. Even in cases where sadness is warranted, like, for instance, the death of a family member, they will allow themselves to be sad for maybe a day or so, and then they will find a way to dismiss the emotion altogether.”
I thought about this. “I recall when Tony’s father died, he didn't seem to show, at least externally, much emotion at the time.” I mused over the idea for a moment. “Do you suppose,” I asked, “that is why they at least seemed to have such an easy time getting rid of me?”
“Absolutely,” he answered. “Something [type] sevens have a hard time with is allowing themselves to deal with a difficult emotion. They will shrug it off as soon as they possibly can. Unlike you, who would contemplate both the frivolous and the meaningful to an absurd extent, they do not tend to.”
It was like you could see the light bulb go on in my head. My therapist has, due to my internal voice orchestrating intensive and deep thought about every single thing that may stick out in my mind for whatever particular reason or consequence, used the oxymoronic term “mentally retarded” to describe me. I say this is term is an oxymoron because he means that I contemplate so much that my mind is almost relentlessly a complete mess. Likewise, I have spent many hours following the specific confrontation that resulted in my removal from the “kliq.” I have needlessly went over different scenarios, words that were said, words that should have been said, actions that should have or have not been taken, what have you...I have allowed my emotions to convict me mercilessly. I have shown remorse and penitence. I have shown anger. I have felt badly about showing anger. I have absolutely tortured myself. And, being as idealistic as the classic type one, I expected the same out of them. I thought that, if they did not torture themselves likewise, they certainly should have. To bring the “retardation terminology” full circle, he, for the sake of clarity and comparison, called my two former friends “emotionally retarded.” They could not (or would not) allow themselves to be sucked into any emotion that they may not like or might slow down the momentum of the fun wagon. The only real option that they were afforded was my outright release…to go on as if I never existed.
It all finally made sense. For the first time in a long time, I was able to fully let go of the resentment I was harboring against the two of them. I was able to let myself go, as well. The conviction I had laid upon myself for my previous actions was finally removed from my shoulders. I understood why I was removed. I understood why they continue to ignore me (addressing me would consequently mean addressing emotions and circumstances that would hinder their desires as type sevens). I could sincerely forgive them.
It really is a good feeling, and it couldn’t have happened at a better time. With graduate school looming, I will be presented with a new opportunity to make friends while being able to fully remove any attachments I have had to the unhealthy friendships of my past. I will be among people of a common interest and intellect. I will be in an exciting city environment contrasted against where I have spent the last two years. I absolutely cannot wait. In the spirit of change, I have decided to go all out with this turning point in life. In the months to come, I will likely spend less time with the friends I have remaining because I feel like they are dragging me into a purgatory of sorts (due to their connection to the “kliq”). I will furthermore commit more of myself to my family…those who I can hold accountable to my high standards and expect them to be with me no matter what circumstances may come to fruition. Finally, at some point before I leave, I will be retiring this journal.
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| Allow Me to Shed Some Light...... |
[14 Apr 2008|05:05pm] |
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mood |
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 frustrated |
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I suppose I should write about these most recent things that have encumbered my schedule and usurped more of my attention than I would really think I would have to give at my tender young age—but then again, an old high school friend of mine died of cancer when he was 22. Again, I must beg pardon for foregoing my usual witty and tediously verbose writing manner. I do not think it is necessarily appropriate for this sort of entry, and I simply do not have any interest in dedicating such frivolous effort to such an unrewarding forum.
I will have to have surgery very soon, perhaps later this week. I discovered the need for surgery when I went to my general practitioner to have an ingrown toenail removed for a second time. After the minor operation, I complained of elevated blood pressure levels despite all of my best efforts at weightlifting, cardio training, diet management, and personal therapy/mood regulation. My doctor was concerned herself, and she asked if I would consent to a run of bloodwork. I of course consented and likewise offered my blood to the lab nerds.
I will skip ahead in time for the sake of brevity—indeed, I have found a use for such a thing…I daresay I have been long-winded in the past just for the sake of being precisely that, but no more. I was told upon review of my lab results that elevated calcium levels were discovered. This is not considered a normal condition by any means—in fact, I believe it is technically considered a “critical” physical condition, but only inasmuch to imply the need for remedy rather than a signal of something immediately life-threatening. According to my own amateur independent research, elevated calcium levels were either indicative of kidney problems, thyroid/parathyroid abnormalities, or severe cancer progression (which I of course did not have). They asked me for another blood sample, and I again gave them permission to enter my vein.
I returned to my doctor a third time to find out my new labwork results. It was, in fact, a problem with a parathyroid gland. It has been the cause of elevated calcium levels, high blood pressure, and, interestingly enough, mood swings and anger control issues. I was told I absolutely had to see a surgeon and have the gland removed, as it would only cause continued problems.
Today I am writing as I just returned from my surgeon’s office. We made small talk musing over the tattoos I had inked on my back since my most recent surgery and some of the anger management therapy I am currently attending, and he proceeded to do an ultra-sound on my neck to pin-point the troubled gland or cyst, whatever the case may be. After being uncomfortably stretched across a table with my neck out and up as far as it would go in either direction for more than twenty minutes, he shut down the machine and showed me the pictures he had taken throughout his search. He pointed out two visible densities and told me that one was perhaps a cyst and the other he had no idea what it was (but he made it clear that it should not be there). I was told I would be scheduled for an appointment at the hospital for further testing (perhaps an MRI) to find out what we are dealing with and how to handle it.
Before leaving the office, he directed me to some numbers that he received from the lab regarding my most recent line of testing. He pointed to a number above 250 (I forget the actual number itself). He said this was a measure of my parathyroid activity…a number that they never like to see above 60. He said that this number—whatever it was a measurement of—was dangerously high, and that it was no wonder to him that I have had to undergo anger management therapy. “In fact,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out of the office, “some people have gone crazy. Eh? Well, I will see you at the hospital.”
On my ride back to the office, I reflected on his words. I was less concerned with the operation or the physical condition. Rather, I put his last words on rewind over and over and over again. I thought of the difficulty I had in college making any real friendships. I thought of the depression I went through and the times when I would watch myself, as if I were outside of my own body, as I went on an angry tirade against friends and family alike. I thought about the nasty arguments with my wife where I would break things—including the windows to her car—to prevent focusing my anger on her. I thought about some of the arguments I had gotten into with my employer over creative and personal differences. I thought of every single time someone gave me even the slightest cross look. But, as it were, most of my thought went to those friendships I have most recently lost…the sort of friendships that I thought would last my entire life. I thought about how easily they passed judgment on me…how easily I was erased from their regard. I thought about how they continued to revel in pastimes that I was either a founder of or had a hand in formulating. I thought of the harsh words they said to me and behind my back long after I was forced out. I became bitterly upset.
None of us knew that it might have been beyond my control all the while. None of them had any idea they were basing their severe judgments on something that was not at all my fault, mentally, socially, spiritually, physically, or otherwise. What right do they have to do this to me? Who are they to judge me?! Should I tell them what is going on? Would they even care?
Then there is another, more significant question…what do I want from them? Do I want an apology? Well, I felt like they owed me an apology long before I found out about this condition, at least for the way I was spoken to…but no, I do not expect them to apologize for something out of their control anymore than I expect them to hold me accountable for it. Do I want their friendship? I don’t think so…I have seen the extent of their friendship, and it is pretty said, methinks. In fact, I think those who are still my friends have a pretty sorry idea of friendship (and no Glenn, I am not a ‘resource’…that is perhaps the most insulting and sad definition of friendship I have ever heard, and you are probably one of my closest friends, which is really sad). Now don’t get me wrong, I am not drifting back into the sappy bounds of “bro-ternal love and camaraderie” that I used to suck those poor bastards into…but I will always hold my friends accountable for their regard for my feelings. But, getting back to the question of their friendship, I would like to think that they were at least acquaintances. I would like to know that I am no longer the subject of jokes or scrutiny. I would like it if there were no hard feelings (and despite what you may say, there are…I have hard feelings, if no one else does). I would like to know that I could call them to chat if I wanted to.
I have done everything I know how to prove that I will do whatever it takes to make the commitments I promise to people. For my family and friends (but not necessarily for myself), I have undertaken therapy and medication. I have sought out and discovered the physical abnormalities as much as the mental and emotional ones. I simply do not know what else I could do to make what is now wrong right.
Post-Script: I do understand that a tumor on my thyroid and/or an over-active parathyroid is not 100% indicative of any specific, diagnosable mental/emotional/behavioral condition. I am illustrating and likewise remaining consistent with the opinions of no less than three different doctors in the correlations I do suggest, however. All the same, I do not mean to suggest that I have any professional or amateur ability to formulate said correlations on my own account.
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| Getting Bored |
[18 Mar 2008|03:12pm] |
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mood |
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I am getting bored with live journal. I am getting bored with my comfortable yet unfulfilling upper-middle class lifestyle. I am getting bored with my job. Boredom has caused me to slip into an inescapable funk—let’s just call it a funk—that has done nothing less than sap the contentment from utterly everything. Either I am too damn good for my own good, or this is the way everyone must feel.
Sigh…I have lied to myself and said I could be content with a meaningless life. Scale and relativity take the meaning out of meaning, so there really is no need to bother. All aspirations are methods of distraction from the inevitability of your—our—own deaths and subsequent demise. This all must really suck for atheists whom have nothing else to account for their respective existences but their own trivial, meaningless lives.
Ok, ok…I am kidding. Well, not necessarily kidding. Perhaps I am talking out of my ass, due in large part to being in such a horrible funk—again, we are calling this a funk.
I need to sit down and write. Writing feels somewhat meaningful, open to interpretation. My own academic experiences suggest that, at some juncture in history, there is a strong possibility that I will be considered brilliant or controversial. Whatever. Pointless.
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| Hardu Gay...HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! |
[26 Feb 2008|08:39am] |
Gather one and all...the circus continues!
The man below is Masaki Sumitani. He is a Japanese pro wrestler and the spouse of a lovely swimsuit model.
This is his wife:
Why, then, is this man known as "Hard Gay?"
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| Feeding Our Monkey |
[25 Feb 2008|10:29am] |
My wife and I are in a bit of a debate regarding the nutrition of our baby. It has been my understanding that breast milk is ideal not only for physical growth and development, but also for immune system development, increased intelligence, and digestion. We discussed our plan for nutrition long before the baby was born, and we both agreed (at least at the time) that breast feeding was the direction we wanted to go.
Since then, however, I have had a substantial task in keeping my wife committed to breast feeding. She complains about discomfort (and I should mention that she only tried direct breast feeding for about one week), so we modified our plan and purchased an electric breast pump. Naturally (or at least it seemed natural to assume) difficulties arose. For one thing, breast pumps aren’t necessarily comfortable, to say the least…certainly not substantially more comfortable than a feeding baby (I am judging, of course, by my wife’s complaints about both). Secondly, pumping does not seem to be as rewarding a task as actually feeding the baby, so she likewise got bored with pumping in a matter of days. It became a chore, and the preparation process became more complex.
Again, our plan modified. We began to supplement breast milk with infant formula. My initial thought was that I would buy the most expensive formula I could find (as expense tends to be synonymous with quality in most purchases), but research indicated that off-brand formula was as good as any other, due in large part to strict FDA guidelines for infant nutrition. We settled upon Parent’s Choice, iron-fortified formula. The supplement of formula began. My wife’s chores (writing lesson plans for her long-term substitute, care for the baby, small housekeeping measures, etc) became more time-consuming, her boredom with pumping, and her general unhappiness with being completely shut-off from the outside world began to take precedent. The supplementation came to mean more and more formula-feeding. Although I was very vocal in my disappointment in this emerging trend, it continued nonetheless. Now, with my wife back at work, our baby is almost entirely formula-fed at only seven weeks old.
As a man, I am not afforded much say in the nutrition of our child. Women like to usurp the entirety of early child development for themselves, suggesting perhaps that since their bodies are responsible for the pregnancy and manufacture of milk, they are entitled to make the majority of decisions at this juncture. My disappointment in my wife’s decision has not been met with much understanding. Furthermore, I feel discouraged from complaining too vocally about the issue…told that my wife is entitled to refrain from breast-feeding for reasons such as “personal choice” or “comfort levels.” Perhaps the most disturbing notion that disallows my say in the matter is a general sense that men are wholly unable to determine a proper nutrition plan because of a lack of understanding. Of course I completely disagree, as I am very much interested in decision-making, even this early on in the childhood. Furthermore, I think that the decision is a rational one…one that should be based on research rather than “comfort.”
I did in fact do a bit of research on the matter. All sources I have come across, while trying to offer a pros and cons perspective for both options, have maintained that breast milk is ideal and I daresay even perfect for infant nutrition and digestion. There seems to be no issue on nutritional value, as another consistency among sources is that formula provides more than adequate nutritional value for physical development. Furthermore, one factor worth mentioning (that I had heretofore not considered) is the health/diet of the mother. While my wife is as healthy as you would expect a 25 year-old woman to be, her diet is, in my opinion, very poor (she is a squeamish eater, and as such does not get nearly the variety of foods that she needs in her diet). Since our selection of formula is iron-fortified, I would not have to concern myself with my wife’s general lack of meat consumption. On the other hand, she has a mature immune system that could have passed valuable anti-bodies to our baby, thus better promoting general health. Additionally, research has indicated that breast milk is more easily and comfortably digested, thus preventing digestion problems and enhancing the absorption of nutrients. Breast milk moreover lends itself to increased intelligence, as breast-fed babies tend to have higher IQ’s than formula-fed babies by a margin as substantial as ten points. Finally, breast-fed babies are less likely to suffer from adulthood obesity. I am certainly interested in the issue of healthy weight gain, and I know that American women have plenty of image issues without bringing obesity to the table.
Last night I walked into our bedroom and sat down beside my wife, already in bed. I told her that, although I had agreed that her schedule was far too demanding to expect her to be able to breast feed and maintain her current workload, that I was simply unwilling to have our daughter entirely formula-fed. I reminded her that she has not pumped in several days, and it is likely that her milk supply is substantially depleted (if not gone altogether). I asked her to promise me that she would follow-up with her ob-gyn and get a prescription that they had offered on a prior office visit that would increase her milk supply. I told her that while our baby could not be exclusively breast-fed, I want her diet supplemented with breast milk. She agreed to my terms, perhaps because she simply wanted to go back to sleep without incident.
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| Party = Crashed! |
[29 Jan 2008|03:43pm] |
I have to continue my pause from the usual intellectual play to mention a small moment of joy and victory.
It's funny, really. My words are always taken way more seriously than I want them to be when I jest...totally ignored when I am serious. I suppose I can chalk it up to some tired cliche about life or "the way it/that is." I was never truly a John Cena fan, per se. I have always been impressed with his strength, his appearance, his entertaining performances, and his mic skills. He seemed to have everything necessary to be a superstar. I am inclined to agree with many purists that he is entirely too baby-faced in the era of the "anti-hero," but I have seen others do the very same (I daresay that some have done this much worse) with none of the venom shot at Cena. Jeff Hardy's horrible mic skills and cheap crowd bumps come to mind. Perhaps "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan's abhorrent "U-S-A!!" chants and wretched ring presence are overlooked due to his legendary status...the very same status that prevents me from offering any critique on Ric Flair, Mick Foley, or Jerry Lawler. I suppose what I am trying to say really is that the transgressions attributed to Cena are not the worst in their respective categories, and the reaction I see is difficult to justify.
Did it ever occur to the purist fan that this is perhaps the best way to generate legitimate heat for a particular personality? Vince McMahon is booed on live television but beloved by every fan that booes him after the show ends. Gone are the days that fans believe so wholeheartedly in a gimmick that they feel the need to make death threats to the wreslters' respective private residences...indeed, the fans' interaction with the industry has transcended that, for better or for worse. Not even once have you purchased a pay-per-view whilst salivating over the notion that Cena will--FINALLY--lose his title? Did it ever occur to you that in five years time you will look back at Cena's hey-day with a sort of disappointment in yourself for falling so easily and so earnestly for nothing more than savvy business play (I know I did for my hatred of both Hollywood Hogan and HHH)?
When John Cena crashed the Royal Rumble and took home the victory, I could not be happier! As it were, Cena crashed your party. And since my positive words for Cena were taken so seriously that my fan patronage was given to him even without my consent, it was if I crashed your party. Eat my ass, bitches! I am now a John Cena Fan by my own profession.
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[15 Jan 2008|04:11pm] |
I am sure this is an absurd question before I even ask, but I will ask anyways (rhetorical bit of reflection, of course…I do not literally expect someone to answer…or read it, for that matter). Have you ever met someone who has experienced something you have not? Have you noticed that she or he (new level of political correctness!) will try to either instill insecurities in the event that said event is an inevitability or attempt to convince you that such an experience is utterly beyond either your comprehension or capability? A bit long-winded for the direction I am taking this, but I am sure that my reader understands what I am speaking of.
At any rate, perhaps for the first time in my life, I was in fact completely unprepared for what took place just one week ago! For the first time, I am a father. For the first time, I am old, disengaged from those pitiable sorts of self-indulgences—methods of distraction from the unalienable truth that our lives have hitherto went unfulfilled—that we too often mistake for personal freedom. For the first time, I know what it is like for my life to have a discernable and I daresay even fervent meaning.
It has taken me a while to sit down and attempt to write out the feelings and reflections I have discovered over the last seven days. To be honest, sometimes words simply cannot encompass or even render an insipid illustration. Sometimes words are inappropriate (although I must confess that I have learned this hard lesson only recently). To bring forth such an injustice, I must beg pardon. If this is love that I feel for my new baby girl, then I apologize for offering such an ineffective counterfeit to those who have loved me in the past. All my strength—every fervency I can afford—I give to her. My life is lived only in the hope that it will make her life better. My ambitions are sought out and acted upon in the hope that she will somehow be made better by my efforts.
Indeed, my life has meaning. And it is precisely because of this that I feel sorry for those who do not know the joy I now know. I feel compelled to say such things because I suppose I get the feeling that some people might read this and think to themselves, “better him than me. I enjoy staying out late, drinking, driving fast, doing the nasty with bar whores, going to orgies in far-away lands, and spending my money on frivolous shit. Oh no, this ‘staying-home-and-taking-care-of-a-baby’ thing just isn’t for me.” You pitiable, wretched fools! Your indulgences leave you empty and stain your soul black. You will make fun of me…tell yourself that you are better…and live the rest of your life in silent regret, restraining depression either by keeping it bound internally or denying it altogether. Until you know what it is to have meaning (and believe me when I tell you that instant-gratification is anything but meaningful), you will never know the joy I know. None of this is meant for any specific individual, and I do not mean to suggest that a baby is the only way to find meaning in life. It simply did the trick for me.
HA! I suppose I let my robust enthusiasm get the better of me for a second, there (I love the word ‘robust.’ I believe I will start saying it more often). I am done writing. Behold real beauty.
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[02 Jan 2008|09:43am] |
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Your loss...
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| Island Scenario (and the most fun I have had yet on LJ) |
[29 Nov 2007|10:00am] |
A LJ buddy o’ mine had an interesting entry. It reads as follows:
Let's play a game. We'll call it Form Your Own Government.
Let's suppose you and a hundred of your best friends (or a thousand, or whatever) are going to buy an island (with at least an acre per resident), and form your own country. Tell me what your rules would be. How would you form a perfect government?
There were a few more inquiries and suggestions, but the intention of the game is intact in the quote above. I was intrigued far more than one might be to simply write a short response in her journal, so I thought I might export her game over to my own journal and write at length without the worry of enforced brevity. So let’s do the damn thing.
Two things initially stand out to me as noteworthy…the island environment selection in addition to the scale of the population. These factors thus generate an intimately-sized, isolated society that will likewise characterize itself perhaps more profoundly by these factors than my own interventions. Duly acknowledged, and one would do well to keep these things in mind when considering my suggestions/formulas, as they will distinguish themselves appropriately. With those factors in mind, it would be additionally obliging to the reader to explain the values I would hold dear enough to impose upon a population. Now I am not beyond the inclination of other young, “enlightened” people (like myself) to hold logic and rationality in high regard in the formulation of society. Natural Law, particularly as illustrated by the somewhat archaic, I daresay even contradictory, interpretations of Thomas Hobbes and John Locke, is something I subscribe to every bit as much as Conflict Theory. Man needs society as much as society needs man. Whether we lived as Noble Savages or lived short and brutish lives before the formulation of society, man cannot contest that society is the product of necessity…it is in our best interests to conform, at the very least for the sake of self-preservation, if not for natural, unalienable rights. I will say that I believe society is the product of man (not the other way around), and there are obligations to the individual as well as obligations the individual has to the social whole.
I am also a romantic. Passion, war, social class, those things that constitute beauty, love, and hatred…the things that make men kill one another—the things that make men die for one another…it is those things—those romantic notions and actions—that give men intrigue. Logic is a tool. Romanticism is flavor. One cannot—or at least should not—exist without the other. It would not be without merit to suggest that my view of society is a dichotomous one where opposed human characteristics find a certain balance that defines how people interact with one another. These characteristics, then, are at work in my formulation of a government.
In the beginning, there would be the idea of The Two…one Paternal, and one Maternal (characterized not by sex but by gender…and there is a difference). The weaknesses of the one are the strengths of the other, and vice versa. Thus, the two would constitute a balance…equal, yet as unequal as two things could possibly be. A small council would be established via vote or physical fight/competition to represent each of the Two, and together the Paternal and Maternal councils would compliment and contradict one another with the initial goal of drafting a Constitution to rule and serve the people. Every individual would find his or her natural, unalienable rights and obligations to be defined by this constitution…protection from personal threat (until personal threat is deemed necessary), entitlement to property, endowment of a right to government (which will be discussed a little later), and a mandate to preserve the rights of others. The social contract would not be so without a concession of rights by the individual, of course. Upon one’s Coming of Age, he or she will be expected to pay taxes (thus supposing the need for currency), and, when called to do so, perform social services, municipal labor, and/or serve on a jury. Thus, the concession of rights in addition to the provision of rights deemed unalienable would be outlined and clearly defined (more clearly than I have time here to illustrate) in a legislative, binding document.
I would be remiss if I did not include in this document a characterization of government. Age would be a convention revered as synonymous with Wisdom, so the government would naturally be composed of elders. The Two Councils would constitute a single representative, albeit dichotomous government. The Two would legislate as rivals, each according to its own charge and base of values (the Paternal would value strength/power, stoicism, the aptness of war, fearlessness, athleticism, sexual aggression, and discipline while the Maternal would value love, emotion, peace, vulnerability, home-making, passiveness, sexual reserve, and meekness). There will be no provisions for balancing the power of the other, so the Two can grow weaker and/or stronger as voters (if voting is indeed the means by which individuals elect their representatives) deem appropriate for the issues at hand at any given time. There would be no executive member of the dueling body…only a Mediator whose sole responsibility is to preserve the order and fairness of the legislative sessions.
Judicial duties would be provided by individuals within the Legislature as well. Each trial would call upon the services of five members (the gender that would compose the majority of the five would depend upon the criminal/civil charge). A jury of 15 peers would be arbitrarily chosen to determine innocence or guilt, while the five judges would deliberate upon a sentence (not unlike our own system). There will be no system for appeal, and sentences would be final (although each would carry with it provisions of reduction as deliberated upon by the five). Sentences could include imprisonment, additional enforced communal service, fighting at Solstice reveries for the entertainment of the community, monetary fines, and, if necessary, death via public stoning (all are welcome to partake). I really am disinterested in this particular branch of government, so the lack of innovation is somewhat justified. I simply want to characterize scale and responsibility to the interpretation of law as accounted for and deemed necessary.
A laissez-faire, currency-based economic system would be in place. The market would govern itself entirely. I sincerely believe that the scale of this society will make a complete lack of government intervention possible and appropriate. If an iniquity exists, then the individual will, through social convention, do what he or she must to remedy the situation himself or herself. There will be no provision for the weak or poverty-stricken (other than those outlined in the Constitution, of course). The weak will be either expected to become strong or taken in at the mercy and discretion of others.
Perhaps the most absorbing point of discussion would be social convention. Indeed, the zest and romance of society will prevail in the annals of history over the straightforward raison d'être behind sheer preservation itself. The Dichotomous Two would be as much a social institution as a governmental one, as the Paternal and Maternal would be venerated by the individual as encampments within himself or herself, dueling yet all the while restoring balance. Annual festivals for the Paternal would be celebrated on the Summer and Winter Solstices while celebrations of Maternity would be held during the Fall and Spring Equinoxes. Men and women would be expected to meditate daily to find the balance within themselves, while festivities would permit the indulgence of the One (the Paternal would celebrate war, sex, and fervency while Maternal reveries would honor the home, family, and tolerance). Economic and social disputes would be settled on one of the four holidays (whichever occurs immediately after dispute), according to the ethos of the celebrations themselves (that is, on a Solstice, those involved in the dispute might resolve their problems via contest, with the victor taking not only the object in dispute but also the wife/husband of the loser for a single night; during an Equinox, arbitrations presided over by an independent third party would be held, and compromise would be decided upon). Out of the respective images of the Two would be brought forth a god and a goddess…brother and sister embroiled in tumult amongst themselves. Priests devoting their entire lives to the services of their respective deity would demand equal loyalties from each individual to maintain the balance of society (if the god of war and fervency becomes too powerful, the passions of the human spirit engulf the population, and social unrest would be forthcoming; if the goddess of love and tolerance took precedent, the community would surely fall victim to its enemies in war). The feud between the gods reciprocates the peace of society, and balance must always be maintained.
Wisdom, which would be considered the product of Age, would be celebrated as well. Indeed, upon one’s Coming of Age (that is, the onset of puberty), the individual would be welcomed into society. A week-long celebration would be held in the house of the individual’s parents, including lessons on love, war, the home, and reason. Sexual interaction would be deemed acceptable upon the commencement of this ceremony, although monogamous marriage and forbearance would be encouraged (again, to maintain the balance, one cannot be pushed upon the individual more than the other, and individual liberty would take precedent above all). After the Coming of Age, young adults must maintain their studies (education is a human right provided for by the taxes of the state) along with the apprenticeship within a trade decided upon by the individual. For ten years, this balance must be maintained, and, upon the tenth year, he or she would be deemed a “Master” of his or her trade/profession and likewise able to earn an income. Upon twenty years of service to the community through his or her respective line of work, the individual will become eligible for governmental service, and he or she can elect to opt for office. One must lucidly display a respectable balance of Paternal and Maternal, but can run under the banner of either as an officer of government.
I suppose the last thing I would really like to speak on would be the maintenance of society (that is, municipal services, policing, taxation, and what-have-you). Utilities such as electricity, running water, public roads and walkways, public places of assembly and beauty, waste collection and management, policing, education, higher education, healthcare, and behavioral/cognitive therapy would be deemed human rights provided for by the state via taxation (heavy taxation, to say the least). On the other hand, individual liberty would again take precedent, as one would be entitled, if so inclined, to opt out of any of these services (as long as by doing so he or she does not hinder the services to others, of course). All of these services could be offered by the private sector and provided on a contractual basis if an individual or a group of individuals would like a service to go above and beyond what is provided, although it would be unlawful for contracted services to interfere with state-provided services to others, and exemption from taxation would certainly not be allowed. To maintain a healthy balance of power, police will be held accountable to the public at least twice a year (on both a Maternal and a Paternal celebration), and they will be judged according to their fairness and use of reason. Penalties could include tar-and-feather humiliation, combat entertainment, brief detention in public jails, imprisonment, or perhaps even loss of job. Rewards could include pay increases and/or bonuses, sexual favors, promotion, or early qualification for governmental office.
Of course there are a million things I could discuss, and I certainly did not intend/expect for this bit of discourse to take the direction that it did! The romantic infatuation with dueling aspects of human nature is one I chose somewhat arbitrarily while maintaining my esteem for the magnificence of human impulse and the veneration of human reason. You will find a balance of each the direct result of barefaced war with one another. Religious institution battling intuition. Those things sometimes deemed deplorable are distinguished. Those sorts of things other people aspire to remove from his or her respective society are integral to mine. I also maintain a mildly idealistic association with Hegelian Historicism and his assertion of a utopian finality. I would like to believe that this society’s obsession with balance of conflict could perhaps translate into such inevitability. Comments?
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| One Last Time |
[13 Nov 2007|10:50am] |
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Looking over past entries, it is abundantly clear to me precisely why I have so much difficulty discovering and/or maintaining lasting friendships. Not only are my reactionary attitudes regarding certain circumstances particularly disturbing to others, they either tend to over-apologize on my own behalf or they fail to accept due blame entirely (two unacceptable extremes, as it were). It is not completely unfounded for a person of my personality type to behave in such a manner, but whatever precedent my personality may set does not excuse the fact that this is, in fact, unhealthy behavior. For this reason, I have taken some measure of action to perhaps remedy past errors, at least inasmuch as to set a constructive standard for my current and future behavior. Here I go:
The first thing I have done is made private some of my more incendiary entries directed towards an individual or group of individuals. Understanding that I have already expressed a need to be absolutely certain that apologies are warranted, I do believe I owe these individuals an apology. You know who you are…however I may feel about you notwithstanding, there is absolutely no reason to rail on someone in such a bully pulpit while offering no medium for contrition or even self-preservation. This sort of behavior is completely uncharacteristic of the type of person I am striving to be, and I will certainly do my best to prevent such emotional outbursts in the future. Even if there were some means by which I might make this up to you (and I cannot think of anything), I know that you would not allow it anyways. So my apology is the only thing I have to give…and I give it to you. Do what you will with it (shit on it, for all I care).
The second thing I need to do is adjust my behavior while recognizing that this guiding principle does not necessarily conjecture a selling-out of who I am. After all, I am disgusted by who I used to be…what loyalty must I afford such a barbaric and pitiable wretch of wasted human flesh? No, I owe that person nothing, and he is dead to me (I think he might have been dead all along). I can recall the asinine M.O. that allowed me to justify my disconcerting behavior and brooding train of thought. As silly as this may sound, I thought of myself as an artist, destined to endow the world with some measure of greatness (whatever that may have been…I must admit that I had not found my point of genius). I accepted the pain of being shunned because I suppose I thought that all artists—those who truly are/were artists—suffered. I simply felt that this was the burden that I was to bear. And I suppose I expected the rest of the world to intuitively know and acknowledge my behavior as acceptable (after all, it was the world that was to receive the fruit of my suffering). Are you laughing yet? I am. I am literally laughing as I write this. I would’ve loved to believe that I was mentally and emotionally mature for my age…how wrong was I?
The third thing I need is not only to amend my characterization of alliance, but I need to actively seek out new friends and acquaintances. Regarding how it is that I define “friendship,” there should be no question as to what my problem was. For reasons I have listed and elaborated upon entirely too many times, I put too much weight on the significance of friendship. I expected undue loyalty from those unfortunate to be roped into my strange world (the kind of loyalty one might expect from a spouse…minus the sex). I am very embarrassed to account for all of this now, but I still cannot help but laugh at myself. Where did I even get such notions? Where did I find the means to justify setting such a precedent? I am sure I don’t know! I can only speculate that my previous accounts are the most accurate (again, I sincerely do not wish to re-hash aforementioned seething). At any rate, in regards to meeting new people, I think that the need is self-explanatory (and rather boring to write about). It should be copiously unambiguous what my course of action should be and will be.
You know, I said in a previous entry that I would not mention the details of my therapy and/or any medications I may be put under. For some reason, however, I do not feel the need to keep the measures I make for the sake of my own mental health clandestine anymore. I take measures to preserve the health of my body, and I am certainly not ashamed of that! Why should I feel any different about mental health? I have been referred to a psychiatrist, and I have been prescribed medication. Precisely which medication and what my diagnosis is I will not mention not due to shame, but largely due to irrelevance. What is relevant is that I have conceded the need for some corrective measure, and I have done all that I can in the time I have had to that end. So far, I have found my efforts rewarded far beyond what I expected in such a short amount of time. I have said before that I have found genuine contentment through therapy but have been yet unable to control my anger in any effective magnitude. Having been medicated long enough for the foreign chemicals to saturate themselves in my system, I have found my moods more easily regulated. There have been some irritating side effects (perhaps the most irritating is a persisting drowsiness and a more universal sense of apathy), but said exasperation pales in comparison to the benefits I have had the pleasure of experiencing. In addition to the medication, I have been instructed to read some very interesting literature regarding my cognitive patterns and appropriate corrective measures. I must say that, despite being intrigued by most all of what I have read, I have found some of the literature to be more useful to me than other material. My faith in therapy is nonetheless reinforced by all of the positive effects I have enjoyed, so I tolerate some of my failures with the success.
I suppose the last course of action I should undertake is to end entries like these. Perhaps writing about external and I daresay even trivial circumstances would not be such a bad thing after all. It is very difficult for people to relate to the internal conundrums of the individual, and I suppose it is unfair of me to expect someone to tolerate such things. Besides, if I were to endow the world with some reformative contribution, it certainly will not be an account of my woes. That would benefit no one (not even myself). I am bored with this entry now. I am not certain it is conveying what I wanted it to, but these things tend to take on a life of their own.
Watch the movie Magnolia. You will be impressed.
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| I love YouTube (Part One)! |
[08 Nov 2007|11:03am] |
I know, I know...its a media dump for the masses. But there exists genius among the masses. I have wanted to do a tribute entry for YouTube for a long time now. It has been one of my favorite sites for quite a while now. If you were to have a look at my account details, I have viewed nearly 1,500 videos! I have found the very hilarious (some of which I will share here), the very profound (illegal copies of movies, speeches, or events...some of which I may show at later times), and even the very disturbing (I may or may not show these...some might violate the terms of Livejournal). I am, as it were, in a very light-hearted mood as I write, so I think it would only be appropriate to echo my mood with some of the more humorous videos I have found.
1) Combinations: Music performed by surprising artists. It is most hilarious to me. I hope you, my beloved reader, will agree!
Kinda redundant after some time, yeah? Well hows' bout dis one?!
Ok! Enough with the "urban" music. I like metal! I require metal! Wait! What the hell is this?!!
2) People simply being dumb: While I have very little tolerance for this in my presence, if I can watch from a reasonable distance, I find it all hilarious! Who doesn't want to have his or her ass kicked by a celebrity?
Good, yeah? Ever heard of a "one hitta quitta?"
Who is this guy?! He wants what?!
I am not sure if this is lunacy or talent. Funny to me regardless (but I do apologize for some of the language).
This thing is freakin awesome!
In the case of children, I am inclined to cut them a break. They only know what they learn from others.
3) Animals. You can always count on animals to be funny! Let's start with the funniest of them all.
I would be sick of watching videos by now...so I suppose I will stop. More to come.
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| Interview of Bill Watterson |
[02 Oct 2007|11:23am] |
Calvin and Hobbes has to be the funniest, best drawn, and most intellectually stinging comic in American history. I have enjoyed the strip from an early age (although I concede that only in my adult years did I find myself fully able to appreciate it). The strip's creator, Bill Watterson, is a delightfully reclusive, cynical, and wholly intriguing individual himself. At any rate, and to my chagrin, the strip was retired in 1995 (Watterson cited his difficulties working within deadlines in addition to the nigh-constant batering with syndicates as the primary impetus for his retirement). Although we have been graced with the occassional anthology and a number of sporadic written works, Watterson has otherwise disappeared off the radar entirely...that is until 2005 when his syndicate published a brief Q & A. I hope you enjoy.
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Fans From Around the World Interview Bill Watterson
Mark Mulvey • Port Murray, NJ
Q: Are the adventures of Calvin and Hobbes similar to your own childhood, or is the strip a way for you to create stories you never experienced as a kid?
A: I'd say the fictional and nonfictional aspects were pretty densely interwoven. While Calvin definitely reflects certain aspects of my personality, I never had imaginary animal friends, I generally stayed out of trouble, I did fairly well in school, etc., so the strip is not literally autobiographical.
Often I used the strip to talk about things that interested me as an adult, and of course, a lot of Calvin's adventures were drawn simply because I thought the idea was funny. In any given strip, the amount of invention varied. Keep in mind that comic strips are typically written in a certain amount of panic, and I made it all up as I went along. I just wrote what I thought about.
Charles Brubaker • Martin, TN
Q: What do you think of the comics section since your retirement nearly 10 years ago?
A: It took a while, but now I read the comics almost like a normal person. This is not a great age of newspaper comics, but there are a few strips I enjoy. Things could be better, things could be worse.
Meghan Bolton • Columbia, MD
Q: How would Calvin the six-year-old be different today in 2005 versus 1985-1995?
A: I usually tried to keep the strip relatively unanchored in time. Calvin's toys, for example, were mostly a wagon and a cardboard box, rather than anything up to date. I suppose a 2005 Calvin would be different, not because it's a different era, but because I think about some different things at this point in my life.
Suzanne Kaufmann • Charlottesville, VA
Q: So many of Calvin and Hobbes strips had some kind of moral/theological element that I wonder what your religious upbringing was and if it influenced that. (For instance, the "Love the sinner, hate the sin" strip as well as many Santa-related Christmas strips.) I'm guessing you were raised Catholic?
A: Actually, I've never attended any church.
Ben Gamboa • Whittier, CA
Q: Many young cartoonists are using the Internet to display their work instead of, or in concert with, print media because there are few barriers to entry and the medium provides the freedom to experiment with form, content, and color. Given your concerns over the state of newspaper comics, what do you think of this development?
A: To be honest, I don't keep up with this. The Internet may well provide a new outlet for cartoonists, but I imagine it's very hard to stand out from the sea of garbage, attract a large audience, or make money. Newspapers are still the major leagues for comic strips . . . but I wouldn't care to bet how long they'll stay that way.
Kodi Tillery • Kansas City, KS
Q: Did you ever have a real-life situation that you sorted out through depiction of a similar incident between Calvin and Hobbes? If so, can you describe the situation and the impact your strip had on it—i.e., did the people in your life realize they had made it into your strip?
A: I tried not to use my life that directly—whenever I started to cross that line, it felt exploitive. Real-life issues gave me a subject to work with, but then I made up the stories. Inconvenient facts were deleted, details were moved around, and wholly fictitious parts were added, all to fit the needs of the strip. My family certainly recognized the context of a lot of strips, but I tried to keep the true parts as just the starting point.
Alan Taylor • Lubbock, TX
Q: You have been very persistent in not becoming a public figure, and I respect that a great deal. Is there anything you would wish to tell the fans who do not understand your wishes and why it is important to you not to claim the spotlight?
A: My impression is that those who don't get it, don't care to get it.
Matthew Atkinson • Oklahoma City, OK
Q: What attributes do you wish were seen more commonly among children?
A: Good parents!
Timothy Hulsizer • Keene, NH
Q: You've often cited Herriman, Kelly, Schulz, etc., as comic strip inspirations. But who inspires you most in the fields of painting and printmaking?
A: At the moment, I'm looking mostly at artists from the 1600s, but I study any artist who tackles the particular issues I'm working with. Titian one day, de Kooning another. It wasn't my intention, but over the years, I've pieced together a modest understanding of art history that way.
Nick Samoyedny • Tarrytown, NY
Q: What led you to resist merchandising Calvin and Hobbes?
A: For starters, I clearly miscalculated how popular it would be to show Calvin urinating on a Ford logo. . . . Actually, I wasn't against all merchandising when I started the strip, but each product I considered seemed to violate the spirit of the strip, contradict its message, and take me away from the work I loved. If my syndicate had let it go at that, the decision would have taken maybe 30 seconds of my life.
Jonathan Fang • Riverside, CA
Q: Displayed not only through characteristics of Calvin and Hobbes, but also through your unique style of art, storytelling, and layout, you seem to stress the individual. You spoke to outcasts or people who did not seem to fit the "norms" of society (myself included) and no doubt made it feel OK for people to be different. Was that your intention when starting Calvin and Hobbes and how do you feel about individualism and originality?
A: I guess one thing I like about Calvin is that whether he fits in with the wider world or not is almost beside the point, because he can't help but be himself. Of course, when I started Calvin and Hobbes, my intention was simply to have a job cartooning. I had very few big ideas of where my work was going until it got there, but looking back, I think the strip generally shows my values on these subjects.
Meghan Bolton • Columbia, MD
Q: Was there anything you wanted to include but couldn't because of the syndicate, the editor, or the public? If so, what and how did you deal with the situation?
A: That was never a problem. I wasn't trying to push those kinds of boundaries.
Jyrki Vainio • Lahti, FINLAND
Q: Most cartoonists say they prefer the spontaneity and energy of their initial pencil sketches to their finished ink drawings. Do you have any thoughts on this as it seems that in your work it is the ink drawings that have the great spontaneous energy?
A: My pencil sketches were just minuscule notations of who was talking, so I have no particular reverence for them. In my case, the finished pictures captured more of the visual impact I was after. In fact, I did as little preparatory pencil work for the finished strip as possible, so the inking would be a real drawing encounter, and not a sterile tracing of pencil lines. Ink is a wonderful medium all on its own.
Dara Card • Orem, UT
Q: Is there anything about the strip you would change if you could go back? (NOT that it needs change! I think it is perfect the way it is.)
A: Well, let's just say that when I read the strip now, I see the work of a much younger man.
KT Misener • Ontario, CANADA
Q: What books do you keep reading over and over again?
A: Hmm. Suddenly I feel very shallow.
Interview courtesy of Andrews McMeel Publishing, LLC. Copyright 2005 Universal Press Syndicate
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| Welcome the Newest Member of the Prozac Nation! |
[29 Aug 2007|10:32am] |
Oh, Lord! What an absolute discharge of self-seeking garble! What a total lack of self-esteem! That last entry of mine was, although exceptionally well written, diverse in its utilized vocabulary, and stunningly witty when it wanted to be, a pretty remorseful show of a man who completely lacked any semblance of confidence or self-respect. Ah well, I guess I should give myself a little credit…it was, after all, a reasonably big bit of news. It was, after all, an initial reaction. Not to worry, though. I have my wits about me once again. I wont apologize for my initial reaction or criticize it any more than what I already have…just for the sake of self-preservation. If I am to have self-esteem, I cannot go tearing it down every time I do something dumb, right? Oh no…the apologies are all used up. Whatever dignity I have left, I will employ to my own ends…by my own means. But I will miss J’s musical expertise. How will I ever find quality metal now?!
At any rate, in keeping with some promises I made to others and myself, I have scheduled an appointment to see a therapist. While normally I would prefer to keep this sort of thing confidential (as I am a private person generally), I am feeling outlandishly open about it. I suppose I believe a clandestine approach to only echo ignominy, and I am not interested in being ashamed of helping myself. The decision isn’t without irony, however, as I have candidly condemned those who sought out therapy many times in the past (despite knowing more than a few family members and close friends who have seen professional therapists). Regardless of my former insensitivity, I believe my choice to be the correct one. I will, however, keep the details of said therapy as well as whatever medication/treatment I may be prescribed to myself I think. It would be more amusing, after all, to see if people notice a real difference in my behavior or if they anticipate change so heedlessly that they warp their own vision to reconcile their anticipation with reality. Time will tell.
I am just finding out that we might have a problem with the mounting heights on every single toilet fixture we have drawn and specified on at least four recent projects we have completed in addition to at least two in the construction document phase and/or construction administration phase. After reviewing mechanical drawings, we realized through some investigation and discovery of some inconsistencies that ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act—1990) compliance might be strained. While the change (if change is ultimately deemed necessary) would likely translate into only a minor design intervention for future projects (move the fixture closer to the wall, eliminate L-grab bars, and replace said grab bars with two individual and separate replacements), it could be costly on a project we have currently under construction, as floor slabs have already been poured. There is a ridiculous preconceived notion that architects plan everything so tirelessly and have such an eye for detail that no mistakes ever make it through the cracks. Allow me to destroy that illusion right now…there are mistakes on every single project ever conceived by men. Indeed, the building you are currently sitting in caused some poor designer a severe headache at one point during construction. Its problem management that separates the successful from the litigated (not to suggest that those who handle problems well are good designers, necessarily).
I would be remiss if I did not give due thanks to my lovely wife for how she has helped me handle the events of the past week. When standing against a united force, it is not unfounded for them to try to convince an individual that he or she is the only asshole worthy of any and all blame. Of course I would fall for such nonsense…for all of my better qualities, I harbor a sort of pitiable inclination to internalize everyone’s problems as my own. While I have my fair share of issues, my beautiful bride has nonetheless helped me see past said character defects to see the flaws of others precisely where they don’t belong…haunting my ego and self-image. My biggest regret now is not realizing sooner where my time and efforts were better spent. She is perhaps the only person who could ever live up to my ridiculous, overblown terms of friendship (not that I expect anyone else to). For that reason, she is my best friend. She always has been. Thanks be to her for all of her love and support. To those who chose to remain my friend, thanks be to you for not imposing yourselves upon me and furthermore helping me define precisely which flaws I do in fact have.
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| No School Like the Old School |
[16 Aug 2007|10:54am] |
I don’t necessarily have time to write an outstanding piece of literature or a commentary laced with clever and amusing cynicism, but I can give some due accordance of my life and recent occurrences. I probably should have mentioned this before (and I probably would have mentioned this before if I felt like someone is/was reading), but I will reveal it now…my lovely wife is pregnant with a little girl…three months pregnant to be precise (and starting to look pregnant, poor girl). While I am utterly unprepared for being a father, everyone tells me that there is no real way to prepare oneself. Be that as it may, I acknowledge some solemn psychological conundrums I already have the misfortune of contending with, and I will take apposite steps to remedy or at least placate them. I will allow no advice on this matter, however. It is my responsibility (and mine alone) to decide what kind of father and/or husband I am, and if anyone thinks for one second that I will entertain even the most innocent advice without first asking for it, they are severely overstepping their boundaries and will be dealt with accordingly. I do not think it will be a problem with my friends as much as it will be with my (and her) family, though. My wife and I have narrowed the names down to two options, but we refuse to tell anyone about them, primarily because neither of us care to entertain anyone else’s opinions (once again, it is between the two of us, and we prefer to keep it that way). Again, our friends wont give a damn what we name the child…but our families will terrorize us to no end (and if you doubt this for one second, you clearly do not know our families). Anyhow, I suppose I am excited. I am very much concerned about the feasibility of my ambitions of returning to graduate school, but I am excited.
Graduate school. While I cannot even pretend to have enjoyed my undergraduate studies (primarily due to social inadequacies on my part), I am extremely proud of my accomplishments. I graduated from a school I have dreamed of attending since I was barely a teenager, and I did it with highest honors. During my graduation commencement ceremony, I sat on the field of the Georgia Dome, scanning the ten to twelve thousand proud parents sitting bored as they waited for their children to walk the stage. I recalled every sleepless night. I recalled every time I sat in my room feeling sorry for myself for inability to make new friends, for being so far away from my girlfriend and the close friends I already had, and for having so much work laid upon me that I knew I would not be allowed much sleep. I recalled every single bad studio review. I told myself that this day alone…these few hours made all of it worth it. To this day it remains the one accomplishment I am most proud of. I told myself I would have done it again.
Well, the time has come to do it once more. I have gained over a year of professional experience, and while the job itself is enjoyable, professional and personal differences between my employer and myself are reaching a boiling point (although I believe the tensions are my own and my employer is consequently oblivious). Although I have been given the responsibilities of a project manager (which I am grateful for and acknowledge that there aren’t a lot of firms that would trust such a new employee with such a demanding and vital job), I do have some personal issues with the firm and the principal himself. For one thing, I am the ONLY college graduate working in this office. As somewhat anticipated, I felt immediate and severe tension. Old, white-haired men suddenly felt threatened by the twenty-two year old kid and felt the need to affirm themselves by reminding me tirelessly of their professional practice and how it thwarts the meager experiences of college (even a college the caliber of Georgia Tech, no less…its all the same, after all). Established engineers suddenly had to, in the event of mistakes, omissions, and/or coordination issues, answer to me. Naturally they resent it and likewise give me a difficult time any chance they get. Their self-affirmation did not come by verbal offense alone, regrettably. Since I left Atlanta for the slower pace of small-town living (I told myself that I needed a break), I have had to deal with being grossly and inexcusably underpaid. Raises that were promised ended up being forgotten, despite impressing my employer with how quickly I was able to handle all of the responsibilities thrown at me thus far. While I cannot reasonably protest my salary when it comes to providing for my wife (hell, her teacher salary compliments mine rather agreeably, so she can provide for herself), I am very much concerned with how I could provide for my child.
At any rate, the affront is more than I can stand any longer. The longer I remain out of graduate school the less likely I am of returning (or so say the appropriate statistics). I cannot bear the thought of ending up in this job at this firm. Applying now means I will have taken a two-year hiatus from college. I have already begun the process of application. I took the GRE on June 30, and I have my results back. I have completed three of the four total chapters of my portfolio (a requisite for application to architectural graduate programs across the nation) and anticipate completing the portfolio itself by this weekend. All that is left to do is contact professors and professional colleagues (ha!) about letters of recommendation and actually apply. I have selected roughly ten schools I am sending applications to (most of which begin accepting applications by October). At that point, I simply wait here at my desk, smile at my colleagues, and fantasize about quitting.
To be wholly forthcoming, the fantasy itself was the principal stimulus for this update. Writing out a complete itinerary for the application process allows me to mentally assess just how much I have completed and precisely how much I have left to do. It gives me the feeling, perhaps unjustifiably so, that I am that much closer to getting away. While I am the first to suggest that running away from a job, a person, or any circumstance is perhaps the silliest and most ineffective way to contend with conflict, I am convinced that allowing oneself to slowly sink into stagnation is just as silly and futile.
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(I suppose I do have time for one little commentary…)
While in a local mall last weekend, I saw a young black woman wearing a t-shirt that made me simultaneously pity her and become immensely angry with her. Screen printed on this shirt was a picture we are all acquainted with…a diagrammatic drawing showing precisely how to maximize the load upon a common slave ship (the load being human bodies, of course). Above the image was the following text:
The Black Holocaust: 1619-Present.
Just for one minute allow me to be very indiscreet:
hol·o·caust - [hol-uh-kawst, hoh-luh-]–noun
1. a great or complete devastation or destruction, esp. by fire.
2. a sacrifice completely consumed by fire; burnt offering.
3. (usually initial capital letter ) the systematic mass slaughter of European Jews in Nazi concentration camps during World War II (usually prec. by the).
4. any mass slaughter or reckless destruction of life.
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.
I pitied her and grew angry with her for the same reason…her fundamental ignorance of her own history. Likening a slave trade (acknowledging those who died of disease and mistreatment) to a wholesale slaughter or “reckless destruction of life” (see above) is absolutely beyond me, and I wondered to myself if she even knew the difference. As I watched her walk into and out of various stores, gossiping vociferously amongst her friends, I pondered over the shirt…I began to wonder just how familiar she was with her own culture or fundamental lack thereof (depending on which ideology you prefer). I recalled my own education. I recalled reading the work of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, Maya Angelou (Marguerite Johnson ), Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, and most recently Barack Obama. I, a white man, have read white and black commentary on the civil rights movement, written both by contemporaries of the movement and my own contemporaries writing after-the-fact (assuming, of course, you regard the civil rights movement as over…some do not). I have read the Christian perspective of meekness, humility and tolerance. I have read about Black Nationalism…about the denial of American Black Culture as little more than wholesale reverse-psychology fabricated and preserved by whites (thus calling for a real black identity as the foremost qualification for liberty in a society that acts as an umbrella for so many different and often conflicting interests). I have read the literature of black poets, playwrights, and novelists that celebrate the same culture that Black Nationalists deem the condescending work of white devils. I decided, as I thought to myself, that I probably knew more about that girl’s own identity, conflict, and culture/”anti-culture” than she did. For that reason, I felt sorry for her.
I felt angry with her primarily because said ignorance on her part perpetuated a reality that I am deeply disturbed by…a reality that continues to put blacks at a social and economic disadvantage while simultaneously pointing the finger at me, a middle-class white man, as the proprietor of her grief, whatever that may be (she didn’t seem very unhappy shopping for purses). This girl, like so many before her, seemed willing to resign herself to raping her own culture—that is, to pull the “race card” as a means to an immediate end…to attain a job, to account for a mental, social, or ethical inadequacy, or to simply gratify some disconcerting desire to build her own esteem. Is this girl interested in helping her own people (assuming, of course, she acknowledges the need for social reform), or is she retaining her “ignorance” (perhaps a façade of ignorance) because it best serves her as an individual? I believed the latter.
Do understand…I realize that I presumed a lot about this individual. Perhaps she simply misunderstood the definition of “holocaust” or even thought the word presumptuous but felt it drove the point home a little better. Perhaps she even meant to challenge the teaching that the slave trade was anything less than an outright holocaust. Let’s hope I was mistaken. Additionally, I do not claim to have the answer for ANY social inequalities, racial and/or otherwise. In fact, I am moderately disinterested. I will allow people to hate me as the white devil or the male chauvinist so long as my individual liberties are maintained. Personal feelings are almost irrelevant in the fight for liberty…and as long as American cultural myths remain contradictory—that is, everyone is equal while anyone can somehow become the boss and social superior to everyone else—I choose liberty over equality. Let this woman be ignorant. I was merely contemplating.
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| Interesting....Something I Have Always Wondered About |
[03 Aug 2007|08:35am] |
Do You Keep Falling for Jerks?
By Evan Marc Katz and Linda Holmes
Repeat this to yourself one thousand times:
Screwed-up people are not more interesting than people with their heads together. Baggage is not fascinating, romantic, or exciting. It is very, very tiring. Men who are polite and emotionally mature are hot. Learn it, love it, live by it.
Linda
I have no idea whom to blame for the romantic mythology surrounding brooding, emotionally limited, narcissistic yahoos. I’m tempted to chalk it up to movies, where most men who start out as selfish jerks are eventually revealed to be wounded birds of some sort. Or it might be the uglier side of the therapy culture, which tempts you with the idea that these jerks might be amenable to solution, like crossword puzzles.
For whatever reason, there are a surprising number of women who are attracted to guys who can’t commit, who can’t relate, who can’t get along with anyone, who can’t tell the truth… these guys get a lot of action.
It’s not that women really want jerks, exactly. I think it’s a matter of mistaking emotional clutter for emotional complexity. Here’s an analogy: Imagine a messy apartment. You walk in, you survey your surroundings, and there’s an incredible quantity of stuff lying around. Books in tall stacks, Chinese food containers in the corners, DVDs in and out of boxes scattered around the TV… the place is in chaos. And while you wouldn’t really want to live there, there might be some part of you that would look around and grudgingly admit, “There’s a lot going on here.” Now, imagine the same apartment, once somebody has managed to get it cleaned up. The books are on the shelves, the trash is thrown away, the DVDs are alphabetized. This is a much nicer place to live. But it’s a little… you know, boring. And that’s in spite of the fact that the same books are being read, the same food is being eaten, and the same DVDs are being watched. You’re just in the presence of a person who knows how to clean up after himself.
I think that for a lot of women, guys in turmoil seem strangely fascinating, as if they are, by definition, more interesting than everyone else. There’s more of that clutter, so there’s more going on, and there’s more to sink your teeth into, and there’s maybe even more emotional depth to such a person.
Let me tell you something about the guys I know who are emotionally mature. The ranks of the healthy and rational include plenty of guys who have been in rehab, or been divorced, or seen their parents’ marriages end horribly, or had their own dreams thwarted in some ugly way—all the things that creeps are fond of waving around as explanations for why they lie or cheat on you or generally continue to be creeps.
The difference is that the healthy and rational people have at least undertaken the process of digesting all of that stuff and placing it in some sort of perspective so that it doesn’t have to become your problem. They know from suffering, just as much as the ones who sit around brooding into their beers and writing free verse and dragging everyone else into their little theater of agony. The sane ones are still working on their crap, too—who isn’t? The difference is that they’re not fetishizing their own misery or asking you to embrace it. And that’s a benefit to you, because the only thing you can guarantee yourself about that kind of hair-pulling drama is that if you cuddle up next to it, it’ll get on you.
You’re going to get plenty of emotional complications from anyone. Even people who have their lives very well pulled together are going to give you lots of opportunities to practice patience and understanding. There’s no point in starting out with someone who isn’t even trying.
Evan
According to Linda, many intelligent women prefer men with emotional complexities, even if it means that he can be verbally abusive, inaccessible, and generally loonier than Courtney Love on a bender. Now, I can’t speak for all men, but while I may have tolerated similar behavior, I can’t say I’ve ever preferred it. Any time I found myself dating a woman who was an emotional roller-coaster, the only reasons I stuck with her were because a) I was lonely and her presence in my life helped to fill a void or b) I was getting the best sex of my life. Lame, but true.
Put another way: Could you ever picture a man saying out loud, “There’s something that’s just so mysterious about her. Sometimes I look in her eyes and I feel like she totally understands me, and other times, I have no idea what she’s thinking. She runs really hot and cold but I can’t get enough of her. I think I’m going to stick around until I can crack her shell. One day she’ll learn to be more emotionally available and loving.” Tolerance for female ambivalence is not a stereotypically male attribute.
This isn’t at all to castigate women, as much as it is to acknowledge that women see more nuance in every scenario, so it’s no surprise that they give undeserving men the benefit of the doubt. But what for? Hasn’t every woman since the beginning of time had a thing for jerks and realized at some point that jerks were always going to be jerks?
I was the nice guy in high school who enjoyed being friends with cute girls who wouldn’t go out with me in a million years. I figured, “If that’s as close as I can get, I’ll take it. Maybe one day they’ll realize what I’m worth.” I would listen to boy problems galore — essentially, nice girls being treated badly by jerks — and not once did any of these girls ever say: “Hmm, Evan’s a great guy with a really kick-ass mullet. I’ll bet he’d be a wonderful boyfriend.”
But it’s not simply the rejection of the nice guy that’s keeping so many women single. It’s the acceptance of the screwed-up guy. Because screwed-up guys draw screwed-up women into a whole Misery Loves Company episode of Love Connection—where both parties are brought together not by the audience but by their insecurities and inadequacies.
All that “You can’t love anyone until you love yourself” stuff? So true. And if you’re choosing to date guys with major issues, you’re just as guilty as he is. Yes, everybody’s got issues, but not necessarily deal-breaker-type issues. Which is why women often say they’re seeking men who can fit their baggage in a carry-on. Unfortunately, there are lot of men who try to sneak a 75-pound trunk onto the plane and protest that it has wheels so it’s technically a carry-on. Women with issues are the ones who choose these guys.
Women who have their act together simply don’t have the patience. Admittedly, there are a few people who probably enjoy the histrionics and the moods and the make-up sex that come with dating drama kings and queens. But I’d bet that most are just willing to tolerate the drama, because, thus far, that drama comes attached to the “best” person they could find. Essentially, they’re saying, “Yeah, he’s inconsistent, selfish, and distant, but he’s all mine.” Just realize that every second you’re spending with the wrong guy is a second that you’re not out looking for the right one — the guy who gives, the guy who listens, the guy who learns.
Excerpted from WHY YOU’RE STILL SINGLE by Evan Marc Katz and Linda Holmes. Reprinted without permission from anyone. Copyright (c) Evan Marc Katz and Linda Holmes, 2006.
Article courtesy of Happen magazine, www.happenmag.com.
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A very fascinating commentary on a phenomenon I have pondered over since I was the nice guy in high school who couldn’t get any ass. In retrospect, it seems that even women that parade their single asses around saying here and there to anyone who will listen that they are, in fact, looking for the nice guys can’t seem to see that they are the ones leading their respective parades. It is rather wretched behavior if I may be so bold as to state an opinion. We men, whether baggage-heavy or otherwise, know exactly what we want. Why are women so incapable of valuing themselves? I am asking…please someone tell me. I have this dreadful feeling that I will be flooded with social inequalities generated, facilitated and wholly maintained by men (that is, an avalanche of bullshit). Take some responsibility, bitches!
EDIT: I just realized something! Reading over my past journal entries, I have discovered that I am hot! Ladies, form a single file line.
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| Rejection, Regret, and Senseless Vanity |
[10 Jul 2007|11:07am] |
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I recently asked another Livejournal enthusiast if I could borrow a forty question survey she generated for her friends. As it were, I also asked her if I could add her to my friends list. She allowed me to use her survey, but expressed no interest in having me as a friend. Story of my life I am afraid. I do not blame her, though. I would not want to be my friend, either. Lately, I haven’t even wanted to be myself. At any rate, here is another senseless act of vanity on my part:
1. What's a recent achievement you're proud of?
For me, this would have to be my graduation from Georgia Tech last May. The four prior years were probably the darkest of my life (which my journal is, no doubt, a testament to), and I was so miserably depressed—due in large part to my inability to make or maintain any solid friendships—that I even contemplated suicide a number of times. Fortunately, I did not go through with that, and I graduated with highest honors from one of the most difficult schools of architecture in the nation. I am probably too proud of this, really. I must annoy my friends.
2. What's the last good book you read?
This is a tricky question. I have read a number of books, but the question asks me for the last good book that I read. I haven’t enjoyed a book since I read Delirious New York by Rem Koolhaas. Architectural theory is generally nothing more than a showcase of ego and the insatiable desire to maintain “avant-garde” status. It is entertaining to say the least.
3. Who are some of your favorite authors?
Hmm…I tend to like the kind of authors that make some inherent commentary within his or her work, at least in his or her lifetime. William Faulkner sticks out in my mind. So does Aldous Huxley. I have a small fondness for H.G. Wells, but he isn’t necessarily one of my all-time favorites. I also like the less abrasive (although no less insightful) sort, namely Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Rousseau, and Edmund Burke. Finally, I have a dark fascination with the dangerous sort of authors (dangerous to the status quo, of course). Marx, Nietzsche, Dr. Timothy Leary, etc…just for the sake of entertainment, of course.
4. Who are some of your favorite bands or musicians?
My taste in music runs the Gamut. That’s right…the Official Gamut. The Red Hot Chili Peppers’ combination of dragging sad songs with crunchy funk beats will forever be my favorite. Then there is the dark side…Korn, Strapping Young Lad, Slough Feg, Iron Maiden, Tool, A Perfect Circle, Metallica, and Pantera. These feed the inner monster. Then there is the lighter side…Flogging Molly, Dropkick Murphys, REM, Primus, and perhaps even Motorhead. Then there is the feminine side…Natalie Merchant, Sarah McLachlan, Sheryl Crow, and Coldplay. No rap. No country. There are others that I am leaving off, but you get the idea….
5. Do you know how to play any musical instruments?
Yes. I can play the guitar. I have been playing it for seven years.
6. If you were given $10,000 dollars today, what would you do with it?
That is difficult to say, particularly because $10,000 is an interesting amount. I would definitely use part of it to pay off the remainder of my student loan. The rest I would probably splurge on a round trip to Japan. I was planning on going there in January of next year, but my wife and I decided we might better put those plans on hold…considering that she would be eight months pregnant by then.
7. If you could live in any building you wanted, what kind of building would you want to live in?
This entirely depends on what juncture of my life I am in. Right now, I would love to live in a loft in downtown Chicago or perhaps Manhattan. Later in life, I would prefer a house in a secluded, heavily wooded area (not suburban, mind you…much more secluded than that). I cannot account for precisely why I would desire such different living conditions. I can only acknowledge that it must seem strange.
8. What are some of your favorite plants?
When it comes to flowers, I personally like the orchid. It is such a hideous and fragile plant, yet it renders up the most beautiful flower, at least in my opinion. Very curious. I also like the live oak tree, sable palms (they remind me of south Florida…my original home), any vine (except cudzu), and hanging plants.
9. When you were a kid, what future did you imagine for yourself?
I had many ambitions as a kid. I am sure most young boys do. Of course I wanted to be a professional football or baseball player. I also wanted to be a fighter pilot (I would fly the F-14 Tomcat like Tom Cruise in Top Gun). I became interested in architecture while in high school. I was so impacted by my Ninth Grade Literature teacher that I decided right then (the fall of 1998) that I wanted to do something artistic with the rest of my life. Architecture is what I ultimately chose.
10. What's something that you're hoping will happen to you soon?
I am hoping that I will get the raise that my mentor promised me when I agreed to work for him. I am very doubtful (and disappointed, of course).
11. What's a great thing that happened to you once?
I got married last December. That was pretty great. If that doesn’t impress my beloved readers, perhaps the week I spent honeymooning in Hawaii might be impressive. Oh yeah…I got leid…at least four times (one of which was by some lady who was trying to raise money for her son’s Little League team). The orchids were beautiful.
12. What color is your bedspread?
Red.
13. Do you know how to sew, embroider, knit, crochet, cross-stitch, or latch-hook?
Not really. I did learn how to sew a button onto a shirt when I was in middle school home economics. To be honest, I thought it was more useful to learn how to make orange julius.
14. If you could make your own clothes or ask someone else to make them for you, what's something you'd like that's hard to find in stores?
Ooh! I have been thinking about this for a long time! I definitely want what Keanu Reeves wore in The Matrix Reloaded. His costume made him look equal parts cleric and ass-kicker. Did you just get chills? I know I did.
15. Have you ever done any woodworking?
Of course. I was an architecture student, after all. I made many wooden models, some of which I am very proud of (and still possess to this day). I also made some abominations. Not too many people saw those before I turned on them in a fit of rage and destroyed them.
16. Can you speak any languages other than English?
Unfortunately, no. I took four years of Spanish in high school, but without a close friend who is fluent in the language, I have been afforded no real opportunities to polish my very tedious knowledge of the language. It has all but left me now.
17. What are some of your favorite foods?
My taste in food is as eclectic as my taste in music. Perhaps a better question would be what are some of the things I do NOT eat. I personally dislike fish, although there are some exceptions, of course. I also do not like greens or any overly-greasy food. I would answer this question more in-depth, but it is proving difficult. I eat most everything. If I absolutely must give a favorite something, I would say that most Italian foods are near the top of my list.
18. What are some of your favorite beverages?
I love soda. I make love to soda. Cola is my favorite flavor. Pepsi if my favorite brand. If I had my little way, I’d bathe in Pepsi everyday. Millions of Pepsis…Pepsis for me. Millions of Pepsis…Pepsis for free! Give me a Pepsi Free…for free! Give me a Diet Pepsi, even if it does retard brain function. Give me a Mountain Dew….but only if there is no Pepsi.
19. What species would you most like to have as a pet?
Something feline. I love cats more than any other pet in the world. I want a tiger.
20. Do you have any pets?
Yes. I bought a beagle for my wife. I do not particularly care for the dog, but she absolutely loves her. She is cute and can be fun from time to time. I would rather have a tiger.
21. When did you last ride a bike?
1994.
22. Can you change a tire on a car?
Yes.
23. If you've been to college, what was your major; if you haven't been, what would your major be if you went now?
I attended Georgia Tech from 2002-2006. I majored in Architecture.
24. What's a major that probably doesn't currently exist, but that you'd like to see added to a college curriculum?
A very difficult question, as I am sure almost everything that I am interested in either has a major or is largely absorbed by a major of some sort. Let’s go with Dianetics. I would like to see this as a college major just to see what dumbasses would major in it. I liked Tom Cruise better when he flew F-14 Tomcats.
25. What are your favorite websites to spend time on, other than LiveJournal?
I regularly visit sherdog for in-depth coverage of MMA, a sport I am profoundly interested in. I also frequent homestarrunner.com. Youtube would round out my top three.
26. What are your favorite things to do at home, other than use the Internet?
I am entirely too restless at home. I absolutely hate to be there for extended periods of time. When I am home, most of my time is in fact spent on the internet. If I am not afforded that means to entertain myself, I will read a book, watch one of my many movies, or, on some rare occassions, I will watch television (I prefer not to, though). Of course I would be remiss if I didn’t mention conversation with my wife. She can be interesting to talk to…and annoying.
27 What's your favorite place to go, away from home?
Another difficult question. Is home my hometown or my place of residence? If I am simply leaving my house, I enjoy spending time at my friend’s houses, at restaurants with good company, or at public parks or wildlife management areas. If I am leaving town, I like to go to a couple of coastal cities nearby to swim at the beach, admire their architecture, shop their stores, and/or enjoy food that might not be offered where I live. If I am afforded the opportunity to escape my geographical location altogether, I would rather be in Ireland, Hawaii, or Japan.
28. What's the best pastime you've ever invented yourself?
I would like to think of myself as innovative, but I have never created a special way for me to waste time. I tend to utilize the well-known mechanisms.
29. If you meet me in person (or if we've already met, then if we meet again), what should we do together?
I seriously doubt that you would have any interest in doing anything with me. Not that I feel the same way. I think you seem very interesting and intelligent. But I am what I am, despite my best efforts. Even though I don’t owe it to you, I do apologize. I want so badly to better fit a more comfortable mould.
30. If you were stuck in an elevator with me, what would you do?
Try to get out. Spend the time waiting for the fire department or whoever talking about this or that. Probably try (and fail) to be funny.
31. Are you more of a pessimist or an optimist?
I am a realist. I am not particularly optimistic. I am not particularly pessimistic. I am whatever I need to be in order to achieve whatever specific goal I happened to be striving for necessitates.
32. Do you believe in any supernatural phenomena?
Like ghosts? No. Do I believe in God? Yes.
33. What do you like most about your body?
I like my frame. I am 6’-4”, and I weigh 245 pounds. It is not difficult to develop a muscular build, and I rather enjoy the shallow respect a large build demands. You do not have to respect me per se, but you have to respect my capabilities.
34. What do you like most about your mind?
I am most satisfied with my ability to evaluate opinions and arguments from as many perspectives as I can comprehend, whether I am inclined to agree or disagree with the point/argument/opinion being made/suggested/voiced. I have utilized my ability to give constant evaluation and re-evaluation of my opinions, morals, and accepted truths. I have misused my abilities to ice the occassional feeble-minded debator, though.
35. What's one pet peeve of yours?
I fully expect individuals involved in some relationship with me to match my commitment, whether justifiably so or not. Too often I pledge undying allegiance to an individual or group of individuals only to have it whored to his, her, or their selfish needs. Perhaps I hold people to too high of a standard. Perhaps I am too clingy. Perhaps I am not the one wrong.
36. If you wanted to change one thing about your personality, what might it be?
Easily. I would change my volatility. I am growing less and less able to control emotional outbursts…particularly anger. My loss of control has been pointed out to me only recently, and I am taking all the necessary steps to remedy it. I am looking into finding an appropriate therapist.
37. Tell me one weird fact about you.
When I am drunk (which is very, very rare), my reflexes and agility seem to sharpen. I have been known to scale cars in one leap, bodyslam innocent men that only desire to D.D.T. me, and create massive holes in my friend’s walls. It is no surprise to me that the booze has been disallowed.
38. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
Volatile.
39. In one word, how would you describe me?
Informed.
40. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?
No. You have made it clear that you do not want to.
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