Zion National Park, Here I come!
It's fall break, an I wanna go camping before it gets too winterly. I had given up on the idea of doing it during break because I happen to be pretty broke right now, and I didn't want to worry with logistics. Then my Buddy Robbie pitched the perfect solution--hitchhike!
In the past I have had pretty great success with hitchhiking, I think it's great. I wouldn't be who I am today if not for a kind soul on the backroads of the Yukon.
I'll be taking my camera, in order to document the experience, I'm no Ross McElwee, but I guess we'll see how it goes.
Wish me luck!
Friday, October 16, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Love/Hate Relationship
I'm in school again.
I'm worried because my excitement at returning to school is already wearing off... less than 3 weeks into the semester! I think it's because I'm finally getting homework. Which means I need to keep track of assignments now. I have a presentation to do on Friday (I hate public speaking), I have 12 days to memorize 3 pages of dialogue (and a performance of the scene in class... again... I hate it), read a 1-act play by Monday, a 10-page play due by the 30th, a 2 page script, storyboard, as well as shot list, logline and "pitch" for a short film, which I have yet to edit together... I have to eavesdrop on a 2 conversations, grade 24 papers, watch a 3 hour documentary (I get 5 points extra credit to check out the film and show it in a classroom to my classmates on Friday. might as well, I say). This all means I have to have some self-mastery and actually do my homework and stuff... that's hard for me to do.
While it occurs to me that all this homework sounds like a lot of drudgery... I also just bought a copy of Aristotle's Poetics for personal reading pleasure, which will go in my stack of 7 books that I'm already reading...
I love to learn, I loe to write, I love to read, I love to edit films.... I just don't like all these assignments!
I'm worried because my excitement at returning to school is already wearing off... less than 3 weeks into the semester! I think it's because I'm finally getting homework. Which means I need to keep track of assignments now. I have a presentation to do on Friday (I hate public speaking), I have 12 days to memorize 3 pages of dialogue (and a performance of the scene in class... again... I hate it), read a 1-act play by Monday, a 10-page play due by the 30th, a 2 page script, storyboard, as well as shot list, logline and "pitch" for a short film, which I have yet to edit together... I have to eavesdrop on a 2 conversations, grade 24 papers, watch a 3 hour documentary (I get 5 points extra credit to check out the film and show it in a classroom to my classmates on Friday. might as well, I say). This all means I have to have some self-mastery and actually do my homework and stuff... that's hard for me to do.
While it occurs to me that all this homework sounds like a lot of drudgery... I also just bought a copy of Aristotle's Poetics for personal reading pleasure, which will go in my stack of 7 books that I'm already reading...
I love to learn, I loe to write, I love to read, I love to edit films.... I just don't like all these assignments!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Fallacy: "you know what you did!"
So... in one of my classes, we were challenged to come up with a story, then we were told to write a sort of monologue for the main character. then we were told to justify the Antagonist's views.
I didn't have a story in mind(the one I had come up with didn't really work for the last exercise), so I started coming up with general motivations for someone to do what they do.
-The end result is all that matters. "the end justifies the means".
This is where an antagonist could truly want the BEST results and does "whatever it takes" to attain that end., but then again, what's "best" is pretty subjective isn't it?
-Love. "true love conquers all".
This is a more identifiable view than doing something out of hate. hate makes you bad, love makes you good (or at least misunderstood).
-Religion. ...not gonna go there, but it has a LOT of potential
-Insanity
This is actually something that strikes me as very, very interesting in a story. Anyone who has seen Adaptation (with Nicholas Cage, Chris Cooper, and that one woman)
and has anything to do with writing knows that this is the cheapest way to "twist" a story... Fight Club, Secret Window, maybe even Psycho. Where we are told at the last second that someone was crazy and that explains everything. it's usually unsettling, but generally I think it makes for a weakened message.
However, if this insanity isn't a twist, if it is acknowledged very early on... then I think that makes for a very human, very pitiable perp. Of mice and Men-kinda.
Anyway. that's that.
I also learned something recently about communication, hence the title of this post.
'You know what you did' is probably the most false statement anyone can presume to make. I think that the key part of that phrase is "did". No one DOES just one thing. any behavior or action can actually have myriad effects. So when someone asks innocently "what did I do?" it's probably best to relate to them exactly what you perceived that they did. Because that might be brand new information to this alleged "perpetrator".
Letting this assumption, that each other "knows what they did", go unaddressed is incredibly detrimental. When someone does something, and you assume you know why, then you are inclined to respond in defense or response to their perceived motive. If you are hurt, you may want to get even, or you may want to be pitiful and hope they "come around". This quite often results in a cycle. "You hurt me, I hurt you, you get even, I get even, you one-up, I one-up" back and forth, until someone throws in the towel, or someone goes too far. The proper way to address being hurt (i'm learning) is to not assume ill will-- there is no "perp". Instead, you must assume that the offender is unaware of your pain, and inform them of it. Most likely they are unaware, or if they ARE aware, they will probably tell you the reason they did what they did. Their reason may actually be that they are getting back at you for hurting them, and you had NO idea that you had. So don't be so quick to decide you're the victim. You may, in fact, be the perpetrator.
I didn't have a story in mind(the one I had come up with didn't really work for the last exercise), so I started coming up with general motivations for someone to do what they do.
-The end result is all that matters. "the end justifies the means".
This is where an antagonist could truly want the BEST results and does "whatever it takes" to attain that end., but then again, what's "best" is pretty subjective isn't it?
-Love. "true love conquers all".
This is a more identifiable view than doing something out of hate. hate makes you bad, love makes you good (or at least misunderstood).
-Religion. ...not gonna go there, but it has a LOT of potential
-Insanity
This is actually something that strikes me as very, very interesting in a story. Anyone who has seen Adaptation (with Nicholas Cage, Chris Cooper, and that one woman)
and has anything to do with writing knows that this is the cheapest way to "twist" a story... Fight Club, Secret Window, maybe even Psycho. Where we are told at the last second that someone was crazy and that explains everything. it's usually unsettling, but generally I think it makes for a weakened message.
However, if this insanity isn't a twist, if it is acknowledged very early on... then I think that makes for a very human, very pitiable perp. Of mice and Men-kinda.
Anyway. that's that.
I also learned something recently about communication, hence the title of this post.
'You know what you did' is probably the most false statement anyone can presume to make. I think that the key part of that phrase is "did". No one DOES just one thing. any behavior or action can actually have myriad effects. So when someone asks innocently "what did I do?" it's probably best to relate to them exactly what you perceived that they did. Because that might be brand new information to this alleged "perpetrator".
Letting this assumption, that each other "knows what they did", go unaddressed is incredibly detrimental. When someone does something, and you assume you know why, then you are inclined to respond in defense or response to their perceived motive. If you are hurt, you may want to get even, or you may want to be pitiful and hope they "come around". This quite often results in a cycle. "You hurt me, I hurt you, you get even, I get even, you one-up, I one-up" back and forth, until someone throws in the towel, or someone goes too far. The proper way to address being hurt (i'm learning) is to not assume ill will-- there is no "perp". Instead, you must assume that the offender is unaware of your pain, and inform them of it. Most likely they are unaware, or if they ARE aware, they will probably tell you the reason they did what they did. Their reason may actually be that they are getting back at you for hurting them, and you had NO idea that you had. So don't be so quick to decide you're the victim. You may, in fact, be the perpetrator.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Gonna Take Some Time...
Hey Reader...
Why do you keep coming back? isn't this blog a little repetitive? Do I not have 3 or 4 topics that I rotate through with the occasional exception? Surely the intrigue now is when I'll finally "get it"... well this post is certainly not that one.
This post is yet ANOTHER lament on my life; Feeling trapped, tied down, burdened, scarred, scared, skeptical...
I'm here in Utah, with no real desire to be here whatsoever. It's nice having my brother and sister-in-law around. I have a lot of friends here.... Sure, these things are all true. But I have been here nearly 4 years, and I'm bored with it. I want my simple life back, when I wasn't tethered to school with in-state status. And, with just over half of my program completed, leaving now would be a complete waste.
Maybe I need to stop fantasizing about how good life could be somewhere else. I know that things would be just as hard somewhere else, it's just that I can't stop daydreaming about how things would be NEW somewhere else. And Utah and the experience is growing old and stale. I need a change. I want to escape the familiarity, I want to feel uncomfortable, but instead of the cause being a cramped, squelched feeling, I want it to be uncertainty. I want to date someone who doesn't know 30 of my friends... having mutual friends really takes away the "mystery"-- the get-to-know-you factor. It may not seem likely, but I assure you, there are no "Strangers" left here for me.
I just want to take my camera, my two favorite pair of jeans, a good book and a deck of cards and just GO.
If you, or someone you know, would like to sponsor me... please get in touch.
Evan
Been thinkin' about this post(I didn't really think it through, just wrote it). What I have come to realize, is that it's not that I know everybody around me, and I want some mystery in my life... there are oodles of people I don't know, and I could get to know them fairly easily. But, the problem is that there are a LOT of people who know me, but then again, they DON'T know me at all. In the past year I've had a huge change in my life, I think in the past 3 or 4 years I've been 3 entirely different people. Now, the people who have known me more than a year have this idea about me that I am all out of energy to quash, people who have known me longer than that have these very, very deep-rooted ideas about me that I can't change, EVER. If they were to take a look at me, they wouldn't see a new person, they would say "Oh, a new Evan! and that may be true, I am a new Evan, I can't be anyone else. But there is no severance in their minds between who I am now, and who I was before. There is still, in there minds, this continuity that cannot be called a new beginning, because they weren't there for the event, they weren't privy to my thoughts. All they know is that I've made changes, but they don't know the depth to which I have changed. I don't know that they could fathom it. I am still Evan, and I am limited to who I am --and what I might become-- by what I have been.
New people can't know me either, but the beauty of it is that they aren't blinded by images of what I used to be. That's what a move and a new life would do for me. Like I said, I could get to know new people here, people I have never met before. But I can't escape the people who I know already, and the transference between the old me and new me that they subconsciously perform.
Another thing. I would say I am quite lonely. I would say that I have a lot of friends, and I enjoy them immensely--but I'm lonely. I'm not playing the victim here... perhaps more the martyr. I choose to be lonely. I could be "Dating" someone within a week if I decided to, but I have made a choice not to. It's definitely not fun. It occurs to me every now and again, when I realize some girl is smitten with me, that it would be so simple just to go along with it. Why not? many of these girls are exceptionally attractive, and not all of them have issues. I could easily get along with them, even enjoy being with them.... But it wouldn't be fair. As much as I could enjoy a relationship right now, I am too self-centered to invest myself. I've chosen myself over someone else, because until find someone I want to choose over myself, I will be too selfish for any relationship. So, here I am.
Why do you keep coming back? isn't this blog a little repetitive? Do I not have 3 or 4 topics that I rotate through with the occasional exception? Surely the intrigue now is when I'll finally "get it"... well this post is certainly not that one.
This post is yet ANOTHER lament on my life; Feeling trapped, tied down, burdened, scarred, scared, skeptical...
I'm here in Utah, with no real desire to be here whatsoever. It's nice having my brother and sister-in-law around. I have a lot of friends here.... Sure, these things are all true. But I have been here nearly 4 years, and I'm bored with it. I want my simple life back, when I wasn't tethered to school with in-state status. And, with just over half of my program completed, leaving now would be a complete waste.
Maybe I need to stop fantasizing about how good life could be somewhere else. I know that things would be just as hard somewhere else, it's just that I can't stop daydreaming about how things would be NEW somewhere else. And Utah and the experience is growing old and stale. I need a change. I want to escape the familiarity, I want to feel uncomfortable, but instead of the cause being a cramped, squelched feeling, I want it to be uncertainty. I want to date someone who doesn't know 30 of my friends... having mutual friends really takes away the "mystery"-- the get-to-know-you factor. It may not seem likely, but I assure you, there are no "Strangers" left here for me.
I just want to take my camera, my two favorite pair of jeans, a good book and a deck of cards and just GO.
If you, or someone you know, would like to sponsor me... please get in touch.
Evan
Been thinkin' about this post(I didn't really think it through, just wrote it). What I have come to realize, is that it's not that I know everybody around me, and I want some mystery in my life... there are oodles of people I don't know, and I could get to know them fairly easily. But, the problem is that there are a LOT of people who know me, but then again, they DON'T know me at all. In the past year I've had a huge change in my life, I think in the past 3 or 4 years I've been 3 entirely different people. Now, the people who have known me more than a year have this idea about me that I am all out of energy to quash, people who have known me longer than that have these very, very deep-rooted ideas about me that I can't change, EVER. If they were to take a look at me, they wouldn't see a new person, they would say "Oh, a new Evan! and that may be true, I am a new Evan, I can't be anyone else. But there is no severance in their minds between who I am now, and who I was before. There is still, in there minds, this continuity that cannot be called a new beginning, because they weren't there for the event, they weren't privy to my thoughts. All they know is that I've made changes, but they don't know the depth to which I have changed. I don't know that they could fathom it. I am still Evan, and I am limited to who I am --and what I might become-- by what I have been.
New people can't know me either, but the beauty of it is that they aren't blinded by images of what I used to be. That's what a move and a new life would do for me. Like I said, I could get to know new people here, people I have never met before. But I can't escape the people who I know already, and the transference between the old me and new me that they subconsciously perform.
Another thing. I would say I am quite lonely. I would say that I have a lot of friends, and I enjoy them immensely--but I'm lonely. I'm not playing the victim here... perhaps more the martyr. I choose to be lonely. I could be "Dating" someone within a week if I decided to, but I have made a choice not to. It's definitely not fun. It occurs to me every now and again, when I realize some girl is smitten with me, that it would be so simple just to go along with it. Why not? many of these girls are exceptionally attractive, and not all of them have issues. I could easily get along with them, even enjoy being with them.... But it wouldn't be fair. As much as I could enjoy a relationship right now, I am too self-centered to invest myself. I've chosen myself over someone else, because until find someone I want to choose over myself, I will be too selfish for any relationship. So, here I am.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Lessons Learned
I've been sleeping in a mortuary for the past few nights. Long story that involves a bet I lost, and housing-limbo.. Just kidding.
My best friend has this sweet set up where he answers the phones after business hours/on weekends. And in turn, he and his wife and their lilbabykid get to live rent free in a decent-sized apartment. Pretty sweet. except they are homebodies.
Anyway, a marriage came to town, that town was Houston, so they got to a much-needed vacation. I am covering the phones for them while they're gone. As we speak, I'm sprawled out on the couch(sprawled sounded like the wrong word, and I just realized that for some reason, in my head it means "face down"... which I am not...) trying to pass the time in some other way than washing dishes and cleaning up around here.
Here are a few things I've learned (this is my first live-in shift).
1. Everyone I try to explain this to suggests that I just have the calls forwarded to a cell phone, that way I'd be free to leave.... not that simple.
2. This job is definitely designed for a young (maybe not-so-young actually) married couple.
Phones are to be answered within 2 rings, after the 3rd, it will be picked up by a disgruntled Funeral Director(he's a nice guy, but no one wants to get work calls when they're supposed to be off).
This first rule makes life interesting, especially as a single person.
Though I was given permission to have people over (even throw a party if I want) I'm not real big on instigating anything more than late-night card games with a couple (as in 2 or 3) friends. So I've had a lot of alone time. (family was in town and they came to see me a couple of times). Even with other people here, I'm the only one trained and authorized to answer the phones. This means that any task I undertake(no pun intended) cannot keep me from the phones for more than about 8 seconds. This isn't (usually) an issue when there are two people around who are trained on the phones, but with just one... everyday things must be calculated and planned.
For instance, I realized too late that even a small workout can leave you a bit winded, and if the phone rings, you have all of 5 or 6 seconds to catch your breath so you're not huffing and puffing in someone's ear when you answer the phone.
Also, I'm not big on morning showers. I shower before bed. It keeps the sheets cleaner longer, and I sleep better after a shower. However, after 5pm, I am on-duty, for the first 2 days I didn't plan ahead.
With family in town, I have been leaving in the mornings anyway to go hang out with them, i really hate morning showers so I told myself I would just get back a bit before 5 and shower then. Didn't happen.
Saturdays, I'm on duty at 2 instead of 5, again, I didn't make it back with enough time to shower.
So... I haven't showered since Wednesday. no time before 5pm on Thursday and Friday and, with one person, the Saturday shift that starts at 2pm doesn't end until 8am on Monday(I'm on-duty all night Saturday, all day on Sunday and all through Sunday night).
Another thing. When I went shopping for food for the weekend, I didn't seem to notice that what I was stocking up on was a LOT of dairy. (milk and cereal, Ice cream(for smoothies), quesodilla fixings(shredded cheese, sour cream, canned chicken, salsa), ham and cheese saniches... and Kulfi(sp) that my friends left for me.
That's a lot of dairy. I wish I had realized.... Oh well I think, I'll raid the fridge for something less dairy-y.... Pickles! yay! So I went from an overly dairy-laden diet, to a very pickled diet (no "preserves" joke here). These aren't just any pickles though, they are home grown, home pickled and canned. I finished off the already opened jar (that means I even ate the garlic clove) and went to the pantry for another. The new jar is spiced! yum. I have a suspicion that this one was seasoned by my friend's dad. it's pretty spicy though still quite dill-icious.
I'll probably be feeling the effects of my diet for the next couple of days.
It hasn't been too bad, in all. Only a few calls.... And I owe my friends for all their hospitality, they're too good to me.
My best friend has this sweet set up where he answers the phones after business hours/on weekends. And in turn, he and his wife and their lilbabykid get to live rent free in a decent-sized apartment. Pretty sweet. except they are homebodies.
Anyway, a marriage came to town, that town was Houston, so they got to a much-needed vacation. I am covering the phones for them while they're gone. As we speak, I'm sprawled out on the couch(sprawled sounded like the wrong word, and I just realized that for some reason, in my head it means "face down"... which I am not...) trying to pass the time in some other way than washing dishes and cleaning up around here.
Here are a few things I've learned (this is my first live-in shift).
1. Everyone I try to explain this to suggests that I just have the calls forwarded to a cell phone, that way I'd be free to leave.... not that simple.
2. This job is definitely designed for a young (maybe not-so-young actually) married couple.
Phones are to be answered within 2 rings, after the 3rd, it will be picked up by a disgruntled Funeral Director(he's a nice guy, but no one wants to get work calls when they're supposed to be off).
This first rule makes life interesting, especially as a single person.
Though I was given permission to have people over (even throw a party if I want) I'm not real big on instigating anything more than late-night card games with a couple (as in 2 or 3) friends. So I've had a lot of alone time. (family was in town and they came to see me a couple of times). Even with other people here, I'm the only one trained and authorized to answer the phones. This means that any task I undertake(no pun intended) cannot keep me from the phones for more than about 8 seconds. This isn't (usually) an issue when there are two people around who are trained on the phones, but with just one... everyday things must be calculated and planned.
For instance, I realized too late that even a small workout can leave you a bit winded, and if the phone rings, you have all of 5 or 6 seconds to catch your breath so you're not huffing and puffing in someone's ear when you answer the phone.
Also, I'm not big on morning showers. I shower before bed. It keeps the sheets cleaner longer, and I sleep better after a shower. However, after 5pm, I am on-duty, for the first 2 days I didn't plan ahead.
With family in town, I have been leaving in the mornings anyway to go hang out with them, i really hate morning showers so I told myself I would just get back a bit before 5 and shower then. Didn't happen.
Saturdays, I'm on duty at 2 instead of 5, again, I didn't make it back with enough time to shower.
So... I haven't showered since Wednesday. no time before 5pm on Thursday and Friday and, with one person, the Saturday shift that starts at 2pm doesn't end until 8am on Monday(I'm on-duty all night Saturday, all day on Sunday and all through Sunday night).
Another thing. When I went shopping for food for the weekend, I didn't seem to notice that what I was stocking up on was a LOT of dairy. (milk and cereal, Ice cream(for smoothies), quesodilla fixings(shredded cheese, sour cream, canned chicken, salsa), ham and cheese saniches... and Kulfi(sp) that my friends left for me.
That's a lot of dairy. I wish I had realized.... Oh well I think, I'll raid the fridge for something less dairy-y.... Pickles! yay! So I went from an overly dairy-laden diet, to a very pickled diet (no "preserves" joke here). These aren't just any pickles though, they are home grown, home pickled and canned. I finished off the already opened jar (that means I even ate the garlic clove) and went to the pantry for another. The new jar is spiced! yum. I have a suspicion that this one was seasoned by my friend's dad. it's pretty spicy though still quite dill-icious.
I'll probably be feeling the effects of my diet for the next couple of days.
It hasn't been too bad, in all. Only a few calls.... And I owe my friends for all their hospitality, they're too good to me.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Poo in the Brownie
Finished Zen and t.a.o. Motorcycle Maintenance, finally. Something to be said for unemployment, when you can really immerse yourself in a good book (and only have to wonder where your next meal will come from).
I forgot about a paragraph about 3 chapters from the end, in which the reader is blindsided by a *our-letter word. A big one. THE big one. and in that same paragraph, the long B word... It's a point he is trying to make, it is not language for the sake of language. It seems the author didn't feel that a more mild, but italicized word would suffice to convey his thought.
When I read it, I thought "oh man! he nearly had an entirely squeaky-clean book... why this?"
But even at that moment--in that moment--I recognized his technique and I knew why. It didn't take away my disappointment though. I would rather have read a full page of explanation than the F-word, as effectively and fitting as it was. It's something that I despise in myself, when I feel quite strongly about something, I get quite inarticulate about it, and if I feel especially passionate about it, I will probably highlight my statements with some strong words. I don't like the fact that I have trained myself to revert to shock value to emphasize my position--it makes me feel totally inept with words (usually a bit after the conversation). I think most of the time it's because the choice words come to mind, and I search for an alternate, give up, and the go ahead and swear. That is evidence of my ineptitude. And the clincher is that it is my OWN fault, I've trained myself.
Now, as to the title of this particular post... since finishing my book, being somewhat irked (this time around) by the single use of strong language, I have been thinking on the analogy of the poo in the brownie. If you haven't heard it, it goes something like this (it's more of a visual aid.. but I'll try to paint it clearly for you here.)
Imagine you have been given a pan of brownies. Scrumptious Brownies. they smell like a Brownie-scented Glade Plug-In in Heaven might. You can see that they are the perfect consistency; a paper-thin caramelized crust on top, and moist and chewy fudge beneath.
You want to relish them entirely so you ask "what's in them?" The response comes: "Flour...Sugar...Eggs...Vanilla.. Cocoa powder, more sugar... Oh some Poo... whipped milk chocolate frosting, a hint of mint, some--"
"WOAH!" you interupt "did you say there's Poo in these?"
"yes."
And now you must make a decision. "Do I really want to eat these brownies?"
What would you answer?
The answer is obvious. The delectable brownies have been ruined. Never mind who put it in there, or why... it's not something you're going to ingest. I think I have done the analogy justice here. Lemme know if I'm wrong.
Now, I want to take a step back and take a good look at this analogy.
1. The tray of brownies can represent anything at all. For my purpose, I will call it the book "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"
2. The poo represents something that offends. In this case, foul language.
3. All of the other ingredients represent wholesomeness.
I hope you'll follow me on this, it may rub you the wrong way, but I think there's truth in it.
I have been considering whether the analogy is a strong one, or simply a logical fallacy. I have concluded that it is the latter.
You see, even though I've read Z/MM before, reading it opens my mind to so much that I tend to take for granted. It helps me to see things in a light that furthers my understanding of not only the concepts in the book, but of nearly everything around me. I have a renewed appreciation for many many things in my life. And, I would say that it helps me move toward an appreciation of the things in my life that I, for now, am not open to.
Having read this book just prior to starting school again, I feel ready to face the challenges of academia because I have been given perspective--scope. I can focus on the real goal and not fret the technicalities and routines.
In short, this book changes my life every time I read it. I guess I mentioned that last time around, it led me down a road that I assumed was headed for a new kind of enlightenment. In reality it was one of those seldom-traveled mountain roads that took me right back to square one. But what a journey it was! okay... I'll talk more on that later. Back to the topic at hand.
This book (I highly recommend it, but only when you are prepared to immerse yourself in it), is actually exploring the very topic we are addressing here: "Quality". I'm not exactly going to borrow the thesis of the book here, but I do want to state something about quality. Quality is NOT Perfection. Maybe it may be said that Perfection is the ultimate quality, but quality is not a measure of perfection, or this world would have no quality.
Sorry this is all so scatter-brained, this is just how my brain works.
Let's take the Poo analogy and summarize it.
"A tray of brownies looses its appeal to a person when its contents are made known to said individual, who has an internalized standard of wholesomeness".
Does this sound fair? If not, please submit a more fitting summary. I am not trying to use any trickery here. That, I believe, is the point of the analogy. But I submit to you that it assumes too much, and that a better analogy is in order. This analogy, this object lesson, assumes this:
A subject's (brownie's) wholesomeness (worth) is determined by the absence of unwholesomeness(poo).
Sounds fair. It sounded fair to me for a bit. But something about it doesn't work.
Let's take this same logic and apply it to something else...
"A person's goodness is determined by the absence of bad." Or, in other words, there is no such thing as "redeeming qualities" you are the sum of the bad. Now, you're probably thinking "does he really think he can use logic to justify eating Poo Brownies?" I assure you, that is not the point I want to make.
my point is, it isn't reasonable to assume that undesirable attributes ruin desirable attributes. They can, definitely, take away from the desireability of something, but it is not a given fact that they (undesirables) ruin the good.
That's why I think the analogy needs reworking. The quality brought to my life by Z/MM is not fecal browny. I won't allow the correlation to the Poo analogy. Is foul language, in my book (my own book, "personal values") at the level of "poo"? probably not. Is foul language Poo? Sure, I wont refute that. Is it possible to blot out a bad word in a book? Yes (more on this in a moment). Is it possible to remove poo from a batch of brownies? no, it is not(unless the poo is added on top, and not blended into the brownies, in which case, I suppose the question one must ask himself is "Am I comfortable eating decontaminated brownies?" .. for me, the considerations would be the size of the tray, the location where the poo had been, and the quality estimated quality of the brownies, considering their former proximity to poo).
So, we have an alternative to the initial Poo analogy, and that is one where the poo is not necessarily an ingredient of the brownies, but an undesirable addition to an otherwise perfectly good batch of brownies.
If we take away the poo, and all the frosting it came in contact with, we're left with a blotch in the icing that serves as a reminder of what used to be there, which affects the appeal of the brownies. Now to get back to the proposal of blotting out a bad word. You can take a sharpie marker and strike the foul language from a book, but any semi-intelligent person would know not only what the blot means, but(most likely) the particular word that has been stricken. Has the solution been effective? Not entirely. Is the poo gone? It might not be as simple as that. The ability for one to correlate a spot of patchy frosting to the removal of something entirely detestable leaves us with what I guess could be called "mental residue". The brownies could be entirely uncontaminated, but the knowledge of what was removed still remains.
My parents would often screen what we watched and read for this Poo. My mom would use a sharpie marker in books, and the mute button or fast forward on films. Music (since she hated it anyway) was simply banned. An example of removing the poo from the brownie: my mom took me and my brother to see Titanic in the theater. When the nude scene was due, she had us stand outside the theater doors while she monitored it for when it was okay for us to come back in. Turns out there was not a whole lot of history to be learned from the movie. But (and now everyone will know my secret) that was the film that initially sparked my interest in film making.
I think I jumped the gun on putting down my thoughts on this matter, I have just expended all of the energy I have on the subject, so when my thoughts are put in order, I will lack the gusto to rewrite this.
I forgot about a paragraph about 3 chapters from the end, in which the reader is blindsided by a *our-letter word. A big one. THE big one. and in that same paragraph, the long B word... It's a point he is trying to make, it is not language for the sake of language. It seems the author didn't feel that a more mild, but italicized word would suffice to convey his thought.
When I read it, I thought "oh man! he nearly had an entirely squeaky-clean book... why this?"
But even at that moment--in that moment--I recognized his technique and I knew why. It didn't take away my disappointment though. I would rather have read a full page of explanation than the F-word, as effectively and fitting as it was. It's something that I despise in myself, when I feel quite strongly about something, I get quite inarticulate about it, and if I feel especially passionate about it, I will probably highlight my statements with some strong words. I don't like the fact that I have trained myself to revert to shock value to emphasize my position--it makes me feel totally inept with words (usually a bit after the conversation). I think most of the time it's because the choice words come to mind, and I search for an alternate, give up, and the go ahead and swear. That is evidence of my ineptitude. And the clincher is that it is my OWN fault, I've trained myself.
Now, as to the title of this particular post... since finishing my book, being somewhat irked (this time around) by the single use of strong language, I have been thinking on the analogy of the poo in the brownie. If you haven't heard it, it goes something like this (it's more of a visual aid.. but I'll try to paint it clearly for you here.)
Imagine you have been given a pan of brownies. Scrumptious Brownies. they smell like a Brownie-scented Glade Plug-In in Heaven might. You can see that they are the perfect consistency; a paper-thin caramelized crust on top, and moist and chewy fudge beneath.
You want to relish them entirely so you ask "what's in them?" The response comes: "Flour...Sugar...Eggs...Vanilla.. Cocoa powder, more sugar... Oh some Poo... whipped milk chocolate frosting, a hint of mint, some--"
"WOAH!" you interupt "did you say there's Poo in these?"
"yes."
And now you must make a decision. "Do I really want to eat these brownies?"
What would you answer?
The answer is obvious. The delectable brownies have been ruined. Never mind who put it in there, or why... it's not something you're going to ingest. I think I have done the analogy justice here. Lemme know if I'm wrong.
Now, I want to take a step back and take a good look at this analogy.
1. The tray of brownies can represent anything at all. For my purpose, I will call it the book "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"
2. The poo represents something that offends. In this case, foul language.
3. All of the other ingredients represent wholesomeness.
I hope you'll follow me on this, it may rub you the wrong way, but I think there's truth in it.
I have been considering whether the analogy is a strong one, or simply a logical fallacy. I have concluded that it is the latter.
You see, even though I've read Z/MM before, reading it opens my mind to so much that I tend to take for granted. It helps me to see things in a light that furthers my understanding of not only the concepts in the book, but of nearly everything around me. I have a renewed appreciation for many many things in my life. And, I would say that it helps me move toward an appreciation of the things in my life that I, for now, am not open to.
Having read this book just prior to starting school again, I feel ready to face the challenges of academia because I have been given perspective--scope. I can focus on the real goal and not fret the technicalities and routines.
In short, this book changes my life every time I read it. I guess I mentioned that last time around, it led me down a road that I assumed was headed for a new kind of enlightenment. In reality it was one of those seldom-traveled mountain roads that took me right back to square one. But what a journey it was! okay... I'll talk more on that later. Back to the topic at hand.
This book (I highly recommend it, but only when you are prepared to immerse yourself in it), is actually exploring the very topic we are addressing here: "Quality". I'm not exactly going to borrow the thesis of the book here, but I do want to state something about quality. Quality is NOT Perfection. Maybe it may be said that Perfection is the ultimate quality, but quality is not a measure of perfection, or this world would have no quality.
Sorry this is all so scatter-brained, this is just how my brain works.
Let's take the Poo analogy and summarize it.
"A tray of brownies looses its appeal to a person when its contents are made known to said individual, who has an internalized standard of wholesomeness".
Does this sound fair? If not, please submit a more fitting summary. I am not trying to use any trickery here. That, I believe, is the point of the analogy. But I submit to you that it assumes too much, and that a better analogy is in order. This analogy, this object lesson, assumes this:
A subject's (brownie's) wholesomeness (worth) is determined by the absence of unwholesomeness(poo).
Sounds fair. It sounded fair to me for a bit. But something about it doesn't work.
Let's take this same logic and apply it to something else...
"A person's goodness is determined by the absence of bad." Or, in other words, there is no such thing as "redeeming qualities" you are the sum of the bad. Now, you're probably thinking "does he really think he can use logic to justify eating Poo Brownies?" I assure you, that is not the point I want to make.
my point is, it isn't reasonable to assume that undesirable attributes ruin desirable attributes. They can, definitely, take away from the desireability of something, but it is not a given fact that they (undesirables) ruin the good.
That's why I think the analogy needs reworking. The quality brought to my life by Z/MM is not fecal browny. I won't allow the correlation to the Poo analogy. Is foul language, in my book (my own book, "personal values") at the level of "poo"? probably not. Is foul language Poo? Sure, I wont refute that. Is it possible to blot out a bad word in a book? Yes (more on this in a moment). Is it possible to remove poo from a batch of brownies? no, it is not(unless the poo is added on top, and not blended into the brownies, in which case, I suppose the question one must ask himself is "Am I comfortable eating decontaminated brownies?" .. for me, the considerations would be the size of the tray, the location where the poo had been, and the quality estimated quality of the brownies, considering their former proximity to poo).
So, we have an alternative to the initial Poo analogy, and that is one where the poo is not necessarily an ingredient of the brownies, but an undesirable addition to an otherwise perfectly good batch of brownies.
If we take away the poo, and all the frosting it came in contact with, we're left with a blotch in the icing that serves as a reminder of what used to be there, which affects the appeal of the brownies. Now to get back to the proposal of blotting out a bad word. You can take a sharpie marker and strike the foul language from a book, but any semi-intelligent person would know not only what the blot means, but(most likely) the particular word that has been stricken. Has the solution been effective? Not entirely. Is the poo gone? It might not be as simple as that. The ability for one to correlate a spot of patchy frosting to the removal of something entirely detestable leaves us with what I guess could be called "mental residue". The brownies could be entirely uncontaminated, but the knowledge of what was removed still remains.
My parents would often screen what we watched and read for this Poo. My mom would use a sharpie marker in books, and the mute button or fast forward on films. Music (since she hated it anyway) was simply banned. An example of removing the poo from the brownie: my mom took me and my brother to see Titanic in the theater. When the nude scene was due, she had us stand outside the theater doors while she monitored it for when it was okay for us to come back in. Turns out there was not a whole lot of history to be learned from the movie. But (and now everyone will know my secret) that was the film that initially sparked my interest in film making.
I think I jumped the gun on putting down my thoughts on this matter, I have just expended all of the energy I have on the subject, so when my thoughts are put in order, I will lack the gusto to rewrite this.
Showers
As I left my brother's house, around 1AM, I stood in the driveway and gazed skyward-- Maybe a dozen stars and a perfect half-moon. The sky looked like an inkwell with a drop of Elmer's School Glue, or a drain pan full of oil with a glass of milk stirred in... too light to be black, bu no other color.
I drove down the backroad and turned onto the main one, Headed for the stoplight, but decided to take a right instead of going straight. This way leads to a nice rural spot, and I tend to gravitate to those places when I have a lot on my mind.
Green light, Green light, red light, green light. Over the overpass, under the underpass. Now headed for the black expanse to the West. I look out my window and up at the sky again, now the stars have begun to let down their guard, they must just not like City Folk. Warm air, no breeze. the streetlights disappear entirely. Occasionally a pocket of cool air wisps off the water, it's relaxing. I take the last curve and the gates come into view, I could trip the sensor from the other side and sneak out into the marina, but I'm not feeling up to it. And besides, there will be a fog of memories all about the place, and I don't feel like getting lost in it just now. I take a right and head back north, then follow the road to the east. Just as it straightens out there is a gate to a pasture on the left, I notice it almost to late and brake hard to turn off the road. I kill the engine immediately, and the radio with it. Fine Young Cannibals, but that's two nights in a row, so I don't even finish the line in my head. I step out of my 4Runner, the door takes two arms and a little bit of back to get closed these days. You should have seen the cause, if you put a 4runner in one end of a ravine, it comes out on the other converted to a jalopy. I cleaned it recently though, and I'm pleased that my flannel "sleeping bag" is neatly rolled up in the back. I grab it and jump the gate. I was going to venture into the pasture, but I don't even have time to be dissuaded by cow pies and critters, The gravel is good enough for me. I came out here to reminisce, though I dream of moving on. there are a few more memories up the road, and I chose this spot to avoid them, I'm not feeling especially invincible.
I lay down on my bag and try to welcome some peace, but I try to hard and I find myself trying to shake off the feeling of being a phony. I'm honest with myself when no one is around, so I accept the fact that I have been brooding, and now I have come out here expecting to catch a muse, or a vision of the universe in a timeless sense. I wanted to feel like King David, and instead I feel as hopeless as a country singer-- attempting to say something deep, or at least witty, and instead creating a travesty. I decide instead that I will just try to be in the Here and Now. On my right--toward the lake--crickets and bullfrogs are behaving like barnyard animals, trying to talk over everyone else.. maybe that's more like a room full of teenagers.... On my left, The juxtaposing sound of cattle and the rumble of the interstate. The show has started, and I realize that I'm not going to see the full spectacle, not here where the city lights are still putting off a glow. I could have gone up the canyon, but neither my jalopy nor I have what it takes tonight. I'll have to settle. I settle in more and try to guess when the next good shooting star will cross the sky. I'm way off, but at least I have time to turn my head. The city lights really do a number on a good shooting star, whereas up in the mountains, you can see the trenches left behind--a bit after the tail has burned out--a good shooting star, down here in the valley even the big ones look like they'd buff out. There are a couple of the really good ones, the ones that start out orange or red and then burn white, and then back to a red. or the ones that appear to skip across the atmosphere, like a nice flat rock on a calm pond. That's what those "trenches" really look like... like a fisherman's line when he gets a bite. the line rips through the surface as the hook sets, and you see its path in the the water for an instant after.
I really miss the contented feeling of sleeping under the stars, with the uncertain threat of meteors, but also with all those gases between them and us, like a corral fence against a mad bull, or a thick blanket against biting cold, or a mother's embrace against anything.
I really miss sleeping around a fire, watching the embers oscillate slowly with the breeze, as if they were pulsating, breathing. and watching the ashes rise on the heat of the flames, the sparks crackling and darting out against a milky-black sky... kinda like a shooting star.
The Mosquitoes are in full effect, but I'm content to watch a while longer. I decide not to trust myself to remember these sensations and pull out my cellphone to draft some key words, but though I turn out to be better than i thought at typing blind, I am still distracted by the task so I put it away. Most of these shooting stars are just highlights in the glow of the city lights. they hardly stand out as more than ghosts. Sad that I can't find it in me to drive out in the desert, or up in the canyon to really be able to see the show... but I remember that it's the peace I came here for, and I try to get it back again. These celestial nightlights are truely amazing, but I fail to manage to forget myself and be absorbed by them. I'll try again next year. I get to my feet, and watch one last Really Good One before I head back the way I came. The stars begin to disappear as I approach the grid of streetlights, there are 3 or 4 bites on my forehead, and I can feel them ever so slowly swelling, but all in all, I think I'm going home with some lasting peace.
I drove down the backroad and turned onto the main one, Headed for the stoplight, but decided to take a right instead of going straight. This way leads to a nice rural spot, and I tend to gravitate to those places when I have a lot on my mind.
Green light, Green light, red light, green light. Over the overpass, under the underpass. Now headed for the black expanse to the West. I look out my window and up at the sky again, now the stars have begun to let down their guard, they must just not like City Folk. Warm air, no breeze. the streetlights disappear entirely. Occasionally a pocket of cool air wisps off the water, it's relaxing. I take the last curve and the gates come into view, I could trip the sensor from the other side and sneak out into the marina, but I'm not feeling up to it. And besides, there will be a fog of memories all about the place, and I don't feel like getting lost in it just now. I take a right and head back north, then follow the road to the east. Just as it straightens out there is a gate to a pasture on the left, I notice it almost to late and brake hard to turn off the road. I kill the engine immediately, and the radio with it. Fine Young Cannibals, but that's two nights in a row, so I don't even finish the line in my head. I step out of my 4Runner, the door takes two arms and a little bit of back to get closed these days. You should have seen the cause, if you put a 4runner in one end of a ravine, it comes out on the other converted to a jalopy. I cleaned it recently though, and I'm pleased that my flannel "sleeping bag" is neatly rolled up in the back. I grab it and jump the gate. I was going to venture into the pasture, but I don't even have time to be dissuaded by cow pies and critters, The gravel is good enough for me. I came out here to reminisce, though I dream of moving on. there are a few more memories up the road, and I chose this spot to avoid them, I'm not feeling especially invincible.
I lay down on my bag and try to welcome some peace, but I try to hard and I find myself trying to shake off the feeling of being a phony. I'm honest with myself when no one is around, so I accept the fact that I have been brooding, and now I have come out here expecting to catch a muse, or a vision of the universe in a timeless sense. I wanted to feel like King David, and instead I feel as hopeless as a country singer-- attempting to say something deep, or at least witty, and instead creating a travesty. I decide instead that I will just try to be in the Here and Now. On my right--toward the lake--crickets and bullfrogs are behaving like barnyard animals, trying to talk over everyone else.. maybe that's more like a room full of teenagers.... On my left, The juxtaposing sound of cattle and the rumble of the interstate. The show has started, and I realize that I'm not going to see the full spectacle, not here where the city lights are still putting off a glow. I could have gone up the canyon, but neither my jalopy nor I have what it takes tonight. I'll have to settle. I settle in more and try to guess when the next good shooting star will cross the sky. I'm way off, but at least I have time to turn my head. The city lights really do a number on a good shooting star, whereas up in the mountains, you can see the trenches left behind--a bit after the tail has burned out--a good shooting star, down here in the valley even the big ones look like they'd buff out. There are a couple of the really good ones, the ones that start out orange or red and then burn white, and then back to a red. or the ones that appear to skip across the atmosphere, like a nice flat rock on a calm pond. That's what those "trenches" really look like... like a fisherman's line when he gets a bite. the line rips through the surface as the hook sets, and you see its path in the the water for an instant after.
I really miss the contented feeling of sleeping under the stars, with the uncertain threat of meteors, but also with all those gases between them and us, like a corral fence against a mad bull, or a thick blanket against biting cold, or a mother's embrace against anything.
I really miss sleeping around a fire, watching the embers oscillate slowly with the breeze, as if they were pulsating, breathing. and watching the ashes rise on the heat of the flames, the sparks crackling and darting out against a milky-black sky... kinda like a shooting star.
The Mosquitoes are in full effect, but I'm content to watch a while longer. I decide not to trust myself to remember these sensations and pull out my cellphone to draft some key words, but though I turn out to be better than i thought at typing blind, I am still distracted by the task so I put it away. Most of these shooting stars are just highlights in the glow of the city lights. they hardly stand out as more than ghosts. Sad that I can't find it in me to drive out in the desert, or up in the canyon to really be able to see the show... but I remember that it's the peace I came here for, and I try to get it back again. These celestial nightlights are truely amazing, but I fail to manage to forget myself and be absorbed by them. I'll try again next year. I get to my feet, and watch one last Really Good One before I head back the way I came. The stars begin to disappear as I approach the grid of streetlights, there are 3 or 4 bites on my forehead, and I can feel them ever so slowly swelling, but all in all, I think I'm going home with some lasting peace.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
Slow Motion Heartache
I've been investigating something about myself. Not sure if when I've explored it that I will actually share it with you, Dear Reader... --What am I talking about? you're reading it now!
While "Heartache" isn't a word I like to throw around, it's also not the end of the world. I guess I should find a word that isn't so widely abused by pop musicians and high school poets, but I'd rather just give you my definition before we proceed.
When I say Heartache I don't mean tears and suicidal thoughts, or anything like that.
It's actually very simple: Heart + ache. Perhaps a little more abstract than simply descriptive, since it is (for me at least) a physical symptom of a mental process, but at least it's not a misnomer like "Heartburn".
Again, I just want to be thorough here. I had an idea of what I wanted to say before I even began this post. I hadn't come up with a title for it, and the one I used wasn't exactly thought out, so everything up to this point has been just that.
Guess I'm rambling, avoiding my own topic. I hope you understand what I mean. I'm sure you can relate. It's an ache in my chest, and it usually accompanies a feeling of loss-- I suppose it is the physical "feeling" of loss. So it follows a realization. It's the purest example of emotion. If I were a computer, the realization would be the end product of my calculative process. It would either flash this "answer" across my screen. Or, if this "answer" was only one part of an equation, then it would remain as code until the end answer had been calculated. I suppose this end answer would be the calculated "meaning of life". but then again, I'd be a computer... And I'm rambling again. But I do want to explore this later.
So, about this title... why didn't I just leave it blank until I had said my piece? Instead, I've started myself on a couple of little tangents and side trails instead of starting this hike. this "Chautauqua", if you will*.
An alternative title occurred to me as I've written "breakdown of a breakdown" but that isn't what I want to talk about, it just sounds witty (to me).
I've given up on exploring my original topic, this title thing has gone too far, and I realize you have better things to do. Pity though, I would have liked to maintain this same lighthearted tone in my original topic.
I suppose I'll go on with the computer concept, and add a subtitle to this post "what is emotion and why?" :)
Wow. I suddenly need to start a new analogy. Simply because I added a sub-title. This title-prior-to-completion-of-discourse thing is a good way to derail any sort of orderly train of thought. But this blather has a certain therapeutic value-- an analgesic effect on the very heartache I was about to write of-- so I'll continue. you may leave now, if you'd had enough, I don't quite have my fix.
What is emotion? Like I said, it is a physical feeling that accompanies a mental function. this definition is my own, and I may have to expand it later and riddle it with exceptions and such, but I think that pretty much sums it up. It is the difference between a study-hall calculator and a the teenager using it: they are both receiving quite an abundance of information, buttons are being pushed, sometimes they are abused or misused... they have a lot in common**. But the calculator doesn't have emotions. In this regard suppose it's in the air which has it better.
So why? this is where it gets tricky. Calculators were invented as a tool of efficiency. The calculators cut out all the many reasons we mess up; audio/visual distractions (conflicting sensory input, etc.) concentration (aside from external stimuli: thoughts of "thismortgage high school experience is going to be the death of me!" and such) forgetfulness ("formulas" and crap) and, last but not least (at least in my case), emotion. I'm not saying that math is an emotional trial for me in the sense that it ends in tears or heartache... I'm just referring to that damp forehead sort of frustration, the kind that builds on itself as you get more and more vexed with the problem.
Calculators have it made. They don't have to worry about anything but input, essentially "hardwired" processing, and output. Then again, if there were no more to a life than to make calculations, life would get pretty meaningless pretty quick. So, if you think about it, Calculators have it pretty rough.
I don't suppose there's much else to say, than that we are how we are because without emotions, we would be calculators. Every word, act and thought would be executed only in response to stimuli, but without consideration of the stimulant itself. We get the human experience, in all its splendor and gloom, ecstasy and pain.
Emotions are meaning. And not the type of meaning that words have, emotion is true meaning. Emotions are signifieds, something words and symbols cannot ever completely capture.
That's all for now. Thanks for reading.
Evan
* - I'm currently reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance again, and with new eyes. I didn't realize that it was going to show through in this writing, and I definitely wasn't trying for that... But you tell me: are there less commas in this post than average?
** - It occurred to me that neither is capable of finding answers without the other. difference (aside from emotion) being that where a calculator is usually sleek, smooth (aside from the pizza-grease fingerprints) and systematic, the teenager using it is usually pizza-faced, bumbling and erratic.
While "Heartache" isn't a word I like to throw around, it's also not the end of the world. I guess I should find a word that isn't so widely abused by pop musicians and high school poets, but I'd rather just give you my definition before we proceed.
When I say Heartache I don't mean tears and suicidal thoughts, or anything like that.
It's actually very simple: Heart + ache. Perhaps a little more abstract than simply descriptive, since it is (for me at least) a physical symptom of a mental process, but at least it's not a misnomer like "Heartburn".
Again, I just want to be thorough here. I had an idea of what I wanted to say before I even began this post. I hadn't come up with a title for it, and the one I used wasn't exactly thought out, so everything up to this point has been just that.
Guess I'm rambling, avoiding my own topic. I hope you understand what I mean. I'm sure you can relate. It's an ache in my chest, and it usually accompanies a feeling of loss-- I suppose it is the physical "feeling" of loss. So it follows a realization. It's the purest example of emotion. If I were a computer, the realization would be the end product of my calculative process. It would either flash this "answer" across my screen. Or, if this "answer" was only one part of an equation, then it would remain as code until the end answer had been calculated. I suppose this end answer would be the calculated "meaning of life". but then again, I'd be a computer... And I'm rambling again. But I do want to explore this later.
So, about this title... why didn't I just leave it blank until I had said my piece? Instead, I've started myself on a couple of little tangents and side trails instead of starting this hike. this "Chautauqua", if you will*.
An alternative title occurred to me as I've written "breakdown of a breakdown" but that isn't what I want to talk about, it just sounds witty (to me).
I've given up on exploring my original topic, this title thing has gone too far, and I realize you have better things to do. Pity though, I would have liked to maintain this same lighthearted tone in my original topic.
I suppose I'll go on with the computer concept, and add a subtitle to this post "what is emotion and why?" :)
Wow. I suddenly need to start a new analogy. Simply because I added a sub-title. This title-prior-to-completion-of-discourse thing is a good way to derail any sort of orderly train of thought. But this blather has a certain therapeutic value-- an analgesic effect on the very heartache I was about to write of-- so I'll continue. you may leave now, if you'd had enough, I don't quite have my fix.
What is emotion? Like I said, it is a physical feeling that accompanies a mental function. this definition is my own, and I may have to expand it later and riddle it with exceptions and such, but I think that pretty much sums it up. It is the difference between a study-hall calculator and a the teenager using it: they are both receiving quite an abundance of information, buttons are being pushed, sometimes they are abused or misused... they have a lot in common**. But the calculator doesn't have emotions. In this regard suppose it's in the air which has it better.
So why? this is where it gets tricky. Calculators were invented as a tool of efficiency. The calculators cut out all the many reasons we mess up; audio/visual distractions (conflicting sensory input, etc.) concentration (aside from external stimuli: thoughts of "this
Calculators have it made. They don't have to worry about anything but input, essentially "hardwired" processing, and output. Then again, if there were no more to a life than to make calculations, life would get pretty meaningless pretty quick. So, if you think about it, Calculators have it pretty rough.
I don't suppose there's much else to say, than that we are how we are because without emotions, we would be calculators. Every word, act and thought would be executed only in response to stimuli, but without consideration of the stimulant itself. We get the human experience, in all its splendor and gloom, ecstasy and pain.
Emotions are meaning. And not the type of meaning that words have, emotion is true meaning. Emotions are signifieds, something words and symbols cannot ever completely capture.
That's all for now. Thanks for reading.
Evan
* - I'm currently reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance again, and with new eyes. I didn't realize that it was going to show through in this writing, and I definitely wasn't trying for that... But you tell me: are there less commas in this post than average?
** - It occurred to me that neither is capable of finding answers without the other. difference (aside from emotion) being that where a calculator is usually sleek, smooth (aside from the pizza-grease fingerprints) and systematic, the teenager using it is usually pizza-faced, bumbling and erratic.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
it goes like this
a child is passing under where his father is building a beautiful house out of bricks
you see... the child has just brought his father a nice glass of cold lemonade
The father is now hoisting up a barrel of bricks when suddenly the lemonade spills over the edge of the building
Time slows down as the father looks over the edge, only to see that the child is playing on the sidewalk below, oblivious to the falling lemonade
He releases his hold on the rope hoist and cups his hands around his mouth
"beware the lemonade!"
the child is blindsided, first by a glass of lemonade
and then a barrel of bricks
as the father descends the scaffolding the child is bleeding all over the sidewalk
"are you okay?" the father asks, hoping to see the child stand and brush the dust from his togs...
"it hurts!" comes the reply
"of course it does, if only I'd called out sooner, there wouldn't be lemon juice in your wounds"
a child is passing under where his father is building a beautiful house out of bricks
you see... the child has just brought his father a nice glass of cold lemonade
The father is now hoisting up a barrel of bricks when suddenly the lemonade spills over the edge of the building
Time slows down as the father looks over the edge, only to see that the child is playing on the sidewalk below, oblivious to the falling lemonade
He releases his hold on the rope hoist and cups his hands around his mouth
"beware the lemonade!"
the child is blindsided, first by a glass of lemonade
and then a barrel of bricks
as the father descends the scaffolding the child is bleeding all over the sidewalk
"are you okay?" the father asks, hoping to see the child stand and brush the dust from his togs...
"it hurts!" comes the reply
"of course it does, if only I'd called out sooner, there wouldn't be lemon juice in your wounds"
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Lateral Knowledge
This Idea isn't mine. The following is taken from one of my all-time favorite books
"The truths... were lateral truths; no longer the frontal truths of science, those toward which the discipline pointed, but the kind of truth you see laterally, out of the corner of your eye. In a laboratory situation, when your whole procedure goes haywire, when everything goes wrong or is indeterminate or is so screwed up by unexpected results you can't make head or tail out of anything, you start looking laterally. That's a word he later used to describe a growth of knowledge that doesn't move forward like an arrow in flight, but expands sideways, like an arrow enlarging in flight, or like an archer, discovering that although he has hit the bulls-eye and won the prize, his head is on a pillow and the sun is coming in the window. Lateral knowledge is knowledge that's from a wholly unexpected direction, from a direction that's not even understood as a direction until the knowledge forces itself upon one. Lateral truths point to the falseness of axioms and postulates underlying one's existing system of getting truth."
-Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.
________________________________________________________________
That little passage quite aptly describes my experience with rediscovering my faith. This book made a lasting impression on me when I first read it about 4 years ago. In addition to it's influence on my writing style, I would say that it was my informal introduction to the world of philosophy--possibly even a factor in my decision to pursue a different spiritual path. This time around, I am getting a lot more out of it, having been on a personal journey of my own in the meantime.
"The truths... were lateral truths; no longer the frontal truths of science, those toward which the discipline pointed, but the kind of truth you see laterally, out of the corner of your eye. In a laboratory situation, when your whole procedure goes haywire, when everything goes wrong or is indeterminate or is so screwed up by unexpected results you can't make head or tail out of anything, you start looking laterally. That's a word he later used to describe a growth of knowledge that doesn't move forward like an arrow in flight, but expands sideways, like an arrow enlarging in flight, or like an archer, discovering that although he has hit the bulls-eye and won the prize, his head is on a pillow and the sun is coming in the window. Lateral knowledge is knowledge that's from a wholly unexpected direction, from a direction that's not even understood as a direction until the knowledge forces itself upon one. Lateral truths point to the falseness of axioms and postulates underlying one's existing system of getting truth."
-Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.
________________________________________________________________
That little passage quite aptly describes my experience with rediscovering my faith. This book made a lasting impression on me when I first read it about 4 years ago. In addition to it's influence on my writing style, I would say that it was my informal introduction to the world of philosophy--possibly even a factor in my decision to pursue a different spiritual path. This time around, I am getting a lot more out of it, having been on a personal journey of my own in the meantime.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
No Regrets When the Worms Come
wouldn't it be great to lie in your deathbed and be 100 percent content with the way your life was spent? no regrets. Everything you dreamed of doing, done. Even a failure wouldn't be a bad thing, as long as you put in your best effort.
Yet, here I am. my bedroom floor is covered in junk and dirty clothes. I am unemployed, and scattered on my desk are at least a dozen short-term goals that I feel too discouraged to pursue (along with a slew of dirty dishes and unpaid bills).
I have started 7 full-length screenplays (120 pages each, on average) and of those I have one that has made it past the first 20 pages... and I'm planning to scrap it and start over. Sheesh.
Yet, here I am. my bedroom floor is covered in junk and dirty clothes. I am unemployed, and scattered on my desk are at least a dozen short-term goals that I feel too discouraged to pursue (along with a slew of dirty dishes and unpaid bills).
I have started 7 full-length screenplays (120 pages each, on average) and of those I have one that has made it past the first 20 pages... and I'm planning to scrap it and start over. Sheesh.
daily junk
Oky, so I know the past couple of posts have been downers... I'm not really sad. I guess I'm just anxious, for several reasons. At any rate, I think I'm going to sensor myself less, thereby having more to say about my day-to-day.
Supposed to go boating today. But I wonder if I should. My back is out of whack. I was playing on a trampoline about two weeks ago, and I managed to fold myself in half in the wrong direction... I nearly kicked myself in the back of the head while doing a stylish face plant on the the tramp mesh. Anyway, my back cracked like a whip, and now I ache in my very lower back. I only notice it when I'm straining, but I think I might have really messed something up.
I think I'll go, on the off chance that it just needs some exercise.
Now comes me not mentioning Michael Jackson's death.
Moving on.
About a month ago, I decided to apply for a summer (unpaid) internship with National Geographic. There was a posting for my dream internship, logging footage for travel/cultural documentaries. About 12 hours later they took the listing down (in my best Ellen the British maid voice) "the position 'as been filled."
Not one to give up, I decided to make a special resume in the event that they re-open the position for applications. They never did. But the next best thing came along, logging footage from "Crittercams" (stationary cameras placed in the vicinity of a certain "critter's" home or feeding area/water source. Kinda voyeuristic really....) which would entail sorting the footage into a trash pile and a keeper pile, as well as participating in research of observed traits. I called my academic adviser to find out what it would take to get approved for the internship through the film program. She said it was too late to apply for summer internships, and that I would have to go through the school to select an available internship (Nation Geographic is in D.C., and most certainly not on the list). But, I'm not one to lose hope so easily. I asked if there was nothing to be done to cut through the red tape (much of my education has been slipping through one crack or another, skirting protocol..) She said I could call Jan, who is assistant director for the Digital Media program, who could make an exception for late application. Perfect. Why would she deny me an opportunity to pursue something in my intended career path just because of some arbitrary deadline? especially if I have already shown the motivation to seek it out myself.
Well... she didn't answer her phone or return my call, and now it's the weekend and I'm certain that by Monday it will be too late (N.G. doesn't have trouble filling their unpaid internship positions).
I still have my fingers crossed.
Supposed to go boating today. But I wonder if I should. My back is out of whack. I was playing on a trampoline about two weeks ago, and I managed to fold myself in half in the wrong direction... I nearly kicked myself in the back of the head while doing a stylish face plant on the the tramp mesh. Anyway, my back cracked like a whip, and now I ache in my very lower back. I only notice it when I'm straining, but I think I might have really messed something up.
I think I'll go, on the off chance that it just needs some exercise.
Now comes me not mentioning Michael Jackson's death.
Moving on.
About a month ago, I decided to apply for a summer (unpaid) internship with National Geographic. There was a posting for my dream internship, logging footage for travel/cultural documentaries. About 12 hours later they took the listing down (in my best Ellen the British maid voice) "the position 'as been filled."
Not one to give up, I decided to make a special resume in the event that they re-open the position for applications. They never did. But the next best thing came along, logging footage from "Crittercams" (stationary cameras placed in the vicinity of a certain "critter's" home or feeding area/water source. Kinda voyeuristic really....) which would entail sorting the footage into a trash pile and a keeper pile, as well as participating in research of observed traits. I called my academic adviser to find out what it would take to get approved for the internship through the film program. She said it was too late to apply for summer internships, and that I would have to go through the school to select an available internship (Nation Geographic is in D.C., and most certainly not on the list). But, I'm not one to lose hope so easily. I asked if there was nothing to be done to cut through the red tape (much of my education has been slipping through one crack or another, skirting protocol..) She said I could call Jan, who is assistant director for the Digital Media program, who could make an exception for late application. Perfect. Why would she deny me an opportunity to pursue something in my intended career path just because of some arbitrary deadline? especially if I have already shown the motivation to seek it out myself.
Well... she didn't answer her phone or return my call, and now it's the weekend and I'm certain that by Monday it will be too late (N.G. doesn't have trouble filling their unpaid internship positions).
I still have my fingers crossed.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thick as a Brick
I've always been stubborn.
When I was younger, being home-schooled, my dad tried to drive home the importance of an education. I think he went about it in all the wrong ways, humiliation was his tactic. He would ask me multiplication tables in public. or ask me the same one over and over again until it became a joke-- but one that conveyed that he had zero confidence in my abilities. I think he wanted me to apply myself so I could one day surprise him by knowing the answer. But, this blog isn't about some deep-set resentment toward my dad, it's about me.
My dad would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. "a computer programmer" was my reply for much of my childhood. Then I turned 13 and got a guitar, and then it was "rockstar" (we wont get into his criticisms of that).
And I really thought I would be rockstar. forget learning methods, or "music theory" or "Scales" and how to read music... I was going to revolutionize the world on my own terms. I dreamed of being the only one on the stage, because I was just. that. good. I think somehow I was Idolizing Dick Van Dyke's character "Bert" at the beginning of Mary Poppins more than more traditional rockers...
I wouldn't say I was determined, I just was convinced. Surely it would happen.
Then I saw a movie (I wont say which. And if you know you had better not either.) that made me think of what it must be like to be behind the scenes of filmmaking. I'll admit, I didn't really consider it being a viable career choice for a while after, but I did begin trying to figure out they made things work on film. And when I came around to the decision to go into film, I was determined to make it on my own. I wasn't going to buy into the whole Hollywood scene, I was going to do it all on my own.
Only very recently have I realized how I've stunted myself by rejecting the easy road. not even the "easy road", the traditional route. And it goes deeper than that. I think that the reason I did so, was so I could claim all the glory when I succeeded. So I could revel in my accomplishments while everyone else just wished they had known me. It may even be a driving factor still today... proving people wrong, making them regret not giving me a chance, showing them what they missed out on. But what I'm realizing is that I'm delusional. How does one make a film my himself? Even Charlie Chaplin had help....
I have just been selfish. feeling that there is only so much fame out there, and I want the biggest slice I can get. I suppose there is a polar opposite that is just as bad, which is still self-centered, but at the expense of those around you. at least I wasn't trying to take undue credit... not really.
But still, I guess all my life I have seen myself in a dog eat dog world, only because I refuse to run with a pack. There's safety--belonging--in numbers.
My friend just got engaged. Wonderful news. But at the same time, really depressing. I push people away because I refuse to compromise, only later to learn that I was dead set on something I didn't really want. I can't celebrate other people's accomplishments and fortune because I'm so focused on getting mine... When am I going to grow out of this?
When I was younger, being home-schooled, my dad tried to drive home the importance of an education. I think he went about it in all the wrong ways, humiliation was his tactic. He would ask me multiplication tables in public. or ask me the same one over and over again until it became a joke-- but one that conveyed that he had zero confidence in my abilities. I think he wanted me to apply myself so I could one day surprise him by knowing the answer. But, this blog isn't about some deep-set resentment toward my dad, it's about me.
My dad would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. "a computer programmer" was my reply for much of my childhood. Then I turned 13 and got a guitar, and then it was "rockstar" (we wont get into his criticisms of that).
And I really thought I would be rockstar. forget learning methods, or "music theory" or "Scales" and how to read music... I was going to revolutionize the world on my own terms. I dreamed of being the only one on the stage, because I was just. that. good. I think somehow I was Idolizing Dick Van Dyke's character "Bert" at the beginning of Mary Poppins more than more traditional rockers...
I wouldn't say I was determined, I just was convinced. Surely it would happen.
Then I saw a movie (I wont say which. And if you know you had better not either.) that made me think of what it must be like to be behind the scenes of filmmaking. I'll admit, I didn't really consider it being a viable career choice for a while after, but I did begin trying to figure out they made things work on film. And when I came around to the decision to go into film, I was determined to make it on my own. I wasn't going to buy into the whole Hollywood scene, I was going to do it all on my own.
Only very recently have I realized how I've stunted myself by rejecting the easy road. not even the "easy road", the traditional route. And it goes deeper than that. I think that the reason I did so, was so I could claim all the glory when I succeeded. So I could revel in my accomplishments while everyone else just wished they had known me. It may even be a driving factor still today... proving people wrong, making them regret not giving me a chance, showing them what they missed out on. But what I'm realizing is that I'm delusional. How does one make a film my himself? Even Charlie Chaplin had help....
I have just been selfish. feeling that there is only so much fame out there, and I want the biggest slice I can get. I suppose there is a polar opposite that is just as bad, which is still self-centered, but at the expense of those around you. at least I wasn't trying to take undue credit... not really.
But still, I guess all my life I have seen myself in a dog eat dog world, only because I refuse to run with a pack. There's safety--belonging--in numbers.
My friend just got engaged. Wonderful news. But at the same time, really depressing. I push people away because I refuse to compromise, only later to learn that I was dead set on something I didn't really want. I can't celebrate other people's accomplishments and fortune because I'm so focused on getting mine... When am I going to grow out of this?
One for Sorrow
I really want to write something tonight, but nothing is really coming to me. Nothing noteworthy or remarkable. I'm sure I could write a self-deprecating poem, a lament on the past.
That's really all that's on my mind lately, Perspectives. How true it is that hindsight is 20/20.
Sometimes, when I'm people-watching (something I tend to do quite a bit), I try to imagine what the world looks like through their eyes. That entails seeing from all types of perspective; Physical, emotional, intellectual... And beyond that, I find myself contemplating the difference between them and myself. It's really overwhelming to try and do since, obviously, as an observer, I cannot really consider anything outside of my perspective in any sort of validating way. I can try and imagine that someone has an aversion to mushrooms, or the color black, or the taste of water in an unfamiliar city... but it all filters through my own experiences, and certain residue of myself inevitably corrupts a clear understanding.
I can remember a time when I saw bright, vibrant colors everywhere I looked. Now, most of the time, I feel like I am seeing the world through a dirty lens. Maybe my eyeballs need a good scrubbing. Can they do that? I guess they probably can, with lasers and whatnot...
I also remember when I was so emotionally volitile, that a song could physically affect me. I guess you (yes you) may be able to relate when I say "that first crush feeling". Like when you drink 7up, and you get a "bubble in your nose", except it's a sensation that spreads through your entire body. I don't experience that often at all anymore, but I used to get that feeling just thinking about someone. Just thinking about thinking about someone, you know? An old mix tape from a girl you barely know... when I was 12 or 13, pop music stations could put me through so many different emotions, even in a single hour. One song would say "I'll love you more with every breath..." and I was swept up in the concept... like I went from "bubbles-through-my-nervous-system" to being pumped full of helium. Yet, the next song would have a melody that just sounded sad. All I can describe the feeling as--have you ever nearly drowned? where you're anticipating your lungs collapsing. Or have you been on the bottom of a dog-pile? where you could swear your heart stopped beating. yeah. that.
I'll probably take this down tomorrow.
thanks for reading.
That's really all that's on my mind lately, Perspectives. How true it is that hindsight is 20/20.
Sometimes, when I'm people-watching (something I tend to do quite a bit), I try to imagine what the world looks like through their eyes. That entails seeing from all types of perspective; Physical, emotional, intellectual... And beyond that, I find myself contemplating the difference between them and myself. It's really overwhelming to try and do since, obviously, as an observer, I cannot really consider anything outside of my perspective in any sort of validating way. I can try and imagine that someone has an aversion to mushrooms, or the color black, or the taste of water in an unfamiliar city... but it all filters through my own experiences, and certain residue of myself inevitably corrupts a clear understanding.
I can remember a time when I saw bright, vibrant colors everywhere I looked. Now, most of the time, I feel like I am seeing the world through a dirty lens. Maybe my eyeballs need a good scrubbing. Can they do that? I guess they probably can, with lasers and whatnot...
I also remember when I was so emotionally volitile, that a song could physically affect me. I guess you (yes you) may be able to relate when I say "that first crush feeling". Like when you drink 7up, and you get a "bubble in your nose", except it's a sensation that spreads through your entire body. I don't experience that often at all anymore, but I used to get that feeling just thinking about someone. Just thinking about thinking about someone, you know? An old mix tape from a girl you barely know... when I was 12 or 13, pop music stations could put me through so many different emotions, even in a single hour. One song would say "I'll love you more with every breath..." and I was swept up in the concept... like I went from "bubbles-through-my-nervous-system" to being pumped full of helium. Yet, the next song would have a melody that just sounded sad. All I can describe the feeling as--have you ever nearly drowned? where you're anticipating your lungs collapsing. Or have you been on the bottom of a dog-pile? where you could swear your heart stopped beating. yeah. that.
I'll probably take this down tomorrow.
thanks for reading.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Thoughts on Self-improvement.
Something that has been on my mind a lot lately... "know thyself".
Someone the other day said "you know when you were a kid, and it felt like everyone was constantly watching you?..."
But the funny thing is, I experience this sensation constantly. Especially when I'm working, and I notice someone is watching me... I go back to my work, and try to ignore them, but I have this sense that there's still a set of eyes on me. eventually I'll look up, and almost ALWAYS they are nowhere to be seen. Sometimes they have even gotten in their cars and left. It made me wonder if there's something in me that believes that I'm just so interesting that I couldn't imagine someone not wanting to just sit and watch me... some sort of subconscious ego.
Anyway, ever since I've noticed this, I have been pondering the possibility that how I perceive myself may not be what someone else sees at all. And that makes me wonder which of us is right.
On more than one occasion, I have been mistaken in my judgment of others, supposing them to have a selfish end in mind when they gave me false information, never imagining that they may have simply erred or misheard. I was quick to judge, and my judgment was harsh.
I learned a trick recently that not only makes sure that I don't find myself unfairly accusing, but allows me to take a look at myself, and perhaps find some room for improvement. it goes like this.
When I begin to accuse someone of something, or to imagine their faults and flaws, I take a moment to identify what exactly I am attributing to them: laziness, vanity, stubbornness, arrogance... it could be any number of things.
Then, instead of deciding for myself that I have judged this person accurately, I sincerely search myself, to see if I am not equally as guilty. I'm almost never innocent. And, since being a hypocrite doesn't help matters at all, I find it hard to state my accusations.
Something I'm NOT good at, is taking an honest look at myself before I'm ready, as when someone else points out my faults. Call me shy, but I don't like feeling eyes upon me when I'm stripped of my pride. I imagine the Emperor's response to the matter-of-fact child who informed him he was in the buff went something like this "(...oh my!) STOP LOOKIN' AT ME THEN!" It hurts to be accused, and it's uncomfortable. My mental response is strangely similar to Adam and Eve, who beheld their nakedness and were ashamed, my instinct is to cover my nakedness... or my flaws. I'm working on being able to see the opportunity to address my faults in total honesty with myself, and those who are brave enough to tell me the truth when they see me parading about in blissful oblivion.
Someone the other day said "you know when you were a kid, and it felt like everyone was constantly watching you?..."
But the funny thing is, I experience this sensation constantly. Especially when I'm working, and I notice someone is watching me... I go back to my work, and try to ignore them, but I have this sense that there's still a set of eyes on me. eventually I'll look up, and almost ALWAYS they are nowhere to be seen. Sometimes they have even gotten in their cars and left. It made me wonder if there's something in me that believes that I'm just so interesting that I couldn't imagine someone not wanting to just sit and watch me... some sort of subconscious ego.
Anyway, ever since I've noticed this, I have been pondering the possibility that how I perceive myself may not be what someone else sees at all. And that makes me wonder which of us is right.
On more than one occasion, I have been mistaken in my judgment of others, supposing them to have a selfish end in mind when they gave me false information, never imagining that they may have simply erred or misheard. I was quick to judge, and my judgment was harsh.
I learned a trick recently that not only makes sure that I don't find myself unfairly accusing, but allows me to take a look at myself, and perhaps find some room for improvement. it goes like this.
When I begin to accuse someone of something, or to imagine their faults and flaws, I take a moment to identify what exactly I am attributing to them: laziness, vanity, stubbornness, arrogance... it could be any number of things.
Then, instead of deciding for myself that I have judged this person accurately, I sincerely search myself, to see if I am not equally as guilty. I'm almost never innocent. And, since being a hypocrite doesn't help matters at all, I find it hard to state my accusations.
Something I'm NOT good at, is taking an honest look at myself before I'm ready, as when someone else points out my faults. Call me shy, but I don't like feeling eyes upon me when I'm stripped of my pride. I imagine the Emperor's response to the matter-of-fact child who informed him he was in the buff went something like this "(...oh my!) STOP LOOKIN' AT ME THEN!" It hurts to be accused, and it's uncomfortable. My mental response is strangely similar to Adam and Eve, who beheld their nakedness and were ashamed, my instinct is to cover my nakedness... or my flaws. I'm working on being able to see the opportunity to address my faults in total honesty with myself, and those who are brave enough to tell me the truth when they see me parading about in blissful oblivion.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Think about it.
I'm not trying to be mushy or sentimental here. just read this...
"I love you."
It's a complete sentence. It's a statement.
I'm not a pro with linguistics. I can't really label words or dissect a sentence. but I do know this. Love is a verb (as I typed that, it called to mind a song that says exactly that... maybe this post wont be very original at all).
Think about it. Hopefully, we say those words all the time. Hopefully we hear them all the time. but do we really take it to heart? do we really say those words from the heart? Are they like a vain repetition? something we feel obligated to say? Are they, in our minds, simply a good conversation closer? A polite outro?
You may expect, in a dime-a-dozen dissertation such as this, to hear that "we don't say 'I love you' enough". While this is probably true, I'm more concerned with quality than quantity. If we could be certain that each 'I love you' was sincere, we may find that we have been saying "I love you" too much.
A story comes to mind --I'm unable to recall all the particulars-- of a parent who, in exercising either a strong will or (simply) good discipline, sensed some resentment from their child. "do you love me?" they asked, soliciting affection. After some deliberation, the response came: "I love you, I just don't like you right now."
That is not an example of an insincere 'I love you'. I think it is perfectly natural--the temporary inability to see past your own desires or emotions, and sense and embrace a connection with another. In fact, I think this child's statement is more than adorable, it's admirable...I don't want to get derailed here (I'm sure I've already been on more than one hypocritical rant about the invaluable benefits of open and honest communication).
Getting back to the thought that inspired this post.... It donned on me today, when reading the word in all it's typed, and simple glory (complete with quotation marks), that this sentence serves simply as a reminder. Actually, I was kinda blown away by the fact that it isn't "I love you _____(sometimes, right now, when you...)". I like to think of the words as a terrible understatement. I don't think that hearing "I love you" should garner an emotion in anyone (though I believe it does) without ample evidence of the truthfulness of the statement. Words do nothing in and of themselves. They are a sign for something real and evident. We don't need words to witness something. Words come after the fact, or in reference to the facts.
While showing love is probably more natural for some than for others, this is true for everybody: it has almost nothing to do with expressing it in words.
So why are these words so powerful?
Because they affirm something we already know. These words are meant to remind us of a truth, a fact. They could be the "big picture" when our minds and emotions are constricted by tunnel vision, as when we have been hurt and fail to comprehend why. Any reminder is just this: when we think we are considering the big picture, reminders show us that we aren't. Interesting, because truth can be overlooked in two polar extremes. One way, is that we are so focused on finding meaning in a swirl of confusion that we forget that it is nothing more than a brushstroke in the expansive mural of our lives. The other, is that we are attempting to focus on the overwhelmingly vast canvas of our lives that we fail to appreciate the details, the shading and shadows that give depth to big picture, and reminds us that we could never see the big picture if it weren't for a light source.
Hope this hasn't been a bore.. this is just what is on my mind right now... thought I'd document it.
Thanks for reading,
Evan
"I love you."
It's a complete sentence. It's a statement.
I'm not a pro with linguistics. I can't really label words or dissect a sentence. but I do know this. Love is a verb (as I typed that, it called to mind a song that says exactly that... maybe this post wont be very original at all).
Think about it. Hopefully, we say those words all the time. Hopefully we hear them all the time. but do we really take it to heart? do we really say those words from the heart? Are they like a vain repetition? something we feel obligated to say? Are they, in our minds, simply a good conversation closer? A polite outro?
You may expect, in a dime-a-dozen dissertation such as this, to hear that "we don't say 'I love you' enough". While this is probably true, I'm more concerned with quality than quantity. If we could be certain that each 'I love you' was sincere, we may find that we have been saying "I love you" too much.
A story comes to mind --I'm unable to recall all the particulars-- of a parent who, in exercising either a strong will or (simply) good discipline, sensed some resentment from their child. "do you love me?" they asked, soliciting affection. After some deliberation, the response came: "I love you, I just don't like you right now."
That is not an example of an insincere 'I love you'. I think it is perfectly natural--the temporary inability to see past your own desires or emotions, and sense and embrace a connection with another. In fact, I think this child's statement is more than adorable, it's admirable...I don't want to get derailed here (I'm sure I've already been on more than one hypocritical rant about the invaluable benefits of open and honest communication).
Getting back to the thought that inspired this post.... It donned on me today, when reading the word in all it's typed, and simple glory (complete with quotation marks), that this sentence serves simply as a reminder. Actually, I was kinda blown away by the fact that it isn't "I love you _____(sometimes, right now, when you...)". I like to think of the words as a terrible understatement. I don't think that hearing "I love you" should garner an emotion in anyone (though I believe it does) without ample evidence of the truthfulness of the statement. Words do nothing in and of themselves. They are a sign for something real and evident. We don't need words to witness something. Words come after the fact, or in reference to the facts.
While showing love is probably more natural for some than for others, this is true for everybody: it has almost nothing to do with expressing it in words.
So why are these words so powerful?
Because they affirm something we already know. These words are meant to remind us of a truth, a fact. They could be the "big picture" when our minds and emotions are constricted by tunnel vision, as when we have been hurt and fail to comprehend why. Any reminder is just this: when we think we are considering the big picture, reminders show us that we aren't. Interesting, because truth can be overlooked in two polar extremes. One way, is that we are so focused on finding meaning in a swirl of confusion that we forget that it is nothing more than a brushstroke in the expansive mural of our lives. The other, is that we are attempting to focus on the overwhelmingly vast canvas of our lives that we fail to appreciate the details, the shading and shadows that give depth to big picture, and reminds us that we could never see the big picture if it weren't for a light source.
Hope this hasn't been a bore.. this is just what is on my mind right now... thought I'd document it.
Thanks for reading,
Evan
Monday, May 25, 2009
New Post
I seem to be writing quite a lot these days, but nothing I'm comfortable posting here. Here's a little update, something that really made my day last week.
My job entails picking up garbage along the exits on the interstate. I found a phone, which is a surprisingly frequent occurrence, but this one worked. I found the back of it first, and then the main piece, and then the battery. It was about a $ three or four hundred dollar phone. I didn't expect it to work, but I popped the battery in (not as simple as all that, because it has some road rash) and voila! it booted right up. It was an AT&T phone, and I have Tmobile, so i would have to have it unlocked for it to do me any good. It also had an 8GB SD card in it.
The thought crossed my mind that I should keep it. But in about 5 phone calls, i was able to track down the owner and return it to him. He insisted on giving me $20, shook my hand and said "And thanks for your honesty, that's just great!"
I wish I hadn't kept the $20, I feel like it kinda put a damper on a good feeling.
*Turns out the guy had pretty good taste in music*
My job entails picking up garbage along the exits on the interstate. I found a phone, which is a surprisingly frequent occurrence, but this one worked. I found the back of it first, and then the main piece, and then the battery. It was about a $ three or four hundred dollar phone. I didn't expect it to work, but I popped the battery in (not as simple as all that, because it has some road rash) and voila! it booted right up. It was an AT&T phone, and I have Tmobile, so i would have to have it unlocked for it to do me any good. It also had an 8GB SD card in it.
The thought crossed my mind that I should keep it. But in about 5 phone calls, i was able to track down the owner and return it to him. He insisted on giving me $20, shook my hand and said "And thanks for your honesty, that's just great!"
I wish I hadn't kept the $20, I feel like it kinda put a damper on a good feeling.
*Turns out the guy had pretty good taste in music*
Friday, May 22, 2009
short thoughts on the road home
I awoke from a nightmare to learn it's all true
things I have done that I cannot undo
things I have said that I cannot take back
paths I have taken that I cannot re-track
But there someone who can take it away
and settle a debt I could never repay
things I have done that I cannot undo
things I have said that I cannot take back
paths I have taken that I cannot re-track
But there someone who can take it away
and settle a debt I could never repay
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Attitude
Hi,
Thanks for stopping by. I haven't posted in a while, but I am feeling really, REALLY content right now, and I want to capture the moment.
I pulled weeds at work for about 8 hours today. It really takes a toll on one's joints. The bed we were weeding is on about a 40° slope, so my ankles were constantly being strained in one direction or another. For footing, I had my choice of either loose gravel, or rocks about the size of a loaf of homemade bread, neither of which is comfortable for kneeling on and we're not allowed to "sit" on the job. The end result is a back ache and raw feet. weeds are no fun.
There were storm clouds brewing in the distance all morning. I was just praying, literally, that it would rain. Rain (at least in sheets) means I get off work early. If there was any day that I would like to cut short, it was today. I was miserable. On top of the physical discomforts, time was moving like a granny peaking over the steering wheel of a surprisingly undamaged Cadillac--unbelievably slow.
So, I prayed again "make it rain, please..." it occured to me that I should add in an 'if it be wisdom in thee', so I tacked one of those on, too.
Then I started thinking about it. Why would God make it rain, just so I could get of work? Perhaps if I truly needed it, and asked in faith... but here I am; not really needing to leave work, just not overly enjoying myself. And as far as faith goes, sure, I believe God could make it rain, but why would I specify that I would like it "if it be wisdom in thee?" That's bunk, and I know it. I'm not considering any sort of "grand scheme" or using an "Eternal Perspective", I just want an excuse to get off work early. So I apologized.
I thought about how I wasn't enjoying work, I thought about how I don't think I could ever stick with a job that doesn't totally thrill me to do, at least not for any sustained amount of time (I have had 15 jobs in the past 7 years). I thought about all the negative things about my job. Like how my boss is lazy, and how she hired her friend's son for the summer and just totes him around all day. The two of them pretend to be working, but in all reality, they just drive from park to park and manually operate the switchboards for the sprinkler systems, which are fully automated. I came up with some nicknames for them that aren't repeatable here.
Then I noticed my attitude, I was really hung up on how tedious and arduous my job was. I was nursing my wounds simply for the sake of cooing to myself little echos of the "injustices" I was being subjected to.
I decided to change my attitude right then and there. And as soon as I made the decision, everything became a joy. It was amazing, I just chose to see things positively and they BECAME positive!
It really works. TRY IT!
Also, this is really cool. I saw a sandpiper in the pebbles by the road, and it kept tweeting every once in a while. as I watched it, I noticed that it would occasionally squat down on the rocks, as if it were sitting in a nest. Strange.... then, I noticed that anytime I would move towards it, or move suddenly, it would hunker down in the rocks. I realized that it was trying to be inconspicuous. Later, I saw it's nest (and to my bewilderment, remembered having seen it yesterday, when I thought that it was a wrecked nest from a nearby bush, (since I've never seen a ground nest before and this one looked pretty weathered). I'd assumed it's eggs to be left for dead, and I squished one with my trash-grabber. leaving 3. MAN! why'd I do that?) anyway, I came back upon the nest. When I approached it, the Sandpiper came running at me, stopped about 7 or 8 feet away, and plopped over on its side, flapping its wings as if it were lame. NEAT! the bird was trying to lure me away from its nest by appearing to be an easy target. One of the coolest things I've seen in a long time. It was really good at appearing to be hurt, it could even ruffle it's feathers to look like its wing was broken. it did it every time I passed by the nest. So cool!
Thanks for stopping by. I haven't posted in a while, but I am feeling really, REALLY content right now, and I want to capture the moment.
I pulled weeds at work for about 8 hours today. It really takes a toll on one's joints. The bed we were weeding is on about a 40° slope, so my ankles were constantly being strained in one direction or another. For footing, I had my choice of either loose gravel, or rocks about the size of a loaf of homemade bread, neither of which is comfortable for kneeling on and we're not allowed to "sit" on the job. The end result is a back ache and raw feet. weeds are no fun.
There were storm clouds brewing in the distance all morning. I was just praying, literally, that it would rain. Rain (at least in sheets) means I get off work early. If there was any day that I would like to cut short, it was today. I was miserable. On top of the physical discomforts, time was moving like a granny peaking over the steering wheel of a surprisingly undamaged Cadillac--unbelievably slow.
So, I prayed again "make it rain, please..." it occured to me that I should add in an 'if it be wisdom in thee', so I tacked one of those on, too.
Then I started thinking about it. Why would God make it rain, just so I could get of work? Perhaps if I truly needed it, and asked in faith... but here I am; not really needing to leave work, just not overly enjoying myself. And as far as faith goes, sure, I believe God could make it rain, but why would I specify that I would like it "if it be wisdom in thee?" That's bunk, and I know it. I'm not considering any sort of "grand scheme" or using an "Eternal Perspective", I just want an excuse to get off work early. So I apologized.
I thought about how I wasn't enjoying work, I thought about how I don't think I could ever stick with a job that doesn't totally thrill me to do, at least not for any sustained amount of time (I have had 15 jobs in the past 7 years). I thought about all the negative things about my job. Like how my boss is lazy, and how she hired her friend's son for the summer and just totes him around all day. The two of them pretend to be working, but in all reality, they just drive from park to park and manually operate the switchboards for the sprinkler systems, which are fully automated. I came up with some nicknames for them that aren't repeatable here.
Then I noticed my attitude, I was really hung up on how tedious and arduous my job was. I was nursing my wounds simply for the sake of cooing to myself little echos of the "injustices" I was being subjected to.
I decided to change my attitude right then and there. And as soon as I made the decision, everything became a joy. It was amazing, I just chose to see things positively and they BECAME positive!
It really works. TRY IT!
Also, this is really cool. I saw a sandpiper in the pebbles by the road, and it kept tweeting every once in a while. as I watched it, I noticed that it would occasionally squat down on the rocks, as if it were sitting in a nest. Strange.... then, I noticed that anytime I would move towards it, or move suddenly, it would hunker down in the rocks. I realized that it was trying to be inconspicuous. Later, I saw it's nest (and to my bewilderment, remembered having seen it yesterday, when I thought that it was a wrecked nest from a nearby bush, (since I've never seen a ground nest before and this one looked pretty weathered). I'd assumed it's eggs to be left for dead, and I squished one with my trash-grabber. leaving 3. MAN! why'd I do that?) anyway, I came back upon the nest. When I approached it, the Sandpiper came running at me, stopped about 7 or 8 feet away, and plopped over on its side, flapping its wings as if it were lame. NEAT! the bird was trying to lure me away from its nest by appearing to be an easy target. One of the coolest things I've seen in a long time. It was really good at appearing to be hurt, it could even ruffle it's feathers to look like its wing was broken. it did it every time I passed by the nest. So cool!
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