Sometimes I feel like even though the "who" and the "what" are important, maybe they're secondary. Maybe the "when" is really the key.
If there is such a thing as predestination, and set things that are "supposed" to happen, then maybe there is no set time that they're "supposed" to happen. Maybe sometimes things happen when they're not supposed to. Maybe sometimes the timing is off.
To everything, there is a season, eh.
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Now playing: Ingrid Michaelson - Masochist
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
"Stay hungry. Stay foolish."
"When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like, 'If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right.' It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself, 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?' And whenever the answer has been 'No' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.
"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart...
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary...
"Stay hungry. Stay foolish."
- Steve Jobs
Stanford Commencement Address, 2005
"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart...
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary...
"Stay hungry. Stay foolish."
- Steve Jobs
Stanford Commencement Address, 2005
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The world could use a few more cowboys.
I really enjoy the image of the cowboy as an Americanized version of the knight, and the chivalrous ideas it conjures. Well, a twisted, roughed-up version of chivalry. And honor.
The American cowboy is kind of archaic nowadays - not too many of 'em around. It's a shame. The world could use a few more cowboys.
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Now playing: Paula Cole - Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?
(I thought it was appropriate. Hehe.)
The American cowboy is kind of archaic nowadays - not too many of 'em around. It's a shame. The world could use a few more cowboys.
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Now playing: Paula Cole - Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?
(I thought it was appropriate. Hehe.)
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Clarity.
So I don't have it on me, because I lent it to a friend, but I read recently a book by the film director David Lynch (Mulholland Dr., Eraserhead, etc.) about his film career and his fascination with transcendental meditation. In the second chapter (each is only a couple of pages long), he writes about the "Rubber Clown Suit":
When I started meditating, I was filled with anxieties and fears. I felt a sense of depression and anger.
I often took out this anger on my first wife. After I had been meditating for about two weeks, she came to me and said, “What is going on?” I was quiet for a moment. But finally I said, “What do you mean?” And she said, “This anger, where did it go?” And I hadn’t even realized that it had lifted.
I call that depression and anger the Suffocating Rubber Clown Suit of Negativity. It’s suffocating, and that rubber stinks. But once you start meditating and diving within, the clown suit starts to dissolve. You finally realize how putrid was the stink when it starts to go. Then, when it dissolves, you have freedom.
Anger and depression and sorrow are beautiful things in a story, but they’re like poison to the filmmaker or artist. They’re like a vise grip on creativity. If you’re in that grip, you can hardly get out of bed, much less experience the flow of creativity and ideas. You must have clarity to create. You have to be able to catch ideas.
There's more that I liked, but like I said, I don't have the book on me. He mentions something else about how he never was into drugs because that would ruin his clarity. It made me think how that's just another reason not to smoke, drink excessively, or use any other kind of substance. I want my work to be purely the result of my thoughts, not the result of an altered state of mind.
It also made me think of how we ruin the clarity of our experience of everything in life by hiding. There are so many things we hide behind, whether it's through substance use, a facade of toughness, fictional worlds, materialism, or fear. I suppose in some ways these things could heighten our experiences, but more than anything else, I think they lessen it. In excess, at least. In small doses, in moments, I guess they're merely isolated experiences in and of themselves. But if you make a habit of hiding behind these things, they become a way of life, and a way of cheapening life. If that makes any sense.
In that sense, part of me is determined to live with as much clarity as possible, as much strength as possible - embracing pain and fear instead of relying on something else to numb it, take it away, to dull it, to soften the blow. Because really, that's what all that stuff does. It makes it easier. And I guess in some ways, we have natural defenses to help us through life, and it's okay to rely on them when the going gets tough, but at the same time, I can't help feeling like I'd rather either fight or embrace everything that comes than try to make it go away without facing it. And hiding behind these things, that's not facing the pain. It's running away.
I'm fairly certain tomorrow I'll reread this and disagree with myself entirely. Well, maybe not entirely, but I think I'll feel differently. After all, "I know that night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started." One of the two parts of A Farewell to Arms that I liked. Haha.
Speaking of literature. I'm presently finishing up Edward Albee's Three Tall Women, and it's absolutely fabulous, like everything I've ever read by him. I'll probably write more about it soon.
----------------
Now playing: John Mayer - New Deep
When I started meditating, I was filled with anxieties and fears. I felt a sense of depression and anger.
I often took out this anger on my first wife. After I had been meditating for about two weeks, she came to me and said, “What is going on?” I was quiet for a moment. But finally I said, “What do you mean?” And she said, “This anger, where did it go?” And I hadn’t even realized that it had lifted.
I call that depression and anger the Suffocating Rubber Clown Suit of Negativity. It’s suffocating, and that rubber stinks. But once you start meditating and diving within, the clown suit starts to dissolve. You finally realize how putrid was the stink when it starts to go. Then, when it dissolves, you have freedom.
Anger and depression and sorrow are beautiful things in a story, but they’re like poison to the filmmaker or artist. They’re like a vise grip on creativity. If you’re in that grip, you can hardly get out of bed, much less experience the flow of creativity and ideas. You must have clarity to create. You have to be able to catch ideas.
There's more that I liked, but like I said, I don't have the book on me. He mentions something else about how he never was into drugs because that would ruin his clarity. It made me think how that's just another reason not to smoke, drink excessively, or use any other kind of substance. I want my work to be purely the result of my thoughts, not the result of an altered state of mind.
It also made me think of how we ruin the clarity of our experience of everything in life by hiding. There are so many things we hide behind, whether it's through substance use, a facade of toughness, fictional worlds, materialism, or fear. I suppose in some ways these things could heighten our experiences, but more than anything else, I think they lessen it. In excess, at least. In small doses, in moments, I guess they're merely isolated experiences in and of themselves. But if you make a habit of hiding behind these things, they become a way of life, and a way of cheapening life. If that makes any sense.
In that sense, part of me is determined to live with as much clarity as possible, as much strength as possible - embracing pain and fear instead of relying on something else to numb it, take it away, to dull it, to soften the blow. Because really, that's what all that stuff does. It makes it easier. And I guess in some ways, we have natural defenses to help us through life, and it's okay to rely on them when the going gets tough, but at the same time, I can't help feeling like I'd rather either fight or embrace everything that comes than try to make it go away without facing it. And hiding behind these things, that's not facing the pain. It's running away.
I'm fairly certain tomorrow I'll reread this and disagree with myself entirely. Well, maybe not entirely, but I think I'll feel differently. After all, "I know that night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started." One of the two parts of A Farewell to Arms that I liked. Haha.
Speaking of literature. I'm presently finishing up Edward Albee's Three Tall Women, and it's absolutely fabulous, like everything I've ever read by him. I'll probably write more about it soon.
----------------
Now playing: John Mayer - New Deep
Hypermasculinity and the American Male.
This is a long, twisted way of getting to my point, but it made sense in my head.
So in my intro to international studies course a while back, we spent a week or two on studying gender roles in various cultures. We saw a video on it that was actually quite good. The first part showed these women in the back country of Albania called "sworn virgins," who take an oath to abandon all feminine practices and are then allowed to adopt the male's societal responsibilities and such. The practice has mostly died out, but there are still a few in the countryside, in the more traditional parts of Albania. It mostly occurs in families where, for example, there are two parents who are sick or unable to work or care for themselves, and no sons, just one or more daughters. It wasn't uncommon for one of these daughters to become a sworn virgin in order to care for the farm or take a job to support her parents and herself. But, she wasn't allowed to do this unless she became a sworn virgin, which also means she could never marry or have children.
The second part of the video showed an American man going to Thailand or some other southeast Asian country for a sex-change operation. He was completely changed into a woman. The only thing that changed, though, was the equipment - he had already altered his voice and appearance with hormones, and he dressed like a woman too. I believe he referred to himself as a "transgender."
The third part showed this caste of women in India, the "Untouchables," "pariahs." They're pretty much social outcasts. There is something with gender roles in that too, but I can't remember what at the moment.
In America, what do we have? Hypermasculinity. I read an article for 20th Century American Foreign Policy called "Techno-Muscularity and the Boy Eternal," in which the writer proposes that the failure of the Vietnam War prompted the veterans who returned to be condemned as losers, in part because of the lack of support for them from women and from their fathers who protested the war. This was the first generation of men to go to war and return without the luster of victory, but instead with the shadow of doubt, protest, and anger chasing them. Consequently, the writer of this article, says men in Hollywood films of the '80s were frequently "techno-muscular" symbols, like Arnold Schwarzenegger - adult male characters that either acted like children or acted like a child's idea of what it meant to be a man.
Now, 20 years later, it feels like - to me at least - that our society and culture have moved one step further to hypermasculinity. Google the term, and the definitions that result both call it "a psychological term for the exaggeration of male stereotypical behavior, such as an emphasis on strength, aggression, body hair, odor and virility." Somehow, we've started putting an unbelievable amount of importance in these qualities that are more superficial than they are anything else. I understand the desire in men to achieve a certain degree of masculinity - well, as far as I can possibly understand it, I guess - but in the grand scheme of things, isn't it irrelevant? It would be less frustrating, except countless images in American culture emphasize the appeal of hypermasculinity in today's male. It's become a tool of marketers and salespeople, and it's one of the many things I hate in mass media.
"What is most beautiful in virile men is something feminine; what is most beautiful in feminine women is something masculine."
- Susan Sontag
The true value of a man - of any person, really - is not in these characteristics so much as it is in their character and actions. I randomly just remembered a part in Little Men, a follow-up to Little Women, in which the father of one of the boys dies. His nephew, after his funeral, proclaims that their other two uncles are the wisest and jolliest of the three, but Uncle John was the best. After that, one of the uncles talks for a while about why he was such a great man. (This is long, so skip it if you want.)
"Let me tell you a little about John Brooke, and you will see why men honor him, and why he was satisfied to be good rather than rich or famous. He simply did his duty in all things, and did it so cheerfully, so faithfully, that it kept him patient and brave, and happy through poverty and loneliness and years of hard work. He was a good son, and gave up his own plans to stay and live with his mother while she needed him. He was a good friend, and taught Laurie much beside his Greek and Latin, did it unconsciously, perhaps, by showing him an example of an upright man. He was a faithful servant, and made himself so valuable to those who employed him that they will find it hard to fill his place. He was a good husband and father, so tender, wise, and thoughtful, that Laurie and I learned much of him, and only knew how well he loved his family, when we discovered all he had done for them, unsuspected and unassisted."
Mr. Bhaer stopped a minute, and the boys sat like statues in the moonlight until he went on again, in a subdued, but earnest voice: "As he lay dying, I said to him, `Have no care for Meg and the little ones; I will see that they never want.` Then he smiled and pressed my hand, and answered, in his cheerful way, `No need of that; I have cared for them.` And so he had, for when we looked among his papers, all was in order, not a debt remained; and safely put away was enough to keep Meg comfortable and independent. Then we knew why he had lived so plainly, denied himself so many pleasures, except that of charity, and worked so hard that I fear he shortened his good life. He never asked help for himself, though often for others, but bore his own burden and worked out his own task bravely and quietly. No one can say a word of complaint against him, so just and generous and kind was he; and now, when he is gone, all find so much to love and praise and honor, that I am proud to have been his friend, and would rather leave my children the legacy he leaves his than the largest fortune ever made. Yes! Simple, generous goodness is the best capital to found the business of this life upon. It lasts when fame and money fail, and is the only riches we can take out of this world with us. Remember that, my boys; and if you want to earn respect and confidence and love follow in the footsteps of John Brooke."
I was just reminded of that. Really, though, this is just stemming from my frustration with the way society impresses the false idea upon its boys that they need to be absurdly masculine in order to be "men," to the point that it affects who they really are.
----------------
Now playing: John Mayer - Clarity
So in my intro to international studies course a while back, we spent a week or two on studying gender roles in various cultures. We saw a video on it that was actually quite good. The first part showed these women in the back country of Albania called "sworn virgins," who take an oath to abandon all feminine practices and are then allowed to adopt the male's societal responsibilities and such. The practice has mostly died out, but there are still a few in the countryside, in the more traditional parts of Albania. It mostly occurs in families where, for example, there are two parents who are sick or unable to work or care for themselves, and no sons, just one or more daughters. It wasn't uncommon for one of these daughters to become a sworn virgin in order to care for the farm or take a job to support her parents and herself. But, she wasn't allowed to do this unless she became a sworn virgin, which also means she could never marry or have children.
The second part of the video showed an American man going to Thailand or some other southeast Asian country for a sex-change operation. He was completely changed into a woman. The only thing that changed, though, was the equipment - he had already altered his voice and appearance with hormones, and he dressed like a woman too. I believe he referred to himself as a "transgender."
The third part showed this caste of women in India, the "Untouchables," "pariahs." They're pretty much social outcasts. There is something with gender roles in that too, but I can't remember what at the moment.
In America, what do we have? Hypermasculinity. I read an article for 20th Century American Foreign Policy called "Techno-Muscularity and the Boy Eternal," in which the writer proposes that the failure of the Vietnam War prompted the veterans who returned to be condemned as losers, in part because of the lack of support for them from women and from their fathers who protested the war. This was the first generation of men to go to war and return without the luster of victory, but instead with the shadow of doubt, protest, and anger chasing them. Consequently, the writer of this article, says men in Hollywood films of the '80s were frequently "techno-muscular" symbols, like Arnold Schwarzenegger - adult male characters that either acted like children or acted like a child's idea of what it meant to be a man.
Now, 20 years later, it feels like - to me at least - that our society and culture have moved one step further to hypermasculinity. Google the term, and the definitions that result both call it "a psychological term for the exaggeration of male stereotypical behavior, such as an emphasis on strength, aggression, body hair, odor and virility." Somehow, we've started putting an unbelievable amount of importance in these qualities that are more superficial than they are anything else. I understand the desire in men to achieve a certain degree of masculinity - well, as far as I can possibly understand it, I guess - but in the grand scheme of things, isn't it irrelevant? It would be less frustrating, except countless images in American culture emphasize the appeal of hypermasculinity in today's male. It's become a tool of marketers and salespeople, and it's one of the many things I hate in mass media.
"What is most beautiful in virile men is something feminine; what is most beautiful in feminine women is something masculine."
- Susan Sontag
The true value of a man - of any person, really - is not in these characteristics so much as it is in their character and actions. I randomly just remembered a part in Little Men, a follow-up to Little Women, in which the father of one of the boys dies. His nephew, after his funeral, proclaims that their other two uncles are the wisest and jolliest of the three, but Uncle John was the best. After that, one of the uncles talks for a while about why he was such a great man. (This is long, so skip it if you want.)
"Let me tell you a little about John Brooke, and you will see why men honor him, and why he was satisfied to be good rather than rich or famous. He simply did his duty in all things, and did it so cheerfully, so faithfully, that it kept him patient and brave, and happy through poverty and loneliness and years of hard work. He was a good son, and gave up his own plans to stay and live with his mother while she needed him. He was a good friend, and taught Laurie much beside his Greek and Latin, did it unconsciously, perhaps, by showing him an example of an upright man. He was a faithful servant, and made himself so valuable to those who employed him that they will find it hard to fill his place. He was a good husband and father, so tender, wise, and thoughtful, that Laurie and I learned much of him, and only knew how well he loved his family, when we discovered all he had done for them, unsuspected and unassisted."
Mr. Bhaer stopped a minute, and the boys sat like statues in the moonlight until he went on again, in a subdued, but earnest voice: "As he lay dying, I said to him, `Have no care for Meg and the little ones; I will see that they never want.` Then he smiled and pressed my hand, and answered, in his cheerful way, `No need of that; I have cared for them.` And so he had, for when we looked among his papers, all was in order, not a debt remained; and safely put away was enough to keep Meg comfortable and independent. Then we knew why he had lived so plainly, denied himself so many pleasures, except that of charity, and worked so hard that I fear he shortened his good life. He never asked help for himself, though often for others, but bore his own burden and worked out his own task bravely and quietly. No one can say a word of complaint against him, so just and generous and kind was he; and now, when he is gone, all find so much to love and praise and honor, that I am proud to have been his friend, and would rather leave my children the legacy he leaves his than the largest fortune ever made. Yes! Simple, generous goodness is the best capital to found the business of this life upon. It lasts when fame and money fail, and is the only riches we can take out of this world with us. Remember that, my boys; and if you want to earn respect and confidence and love follow in the footsteps of John Brooke."
I was just reminded of that. Really, though, this is just stemming from my frustration with the way society impresses the false idea upon its boys that they need to be absurdly masculine in order to be "men," to the point that it affects who they really are.
----------------
Now playing: John Mayer - Clarity
Monday, July 21, 2008
Apathy is a heartless beast.
Sometimes I feel like I spend too much time being angry, but honestly, I'd rather be angry than apathetic. So many people I see are filled with this meaningless apathy, this emptiness and complete lack of desire to do anything or be anything. They have no passion, no spirit, no vim. It's the worst in today's youth, the people who have the most to care about, the most energy, the most potential - they have their whole lives in front of them.
I love meeting people who are hungry for life, in any way, especially creatively, or even intellectually. "Intellectually curious," haha. People who challenge me, who inspire me, who show me new ways of thinking or of seeing things. People who make me feel free.
Yesterday I wrote that it bothers me that so many people feel the need to hide themselves and act like someone they're not, yet at the same time, it amazes me that there are any people who are fully and wholly just themselves, or even remotely close. There is so much in this world that binds and restrains us, that holds us back and prevents us from embracing ourselves. It's one of the things I love about the arts. Art is liberating. So many people who are inhibited in the practical world are free to be themselves in their art, be it painting, sculpture, photography, music, theater, dance, writing, or anything else. I guess that's one reason I couldn't stay away from writing - here, there are no rules, no boundaries, nothing stopping me from just being myself, no matter how flawed and imperfect and contemptible. I suppose I could keep it to myself, but I guess by posting it in what is technically a public forum, I don't feel like I'm hiding as much as I really am, and as much as I tell myself I'm upfront and unaffected among others, I know that truly, I'm never as free with most of the people I know as I am in my writing. I hate it, but I'm working on it.
Though I hate that I keep coming back to Venice, one thing I truly loved about being there is that I felt freer in waking life than ever before. I was accepted and loved and it was easy to just be myself, to love myself, and to love others. Even though others tend to see me as anti-social and not fond of many people, it's really pretty easy for me to find the best in people and love them for it, and as much as I don't like a lot of people, I love the people I do like even more. I'm a lot more passionate than I let on, I think. Which, I guess, makes life even harder. Someone once told me you can't be loved if you can't be hated. I 'd rather be hated that dismissed completely. Indifference and apathy are worse than hatred. So I've gone full circle - bottom line: do whatever it takes not to be apathetic. To me, it's pretty much the worst thing you can be.
----------------
Now playing: John Mayer - Bigger Than My Body
Haha. I just realized that apathy is the last thing I wrote about in May before I stopped blogging. Clearly I'm paying attention to what I'm writing about.
I love meeting people who are hungry for life, in any way, especially creatively, or even intellectually. "Intellectually curious," haha. People who challenge me, who inspire me, who show me new ways of thinking or of seeing things. People who make me feel free.
Yesterday I wrote that it bothers me that so many people feel the need to hide themselves and act like someone they're not, yet at the same time, it amazes me that there are any people who are fully and wholly just themselves, or even remotely close. There is so much in this world that binds and restrains us, that holds us back and prevents us from embracing ourselves. It's one of the things I love about the arts. Art is liberating. So many people who are inhibited in the practical world are free to be themselves in their art, be it painting, sculpture, photography, music, theater, dance, writing, or anything else. I guess that's one reason I couldn't stay away from writing - here, there are no rules, no boundaries, nothing stopping me from just being myself, no matter how flawed and imperfect and contemptible. I suppose I could keep it to myself, but I guess by posting it in what is technically a public forum, I don't feel like I'm hiding as much as I really am, and as much as I tell myself I'm upfront and unaffected among others, I know that truly, I'm never as free with most of the people I know as I am in my writing. I hate it, but I'm working on it.
Though I hate that I keep coming back to Venice, one thing I truly loved about being there is that I felt freer in waking life than ever before. I was accepted and loved and it was easy to just be myself, to love myself, and to love others. Even though others tend to see me as anti-social and not fond of many people, it's really pretty easy for me to find the best in people and love them for it, and as much as I don't like a lot of people, I love the people I do like even more. I'm a lot more passionate than I let on, I think. Which, I guess, makes life even harder. Someone once told me you can't be loved if you can't be hated. I 'd rather be hated that dismissed completely. Indifference and apathy are worse than hatred. So I've gone full circle - bottom line: do whatever it takes not to be apathetic. To me, it's pretty much the worst thing you can be.
----------------
Now playing: John Mayer - Bigger Than My Body
Haha. I just realized that apathy is the last thing I wrote about in May before I stopped blogging. Clearly I'm paying attention to what I'm writing about.
'We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live'
That's the name of a collection of nonfiction I have by Joan Didion. Mostly essays, I think, and like about 1/3 of the books I own, I have yet to read any of it. My mum bought it for me for Christmas a couple years ago, I think. I do love the title though. I like to think that it means "stories" in multiple ways - stories as in tales of fiction, creative pieces, and stories as in lies.
From time to time I wonder to what extent it is necessary to lie to yourself in order to survive in the world. There's a quote from A Farewell to Arms that I really like, even though I could only get through about a quarter of the book before stopping from boredom. (I do intend to return to it someday.)
"If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of those you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."
I hate the lack of commas in his writing.
Anyway, I always think of that quote when I think about this - the idea that the world breaks everyone. I tend to think of it mostly as idealists and optimists being broken and reduced to cynicism and pessimism. The romantics of the world are really unfortunate. It's so easy to look at the world and see the darkness and evil that fills it, and it's so much harder to look at it and see the light and hope. It's even harder to see that light and hope and to continue to believe in it. Some people, I think, can function in day-to-day life and still accept all the darkness without losing sight of the light.
But I think other people need to harden themselves to it. They need to defend themselves from the darkness by denying the hope, because let's face it: even though in Corinthians, Paul says love is the greatest of the three that remain, faith and hope are still part of that, and all three are terribly painful. Rewarding if you can nurture them and keep them pure, but that purity hurts. It hurts to be unable to stop believing in someone in whom you know you should have less faith - it's such a battle to continue to have faith in them when deep down, the practical side of you truly believes that you will be let down. And even though you expect it, it still hurts just as much as you knew it would.
I'm generally an "honesty is the best policy" kind of person. With a tendency to use euphemisms and soften the blow, but straight up when you get down to it. But sometimes life just hurts so much, I find the need to convince myself of certain things that, deep down, I know are false. I need to keep telling myself that all people are honest, that all love is worth whatever else you have to endure, that things are going to get better without getting worse, that other people feel as much as I do. I'm not as good at it as some people I know, though. Some people amaze me with how much they have hardened themselves to others, or with how much importance they have placed on something material, which allows them to perform better. These are poor examples, but I can't think of anything better at the moment. Ah. People who can convince themselves that they love people that they really don't. And the people who can convince themselves that they don't love someone any more. (Persuasion!) (What is that quote? Hang on...got it. "Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I will not forget you. Love me and I may be forced to love you." - William Arthur Ward. Oh, and Proust? "In his younger days a man dreams of possessing the heart of the woman whom he loves; later, the feeling that he possesses the heart of a woman may be enough to make him fall in love with her." I think it's Proust.)
Sometimes I wonder if believing in everything good is really the self-deception. Maybe the practical side of me is the right one, the parts of me that is cynical and anti-social and sees more of the bad than the good.
The Dark Knight wrestled with some of this. I'd have to see it again in order to write about any of it though.
The Quiet American did too, if I remember. You had Fowler, the worn and weary old English journalist who had seen enough in the world to be tough and detached, and Pyle, the young American idealist whom the world had not yet either hardened or broken or even taught. Except they weren't in the real world. They were in a sort of hyper-reality - Vietnam in 1955 - trying not to die for 90% of their daily lives.
----------------
Now playing: Procol Harum - In Held 'Twas In I
From time to time I wonder to what extent it is necessary to lie to yourself in order to survive in the world. There's a quote from A Farewell to Arms that I really like, even though I could only get through about a quarter of the book before stopping from boredom. (I do intend to return to it someday.)
"If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of those you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."
I hate the lack of commas in his writing.
Anyway, I always think of that quote when I think about this - the idea that the world breaks everyone. I tend to think of it mostly as idealists and optimists being broken and reduced to cynicism and pessimism. The romantics of the world are really unfortunate. It's so easy to look at the world and see the darkness and evil that fills it, and it's so much harder to look at it and see the light and hope. It's even harder to see that light and hope and to continue to believe in it. Some people, I think, can function in day-to-day life and still accept all the darkness without losing sight of the light.
But I think other people need to harden themselves to it. They need to defend themselves from the darkness by denying the hope, because let's face it: even though in Corinthians, Paul says love is the greatest of the three that remain, faith and hope are still part of that, and all three are terribly painful. Rewarding if you can nurture them and keep them pure, but that purity hurts. It hurts to be unable to stop believing in someone in whom you know you should have less faith - it's such a battle to continue to have faith in them when deep down, the practical side of you truly believes that you will be let down. And even though you expect it, it still hurts just as much as you knew it would.
I'm generally an "honesty is the best policy" kind of person. With a tendency to use euphemisms and soften the blow, but straight up when you get down to it. But sometimes life just hurts so much, I find the need to convince myself of certain things that, deep down, I know are false. I need to keep telling myself that all people are honest, that all love is worth whatever else you have to endure, that things are going to get better without getting worse, that other people feel as much as I do. I'm not as good at it as some people I know, though. Some people amaze me with how much they have hardened themselves to others, or with how much importance they have placed on something material, which allows them to perform better. These are poor examples, but I can't think of anything better at the moment. Ah. People who can convince themselves that they love people that they really don't. And the people who can convince themselves that they don't love someone any more. (Persuasion!) (What is that quote? Hang on...got it. "Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I will not forget you. Love me and I may be forced to love you." - William Arthur Ward. Oh, and Proust? "In his younger days a man dreams of possessing the heart of the woman whom he loves; later, the feeling that he possesses the heart of a woman may be enough to make him fall in love with her." I think it's Proust.)
Sometimes I wonder if believing in everything good is really the self-deception. Maybe the practical side of me is the right one, the parts of me that is cynical and anti-social and sees more of the bad than the good.
The Dark Knight wrestled with some of this. I'd have to see it again in order to write about any of it though.
The Quiet American did too, if I remember. You had Fowler, the worn and weary old English journalist who had seen enough in the world to be tough and detached, and Pyle, the young American idealist whom the world had not yet either hardened or broken or even taught. Except they weren't in the real world. They were in a sort of hyper-reality - Vietnam in 1955 - trying not to die for 90% of their daily lives.
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Now playing: Procol Harum - In Held 'Twas In I
Saturday, July 19, 2008
These angry people who are waiting to judge you...
...Have their own judgment that they'll have to live up to...
Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, "Life is Beautiful"
So lately I've been frustrated with the human tendency to judge others. It's just something that I hate accepting. Ironically.
My whole problem with people who tend to make snap judgments of others and hold it against them is connected to my annoyance with people who pretend to be what they aren't. If that makes sense. Occasionally someone will tell me they like that I'm just myself, I don't try to be anything, I just am myself, and I'm so accepting of everyone else. I don't quite understand why people ever try to be anything. You are what you are, and that's just how it is. I don't understand how people who try to be someone else, who are forever acting, can ever be truly happy.
What I understand more is people who hold themselves back. Who are never fully comfortable with just being themselves, in part because of people who judge them. I guess I understand that better because that's where I feel like I am right now. Trapped. Not completely free to just be myself, not because I want to be someone else, but because for some reason I can't understand, I feel like I need to hold myself back.
I wonder if I feel, unconsciously, like the people I know have this image of me that isn't quite accurate because they don't quite understand, and I, for whatever reason, feel like I need to continue to be what they think I am, to maintain the image of me that they see.
I guess, like usual, it all comes down to fear and love again. Mmm.
I have more to say but I'm beat.
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Now playing: John Mayer - Dreaming With A Broken Heart
Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, "Life is Beautiful"
So lately I've been frustrated with the human tendency to judge others. It's just something that I hate accepting. Ironically.
My whole problem with people who tend to make snap judgments of others and hold it against them is connected to my annoyance with people who pretend to be what they aren't. If that makes sense. Occasionally someone will tell me they like that I'm just myself, I don't try to be anything, I just am myself, and I'm so accepting of everyone else. I don't quite understand why people ever try to be anything. You are what you are, and that's just how it is. I don't understand how people who try to be someone else, who are forever acting, can ever be truly happy.
What I understand more is people who hold themselves back. Who are never fully comfortable with just being themselves, in part because of people who judge them. I guess I understand that better because that's where I feel like I am right now. Trapped. Not completely free to just be myself, not because I want to be someone else, but because for some reason I can't understand, I feel like I need to hold myself back.
I wonder if I feel, unconsciously, like the people I know have this image of me that isn't quite accurate because they don't quite understand, and I, for whatever reason, feel like I need to continue to be what they think I am, to maintain the image of me that they see.
I guess, like usual, it all comes down to fear and love again. Mmm.
I have more to say but I'm beat.
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Now playing: John Mayer - Dreaming With A Broken Heart
Ode to...New York?
Well then. I was watching this cute little flick Definitely Maybe the other day. It's a pretty solid romantic comedy - more than solid, it's smart, fun, and everything a good rom-com should be, without descending into completely cliche and overdone and silly - it doesn't sell out. The story is a little worn, but dressed up to play out better, and it works. The casting is excellent, which the great acting proves, the direction is good, the music is wonderful, the editing is complementary, and bottom line, it's a quality chick flick. Even though I enjoy it immensely for being good work and a fun movie, I was watching it the other day for a different reason.
It takes place in New York. While I am a sucker for any movie that takes place in New York, this paints a particularly wonderful image of the city. The main course aim of the global seminar I took this summer, "The Myths of Venice," was to study the image of Venice, how the city is presented in art and history, and its relevance and role as a setting in literature and film. Since then, I notice that I tend to give the setting of a piece of fiction more consideration. I realized that in Definitely Maybe, I fell in love with New York as much as I did the characters. The streets, the apartments, the parks - it's truly a beautiful city.
In this sense, so many films are as much love letters to their locations as they are stories. Little Manhattan, When Harry Met Sally. Garden State and Clerks. for New Jersey. Good Will Hunting is an ode to Boston; Elizabethtown, to the American South. Before Sunrise is dedicated to Vienna; Before Sunset to Paris. Roman Holiday is a tour of Rome the same way Summertime is a tour of Venice. I really like that.
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Now playing: John Mayer Trio - Who Did You Think I Was
It takes place in New York. While I am a sucker for any movie that takes place in New York, this paints a particularly wonderful image of the city. The main course aim of the global seminar I took this summer, "The Myths of Venice," was to study the image of Venice, how the city is presented in art and history, and its relevance and role as a setting in literature and film. Since then, I notice that I tend to give the setting of a piece of fiction more consideration. I realized that in Definitely Maybe, I fell in love with New York as much as I did the characters. The streets, the apartments, the parks - it's truly a beautiful city.
In this sense, so many films are as much love letters to their locations as they are stories. Little Manhattan, When Harry Met Sally. Garden State and Clerks. for New Jersey. Good Will Hunting is an ode to Boston; Elizabethtown, to the American South. Before Sunrise is dedicated to Vienna; Before Sunset to Paris. Roman Holiday is a tour of Rome the same way Summertime is a tour of Venice. I really like that.
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Now playing: John Mayer Trio - Who Did You Think I Was
Well, THAT lasted long.
So there's too much going through my head for me to be able to stay sane without getting some of it out, or at least down on proverbial paper. And if I'm going to be writing, I might as well post my crap here.
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