I am such a goon, because I'm about to talk about the song that pulled me out of my depression and made me a better blogger. I was hooked when the song began, but the lyrics really hit the reality home: "Where have all sensations gone?" I am such a goon that a rock lyric can change my life, but it happens to everyone else, they just don't admit it. I am a public goon.
Oh, and what is the song? New Pornagraphers, "Letter From an Occupant." I'll refrain from GUSHING about the band--If you're interested you'll listen, and if you have an ounce of humanity in you you'll know why they're great. The song in question also has the lyric, "You told me I could order the moon, babe, just as long as I shoot what I want. What the last ten minutes have taught me: bet the hand that your money's on." That lyric reminds me of "Romeo and Juliet" by Dire Straits, and it's one of my favorite songs. It's a goony song. It's almost as if Mark Knopfler wrote all of NP's songs, but I don't know where I'm going with this. I'm not an eloquent fan.
If you get a chance, go to Mustafa Odabasi's Dire Straits Page
. It's nothing special, but it's the only Dire Straits page in Turkey, the author claims. You can go make that decision for yourself.
you know loads about inuyasha A+ for you
!!!!!!!!!~inuyasha True or False quiz~!!!!!!!!! brought to you by Quizilla
referred me to a candidate selector
, so I could find my ideal candidate. Here are the results:
1. Your ideal theoretical candidate. (100%)
2. Socialist Candidate (81%)
3. Dean, Gov. Howard, VT - Democrat (81%)
4. Sharpton, Reverend Al - Democrat (72%)
5. Kucinich, Rep. Dennis, OH - Democrat (61%)
6. Kerry, Senator John, MA - Democrat (53%)
7. Edwards, Senator John, NC - Democrat (53%)
8. Libertarian Candidate (47%)
9. LaRouche, Lyndon H. Jr. - Democrat (45%)
10. Phillips, Howard - Constitution (20%)
11. Bush, President George W. - Republican (10%)
I'm not quite sure what the first two mean; I hope that I'm not a socialist. What I think is funny is that Mike had Bush as 29%. Ha! Conservative bastard.
Actually, I'm surprised I'm not the one with Bush (29%).
I also found out my ideal Medieval Job, at the same place:
13. Farmer (Serf)
I'm not sure why they thought I would most want to be a Druid. It's a pretty big jump from being a Druid to being a King, so that's a little funny too. I actually wanted to be Nobility most. A Duke. Not a Duchess, because I would want to be a man because I want power.
One of my ancestors was a heretic. He or she was burned as a witch, in England, presumably before we came to America. That portion of my family came over in the 1660's, some Anglicans. It's kinda cool, knowing my family has been here that long, and it kind of makes me want to join the DAR.
I guess the reality is Bush (73%).
And one more thing:
Youre gonna slip in the shower cause a hand-made
Choose your Dramatic Death (Now w/pics!!) brought to you by Quizilla
Love. You Truly Desire Love. You long for someone
to hold you and take the pain away. You haven't
been in much relationships or you need to work
on how to handle them. You always seem lost in
a daydream about the person you care about
What Do You Truly Desire? *PICS* brought to you by Quizilla
Blah, Blah, Blah,
Why can't I just write like a human? Like myself? I want to get paid someday for not writing like myself, because I don't think I'm a very good writer, and I want to be one, so I can't write like myself. But when I do that, I end up sounding like such a prick. I think I'm likeable in real life, why can't I be so on realinet?
I've been reading lots of different blogs. There are some in which the bloggers talk about how their day went, and those are good because they are good writers. There's the depressed female--I think if I didn't watch myself, I'd end up being that. "I got out of bed today, somehow the sunshine didn't penetrate my dark soul, so I returned to the place where I am tormented by nightmares. Interested, read my dream blog." How presumtuous! Like there's competition out there to be the most tortured. Whatever happened to being happy? I thought sadness was going out of vogue.
So I got out of bed today and puked. Got back into bed. Got out of bed. Went to work, and hey! I went to the gym. I haven't been to my gym class yet, so the teacher met me for the first time today. He said, "You've missed four classes already!" I nodded and picked up a weight. Feel the burn. Took away some of the drowsies. Clarisse--"have a cigarette with me!" Class, blah blah physics, and now, work. But not really, just blogging. So that was my day. I guess I haven't had too many good days recently, so I haven't felt like blogging about my days. But I think that maybe if I have more good days, I'll want to talk about them.
I just let out a huuuuuuuge hiccup, and then I laughed. The people in the cubicle in front of me heard me and giggled. I'm not going to be embarrassed, because it was nice to hear them laugh, even if they were laughing at me.
Clarisse told me I remind her of a kid a hundred years ago. I carry food on my coat pockets and when I get hungry or angry or something, I reach in and pull out a bite, and that ellicits a lot of weird looks from people, that I carry pastries or cookies in my pockets. Bet they wish they did.
Should I add a comments section? Let me know.
Going for a Dip
I've just been reading the blog of someone I don't really like that much, and then Mike's blog, and some blogs here and there and everywhere, and it seems so easy for these people! Maybe because I want to be a writer I feel like I have to be much stricter with the way I write, and I come off sounding stiff. This might not be my best writing, but I can write well, mold my words around a story or a character, create a tight enough fit around any story so that it might even look like the real thing. The best thing to do, I guess, it to just let it all go, and the important words I go back and edit--so much easier to go back later than to be creative and correct all at once--and the unimportant ones I just forget about. Not everything I write has to be a masterpiece, not all writing has to be an exercize. I forgot for a moment that this is what I love to do, and I am a good writer because I love writing, and now I realize--an obvious thing, res clara, it was always in my mind--that writing that is a chore usually sounds laborious.
I suppose I view writing as a discovery. If I'm writing in a journal, or something like this, I must be discovering myself or sharing my discoveries--writing, after all, should be useful. Useful writing can either be informative, interesting, or beautiful, but it must be one of those things; otherwise, I'm just contributing to the binge and purge of information on the internet.
I don't know why I have to be such a stick in the mud. Lots of people get away with hundreds of kb's and mb's, whole reams, of mental suckling. They use their blog to analyze themselves in public, to share their insecurities, share their daily activities, share their thoughts, just like I'd like to do, except that these people rarely have anything interesting to say. Accounts of their friends bore me--why do I care what kind of social life these people have if I'm not a part of it? Really, now, unless it involves us, our lovers or our enemies, sex, death, or embarrassment, do we really care what other people are doing when we're not looking? Perhaps deep down I'm jealous that others have a social life and I don't, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want to participate anyway, and that's not just the bitter dork speaking. It's true, and I'm such a snob, that good acquaintances, even good friends, are a dime a dozen. You can just pick them out of a large pool of social fillers, people who are saying the same things about the same movies, books, experiences, that everyone else is. Making the same observations that millions of other people in the same demographic have made before, adjusted for inflation of course. Take your pick from many genres to suit your taste: do you shop at Anne Taylor? Have a bite of Upper Crustacean. Can you quote either of or even both Monty Python and the Simpsons consistently? Well then pour yourself a little Joe Schmoejuice and pop in a DVD. We all belong to one of those groups, even me, I know all the good elevator topics. These are the people who fill up the gaps in life, the people who provide a friendly face when we need one.
So do I loathe these people or like them? I just view them as permanent installations in life. It's natural and proper that the majority of human beings just serve as a social backdrop for ourselves. Earth has population 6 billion, and you can't really go anywhere without seeing about 10 of its inhabitants, so it seems right with the natural order that the majority of them are inoffensive and provide light entertainment. Reality is essentially, and is supposed to be, simple. All elements of reality combine to create an environment where we can be the most happy, the most healthy, with just the right amount of discontentment to prevent us from staying in bed all day.
Where was I going with this? Nowhere. I lost myself in my own cleverness. Damn.
But here's what I'm trying to say, what I'm always trying to say, and here's what no one ever hears, ever wants to hear, ever will hear: that if all you have to write about in a daily public journal is how disillusioned you are and how difficult life is for you, the only thing you're accomplishing is giving yourself carpal tunnel. Are you all just waiting for someone to read the blog and call you and say, "I love you! I'll give you a reason to live! I'll make you feel important! I'll tell you what your dreams mean! I'll be awed by your depth and complexity!" Those aforementioned social fillers will always lend you their econ notes, but they won't give you a reason to live. They'll act the same way and say the same things no matter how complex and sad you are. I think it's a common misconception that the greatest geniuses were tortured inside. Sure, they were, all genius is part crazy, but true genius requires overcoming the desire to be seductively sad and superficially artistic, and instead accept that life is easy so that you can get on with what you really should be doing--being useful. Only Emily Dickenson got away with never leaving her bedroom and still immortalizing herself. The rest of us should quit the bitching and moaning and stay the flow of inundity: inundation of inane profundity. Human nature is about as complex as a mechanical pencil. A mechanical pencil is a good example, because it demonstrates how something ingenious can be so simple...
Toeing the Waters
Don't misunderstand me. I don't need to test the waters--I'm just not sure I want to get wet. I'm a self-hating blogger; I hate everything I've written so far. I want to delete it all, permenantly. Perhaps I just dislike being faced with my own writing. Everything I've posted has been so trite, so forced, that I feel discouraged to pursue writing at all. Will it get easier?
Well, before I get too involved in self-analysis, I had better change the subject to something more entertaining for my imaginary readers. Let's talk about the TV. We'll mix up the media a little here--first you can watch the shows, then you can turn to another screen to read what another person thinks about them, and then maybe you'll pick up a book or a magazine. Since I'm probably only addressing myself, it's almost certain that I will pick up a book very soon.
I want to talk about Fox's Sunday night line-up. King of the Hill is a good staple--so few people watch it that I doubt Mike Judge (who, by the way, was a physics major) tries too hard anymore, and the less he tries, the better his work is. I'll skip over Simpsons: for the past year, the Monday conversations about the episodes the night before have become increasingly focused on episodes which aired the night before...5 years ago. The show is kind of like your 80-year-old grandmother. She still has her sunny disposition, and she sends a check now and then, but, really, we're all just waiting for her to die.
I'll get to the point and just begin bitching about Arrested Development. My boyfriend seems to love, or seems to want to love, this show, and I can't quite see the appeal. I'm not sure if I've been able to sit through an entire episode without eventually picking up a crossword puzzle, and when I force myself to pay attention just in case I've missed a joke or two, the only laughs that break out of my mouth are for the commercial breaks. I just read a review of it, in which the critic basically said that she wished the very best for the show but probably wouldn't be able to make the date every Sunday. Lukewarm but with good intentions. So what's wrong with this show? Or should I ask, what's right? They've just signed on for a second season, so either Fox shares the faith too, or the show is getting better ratings than I thought.
First, there's a problem with the characters. There are about 10 main characters and they all get the same screen time, on average. Usually they are involved in separate storylines, so the show has to break to another scene about every three minutes. As a result the characters are hollow, slow to develop, and easy to confuse. Except for the stereotypes--the brittle debutante mother, David Cross's pathetic invertebrate--the writers of the show seem to want the characters to be complex and vulnerable to changes in their environments. I appreciate the tenderness with which the characters are handled, but the format of the show doesn't allow the viewers enough time to really become attached to any one character enough to uncover their latent personalities. As a result, the characters which aren't stereotypes come off bland. Portia de Rossi's character sometimes seems too ridiculous to even be a stereotype, while at other times, the emergence of her good traits often just takes the form of actions with no seeming motivations. Still other characters are downright annoying--say, the magician brother--and should be drowned, shot, or married off as soon as possible.
So many storylines happen at once that none of the long-term plots have really emerged. It is clear that the family is quickly falling apart and that the "good son" is the one who will lead everyone to salvation. How the family manages to stay together at all is confusing. Shouldn't these people have checked into rehab and yoga centers by now? Even the patriarch seems so unstable that it's a wonder the family ever made a fortune at all. The main character is a weak hero--I only find myself half-wanting him to succeed. He's not charming enough, smart enough, or interesting enough to seem to be able to accomplish anything, and when his plans fail at the end of the episodes, I really don't care. His tragic flaw is mediocrity. Or perhaps his tragic flaw is loving his family too much to expect them to stop trying to destroy themselves. Perhaps his misguidedness is genetic. Every episode, he has some stupid idea of how he's going to help the family, an idea that is so obviously going to fail that it doesn't even make for an interesting sitcom setup. I often think to myself that the way that the show is written is that 50 deaf-blind-mutes scribble whatever they can remember from early childhood education and then the scribbles are thrown into a hat, and every week 10 pieces of paper are drawn from the hat and randomly assigned to a member of the cast. Do the writers even pay attention to what they are writing? Is this like one of those writing projects where one person writes a sentence, and then the next person writes another sentence, and so on until some kind of story develops? Are we really just witnessing the summer project of a group of scrappy kids at a day camp?
The show stops short of comedy, and in doing so, drives home the difference between absurdity and humor. Humor results when something unexpected happens in a predictable situation or when the expected is what happens but it happens in an unexpected way. Absurdity is not comedy--in an absurd situation, we have no expectations. We recognize the absurdity of life and take the information in stride by eschewing expectations. We can't be disappointed or satisfied; the outcome is merely just one of many possibilities that are allowed to happen just because they don't violate any natural laws. The setup to all the episodes has always seemed to me to be a little absurd, and as a result I cannot get involved with the story emotionally or intellectually. The title of the show, I suppose, is apt, and perhaps it hints at what happens to television shows that are written by industry authorbots who have the words "zany" and "madcap" practically soiling the seats of their Dockers.