Sea Anemone
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Friday, July 07, 2006
Mexico Story
An American businessman stood at the pier of a small coastal village in
Mexico, when a small boat carrying a lone Mexican fisherman docked.
Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American
complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long
it took to catch them. The fisherman replied, Only a little while.
The American then asked, If it took only a little while to catch these
fine fish, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more fish? The
fisherman explained that this catch was enough to support his family's
immediate needs.
The American then asked, But what do you do with the rest of your time?
The fisherman replied, I sleep late, fish a little, play with my
children, take a siesta with my wife, and stroll into the village each
evening, where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full
and busy life, señor.
The American scoffed, I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should
spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat. With
the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats.
Eventually, you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling
your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor,
eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product,
processing, and distribution. You would need to leave this small
coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then L.A., and
eventually New York City, where you would run your expanding enterprise.
The fisherman asked, But señor, how long will this all take?
The American replied, Fifteen to twenty years.
But what then, señor? inquired the Mexican. The American laughed and
said, That's the best part. When the time is right, you would announce
an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich.
You would make millions.
Millions, señor? Then what? asked the Mexican.
The American said, Why, then you would retire, of coursemove to a small
coastal fishing village where you could sleep late, fish a little, play
with your kids, take a siesta with your wife, and stroll into the
village in the evenings, where you could sip wine and play your guitar
with your amigos.
Mexico, when a small boat carrying a lone Mexican fisherman docked.
Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American
complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long
it took to catch them. The fisherman replied, Only a little while.
The American then asked, If it took only a little while to catch these
fine fish, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more fish? The
fisherman explained that this catch was enough to support his family's
immediate needs.
The American then asked, But what do you do with the rest of your time?
The fisherman replied, I sleep late, fish a little, play with my
children, take a siesta with my wife, and stroll into the village each
evening, where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full
and busy life, señor.
The American scoffed, I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should
spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat. With
the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats.
Eventually, you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling
your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor,
eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product,
processing, and distribution. You would need to leave this small
coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then L.A., and
eventually New York City, where you would run your expanding enterprise.
The fisherman asked, But señor, how long will this all take?
The American replied, Fifteen to twenty years.
But what then, señor? inquired the Mexican. The American laughed and
said, That's the best part. When the time is right, you would announce
an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich.
You would make millions.
Millions, señor? Then what? asked the Mexican.
The American said, Why, then you would retire, of coursemove to a small
coastal fishing village where you could sleep late, fish a little, play
with your kids, take a siesta with your wife, and stroll into the
village in the evenings, where you could sip wine and play your guitar
with your amigos.
Friday, June 30, 2006
My Ever-Changing Perspective
I wish I knew who said it, but I once heard that a thinking person's perspective is constantly evolving. If I can be so bold as to consider myself a thinking person (which is questionable), I have to agree.
I'm currently taking a class at University of Missouri in Modern Literature. As always I am humbled by my English professor and how much he has read and seen and understands about the world. In only two weeks he has managed to turn my worldview on its heels (again) and get me thinking about new sides of old arguments that I had never considered. My professor is probably in his seventies and he understands every allusion and reference to every other work of literature or era of history in such detail that I am constantly awed. He reflects my naive youthfulness and debunks my grasp on reality without breaking stride in his lectures. It's wonderfully liberating to again realize that I don't know shit about shit. I'm a baby--a prepubesant rube.
I haven't written much lately about what I'm up to or where I'm headed. I hit a bit of a plateau over the last few months and felt my wheels spinning over things that I ultimately have no control over. Sorry for expressing those frustrations here, but it does help me to hear what others are thinking about. Now I'm back in school. The plan--if all works out well--is to get my GPA up and apply to PhD programs for English Literature/ Creative Writing (yes, you can get a PhD in Creative Writing believe it or not). Allison is also applying to PhD programs for Counseling Psychology. Ideally we could both get into the same school, but realistically we may have to deal with that once we find out which one of us gets accepted where (if at all). The plan on my end is to continue writing and putting myself in the position to teach on a college level so as not to rely on my writing for sustenance. I've realized over the last year in dealing with my first round of rejections that the publishing world is as cut-throat as any other industry in America. While writing fiction sounds like a pretty idealistic way to spend one's time (and I personally think it is since I love it so much), all that comes with getting a work published seems, so far, like a bit of a racket. But, a racket I'm going to have to deal with. So, I'm going to a writer's conference in Seattle in a couple of weeks (which I'm really looking forward to), and I hope I can gain some perspective on what the less romantic side of writing is all about. I'll keep ya posted.
I see a light somewhere down this tunnel. Sorry for all the dismal posts lately. I was feeling a little lost and disgruntled. Things are looking up though and I feel like I have some new challenges to work towards. I hope everyone out there in cyber- land is doing well and I wish everyone the very best in all their endevours!
Much love,
Jefe'
I'm currently taking a class at University of Missouri in Modern Literature. As always I am humbled by my English professor and how much he has read and seen and understands about the world. In only two weeks he has managed to turn my worldview on its heels (again) and get me thinking about new sides of old arguments that I had never considered. My professor is probably in his seventies and he understands every allusion and reference to every other work of literature or era of history in such detail that I am constantly awed. He reflects my naive youthfulness and debunks my grasp on reality without breaking stride in his lectures. It's wonderfully liberating to again realize that I don't know shit about shit. I'm a baby--a prepubesant rube.
I haven't written much lately about what I'm up to or where I'm headed. I hit a bit of a plateau over the last few months and felt my wheels spinning over things that I ultimately have no control over. Sorry for expressing those frustrations here, but it does help me to hear what others are thinking about. Now I'm back in school. The plan--if all works out well--is to get my GPA up and apply to PhD programs for English Literature/ Creative Writing (yes, you can get a PhD in Creative Writing believe it or not). Allison is also applying to PhD programs for Counseling Psychology. Ideally we could both get into the same school, but realistically we may have to deal with that once we find out which one of us gets accepted where (if at all). The plan on my end is to continue writing and putting myself in the position to teach on a college level so as not to rely on my writing for sustenance. I've realized over the last year in dealing with my first round of rejections that the publishing world is as cut-throat as any other industry in America. While writing fiction sounds like a pretty idealistic way to spend one's time (and I personally think it is since I love it so much), all that comes with getting a work published seems, so far, like a bit of a racket. But, a racket I'm going to have to deal with. So, I'm going to a writer's conference in Seattle in a couple of weeks (which I'm really looking forward to), and I hope I can gain some perspective on what the less romantic side of writing is all about. I'll keep ya posted.
I see a light somewhere down this tunnel. Sorry for all the dismal posts lately. I was feeling a little lost and disgruntled. Things are looking up though and I feel like I have some new challenges to work towards. I hope everyone out there in cyber- land is doing well and I wish everyone the very best in all their endevours!
Much love,
Jefe'
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Monday, June 12, 2006
A New Movement
I’m ready for something new. I don’t mean that I’m looking for a new personal area of interest (although this is never a bad thing), or that I’m making some vague political statement about the Bush administration (although it’s pretty clear he’s all washed up)--I’m talking about art in its most general and sprawling definition. It seems to me that no matter how hard we try, we can’t seem to get rid of the sixties—with all its washed out, shallow metaphors and drug-induced attempts at enlightenment. The “drifter” was a cool guy to be in the fifties; Jack Kerouac, Alan Ginsberg, these were guys worth having a conversation with--carving their stream-of-consciousness, counter-culture, live for the moment, leave your possessions, life is jazz mentality into the minds of the upcoming children of peace and love. But that’s where it should have stopped and been turned into something concrete. The Beatniks had something to say. They were the closest thing that this country has ever had to a mainstream intellectual/ artistic movement, where writers and poets and bright minds were taken seriously enough to be celebrities in the American mainstream. They lived their words: train-hopping, ground camping, money scrounging their way to the next town, looking desperately for some depth and meaning to set them free from the mundane, suburbanite bullshit that was eroding the minds of everyone around them. These were great men. They had courage to be something different and to say, “I’m intelligent, self-sufficient, and more alive than you are. I have no money, I have no home, and I am still an American, and what’s more, I have influence. I don’t need corporate sponsorship, I don’t need government protection--I don’t need anything but my pen. I live by my words and I’m willing to die by them." Each was a soldier in his own rite.
Then came the hippies. The hippies said, “That’s all fine and well, but we’re not so interested in the whole discipline thing." So, the Beatnik’s intellectual counter-culture turned into a thing of the heart. Hippies were, by and large, good-intentioned, big-hearted, talent-less vagabonds who turned, “scrounging for money to find Truth and create something lasting” into “scrounging for money to get to the next music festival and buy more acid." The musicians had some talent, but not a lot of discipline. The movement lost steam because it became more about having fun than about finding meaning. It stopped asking the big questions and started giving the easy answers—-simple answers, like love each other and make peace, not war, answers that were broad and spiritual and, ultimately, as we've seen, easier to say and sing about than to actually live out in reality. The now moody, reality-blurred movement dissipated into an age of bad music, confusion, and brainless disco dancing with only the Grateful Dead to keep the hippy dream alive. The Beatniks surely would have been disappointed to see that the hippies let drugs and sex and spinning around until they saw God come between them and their movement.
This is not to say that some good and lasting things didn’t come out of the sixties: Civil Rights, Feminism, conscientious objection to violence, these ideas were specific and useful towards a greater good. They were tangible ideas that Americans could understand and buy into. Many other worthwhile ideas were swept away with the Bohemian Mafia, content with cultureless dissent and structure-less, tacky, anything-goes art and music. In its place came the eighties' synthesized music with nothing to say and even harder drugs to do. With the voice of the intellectuals all but absent—-only Kurt Vonnegut to cynically mock the ridiculousness of the Regan years—-the voice of the Beatniks cowered even further from the mainstream into an elitist group sitting in campus coffee shops scratching their chins. The mainstream voice still trying to speak out for Truth and real Freedom (when it comes to big decisions), became angry in the nineties with grunge music (a fair attempt, but still ultimately undisciplined and lacking motivation), and has now turned to cynicism and sarcasm among anyone still tuning out and clinging to reality in a culture of people looking for anything that will catapult them into stardom: a gimmick, an image, a façade that will entertain the American people like dangling car keys in front of a newborn child. Today's "artists" have nothing to say, it's all about them. If an artist can stick to a inner voice and express something meaningful and people buy into it enough to make this artist wealthy--fine. But today's artists simply cater to what the people want and it has turned all of our fine arts into watered-down, mono-cultured, commercial bullshit. Every book on the bestseller list is the same book, every song on the radio is the same song, every voice in America is the same voice, and it's saying, "I care more about money than saying what I really think about life."
So, I’m ready for something new. I’m ready for this country to get fed up with the bullshit and start enduring some boring mindfulness for the sake of something beautiful and lasting, something with depth and meaning, something that might possibly echo the sentiment of the Beatniks who were willing to sleep in a barn rather than compromise with a culture that spends their time talking about what color couch will match their curtains. Anytime you’re ready artists and musicians. Anytime you’re ready intellectuals. Anytime you’re ready American mainstream—-to calm down and do something that involves talent and thought, something creative that is about enriching your culture and not about making you rich-—I’m ready to see it.
Then came the hippies. The hippies said, “That’s all fine and well, but we’re not so interested in the whole discipline thing." So, the Beatnik’s intellectual counter-culture turned into a thing of the heart. Hippies were, by and large, good-intentioned, big-hearted, talent-less vagabonds who turned, “scrounging for money to find Truth and create something lasting” into “scrounging for money to get to the next music festival and buy more acid." The musicians had some talent, but not a lot of discipline. The movement lost steam because it became more about having fun than about finding meaning. It stopped asking the big questions and started giving the easy answers—-simple answers, like love each other and make peace, not war, answers that were broad and spiritual and, ultimately, as we've seen, easier to say and sing about than to actually live out in reality. The now moody, reality-blurred movement dissipated into an age of bad music, confusion, and brainless disco dancing with only the Grateful Dead to keep the hippy dream alive. The Beatniks surely would have been disappointed to see that the hippies let drugs and sex and spinning around until they saw God come between them and their movement.
This is not to say that some good and lasting things didn’t come out of the sixties: Civil Rights, Feminism, conscientious objection to violence, these ideas were specific and useful towards a greater good. They were tangible ideas that Americans could understand and buy into. Many other worthwhile ideas were swept away with the Bohemian Mafia, content with cultureless dissent and structure-less, tacky, anything-goes art and music. In its place came the eighties' synthesized music with nothing to say and even harder drugs to do. With the voice of the intellectuals all but absent—-only Kurt Vonnegut to cynically mock the ridiculousness of the Regan years—-the voice of the Beatniks cowered even further from the mainstream into an elitist group sitting in campus coffee shops scratching their chins. The mainstream voice still trying to speak out for Truth and real Freedom (when it comes to big decisions), became angry in the nineties with grunge music (a fair attempt, but still ultimately undisciplined and lacking motivation), and has now turned to cynicism and sarcasm among anyone still tuning out and clinging to reality in a culture of people looking for anything that will catapult them into stardom: a gimmick, an image, a façade that will entertain the American people like dangling car keys in front of a newborn child. Today's "artists" have nothing to say, it's all about them. If an artist can stick to a inner voice and express something meaningful and people buy into it enough to make this artist wealthy--fine. But today's artists simply cater to what the people want and it has turned all of our fine arts into watered-down, mono-cultured, commercial bullshit. Every book on the bestseller list is the same book, every song on the radio is the same song, every voice in America is the same voice, and it's saying, "I care more about money than saying what I really think about life."
So, I’m ready for something new. I’m ready for this country to get fed up with the bullshit and start enduring some boring mindfulness for the sake of something beautiful and lasting, something with depth and meaning, something that might possibly echo the sentiment of the Beatniks who were willing to sleep in a barn rather than compromise with a culture that spends their time talking about what color couch will match their curtains. Anytime you’re ready artists and musicians. Anytime you’re ready intellectuals. Anytime you’re ready American mainstream—-to calm down and do something that involves talent and thought, something creative that is about enriching your culture and not about making you rich-—I’m ready to see it.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Organic Living
I don't know what to say really, but it's 1:30 in the morning and I've been watching Jon Stewart clips on YouTube for over an hour now (because I am too cheap for cable) and thought, I should make some sort of personal update on my blog. Lately, for those of you who come by for a read--and I thank you kindly for doing so--I've been a bit distraught. Angry is what most people might call it, and bitching and complaining about pretty much anything that pops into my head when I sit down to write. This happens from time to time and if you check in with me on a regular basis, you're likely to hear me say some pretty petty and ridiculous stuff. But who doesn't have their pet peaves. Some people complain about their own life, some people complain about the people in their life--I prefer to bitch about broad mostly unchangable ideas and customs that frustrate me.
Here's the thing. I think most of the civilized world is pretty silly. I realize that this is not something that a lot of people can relate to, but I have spent literally hundreds of days (adding up to close to a full year) of my life in the backcountry of the United States. This means no phones, no TV, no news, no institutions of any kind (save whatever park service runs the land I'm on); just me and trees and rocks. This is how it goes. On the first week you're out it's a little uncomfortable; there's rain, there's bugs, your body hurts at night when you fall asleep on the ground, but then a change happens. You start to realize that you are biologically created to survive in this environment. Soon your nerves are calm, your mind is relaxed, you feel very comfortable and organic--the truest you one might ever experience. No more appointments, no more phone calls, no emailing, no sensory overload from blinking lights and abbrasive advertisements, no alchohol or coffee to help you deal with the stress, no religion to escape life with thoughts of things to come--nothing--just pure life (Pura Vida!).
So in this blissful state one can begin to look down from a high peak at the city lights and say, "What a friggin' racket". As humans we've created this entire world that is completely seperate from what our bodies and minds are engineered to survive in and then we wonder why we're all so stressed out and unhappy all the time. So if I seem bitter or disillusioned in my blogs, it's because I lived a pretty spoiled life for over two years. I was getting paid to backpack and I gave it up for something more. The thing is, although I think civilization is mostly ridiculous with all of its stereotypes and institutions and holier-than-thou individuals that couldn't wipe their own asses in God's actual creation (if you believe in that sort of thing) for a week, I'm still a big fan of the cultural elements that the woods can't provide. I love music, I love art, I love literature, but when I tell people this I sound like a snob. I've been called a hippy, a bum, a liberal, and any other term Americans can conjure up for a person who doesn't care much for getting rich and wasting his life away on things that don't amount to a small pile of crap when it's all said and done.
That being said, I'm trying to make it here in the "real" world now, and those organic feelings are all but forgotten. I'm anxious all day long and over-stimulated. My mind races, and if I let my guard down for half a second some advertiser plays on my human weakness and I feel the urge to spend money I don't have. I have stereotypes placed on me as a man and as a husband and people expect that you are doing what everyone else in the world is doing. If you aren't, they can barely hear what you are telling them. It simply doesn't register that someone in 21st century America might spend his or her days in the woods. I assure you when you step outside it all for a couple of weeks, it seems like a gigantic cosmic joke. Sometimes I feel like the only "real" life that is happening is out in the woods and I'm walking around in some kind of ridiculous circus.
Anyway, this is my one and only explaination for my comments and cynicism about "civilized" life. I will now recommence my satirical badgering and other such outlashings. In the meantime if you care to go for a couple weeks in the mountains with me, for the sake of enlightenment, drop me a line.
Here's the thing. I think most of the civilized world is pretty silly. I realize that this is not something that a lot of people can relate to, but I have spent literally hundreds of days (adding up to close to a full year) of my life in the backcountry of the United States. This means no phones, no TV, no news, no institutions of any kind (save whatever park service runs the land I'm on); just me and trees and rocks. This is how it goes. On the first week you're out it's a little uncomfortable; there's rain, there's bugs, your body hurts at night when you fall asleep on the ground, but then a change happens. You start to realize that you are biologically created to survive in this environment. Soon your nerves are calm, your mind is relaxed, you feel very comfortable and organic--the truest you one might ever experience. No more appointments, no more phone calls, no emailing, no sensory overload from blinking lights and abbrasive advertisements, no alchohol or coffee to help you deal with the stress, no religion to escape life with thoughts of things to come--nothing--just pure life (Pura Vida!).
So in this blissful state one can begin to look down from a high peak at the city lights and say, "What a friggin' racket". As humans we've created this entire world that is completely seperate from what our bodies and minds are engineered to survive in and then we wonder why we're all so stressed out and unhappy all the time. So if I seem bitter or disillusioned in my blogs, it's because I lived a pretty spoiled life for over two years. I was getting paid to backpack and I gave it up for something more. The thing is, although I think civilization is mostly ridiculous with all of its stereotypes and institutions and holier-than-thou individuals that couldn't wipe their own asses in God's actual creation (if you believe in that sort of thing) for a week, I'm still a big fan of the cultural elements that the woods can't provide. I love music, I love art, I love literature, but when I tell people this I sound like a snob. I've been called a hippy, a bum, a liberal, and any other term Americans can conjure up for a person who doesn't care much for getting rich and wasting his life away on things that don't amount to a small pile of crap when it's all said and done.
That being said, I'm trying to make it here in the "real" world now, and those organic feelings are all but forgotten. I'm anxious all day long and over-stimulated. My mind races, and if I let my guard down for half a second some advertiser plays on my human weakness and I feel the urge to spend money I don't have. I have stereotypes placed on me as a man and as a husband and people expect that you are doing what everyone else in the world is doing. If you aren't, they can barely hear what you are telling them. It simply doesn't register that someone in 21st century America might spend his or her days in the woods. I assure you when you step outside it all for a couple of weeks, it seems like a gigantic cosmic joke. Sometimes I feel like the only "real" life that is happening is out in the woods and I'm walking around in some kind of ridiculous circus.
Anyway, this is my one and only explaination for my comments and cynicism about "civilized" life. I will now recommence my satirical badgering and other such outlashings. In the meantime if you care to go for a couple weeks in the mountains with me, for the sake of enlightenment, drop me a line.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
The Four Letter Word
I heard a sound-bite the other day from Hillary Clinton saying that, "Kids today don't know what work is. They think work is a four letter word. They think they should go right to the top making fifty or seventy thousand dollars a year and they have TVs and I-pods and computers...I hope we get back to the old way of doing things. I hope we all start thinking some very old fashioned thoughts in the future."
So upon hearing this my first reaction was, yeah, she's right. I've thought this very thing before and even alluded to it in a previous blog. Then I let it roll around for awhile and thought, what older person hasn't thought this about the upcoming generation? Of course we have a better life, supposedly because that's what our parents were working for. And of course our higher level of comfort is going to bring about a more liberal attitude toward work (among other things). But I'd like to give us more credit than just being a generation of Trustifarians (spoiled kids). Despite some of the things I've said before, I think that my generation is starting to wake up a little bit. I think we're looking at our parents--two-thirds of whom are divorced, many of whom are on anti-anxiety and depression meds, most of whom hate the jobs they're working but keep doing it for the sake of money--and we're saying, what's the point? So we work some mediocre job and we live in some cookie-cutter neighborhood and we try to be good people (whatever that means anymore) and when the dissonance gets to be too much we look around at all our nice things and say, "Well, I can't complain too much." Why would we want to repeat this? More importantly, why would we want to one-up this?
I think my generation is finally saying enough is enough. We're saying it quietly-- it's definitely not the grand cosmic turn-around that people predicted of the Gen- Xers, but if you look at the big picture, a change is happening. People my age don't want forty-hour a week jobs. Some of us still work them, but we're looking for something with some flexibility. We want to have control over our lives Senator Clinton. We're tired of being miserable just because our parents were. We're not down with the Puritan work ethic. Let's face it America, we're not Puritans. I can't even check my email without seeing some twenty-year-old in a bikini trying to sell me car insurance. Why? Because sex sells and we just don't care anymore about whether it's right or wrong. Those are questions the Puritans would have asked, not Americans. Not in a country that wants to believe that what we're doing is okay so desperately that we create our own news station (Fox News) that agrees with the government and will tell us everything's going great despite a huge anti-American sentiment throughout the entire world. But I digress.
On the topic of work, my feeling is that it just doesn't matter all that much. So some of us would rather be hanging out and working part time jobs or jobs with flexible schedules, or getting higher degrees in something we enjoy. Would it be so horrible to have a more educated America? Maybe some of us just want to enjoy life a little bit before we bite it. Or maybe I'm just out of touch with my own generation. I can't be too far off if it's coming up in politics. So if you're a Gen-Xer, don't fret. I say we move to the thirty-hour work week right now. Let's all build more moderate houses and drive little hydrogen powered cars. Let's throw away our anti-depressants and give a big middle finger to this arrogant, bigger is better attitude our seniors have passed on to us. Let's start using our heads a little bit. We have to start thinking about social responsibility in this country or we're going to be passing on a time bomb to the next generation. Slow down. Breath. Go for a walk. A long walk. Or a bike ride. Just chill out because you're driving me crazy. And if chilling out means I'm not a good Puritan-American, well, I think I'll sleep okay tonight (without the aid of sleeping pills).
So upon hearing this my first reaction was, yeah, she's right. I've thought this very thing before and even alluded to it in a previous blog. Then I let it roll around for awhile and thought, what older person hasn't thought this about the upcoming generation? Of course we have a better life, supposedly because that's what our parents were working for. And of course our higher level of comfort is going to bring about a more liberal attitude toward work (among other things). But I'd like to give us more credit than just being a generation of Trustifarians (spoiled kids). Despite some of the things I've said before, I think that my generation is starting to wake up a little bit. I think we're looking at our parents--two-thirds of whom are divorced, many of whom are on anti-anxiety and depression meds, most of whom hate the jobs they're working but keep doing it for the sake of money--and we're saying, what's the point? So we work some mediocre job and we live in some cookie-cutter neighborhood and we try to be good people (whatever that means anymore) and when the dissonance gets to be too much we look around at all our nice things and say, "Well, I can't complain too much." Why would we want to repeat this? More importantly, why would we want to one-up this?
I think my generation is finally saying enough is enough. We're saying it quietly-- it's definitely not the grand cosmic turn-around that people predicted of the Gen- Xers, but if you look at the big picture, a change is happening. People my age don't want forty-hour a week jobs. Some of us still work them, but we're looking for something with some flexibility. We want to have control over our lives Senator Clinton. We're tired of being miserable just because our parents were. We're not down with the Puritan work ethic. Let's face it America, we're not Puritans. I can't even check my email without seeing some twenty-year-old in a bikini trying to sell me car insurance. Why? Because sex sells and we just don't care anymore about whether it's right or wrong. Those are questions the Puritans would have asked, not Americans. Not in a country that wants to believe that what we're doing is okay so desperately that we create our own news station (Fox News) that agrees with the government and will tell us everything's going great despite a huge anti-American sentiment throughout the entire world. But I digress.
On the topic of work, my feeling is that it just doesn't matter all that much. So some of us would rather be hanging out and working part time jobs or jobs with flexible schedules, or getting higher degrees in something we enjoy. Would it be so horrible to have a more educated America? Maybe some of us just want to enjoy life a little bit before we bite it. Or maybe I'm just out of touch with my own generation. I can't be too far off if it's coming up in politics. So if you're a Gen-Xer, don't fret. I say we move to the thirty-hour work week right now. Let's all build more moderate houses and drive little hydrogen powered cars. Let's throw away our anti-depressants and give a big middle finger to this arrogant, bigger is better attitude our seniors have passed on to us. Let's start using our heads a little bit. We have to start thinking about social responsibility in this country or we're going to be passing on a time bomb to the next generation. Slow down. Breath. Go for a walk. A long walk. Or a bike ride. Just chill out because you're driving me crazy. And if chilling out means I'm not a good Puritan-American, well, I think I'll sleep okay tonight (without the aid of sleeping pills).
Monday, May 01, 2006
Thought Train (or Ethics 101)
More times than not I use this blog as a means of ranting and raving about my world views, or for passing moral judgement on American apathy, or for keeping my family and friends posted on what I'm up to. It's pretty easy for me to sit here at my computer, in my house, alone, and write whatever I want on this screen; sometimes forgeting that I'm publishing very personal things for whomever should wander into my blog to read. That doesn't bother me so much. My passion is writing, and writers must share parts of themselves that others may choose to keep very private. After awhile, what I have found, is that most people aren't all that different. However, many of us are putting on airs.
What I mean is, some of us (myself included), at times like to try to act like we aren't humans. We like to put ourselves on this higher level than the rest of humanity, whether it's morally or intellectually or physically or spiritually or all of the above. We don't want to be like everyone else. We want to be our own special snowflake. Which is great, except, when push comes to shove, we've all felt depressed, we've all felt elated, most of us have felt what we thought was love (or maybe even the real thing), we all think about sex, we all have been pushed to the thought of violence, we've all felt a sense of accomplishment...we're all living things. It's natural. We can't escape it. What we can do is evolve.
So where is the line? If one is trying to evolve (and by evolving I mean making a conscious effort to grow in some or all of the areas above) and others are not, when is it okay to say, "I am just beyond this as a person"? Is it ever okay? It's a pretty shitty feeling to be on either end. If you're trying to have a conversation with someone who knows more than you, or is more physically fit than you are, or thinks on a deeper level than you, holds themself to a stricter code of morality, etc. you don't want to be talked down to. But then if you are the person who knows more, you don't want to be snubbed off as someone who doesn't know his toe-nails from his earlobes. So where does the responsibility lie to show respect of one's achievements or one's evolution (stay with me here cause I'm working this thought out as we go). Let's say someone with a Ph.D. in Anthropology meets a priest. And let's say this isn't one of your kindly parish priests, in fact, let's make him a bishop; someone who is very serious about his faith and considers his spirituality and morality to be superior to the average person. Now the Ph.D. in Anthropology couldn't care less about this achievement; she's an atheist and strictly an academic person. And the priest couldn't care less about her having a Ph.D. because he is judging her purely on her level of faith. Likewise, if it were say a tri-athelete judging either of them on their physical ability. Do we consider this a miscommunication? Do basic manners take care of this issue?
I only bring this up because in this temp job I'm working there is a wide array of people; everyone from post-doctoral scientists to farmers, and I've been noticing that everyone seems to make judgements on each other based on very different standards. The woman who runs the program dresses very nicely and carries herself with an air of confidence that demands respect. Some of the people take this as she's trying too hard, others think she's a bitch, and others (myself included) respect her position as the leader of a group of educated adults. My question is, if everyone could respect that she has to play the role of the leader, would she still have to dress in a way that commands respect? Or is she really compensating? What if she just wore jeans and a t-shirt, but was obviously smarter than everyone in the room? What if a priest was Joe nobody that sat in the congregation like an average person? Would we still be able to tell he was morally superior? I was offered a promotion at this temp job, and I'm of the belief that the only reason I was singled out was because I put on a collared shirt every morning and tried to look professional. Is that a fair way to choose? Cause if it is then you have to get into the whole issue that not everyone can afford nice clothes, etc.
I'm losing the thought train here, but my point is this. Humans are humans on a basic level. Some of us choose to evolve. Others are fine with where they are. Some of us are opportunistic, others of us think opportunistic people are slimy for trying to get ahead. A farmer may consider some of the three-syllable words learned in graduate school to be snobbish and unnecessary. A lawyer may think raising your own chickens is a waste of time and money. Who should respect whom and why? Or is this all a matter of playing nicely and talking behind each other's backs?
I think this issue has a lot to do with the culture wars going on in this country and why everyone wants to find a niche and pretend they're in some kind of gang. What do you all think? Comments? Elaborations?
What I mean is, some of us (myself included), at times like to try to act like we aren't humans. We like to put ourselves on this higher level than the rest of humanity, whether it's morally or intellectually or physically or spiritually or all of the above. We don't want to be like everyone else. We want to be our own special snowflake. Which is great, except, when push comes to shove, we've all felt depressed, we've all felt elated, most of us have felt what we thought was love (or maybe even the real thing), we all think about sex, we all have been pushed to the thought of violence, we've all felt a sense of accomplishment...we're all living things. It's natural. We can't escape it. What we can do is evolve.
So where is the line? If one is trying to evolve (and by evolving I mean making a conscious effort to grow in some or all of the areas above) and others are not, when is it okay to say, "I am just beyond this as a person"? Is it ever okay? It's a pretty shitty feeling to be on either end. If you're trying to have a conversation with someone who knows more than you, or is more physically fit than you are, or thinks on a deeper level than you, holds themself to a stricter code of morality, etc. you don't want to be talked down to. But then if you are the person who knows more, you don't want to be snubbed off as someone who doesn't know his toe-nails from his earlobes. So where does the responsibility lie to show respect of one's achievements or one's evolution (stay with me here cause I'm working this thought out as we go). Let's say someone with a Ph.D. in Anthropology meets a priest. And let's say this isn't one of your kindly parish priests, in fact, let's make him a bishop; someone who is very serious about his faith and considers his spirituality and morality to be superior to the average person. Now the Ph.D. in Anthropology couldn't care less about this achievement; she's an atheist and strictly an academic person. And the priest couldn't care less about her having a Ph.D. because he is judging her purely on her level of faith. Likewise, if it were say a tri-athelete judging either of them on their physical ability. Do we consider this a miscommunication? Do basic manners take care of this issue?
I only bring this up because in this temp job I'm working there is a wide array of people; everyone from post-doctoral scientists to farmers, and I've been noticing that everyone seems to make judgements on each other based on very different standards. The woman who runs the program dresses very nicely and carries herself with an air of confidence that demands respect. Some of the people take this as she's trying too hard, others think she's a bitch, and others (myself included) respect her position as the leader of a group of educated adults. My question is, if everyone could respect that she has to play the role of the leader, would she still have to dress in a way that commands respect? Or is she really compensating? What if she just wore jeans and a t-shirt, but was obviously smarter than everyone in the room? What if a priest was Joe nobody that sat in the congregation like an average person? Would we still be able to tell he was morally superior? I was offered a promotion at this temp job, and I'm of the belief that the only reason I was singled out was because I put on a collared shirt every morning and tried to look professional. Is that a fair way to choose? Cause if it is then you have to get into the whole issue that not everyone can afford nice clothes, etc.
I'm losing the thought train here, but my point is this. Humans are humans on a basic level. Some of us choose to evolve. Others are fine with where they are. Some of us are opportunistic, others of us think opportunistic people are slimy for trying to get ahead. A farmer may consider some of the three-syllable words learned in graduate school to be snobbish and unnecessary. A lawyer may think raising your own chickens is a waste of time and money. Who should respect whom and why? Or is this all a matter of playing nicely and talking behind each other's backs?
I think this issue has a lot to do with the culture wars going on in this country and why everyone wants to find a niche and pretend they're in some kind of gang. What do you all think? Comments? Elaborations?
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Easter Egg Hunt??!#$>#($*
So I have a concern about adults in this country. Specifically, my own generation, but I'll wager that those who came before me are just as much to blame. I should preface this concern by saying that I'm currently working a temp job scoring standardized tests in an office setting (something I'm new too) and today we took an hour out of our rigorous work of filling in little scantron bubble sheets to have an Easter egg hunt. Yes, an Easter egg hunt--that joyous event of running around in an elbow-throwing, teeth-clenching, rugby game in celebration of the risin' Christ and to gather enough candy to necessitate in multiple root canals (and they don't offer Dental). When one was five, this was questionably entertaining. When one is twenty-six to sixty, this is a degrading way for a soccer mom posing as a business woman to add insult to injury over the fact that you had to take a temp job in the first place.
Now Easter egg hunts in a supposedly professional setting with people who may or may not celebrate Easter, and undoubtedly have not recently chased other adults around a field on the side of a warehouse in the sprawl of small town Missouri, is not the end of the world. Nor are the seemingly endless conversations I overhear/ am drug into from thirty year old men who are ecstatic about the newest video game station that is coming out.
I say to them, "Does it bother you that other people our age are over in Iraq killing people that have done nothing to them or to our country so that you can comfortably return home from your Easter egg hunt to play Doom XXXII and a fourth?"
They look at me like I'm their grandfather and say, "Not really. I don't really follow politics."
There was a time when thirty year old men would have been ostracized by society for saying such a thing; a time when it was completely ludicrous that someone with the right to free speech and to elect officials of their choosing would not follow the career of the person pulling the strings that control his life. But hey, we live in leisurely times, and who really wants to know about the fifteen hundred laws that were passed restricting your freedom today? My concern is who is going to lead us when my generation gets our day in court. I personally don't have any friends who went to Harvard or Yale, but I have to assume people are still going to these institutions. And I suppose if they are, it would be reasonable to assume that those people will be the "Ivy League Assholes" who are pissing me off into my old age. Now, last time I checked this country was still kinda, sorta, somthing like a democracy (but not completely), which means we don't necessarily have to elect "Ivy League Assholes", we just continue to do it. Perhaps because they have the connections. Or maybe they just get all the breaks. I can't be certain that Yale and Harvard professionals don't have Easter egg parties after work, but I'm guessing if they did, the person who planned it would go missing for quite awhile afterwards.
I don't know why it seems like every political election is between tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber, but I do know that they certainly seem to know words I've not heard around the water cooler lately and speak intelligently about their country over and beyond anything I've heard since my political science class. Maybe the fact that they read books by great men and women instead of playing playstation has something to do with it. Or maybe their cable is constantly out and they can't tune in to vote for the next musical genius on American Idol. I don't know. But I do know it's getting awfully hard to back the "working man" when my generation's working man is a lazy bastard that plays video games and watches cartoons all evening.
When I was working in the woods awhile back, I used to think, "Man, those people working office jobs got it rough." (as I was putting in sixteen hour days outdoors for practically slave wages and living in a cabin with five other grown men). Now that I'm sitting in the air conditioning filling in bubble sheets, and checking my email on breaks, I'm thinking, "These people working office jobs are lazy, whiny bastards!" I don't mean to sound like an ass (yes I do) but my mom was a fourth grade teacher and my dad was a carpenter. I didn't exactly come from power and riches, but I've still managed to see most of this country, pay my way through school, and maintain a balanced bank account. It's not that hard. You just don't buy shit if you don't have money to pay for it. You educate yourself instead of letting other people tell you what to do, and for Christ sake, go see your country! We live in one of the most beautiful places in the world and we have the freedom to go anywhere and live anywhere we choose. Trust me, your friends will never even notice you left.
Here's my theory: Most Americans think they are going to one day be rich and famous. They don't know why. They don't know how, but they live in this constant day dream that it might happen any day. Thus, they buy stuff assuming that they'll be able to pay it off later, they vote for people that are going to let them keep their money (that they don't really have), and they watch a lot of TV and read a lot of magazines to keep the dream alive. It makes no sense.
Here's my advice. 1) Be broke and break even every month. Sell your new car, sell your new house, go live in a shack with the college kids until you are one hundred percent out of debt (Everyone knows what you do for a living and that you don't deserve that car or house yet. And we all have student loans, quit whining). 2) Stop avoiding intelligent conversations. Intelligent people debate politics (and sound like blow hards) because they have lives and money that are tied up in the system. They have something to lose. If you pay attention they will throw away more ideas for living a better life in an hour than most of us will have in our whole lifetime. 3) Go back to school. I don't care if you are twenty-five or fifty-five. By now you can probably tell how fast life is going; those remaining years of college will be over in a flash and your life will be exponentially more enjoyable because of it (even if your dream is something as simple as a family and a lake house). 4) If you have a dream, chase it now. Get up at five AM, stay up until mid-night, save every dime you have this year and quit your job so you can make it happen. Or get real. 5) Consult a specialist--always--in all areas of your life. Don't ask Mom and Dad (unless they're specialists in what you want to know), don't ask listen to your best friend (no matter how convincing he sounds); we live in an information age. Google a website with edu, gov, or org at the end and find out the actual answers to your questions.
And finally, don't ever stay at a job that makes you do childish, degrading shit to break up the monotony of your pathetic day. And with that, I have some job hunting to do.
Now Easter egg hunts in a supposedly professional setting with people who may or may not celebrate Easter, and undoubtedly have not recently chased other adults around a field on the side of a warehouse in the sprawl of small town Missouri, is not the end of the world. Nor are the seemingly endless conversations I overhear/ am drug into from thirty year old men who are ecstatic about the newest video game station that is coming out.
I say to them, "Does it bother you that other people our age are over in Iraq killing people that have done nothing to them or to our country so that you can comfortably return home from your Easter egg hunt to play Doom XXXII and a fourth?"
They look at me like I'm their grandfather and say, "Not really. I don't really follow politics."
There was a time when thirty year old men would have been ostracized by society for saying such a thing; a time when it was completely ludicrous that someone with the right to free speech and to elect officials of their choosing would not follow the career of the person pulling the strings that control his life. But hey, we live in leisurely times, and who really wants to know about the fifteen hundred laws that were passed restricting your freedom today? My concern is who is going to lead us when my generation gets our day in court. I personally don't have any friends who went to Harvard or Yale, but I have to assume people are still going to these institutions. And I suppose if they are, it would be reasonable to assume that those people will be the "Ivy League Assholes" who are pissing me off into my old age. Now, last time I checked this country was still kinda, sorta, somthing like a democracy (but not completely), which means we don't necessarily have to elect "Ivy League Assholes", we just continue to do it. Perhaps because they have the connections. Or maybe they just get all the breaks. I can't be certain that Yale and Harvard professionals don't have Easter egg parties after work, but I'm guessing if they did, the person who planned it would go missing for quite awhile afterwards.
I don't know why it seems like every political election is between tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber, but I do know that they certainly seem to know words I've not heard around the water cooler lately and speak intelligently about their country over and beyond anything I've heard since my political science class. Maybe the fact that they read books by great men and women instead of playing playstation has something to do with it. Or maybe their cable is constantly out and they can't tune in to vote for the next musical genius on American Idol. I don't know. But I do know it's getting awfully hard to back the "working man" when my generation's working man is a lazy bastard that plays video games and watches cartoons all evening.
When I was working in the woods awhile back, I used to think, "Man, those people working office jobs got it rough." (as I was putting in sixteen hour days outdoors for practically slave wages and living in a cabin with five other grown men). Now that I'm sitting in the air conditioning filling in bubble sheets, and checking my email on breaks, I'm thinking, "These people working office jobs are lazy, whiny bastards!" I don't mean to sound like an ass (yes I do) but my mom was a fourth grade teacher and my dad was a carpenter. I didn't exactly come from power and riches, but I've still managed to see most of this country, pay my way through school, and maintain a balanced bank account. It's not that hard. You just don't buy shit if you don't have money to pay for it. You educate yourself instead of letting other people tell you what to do, and for Christ sake, go see your country! We live in one of the most beautiful places in the world and we have the freedom to go anywhere and live anywhere we choose. Trust me, your friends will never even notice you left.
Here's my theory: Most Americans think they are going to one day be rich and famous. They don't know why. They don't know how, but they live in this constant day dream that it might happen any day. Thus, they buy stuff assuming that they'll be able to pay it off later, they vote for people that are going to let them keep their money (that they don't really have), and they watch a lot of TV and read a lot of magazines to keep the dream alive. It makes no sense.
Here's my advice. 1) Be broke and break even every month. Sell your new car, sell your new house, go live in a shack with the college kids until you are one hundred percent out of debt (Everyone knows what you do for a living and that you don't deserve that car or house yet. And we all have student loans, quit whining). 2) Stop avoiding intelligent conversations. Intelligent people debate politics (and sound like blow hards) because they have lives and money that are tied up in the system. They have something to lose. If you pay attention they will throw away more ideas for living a better life in an hour than most of us will have in our whole lifetime. 3) Go back to school. I don't care if you are twenty-five or fifty-five. By now you can probably tell how fast life is going; those remaining years of college will be over in a flash and your life will be exponentially more enjoyable because of it (even if your dream is something as simple as a family and a lake house). 4) If you have a dream, chase it now. Get up at five AM, stay up until mid-night, save every dime you have this year and quit your job so you can make it happen. Or get real. 5) Consult a specialist--always--in all areas of your life. Don't ask Mom and Dad (unless they're specialists in what you want to know), don't ask listen to your best friend (no matter how convincing he sounds); we live in an information age. Google a website with edu, gov, or org at the end and find out the actual answers to your questions.
And finally, don't ever stay at a job that makes you do childish, degrading shit to break up the monotony of your pathetic day. And with that, I have some job hunting to do.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
A Little Calmer...I think
Unfortunately, this blog posts things in reverse, so you may want to read this after you read the post that comes next.
I'm a little calmer today and will apologize a little more about what I wrote last night. I still want to encourage people to attempt to read something that will challenge them if you are one of those people who reads all these mind-numbing pop novels (if you're holding a book with a hot pink cover, I'm talking to you)...you know what, nevermind. Read whatever you want. We're all adults here (probably) and I have no business telling you what to do with your time. My frustrations are my own. I just wish America had a little more class is all--paid a little more attention to quality of life. All this plastic shit floating around in the world and houses that look like they might fall apart at the first strong wind, and fast food taking the place of a meal prepared with attention and care, and strip malls tearing down all our natural places...it's all too much for me sometimes. Take a fuckin' breather America. There's no trophy for being first, just a bunch of pissed off neighbors that can't wait until all our resources run out so they can point and laugh. We're like the cocky little teenager of the world, just snubbing our nose at a bunch of culturally rich, mature nations who could really care less about competing with us. They'd rather spend time with their families and travel than work eighty hours a week. Can you believe the nerve of some people? I think some countries even have food that doesn't come through a window in a parking lot. And they call that success...psh!
I hate ranting. I rant because I care. I don't mean to offend. I don't mean to judge. I just want you to be a healthy, happy, educated individual. Not a softy. Discipline is important. I'm just saying that no matter who you are, you are capable of so much more than you even know and progressive people make for a progressive country. We don't have to be miserable, we don't have to work jobs that treat us like shit, we don't have to breath polluted air and drink polluted water, we don't have to sit back and watch horrible mind-numbing shit on TV while praying that things just kind of work themselves out. What you do matters. Wake up. Play along. There's a whole world out there to explore. It might take some sacrifice. You may have to--gasp!--go without something now and again, but the benefits of a slower, more mindful, and rich lifestyle will change your life and change our country. It's not all about money. It's not not about money. It just isn't ALL about money.
Breathing in, I am relaxed. Breathing out, I am alive.
I'm a little calmer today and will apologize a little more about what I wrote last night. I still want to encourage people to attempt to read something that will challenge them if you are one of those people who reads all these mind-numbing pop novels (if you're holding a book with a hot pink cover, I'm talking to you)...you know what, nevermind. Read whatever you want. We're all adults here (probably) and I have no business telling you what to do with your time. My frustrations are my own. I just wish America had a little more class is all--paid a little more attention to quality of life. All this plastic shit floating around in the world and houses that look like they might fall apart at the first strong wind, and fast food taking the place of a meal prepared with attention and care, and strip malls tearing down all our natural places...it's all too much for me sometimes. Take a fuckin' breather America. There's no trophy for being first, just a bunch of pissed off neighbors that can't wait until all our resources run out so they can point and laugh. We're like the cocky little teenager of the world, just snubbing our nose at a bunch of culturally rich, mature nations who could really care less about competing with us. They'd rather spend time with their families and travel than work eighty hours a week. Can you believe the nerve of some people? I think some countries even have food that doesn't come through a window in a parking lot. And they call that success...psh!
I hate ranting. I rant because I care. I don't mean to offend. I don't mean to judge. I just want you to be a healthy, happy, educated individual. Not a softy. Discipline is important. I'm just saying that no matter who you are, you are capable of so much more than you even know and progressive people make for a progressive country. We don't have to be miserable, we don't have to work jobs that treat us like shit, we don't have to breath polluted air and drink polluted water, we don't have to sit back and watch horrible mind-numbing shit on TV while praying that things just kind of work themselves out. What you do matters. Wake up. Play along. There's a whole world out there to explore. It might take some sacrifice. You may have to--gasp!--go without something now and again, but the benefits of a slower, more mindful, and rich lifestyle will change your life and change our country. It's not all about money. It's not not about money. It just isn't ALL about money.
Breathing in, I am relaxed. Breathing out, I am alive.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Ideas In Reality
If my life were a boxing match, as I sometimes believe it to be, between the grandiose, idealistic, dreamer in my head and that side of myself that is firmly rooted in the logical, heart-breaking reality that is day to day life out in the world, I would have to say that reality has been winning the last few rounds.
It was brought to my attention that I haven't posted anything in awhile now, and to be perfectly honest it's because I haven't felt anything but intense disappointment since I finished writing back in February. Writing...real writing...good writing that inspires thought and conversation is a lost art. No one even knows what good writing is anymore because the only books anyone ever hears about are the ones that make it on the Oprah Book Club list. And to get angry about Oprah is ridiculous because at least she's getting people to read at all.
My beef is this: A good book should not only be an interesting story, well crafted and well written, but should also inspire a person to think and consider alternate realities to the one they live in. Today's best-selling stories are neither thought-provoking or well written (which means the majority of us aren't reading the good stuff. Which means the majority of us writers can't write the good stuff that won't sell). Today's books are crap. And no one even knows they're crap because after reading big pieces of crap for the last fifteen years or so to read a slightly smaller piece of crap seems revolutionary. Yes, I'm talking about the Da Vinci Code and other books of this nature. For Christ sake! If this is what passes for an intellectual conversation in America I'm leaving. My grandmother told me about the Knights of Templar when I was maybe ten--not a new idea. Fifteen years later some asshole writes a fictional story--a FICTIONAL STORY--about it and this whole Bible-thumpin' country loses their minds. Here's the first hint to reading a good book, if your Christian book group endorses it, it probably isn't going to get your synapses all a firin'. You might have to journey out past your cookie-cutter version of an all powerful being who helps your favorite basketball team win to learn something new. I promise He won't get HIS feelings hurt (even if HE is a SHE--huh? Back up! My mind's gonna explode. Someone pray for this lost soul.).
Anyway, I apologize--but only slightly--for this fanatical outlashing. I'm mostly frustrated with myself, because instead of sticking to my ideals of what good art is and isn't I went and wrote a serial-killer suspense novel in the hopes that this conservative (but mass killer loving) nation might read it. It won't happen again. From here on in my stories will have more depth and quality, even if I am the only one who ever reads them.
It was brought to my attention that I haven't posted anything in awhile now, and to be perfectly honest it's because I haven't felt anything but intense disappointment since I finished writing back in February. Writing...real writing...good writing that inspires thought and conversation is a lost art. No one even knows what good writing is anymore because the only books anyone ever hears about are the ones that make it on the Oprah Book Club list. And to get angry about Oprah is ridiculous because at least she's getting people to read at all.
My beef is this: A good book should not only be an interesting story, well crafted and well written, but should also inspire a person to think and consider alternate realities to the one they live in. Today's best-selling stories are neither thought-provoking or well written (which means the majority of us aren't reading the good stuff. Which means the majority of us writers can't write the good stuff that won't sell). Today's books are crap. And no one even knows they're crap because after reading big pieces of crap for the last fifteen years or so to read a slightly smaller piece of crap seems revolutionary. Yes, I'm talking about the Da Vinci Code and other books of this nature. For Christ sake! If this is what passes for an intellectual conversation in America I'm leaving. My grandmother told me about the Knights of Templar when I was maybe ten--not a new idea. Fifteen years later some asshole writes a fictional story--a FICTIONAL STORY--about it and this whole Bible-thumpin' country loses their minds. Here's the first hint to reading a good book, if your Christian book group endorses it, it probably isn't going to get your synapses all a firin'. You might have to journey out past your cookie-cutter version of an all powerful being who helps your favorite basketball team win to learn something new. I promise He won't get HIS feelings hurt (even if HE is a SHE--huh? Back up! My mind's gonna explode. Someone pray for this lost soul.).
Anyway, I apologize--but only slightly--for this fanatical outlashing. I'm mostly frustrated with myself, because instead of sticking to my ideals of what good art is and isn't I went and wrote a serial-killer suspense novel in the hopes that this conservative (but mass killer loving) nation might read it. It won't happen again. From here on in my stories will have more depth and quality, even if I am the only one who ever reads them.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
Excerpts from Fates Worse Than Death
"Scientists, for all their creativity, will never discover a method for making people deader than dead. So if some of you are worried about being hydrogen-bombed, you are merely fearing death. There is nothing new in that. If there weren't any hydrogen bombs, death would still be after you. And what is death but an absence of life? That's all it is. That is all it ever can be.
Death is nothing. What is all the fuss about?
...I will not waste your time with trivial fates, which are only marginally worse than death. Suppose we were conquered by an enemy, for example, who didn't understand our wonderful economic system, and so Braniff Airlines and International Harvester and so on all went bust, and millions of Americans who wanted to work couldn't find any jobs anywhere. Or suppose we were conquered by an enemy who was too cheap to take good care of children and old people. Or suppose we were conquered by an enemy who wouldn't spend money on anything but weapons for World War Three. These are all tribulations we could live with, if we had to--although God forbid.
...But suppose enemies came ashore in great numbers, because we lacked the means to stop them, and they pushed us out of our homes and off our ancestral lands, and into swamps and deserts. Suppose that they even tried to destroy our religion, telling us that our Great God Jehovah, or whatever we wanted to call Him, was as ridiculous as a piece of junk jewelry.
Again: this is a wringer millions of Americans have already been through--or are still going through. It is another catastrophe which Americans can endure, if they have to--and still, miraculously, maintain some measure of dignity, or self-respect.
As bad as life is for our Indians, they still like it better than death.
...So I haven't had much luck, have I, in identifying fates worse than death. Crucifixion is the only clear winner so far, and we aren't about to be crucified. We aren't abuot to be enslaved, either--to be treated as white Americans used to treat black Americans. And no potential enemy that I have heard of wants to come over here to treat all of us the way we still treat American Indians.
What other fates worse than death could I name? Life without petroleum?
...In melodramas of a century ago, a female's loss of virginity outside of holy wedlock was sometimes spoken as a fate worse than death. I hope that isn't what the Pentagon or the Kremlin has in mind--but you never know.
I would rather die for virginity than for petroleum, I think. It's more literary, somehow.
...Now look what has happened. Thanks to modern communications, we have seen sights and heard sounds from virtually every square mile of the land mass on this planet. Millions of us have actually visited more exotic places than had many explorers during my childhood. Many of you have been to Timbuktu. Many of you have been to Katmandu. My dentist just got home from Fiji. He told me all about Fiji. If he had taken his fingers out of my mouth, I would have told him about the Galapagos Islands.
So we now know for certain that there are no potential human enemies anywhere who are anything but human beings almost exactly like ourselves. They need food. How amazing. They love their children. How amazing. They obey their leaders. How amazing. They think like their neighbors. How amazing.
Thanks to modern communications, we now have something we never had before: reason to mourn deeply the death or wounding of any human being on any side in any war."
-Kurt Vonnegut (1991)
Death is nothing. What is all the fuss about?
...I will not waste your time with trivial fates, which are only marginally worse than death. Suppose we were conquered by an enemy, for example, who didn't understand our wonderful economic system, and so Braniff Airlines and International Harvester and so on all went bust, and millions of Americans who wanted to work couldn't find any jobs anywhere. Or suppose we were conquered by an enemy who was too cheap to take good care of children and old people. Or suppose we were conquered by an enemy who wouldn't spend money on anything but weapons for World War Three. These are all tribulations we could live with, if we had to--although God forbid.
...But suppose enemies came ashore in great numbers, because we lacked the means to stop them, and they pushed us out of our homes and off our ancestral lands, and into swamps and deserts. Suppose that they even tried to destroy our religion, telling us that our Great God Jehovah, or whatever we wanted to call Him, was as ridiculous as a piece of junk jewelry.
Again: this is a wringer millions of Americans have already been through--or are still going through. It is another catastrophe which Americans can endure, if they have to--and still, miraculously, maintain some measure of dignity, or self-respect.
As bad as life is for our Indians, they still like it better than death.
...So I haven't had much luck, have I, in identifying fates worse than death. Crucifixion is the only clear winner so far, and we aren't about to be crucified. We aren't abuot to be enslaved, either--to be treated as white Americans used to treat black Americans. And no potential enemy that I have heard of wants to come over here to treat all of us the way we still treat American Indians.
What other fates worse than death could I name? Life without petroleum?
...In melodramas of a century ago, a female's loss of virginity outside of holy wedlock was sometimes spoken as a fate worse than death. I hope that isn't what the Pentagon or the Kremlin has in mind--but you never know.
I would rather die for virginity than for petroleum, I think. It's more literary, somehow.
...Now look what has happened. Thanks to modern communications, we have seen sights and heard sounds from virtually every square mile of the land mass on this planet. Millions of us have actually visited more exotic places than had many explorers during my childhood. Many of you have been to Timbuktu. Many of you have been to Katmandu. My dentist just got home from Fiji. He told me all about Fiji. If he had taken his fingers out of my mouth, I would have told him about the Galapagos Islands.
So we now know for certain that there are no potential human enemies anywhere who are anything but human beings almost exactly like ourselves. They need food. How amazing. They love their children. How amazing. They obey their leaders. How amazing. They think like their neighbors. How amazing.
Thanks to modern communications, we now have something we never had before: reason to mourn deeply the death or wounding of any human being on any side in any war."
-Kurt Vonnegut (1991)
Sunday, February 05, 2006
If winter was more exciting, I'd do something besides blog
I have to recommend John Irving's "The Fourth Hand". It is hilarious. Irving is probably my favorite contemporary writer; someone who actually develops characters and plots without having to kill, rape, or go outside the lines of reality to entertain. Alas, my novel is not this smart, but I am currently developing an idea for a second story and I'm inspired by Irving's creative style and wit.
Speaking of my novel...
The editing process is coming along and I have written to ten literary agencies in an attempt to find representation. I should hear back from some of them within two weeks and others within two months. In the meantime I'm trying to make the story as perfect as possible before an editor hacks it apart for me. Thank you to Phil Lucero, my brother Brian, and Danielle Dolan for reading and offering feedback! To keep my anxiety at bay, all I can think to do is start writing something else.
Allison is incredible at her job. She is complimented often on her ability to work well will the mentally ill and is trying to keep notes on how she deals with different illnesses to help her in graduate school.
I am also awaiting an acceptance (or rejection) letter from MU's creative writing program. If I'm accepted I'll start classes this summer. If I'm not? There's a great job at a local veterinarian's office disposing of euthanized puppies. That sounds promising.
Speaking of my novel...
The editing process is coming along and I have written to ten literary agencies in an attempt to find representation. I should hear back from some of them within two weeks and others within two months. In the meantime I'm trying to make the story as perfect as possible before an editor hacks it apart for me. Thank you to Phil Lucero, my brother Brian, and Danielle Dolan for reading and offering feedback! To keep my anxiety at bay, all I can think to do is start writing something else.
Allison is incredible at her job. She is complimented often on her ability to work well will the mentally ill and is trying to keep notes on how she deals with different illnesses to help her in graduate school.
I am also awaiting an acceptance (or rejection) letter from MU's creative writing program. If I'm accepted I'll start classes this summer. If I'm not? There's a great job at a local veterinarian's office disposing of euthanized puppies. That sounds promising.
Friday, January 27, 2006
The Book is Finished!
It is 3:24 PM on January 27, 2006 and I have just written the last line to my first novel.
Next week will begin the editing process and long road to finding a publisher. I'll keep updates posted. For now, we drink.
Next week will begin the editing process and long road to finding a publisher. I'll keep updates posted. For now, we drink.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
