me: you're so controlling...
Dianna: what?
as i should be
as a woman
Ah... From the lips of the serpent herself.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Metaphor
Tonight, as I left from my friend's home at 1:30AM, my car began playing the CD that was currently loaded into its deck. My immediate desire was to put on a similar song which I really enjoy listening to, and so, as I turned out of the development, I reached in the pocket on my driver's side door and started blindly pulling out CD's in the dark. Immediately I realized that I couldn't really see what was written on each CD (all my CD's are burned). My two thoughts here were firstly that I could wait until I passed under the streetlight ahead and glance quickly at the CD I was holding, and secondly that this process was quickly becoming far more complex than I wanted.
I read the first CD under the first streetlight, and the second one under the second, and so on. After the fourth light, I realized that I was searching for one CD in a stack of about ten, and that there were maybe four more streetlights. Again, I had two thoughts; firstly, that I could slow down and try to read two CD's back to back under each streetlight, or I could hold a CD in each hand as I passed under the streetlight, and secondly whether or not I had an odd number of CD's remaining, and if I should adjust my strategy accordingly.
Upon reaching the last stoplight, I had not found my CD, both because it was too difficult to read two CD's during each stoplight, and because there were actually more like fifteen or so CD's. Still though, there were only 2 CD's left that I had not checked, so I could go by process of elimination, and simply try them both. On the other hand, I found myself singing along to the song that was already playing, so much so that I decided to just listen to the currently playing song. It was a song that I generally don't listen to on that particular CD, but somehow a minute of not really listening bought my interest.
After that song ended, there was a single streetlight at a stop-sign intersection with a mile of dark farm fields before and after. In that one moment of light, I confirmed that the very last CD in the stack was the one I was searching for. As the next track in the current CD came on, I wondered if maybe I should just let it play, despite it also being a normally skipped track. After a moment or two, I almost instinctively ejected the CD and replaced it. I had already skipped ahead to the song I wanted before realizing what I had done.
I read the first CD under the first streetlight, and the second one under the second, and so on. After the fourth light, I realized that I was searching for one CD in a stack of about ten, and that there were maybe four more streetlights. Again, I had two thoughts; firstly, that I could slow down and try to read two CD's back to back under each streetlight, or I could hold a CD in each hand as I passed under the streetlight, and secondly whether or not I had an odd number of CD's remaining, and if I should adjust my strategy accordingly.
Upon reaching the last stoplight, I had not found my CD, both because it was too difficult to read two CD's during each stoplight, and because there were actually more like fifteen or so CD's. Still though, there were only 2 CD's left that I had not checked, so I could go by process of elimination, and simply try them both. On the other hand, I found myself singing along to the song that was already playing, so much so that I decided to just listen to the currently playing song. It was a song that I generally don't listen to on that particular CD, but somehow a minute of not really listening bought my interest.
After that song ended, there was a single streetlight at a stop-sign intersection with a mile of dark farm fields before and after. In that one moment of light, I confirmed that the very last CD in the stack was the one I was searching for. As the next track in the current CD came on, I wondered if maybe I should just let it play, despite it also being a normally skipped track. After a moment or two, I almost instinctively ejected the CD and replaced it. I had already skipped ahead to the song I wanted before realizing what I had done.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Thinking and Feeling; A Conversation Between Windows
My writing recently has only been various strange thoughts and pondering, as opposed to thick, fluffy and deep content. I think this is because those pieces are born out of any ephemeral longing in my heart. Those emotional pieces are emotional because of strong emotions. Seeing as how I have not been driving to write such pieces, I must conclude that I have not had many strong emotions as of late.
But perhaps this is not the end. Perhaps it is insufficient for me to simply proclaim that the main problem of our time is that people just don't think enough. Perhaps I have spent so much effort on thinking, that I have forsaken the effort for feeling.
I have relied upon so much thought to get me through. I rise out of bed not because I desire to live the day, but because I understand that I must rise before I can walk out of the room. I eat my meals not because I enjoy the food, but because my body needs various nutrients. I meet up with various friends not because I love them, but because the ties that I maintain may come back to benefit me in the future. I read the news so that I have information that might be useful. There is no feeling of curiosity, but only an understanding of utility. Though I criticize others for taking a course without consideration for its destination, I have too often aimed for a destination without considering the course. In a more general way, I have, in my attempt to avoid being senseless, fallen into another sort of senseless.
But I believe that many of us act in the same way, if only to fuel our confidence in ourselves. If we believe ourselves incapable of always knowing right, we pride ourselves in always feeling right. Admitting we are wrong ought not feel like a victory, because it is not. Some believe that they are always the best, always right, and that we label as pride. But others of us believe that they are not always the best, and not always right, and we label that as reasonable, or even humble. Even others of us believe that they are never the best, and never right, and that we label with "low self-esteem". Yet the fault here lies not in being at either extreme, but simply at believing that we can determine our own worth. The fault here lies in all of us, for determining that the value of a person is greater or less for having better athletic talent, dance moves, or math skills. Some of us feel that those who possess deeper thought are more valuable, as I am guilty of.
(I am not trying to end at that cliche of "everybody is equal, everybody is special". This is still placing a value on a person.)
--
An evening breeze ripples through my windows. I have two in my room, one which faces south, and one which faces west. They are both in the corner, as if they were two people seated awkwardly at the corner of a table for four in a restaurant. To the north is a closet filled with clothes that I never wear, and to the east is a wall. If my windows were to start a conversation right now, I think that south would begin by remarking on how nice the weather is.
Yes, west would reply, The weather has been particularly sunny, but the breeze has been excellent.
Yes, south would agree, I hope that the weather stays this way for a while.
Silence would ensue here. Luckily, the two of them do not face each other, or else they might need to look awkwardly up or down to avoid looking at one another.
South begins again with How was your day?
It was OK. I was pretty tired.
Did you get enough sleep? South pauses here, unable to determine if west is waiting to speak, or just waiting.
West speaks. I think so. I was only tired in the afternoon, after things started getting warm.
Ah. I see. Beat. So how have you been since... How have you been?
Good. Pause. Good. Pause. How about you?
Pretty good. Yea. Pause. Well, I guess I have to be going now, so I'll catch you later.
Oh yea, sure. Nice seeing you.
Yep. Good bye.
Bye.
But then again, they are stuck next to each other, always sharing a corner, so I guess it would be pretty hard for south to leave west, or for west to leave south, for better or for worse. I once thought that marriage was supposed to be this way. But then again, they are just windows, and windows do not even speak. Yet these two remain together, for better or for worse.
But perhaps this is not the end. Perhaps it is insufficient for me to simply proclaim that the main problem of our time is that people just don't think enough. Perhaps I have spent so much effort on thinking, that I have forsaken the effort for feeling.
I have relied upon so much thought to get me through. I rise out of bed not because I desire to live the day, but because I understand that I must rise before I can walk out of the room. I eat my meals not because I enjoy the food, but because my body needs various nutrients. I meet up with various friends not because I love them, but because the ties that I maintain may come back to benefit me in the future. I read the news so that I have information that might be useful. There is no feeling of curiosity, but only an understanding of utility. Though I criticize others for taking a course without consideration for its destination, I have too often aimed for a destination without considering the course. In a more general way, I have, in my attempt to avoid being senseless, fallen into another sort of senseless.
But I believe that many of us act in the same way, if only to fuel our confidence in ourselves. If we believe ourselves incapable of always knowing right, we pride ourselves in always feeling right. Admitting we are wrong ought not feel like a victory, because it is not. Some believe that they are always the best, always right, and that we label as pride. But others of us believe that they are not always the best, and not always right, and we label that as reasonable, or even humble. Even others of us believe that they are never the best, and never right, and that we label with "low self-esteem". Yet the fault here lies not in being at either extreme, but simply at believing that we can determine our own worth. The fault here lies in all of us, for determining that the value of a person is greater or less for having better athletic talent, dance moves, or math skills. Some of us feel that those who possess deeper thought are more valuable, as I am guilty of.
(I am not trying to end at that cliche of "everybody is equal, everybody is special". This is still placing a value on a person.)
--
An evening breeze ripples through my windows. I have two in my room, one which faces south, and one which faces west. They are both in the corner, as if they were two people seated awkwardly at the corner of a table for four in a restaurant. To the north is a closet filled with clothes that I never wear, and to the east is a wall. If my windows were to start a conversation right now, I think that south would begin by remarking on how nice the weather is.
Yes, west would reply, The weather has been particularly sunny, but the breeze has been excellent.
Yes, south would agree, I hope that the weather stays this way for a while.
Silence would ensue here. Luckily, the two of them do not face each other, or else they might need to look awkwardly up or down to avoid looking at one another.
South begins again with How was your day?
It was OK. I was pretty tired.
Did you get enough sleep? South pauses here, unable to determine if west is waiting to speak, or just waiting.
West speaks. I think so. I was only tired in the afternoon, after things started getting warm.
Ah. I see. Beat. So how have you been since... How have you been?
Good. Pause. Good. Pause. How about you?
Pretty good. Yea. Pause. Well, I guess I have to be going now, so I'll catch you later.
Oh yea, sure. Nice seeing you.
Yep. Good bye.
Bye.
But then again, they are stuck next to each other, always sharing a corner, so I guess it would be pretty hard for south to leave west, or for west to leave south, for better or for worse. I once thought that marriage was supposed to be this way. But then again, they are just windows, and windows do not even speak. Yet these two remain together, for better or for worse.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Some of my Recent Thoughts (Immediately Post-Graduation Edition)
To me, getting back into my Bible after a period of drought is very similar to starting to put my retainers in regularly again after a period of time without them. This is especially true since I usually read before I sleep. When I don't, something feels wrong, but I don't always correct it. "It will be OK for just one night", I think to myself.
I usually try to save the best thoughts for last in these posts, but I think I will intersperse them randomly throughout from now on.
When it is too warm in my house even for just a t-shirt and shorts, I should just not wear them. I never had this train of thought until recently.
Recently I've noticed far more frequently my choices in favor of selfishness over morality. Have I become this way, or has my perception become sharper? (Morality might be too strong a word here.)
Also today, I met a student coming out of high school and asked him where he was going to college, to which he replied, "Drexel". I did not feel old, as one might expect, but happy. In fact, towards the end of this past semester I felt often that I thought about things differently than many of my peers, or at least from those whose complaints I often heard. I did not feel very old, and only exclaimed so because it seemed the appropriate thing to say, and I did not feel apprehension at leaving school. I did not feel the need to know what everybody else was doing after graduation, and I did not really need to say my last goodbyes to everybody. Yet I still said these things and went through these actions as if it was a strange ritual; I didn't know how else to act, since I didn't really see others acting as I felt.
I write fewer and fewer creative writings because I have raised my standards, and they are contradicting. I cannot accept abstract writings because I want my audience to understand, but I cannot accept textbook writings because I want my audience to guess. Sentences must be very carefully constructed, yet they ought to flow from my mind naturally, as when I once wrote in stream of consciousness style. I do not like to include characters, but I do want to speak to people by having them relate to characters. I want everybody to love my writing, but I want it to still be private and strange to everybody. One day I want to write about octopi and jungles and physics, and the next day I want to write about people's hearts and symbolism. I want to write often when I am not at a location where I can write, or there are more pressing matters at hand.
But I still want one day to sit at home and write novels or books or something. I no longer feel that music is a stronger medium. A medium is just a medium; words may carry meaning, just as sound may carry meaning.
I went and read a few Calvin and Hobbes comics, since this year I had more than once engaged in a conversation about how there is more to discover after reaching different levels of maturity, and since the last time I read was likely in middle school. (I like to think I have matured since then.) I was disappointed, but perhaps because of hype; there was a gem here and there, and multitudes of clever word plays and jokes.
I've been trying the whole wake-up-early-and-run-before-even-taking-a-shower-or-whatever-it-is-that-you-do-first-after-waking-up thing. I get no sense of refreshment or clean start or whatever. The only good effect that I've detected is the satisfaction of knowing that I woke up early and ran, and that perhaps I can lose some flab if I keep it up. Vain.
I've thought about this, and concluded that the main source of my "contrary-ness" is in my desire for things to be right, or efficient, or effective. A less noble source is my desire for attention.
When driving back, there was a period in Pennsylvania where there was a terrible thunderstorm, and visibility was reduced to about 40 feet, and hydroplaning was occurring for me about 20% of the time. I reduced my speed from 80 mph to 65 mph, which is still too absurdly fast for those conditions, and I thought about how life is similar to how people drive in the rain. There were people pulled over on the side of the road, people driving at 40 mph (a reasonable speed), some with their blinkers on, people who drove until they reached a rest stop, people weaving in and out at 70 mph, and me, who stubbornly cruised down the left lane tailgating drivers too afraid to switch lanes while hydroplaning. At one point a truck passed me on the right and splashed water on my windshield so that I could not see anything for a good three seconds. My response was to hit the gas to get out of the spray.
On the other hand, there has been a single gnat trapped in my room each night, and I have a strong suspicion that it is the same gnat each night. I could have simply killed the gnat the first night and been done with it, but instead I turned on the ceiling fan to force it to land somewhere. I wonder why these two approaches are so inconsistent.
Perhaps a sacrifice is doing something for somebody and not telling anybody about it in any way. Keeping things between you and God. How often do I do that? I can't tell you, or else it wouldn't be a sacrifice... assuming there was one, of course.
I told my mother to not buy a frame for my diploma, but she did anyway. Later she told me that if I would eventually need it so that I could hang it in my office at work. And to think that I often feel that I've outgrown my need for my mother.
Today I was told that it seems in my nature to speak of love in a professional way.
What exactly does it mean to "give up"? I don't feel as if I've ever really given up, so to speak, on anything that I wanted to continue putting effort into. Each thing that I've declared myself to have given up on is merely something that I don't feel is worth putting effort into anymore, and so I have no desire to continue. Does giving up actually mean putting aside a still-existing desire to put effort down?
I have always only followed what desire is in my heart; how else can a man act, if not to follow what course of action he feels is appropriate? Duress is merely a stronger set of urging circumstances. Being held at gunpoint is a more concise version of being in great debt. How can I possibly do something that I don't want to do? Options that are not available to me are simply not available to me, as is the case for any person. While human will cannot definitely affect anything, fulfillment of desire depends on nothing except will. If I want to buy a certain product, and if I am able to transport myself to the venue and provide adequate money to make the purchase, and if my sensibilities do not override my want for the product, then I will buy it. If the store has no more of the product in stock, then I do not buy it, because there are no more in stock. I have not done what is against the desire in my heart, because that desire is limited by my knowledge of reality. My will is not great enough to exceed my perception of reality, and so my desire to buy the product shrinks because I know that it is impossible. I will never really desire to fly unassisted by any tools, because I know that it is impossible. I may dream or fantasize about doing so, but I will never actually desire to do so, because I have no perceivable way of doing something that is impossible. If I were to believe that it was possible, I might try to do so, but soon I would learn that it is in fact impossible, and my desire to fly would vanish.
The previous argument is very flawed, but the basic concept I believe is true. A person acts only upon what the person wants to do based upon his or her knowledge of reality. There is no such occurrence as a person doing something against what the person wants to do.
People felt and continue to feel that alcohol warms the body, yet the sensation of warmth related to alcohol is due to dilated blood vessels in the skin which allow warm blood from the core of the body to transfer heat to heat-sensing nerves in the skin. Yet people feel that alcohol warms the body. It may be wrong to draw conclusions from this observation, as not all people who believe this about alcohol have been told the previous reasoning.
My observations tend to be about either myself or "people", as if all people are some conglomerate mass with the same opinions and state. I sometimes make observations about the physical world or theoretical math or language. I rarely make observations about history or politics or the future. I think most about how people think, and I am obsessed with understanding the way things are.
I probably think less often and less deeply than I believe myself to think.
I usually try to save the best thoughts for last in these posts, but I think I will intersperse them randomly throughout from now on.
When it is too warm in my house even for just a t-shirt and shorts, I should just not wear them. I never had this train of thought until recently.
Recently I've noticed far more frequently my choices in favor of selfishness over morality. Have I become this way, or has my perception become sharper? (Morality might be too strong a word here.)
Also today, I met a student coming out of high school and asked him where he was going to college, to which he replied, "Drexel". I did not feel old, as one might expect, but happy. In fact, towards the end of this past semester I felt often that I thought about things differently than many of my peers, or at least from those whose complaints I often heard. I did not feel very old, and only exclaimed so because it seemed the appropriate thing to say, and I did not feel apprehension at leaving school. I did not feel the need to know what everybody else was doing after graduation, and I did not really need to say my last goodbyes to everybody. Yet I still said these things and went through these actions as if it was a strange ritual; I didn't know how else to act, since I didn't really see others acting as I felt.
I write fewer and fewer creative writings because I have raised my standards, and they are contradicting. I cannot accept abstract writings because I want my audience to understand, but I cannot accept textbook writings because I want my audience to guess. Sentences must be very carefully constructed, yet they ought to flow from my mind naturally, as when I once wrote in stream of consciousness style. I do not like to include characters, but I do want to speak to people by having them relate to characters. I want everybody to love my writing, but I want it to still be private and strange to everybody. One day I want to write about octopi and jungles and physics, and the next day I want to write about people's hearts and symbolism. I want to write often when I am not at a location where I can write, or there are more pressing matters at hand.
But I still want one day to sit at home and write novels or books or something. I no longer feel that music is a stronger medium. A medium is just a medium; words may carry meaning, just as sound may carry meaning.
I went and read a few Calvin and Hobbes comics, since this year I had more than once engaged in a conversation about how there is more to discover after reaching different levels of maturity, and since the last time I read was likely in middle school. (I like to think I have matured since then.) I was disappointed, but perhaps because of hype; there was a gem here and there, and multitudes of clever word plays and jokes.
I've been trying the whole wake-up-early-and-run-before-even-taking-a-shower-or-whatever-it-is-that-you-do-first-after-waking-up thing. I get no sense of refreshment or clean start or whatever. The only good effect that I've detected is the satisfaction of knowing that I woke up early and ran, and that perhaps I can lose some flab if I keep it up. Vain.
I've thought about this, and concluded that the main source of my "contrary-ness" is in my desire for things to be right, or efficient, or effective. A less noble source is my desire for attention.
When driving back, there was a period in Pennsylvania where there was a terrible thunderstorm, and visibility was reduced to about 40 feet, and hydroplaning was occurring for me about 20% of the time. I reduced my speed from 80 mph to 65 mph, which is still too absurdly fast for those conditions, and I thought about how life is similar to how people drive in the rain. There were people pulled over on the side of the road, people driving at 40 mph (a reasonable speed), some with their blinkers on, people who drove until they reached a rest stop, people weaving in and out at 70 mph, and me, who stubbornly cruised down the left lane tailgating drivers too afraid to switch lanes while hydroplaning. At one point a truck passed me on the right and splashed water on my windshield so that I could not see anything for a good three seconds. My response was to hit the gas to get out of the spray.
On the other hand, there has been a single gnat trapped in my room each night, and I have a strong suspicion that it is the same gnat each night. I could have simply killed the gnat the first night and been done with it, but instead I turned on the ceiling fan to force it to land somewhere. I wonder why these two approaches are so inconsistent.
Perhaps a sacrifice is doing something for somebody and not telling anybody about it in any way. Keeping things between you and God. How often do I do that? I can't tell you, or else it wouldn't be a sacrifice... assuming there was one, of course.
I told my mother to not buy a frame for my diploma, but she did anyway. Later she told me that if I would eventually need it so that I could hang it in my office at work. And to think that I often feel that I've outgrown my need for my mother.
Today I was told that it seems in my nature to speak of love in a professional way.
What exactly does it mean to "give up"? I don't feel as if I've ever really given up, so to speak, on anything that I wanted to continue putting effort into. Each thing that I've declared myself to have given up on is merely something that I don't feel is worth putting effort into anymore, and so I have no desire to continue. Does giving up actually mean putting aside a still-existing desire to put effort down?
I have always only followed what desire is in my heart; how else can a man act, if not to follow what course of action he feels is appropriate? Duress is merely a stronger set of urging circumstances. Being held at gunpoint is a more concise version of being in great debt. How can I possibly do something that I don't want to do? Options that are not available to me are simply not available to me, as is the case for any person. While human will cannot definitely affect anything, fulfillment of desire depends on nothing except will. If I want to buy a certain product, and if I am able to transport myself to the venue and provide adequate money to make the purchase, and if my sensibilities do not override my want for the product, then I will buy it. If the store has no more of the product in stock, then I do not buy it, because there are no more in stock. I have not done what is against the desire in my heart, because that desire is limited by my knowledge of reality. My will is not great enough to exceed my perception of reality, and so my desire to buy the product shrinks because I know that it is impossible. I will never really desire to fly unassisted by any tools, because I know that it is impossible. I may dream or fantasize about doing so, but I will never actually desire to do so, because I have no perceivable way of doing something that is impossible. If I were to believe that it was possible, I might try to do so, but soon I would learn that it is in fact impossible, and my desire to fly would vanish.
The previous argument is very flawed, but the basic concept I believe is true. A person acts only upon what the person wants to do based upon his or her knowledge of reality. There is no such occurrence as a person doing something against what the person wants to do.
People felt and continue to feel that alcohol warms the body, yet the sensation of warmth related to alcohol is due to dilated blood vessels in the skin which allow warm blood from the core of the body to transfer heat to heat-sensing nerves in the skin. Yet people feel that alcohol warms the body. It may be wrong to draw conclusions from this observation, as not all people who believe this about alcohol have been told the previous reasoning.
My observations tend to be about either myself or "people", as if all people are some conglomerate mass with the same opinions and state. I sometimes make observations about the physical world or theoretical math or language. I rarely make observations about history or politics or the future. I think most about how people think, and I am obsessed with understanding the way things are.
I probably think less often and less deeply than I believe myself to think.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Thinking Questions 2
Say that you were in the following hypothetical situation:
You are driving on the highway at a relatively fast speed, and you notice (belatedly) that a car is stopped in your lane up ahead. You are too close to stop before reaching the car, and your only choice is to pull into the shoulder to your left. It is difficult to judge exactly the distance remaining, so you must enter the shoulder within the shortest distance possible while not also crashing.
This story sounds great, but the question I'm really asking is whether or not you should hit the gas (or brake, or neither) while changing lanes in order to minimize the distance and time required to change lanes, assuming that your turning rate is the same.
Yes, this is a cop-out from actually writing a post. I had many thoughts which I wanted to post here, but I have since forgotten them. This is the norm.
You are driving on the highway at a relatively fast speed, and you notice (belatedly) that a car is stopped in your lane up ahead. You are too close to stop before reaching the car, and your only choice is to pull into the shoulder to your left. It is difficult to judge exactly the distance remaining, so you must enter the shoulder within the shortest distance possible while not also crashing.
This story sounds great, but the question I'm really asking is whether or not you should hit the gas (or brake, or neither) while changing lanes in order to minimize the distance and time required to change lanes, assuming that your turning rate is the same.
Yes, this is a cop-out from actually writing a post. I had many thoughts which I wanted to post here, but I have since forgotten them. This is the norm.
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