I need to start posting more, for the therapeutic effects of writing, and for the positive way this blog affects me (notice my hopefully correct use of effect and affect). In the summer of 2010, I made the outrageous claim that I would post every day, and to no surprise, I didn't.
I got to sleep in today and yesterday. It felt great. My schedule this year is so rigid. I feel like a robot. In the past, I felt no need to adhere to the routine. I could skip out on classes and assignments because it didn't feel important. And now, heading into the third week of my most important semester so far, I have to be the routine. Live it, breathe it, eat it, drink it. If I allow my self to slack off even just a little bit, my apathy will grow exponentially, like a snow ball down a hill (in case it isn't clear, the hill in question is covered in snow).
The problem is I do not feel like me. It is not because I am finally doing well, nor the fact that I am on medication for my attention disorder. It is hard to find the words for it. The closest thing I can think to compare it to would be changing from a type "B" personality (in terms of how one feels stress) to a type "A". My mind, my personality, the very essence of what makes me me, shuts down when life gets rigid and lets auto pilot take over. So I end up just zombieing through the weeks, unable to enjoy the few moments of true free time because of the dread that soon I will have to go back to the routine.
I feel the same way I did in high school, and to say the least it freaking sucks. Old habits are returning that I had struggled long and hard to escape from. The one thing I do enjoy, however, is the return of my urge to play my guitar more often and get better. It is soothing to me to try to create the beautiful, whether with words, colors, or sounds. I have been playing much more in the past two weeks than I have in a few years (since high school), and I can feel myself becoming familiar with my instrument again. Running my fingertips over the warm, sensuous form of my guitar is almost like embracing a long absent lover, exploring every inch of familiar inviting skin. I feel connected the me that has been away for a long time.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Out of the Blue
And into the black. Once you're gone you can never come back.
I was listening to Neil Young's "Hey Hey My My" today on my drive from school. Such a great song. Heart wrenching really. That line "once you're gone you can never come back, out of the blue and into the black," stuck. It is playing over and over in my head, and I can't help but think. It is true. Or at least how I see it.
I had a conversation with a friend last week about the dark side of suburbia. He was telling how when asked about the "bad" things that happened at their high school or home town, the people who never did wrong, who only started experimenting with illicit substances in college would answer different than those who did the "bad" things. The good kids would say that there was no dark side to their towns because they were never part of it; they couldn't see it.
Seeing that side, living and embracing it, changes the way a person sees the world. It only takes one dip in the dark side, and it will follow you everywhere. You see people differently, places, eyes opened to the darker shades of the spectrum. And you can never go back.
The reason that every parent who lived their youth to the fullest can find that hidden stash, no matter the hiding spot. How they can spot any hint of intoxication without even looking. The way we avoid eye contact with some people, as we see right through them.
It's definitely an idea worth thinking about. How the darker experiences of your life, big or small, can cause significant changes in how you see the world and live your life.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Critical thinking is the middle path.
One of my favorite things about this blog is the simple fact that it is mine. Complete creative control. I can write about what I want to write about. It has been quite some time since I have been pissed to the point of blogging it, but I feel disrespected. I feel like I am being treated as if I am an idiot because my opinion differs than "popular" consensus.
[Before this post gets to heated I would like to let it be known that this post is my own personal opinion, on my own personal blog. This post relates to the purpose of my blog. And because I am not using names, I release myself from any consequences that might come from the subject stumbling across this post and assuming it is about them. Remember what happens when you assume. Can't make me into an ass without first assifying yourself. I also want to apologize for the confusing text. I am writing this in such a way that the identities of those I write about remain as vague as possible. Call it a hunch, but I have a feeling that this is a good idea.]
I am an intelligent person. And if you disagree, pretend for me while you read this. I am a critical thinker. I try, to the very best of my ability, to look at arguments objectively. My stance on different issues, ideas, concepts, etc. changes with the circumstances. I do not think in terms of stark contrast, black and white, right and wrong, left and right. When I attempt let go, again to the best of my ability, of my emotional ties to an argument, I allow myself to get a wider view of the opposing opinions. Think about it. If you climb to the top of the fence and actually sit there for a second, you can get a full view of both yards and make a decision accordingly.
And though it will never get me into a prestigious elected position, I am proud of my mental process and its effective employment of "critical thinking." I do not pretend to be all knowing, nor do I make claims to having vast experience in anything. What I can say is that my ego allows me to make decisions without worry. What I can say is that I do not have to completely disregard other options. I can say that I am not an extremist.
Today I was discussing my thoughts on a textual work and my opinion of the implied meaning and goal of the journalistic piece with a colleague I respect and hold in high regard. This person, who holds a position of certain elevation above mine, treats those he is in charge of respectfully and with tact. He knows the appropriate time to be stern. Even when frustrated, he is still a respectful and understanding superior.
Upon catching wind of my opinion (which turns out was in disagreement with most of the others involved in this operation), another one of my superiors began to argue the point with me, trying to point out why I was wrong. I enjoy a good natured argument. I like to state my premises and the logic that helped me reach my conclusion. What I do not enjoy is when I get attacked and disrespected for the opinion that I have.
With a condescending tone, this woman challenged my intelligence, stating that I obviously didn't read the article all the way through, and if I did I definitely must not have payed any attention to what I was reading. She talked about her apparent vast knowledge on dealing with this profiling and fear mongering, because of her background as a self proclaimed "activist." My opinion, she explained, is not the majority opinion. Her reason for this belief? She had talked to "a lot of people" about the article. I wasn't even going to ask how many "a lot" is, but she told me anyway. "Upwards of thirteen."
The article regards a scholastic community of approx. 15,000 people. In my own opinion, thirteen people who were chosen purposefully, not randomly, do not accurately portray the opinion of the entire community. As for her other arguments, experience can help discover hidden meanings in some cases, but in many situations, just the intent to find a hidden or underlying meaning can create one in the mind of the reader. Even more so if the alleged "experience" comes from the work of an "activist."
She has very forceful mindset. In most situations, I have been finding that unless you are her, or have a higher position than her, you are wrong. If you are not wrong, than you couldn't possibly on the same page as her, and because in her eyes you are so behind, you might as well be wrong. She stands firmly and squarely rooted to the rigid guidelines of her beliefs. Politically, socially, economically. I would not be surprised if she has only ever voted for a single party.
Her activism requires scouring for faults in her opponents, and knowing that they must fight dirty, she will too. Nothing is sacred for those who fight blindly on their beliefs. Anything that can discredit an opponent, regardless of relevance, is a weakness to be exploited. People like her are very narrow, looking at the world through a straw. The only reason for looking at the other side is to prepare for the attack, never to learn or understand. I do not speak of any single group, not any particular extremist viewpoint, political, social, or economic. I am speaking of all of the black and white thinkers. There is no understanding. (Also, this color is my way to tell you that the words I have written are an assumption, opinion, or logical leap)
The most irritating thing was not the fallacies of logic and reasoning, nor was it the blatant dismissal of my opinion, but rather it was the tone she spoke to me in. I took meticulous care to keep my voice calm, controlled, and neutral. But she spoke to me as if I did not have the capacity to understand what she was saying. Looking down on me, speaking with that condescending tone, slowing her speech to repeat her key arguments as if my young infantile undeveloped mind could not comprehend complicated topics at fast speeds.
I repeated her arguments to her, explaining them in a way to make clear that I understand, acknowledging her opinion, all the while a fire of crude angry words spread across the piss and vinegar oil slick inside of me. She did understand the words I spoke, but not the meaning behind them. She said "I can see why you might think that, but..." and it went on, and on. She did not see.
I don't know if I can deal with her for the next four months. She talks like that to everyone, except the two higher ups. I already am having trouble biting my tongue and it has been less than two weeks.
Please help me, whatever higher power is out there. I am in dire need. I don't want to screw up my chances of success over a petty dispute with a truly pitiable person.
If you made it this far, thanks for reading. I needed to vent and this is my favorite outlet.
Until next time faithful readers.
[Before this post gets to heated I would like to let it be known that this post is my own personal opinion, on my own personal blog. This post relates to the purpose of my blog. And because I am not using names, I release myself from any consequences that might come from the subject stumbling across this post and assuming it is about them. Remember what happens when you assume. Can't make me into an ass without first assifying yourself. I also want to apologize for the confusing text. I am writing this in such a way that the identities of those I write about remain as vague as possible. Call it a hunch, but I have a feeling that this is a good idea.]
I am an intelligent person. And if you disagree, pretend for me while you read this. I am a critical thinker. I try, to the very best of my ability, to look at arguments objectively. My stance on different issues, ideas, concepts, etc. changes with the circumstances. I do not think in terms of stark contrast, black and white, right and wrong, left and right. When I attempt let go, again to the best of my ability, of my emotional ties to an argument, I allow myself to get a wider view of the opposing opinions. Think about it. If you climb to the top of the fence and actually sit there for a second, you can get a full view of both yards and make a decision accordingly.
And though it will never get me into a prestigious elected position, I am proud of my mental process and its effective employment of "critical thinking." I do not pretend to be all knowing, nor do I make claims to having vast experience in anything. What I can say is that my ego allows me to make decisions without worry. What I can say is that I do not have to completely disregard other options. I can say that I am not an extremist.
Today I was discussing my thoughts on a textual work and my opinion of the implied meaning and goal of the journalistic piece with a colleague I respect and hold in high regard. This person, who holds a position of certain elevation above mine, treats those he is in charge of respectfully and with tact. He knows the appropriate time to be stern. Even when frustrated, he is still a respectful and understanding superior.
Upon catching wind of my opinion (which turns out was in disagreement with most of the others involved in this operation), another one of my superiors began to argue the point with me, trying to point out why I was wrong. I enjoy a good natured argument. I like to state my premises and the logic that helped me reach my conclusion. What I do not enjoy is when I get attacked and disrespected for the opinion that I have.
With a condescending tone, this woman challenged my intelligence, stating that I obviously didn't read the article all the way through, and if I did I definitely must not have payed any attention to what I was reading. She talked about her apparent vast knowledge on dealing with this profiling and fear mongering, because of her background as a self proclaimed "activist." My opinion, she explained, is not the majority opinion. Her reason for this belief? She had talked to "a lot of people" about the article. I wasn't even going to ask how many "a lot" is, but she told me anyway. "Upwards of thirteen."
The article regards a scholastic community of approx. 15,000 people. In my own opinion, thirteen people who were chosen purposefully, not randomly, do not accurately portray the opinion of the entire community. As for her other arguments, experience can help discover hidden meanings in some cases, but in many situations, just the intent to find a hidden or underlying meaning can create one in the mind of the reader. Even more so if the alleged "experience" comes from the work of an "activist."
She has very forceful mindset. In most situations, I have been finding that unless you are her, or have a higher position than her, you are wrong. If you are not wrong, than you couldn't possibly on the same page as her, and because in her eyes you are so behind, you might as well be wrong. She stands firmly and squarely rooted to the rigid guidelines of her beliefs. Politically, socially, economically. I would not be surprised if she has only ever voted for a single party.
Her activism requires scouring for faults in her opponents, and knowing that they must fight dirty, she will too. Nothing is sacred for those who fight blindly on their beliefs. Anything that can discredit an opponent, regardless of relevance, is a weakness to be exploited. People like her are very narrow, looking at the world through a straw. The only reason for looking at the other side is to prepare for the attack, never to learn or understand. I do not speak of any single group, not any particular extremist viewpoint, political, social, or economic. I am speaking of all of the black and white thinkers. There is no understanding. (Also, this color is my way to tell you that the words I have written are an assumption, opinion, or logical leap)
The most irritating thing was not the fallacies of logic and reasoning, nor was it the blatant dismissal of my opinion, but rather it was the tone she spoke to me in. I took meticulous care to keep my voice calm, controlled, and neutral. But she spoke to me as if I did not have the capacity to understand what she was saying. Looking down on me, speaking with that condescending tone, slowing her speech to repeat her key arguments as if my young infantile undeveloped mind could not comprehend complicated topics at fast speeds.
I repeated her arguments to her, explaining them in a way to make clear that I understand, acknowledging her opinion, all the while a fire of crude angry words spread across the piss and vinegar oil slick inside of me. She did understand the words I spoke, but not the meaning behind them. She said "I can see why you might think that, but..." and it went on, and on. She did not see.
I don't know if I can deal with her for the next four months. She talks like that to everyone, except the two higher ups. I already am having trouble biting my tongue and it has been less than two weeks.
Please help me, whatever higher power is out there. I am in dire need. I don't want to screw up my chances of success over a petty dispute with a truly pitiable person.
If you made it this far, thanks for reading. I needed to vent and this is my favorite outlet.
Until next time faithful readers.
Creative neglect
The past month or two I have been neglectful of my obligations to this blog. Once more I have fallen into a creative slump. I feel like the weight of my previous actions are finally weighing down on me, and though I won't get crushed beneath it, my words come out sluggishly and without passion.
Last month I received my first email of rejection. From the literary journal Blood Lotus Fiction. I enjoy reading the stories they publish. Unfortunately my short, The Dock, was declined publication. It could be the length of it (or the lack of length), the content, lack of narrative, or that it is already posted on my blog. That is the reason I am currently deluding myself with.
The new year has brought on quite some change. Doing very well in school, not worried about money, and the ample free time I have is spent constructively. But part of me misses the old Dan. The one who earned the name Danimal, living a life of continuous adventure and excitement, free from the needless worries of obligations and goals. The boy whose creed was "it's all good."
I haven't been wild in a long time. I cut off my mane of golden curls. The mischievous boy with an eternal grin replaced by a young man without expression in a matter of weeks. I long for the little devil on my shoulder. I miss the sweet nothings he whispered in my ear. Not malevolent nor evil, just fearless curiosity.
If any of you would like to read any of the stories I am working on, email me. I am no longer posting them on the blog, but I would still love feedback from anyone interested. Let me know.
Much love and dry socks,
Dan
Last month I received my first email of rejection. From the literary journal Blood Lotus Fiction. I enjoy reading the stories they publish. Unfortunately my short, The Dock, was declined publication. It could be the length of it (or the lack of length), the content, lack of narrative, or that it is already posted on my blog. That is the reason I am currently deluding myself with.
The new year has brought on quite some change. Doing very well in school, not worried about money, and the ample free time I have is spent constructively. But part of me misses the old Dan. The one who earned the name Danimal, living a life of continuous adventure and excitement, free from the needless worries of obligations and goals. The boy whose creed was "it's all good."
I haven't been wild in a long time. I cut off my mane of golden curls. The mischievous boy with an eternal grin replaced by a young man without expression in a matter of weeks. I long for the little devil on my shoulder. I miss the sweet nothings he whispered in my ear. Not malevolent nor evil, just fearless curiosity.
If any of you would like to read any of the stories I am working on, email me. I am no longer posting them on the blog, but I would still love feedback from anyone interested. Let me know.
Much love and dry socks,
Dan
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