Watch this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O7Do5QBtuJU
Sunday, May 20, 2007
"changes are no good"
Changing.
Isn't that humanity's strongest power?
It's certainly what differentiates us from other animals, other species. We can adapt so quickly, so easily, that we have become the dominant species on this planet. While other creatures have taken hundreds of years or millenia to adapt, we can do it in a relative snap of the fingers, changing habits, skull size, go from four feet to two, develop opposable thumbs, in the time it takes most living beings to think about maybe becoming different.
Change.
People say that's what is so tragic about murder. The killer takes away a person's ability to change, to do something differently, to become someone different, soemone new tomorrow. But do we ever really change? Once, someone said to me that we humans tend to emphasize what's different, what's disappeared, reappeared, or been created rather than what's stayed the same. What do you see first when you go home, the old rickety barn or the newly developed stores and subdivisions? What do you see when you look in your parents' eyes, the same old flecks or soemthing strange and new?
Changes.
I've never been too good at them. A teacher once told me on NELP that I need to let go, that the reason I felt pain was because I couldn't just let things change, I had to grind my teeth and try to stop things from changing all the time. Was it just bullshit? To be realistic, that statement probably applied then, but it probably doesn't now, because I've changed. Or have I? I think I've spent my whole life crying over spilt milk, from Morris the cat spread over 20 feet of cement on a sunny day to my friends being far away.
Changes are no good.
I want to let go, but I never felt anything so strong as the friendships I felt before. I've tried to make new ones, but it's all so shallow, like wallowing in a kiddy pool after swimming in the ocean. Being an adult has only taught me one thing: don't let the good things pass by you. Because they're so rare, so delicate, that you can neither force them nor drop them like old luggage. If you do, once you realize what you've lost, the gift is already broken and you'll get locked out of the house you've built around yourself. So don't tell me to let go again, at the drop of a hat; change may be humanity's greatest power, maybe even one of mine, but so is recognizing what's worth saving.
Isn't that humanity's strongest power?
It's certainly what differentiates us from other animals, other species. We can adapt so quickly, so easily, that we have become the dominant species on this planet. While other creatures have taken hundreds of years or millenia to adapt, we can do it in a relative snap of the fingers, changing habits, skull size, go from four feet to two, develop opposable thumbs, in the time it takes most living beings to think about maybe becoming different.
Change.
People say that's what is so tragic about murder. The killer takes away a person's ability to change, to do something differently, to become someone different, soemone new tomorrow. But do we ever really change? Once, someone said to me that we humans tend to emphasize what's different, what's disappeared, reappeared, or been created rather than what's stayed the same. What do you see first when you go home, the old rickety barn or the newly developed stores and subdivisions? What do you see when you look in your parents' eyes, the same old flecks or soemthing strange and new?
Changes.
I've never been too good at them. A teacher once told me on NELP that I need to let go, that the reason I felt pain was because I couldn't just let things change, I had to grind my teeth and try to stop things from changing all the time. Was it just bullshit? To be realistic, that statement probably applied then, but it probably doesn't now, because I've changed. Or have I? I think I've spent my whole life crying over spilt milk, from Morris the cat spread over 20 feet of cement on a sunny day to my friends being far away.
Changes are no good.
I want to let go, but I never felt anything so strong as the friendships I felt before. I've tried to make new ones, but it's all so shallow, like wallowing in a kiddy pool after swimming in the ocean. Being an adult has only taught me one thing: don't let the good things pass by you. Because they're so rare, so delicate, that you can neither force them nor drop them like old luggage. If you do, once you realize what you've lost, the gift is already broken and you'll get locked out of the house you've built around yourself. So don't tell me to let go again, at the drop of a hat; change may be humanity's greatest power, maybe even one of mine, but so is recognizing what's worth saving.
Monday, May 14, 2007
.-.
"you make choices every day
you choose what to wear, what to eat, what to do
where to go, you remake yourself everyday
if you don't like the choices you're making
then make different ones"
-roughly quoted from sara
everyone has warned me not to get too personal on here
so all i'll say is that lately i've felt exiled, like being in Indiana is my punishment for something, for not being good enough, for being better than others, for something
at the same time, i feel my friends moving farther into the ether, farther away from me
i feel my dreams disappearing or becoming unrealistic
i'm giving up on them
i can't seem to do anything at all---i feel utterly incompetent
i couldn't buy glasses on my own (i got ripped off), i couldn't not-spend-money when i needed to (i went to whole foods), i couldn't search for apartments competently, i couldn't find a job for the fall, i couldn't even throw my phone at the couch (it hit the wall instead)
but sara made the mental wounds feel smaller, less malevolent, more day-to-day
i've just got to be strong and have more faith in myself
which is terribly difficult when one has just purchased a new pair of somewhat flashy glasses (tho that's merely a glib remark to lighten this gloomy post)
you choose what to wear, what to eat, what to do
where to go, you remake yourself everyday
if you don't like the choices you're making
then make different ones"
-roughly quoted from sara
everyone has warned me not to get too personal on here
so all i'll say is that lately i've felt exiled, like being in Indiana is my punishment for something, for not being good enough, for being better than others, for something
at the same time, i feel my friends moving farther into the ether, farther away from me
i feel my dreams disappearing or becoming unrealistic
i'm giving up on them
i can't seem to do anything at all---i feel utterly incompetent
i couldn't buy glasses on my own (i got ripped off), i couldn't not-spend-money when i needed to (i went to whole foods), i couldn't search for apartments competently, i couldn't find a job for the fall, i couldn't even throw my phone at the couch (it hit the wall instead)
but sara made the mental wounds feel smaller, less malevolent, more day-to-day
i've just got to be strong and have more faith in myself
which is terribly difficult when one has just purchased a new pair of somewhat flashy glasses (tho that's merely a glib remark to lighten this gloomy post)
Friday, May 04, 2007
bff
What do Spiderman 3, Shaun of the Dead, and the basic premise of Superman have in common with a number of other shows/tv/storylines? No, not spandex; i'm not sure that was even in the second.
Friends. Best friends, to be specific. Male best friends, to be even more specific. Harry Osborn, Shaun's rommate, and Jimmy Olson. Best friends each doomed to their own version of hell.
In Spiderman 3, we watch as Harry finally confronts his deep-seated fear that he allowed his father to die, and realizes again that his actual fear is not being his father's son, only to realize that he was in fact good enough, good enough for his friends. Meanwhile, Mary Jane and Pete are doing their regular doomsday dance, bouncing off of one another's hormones and uncommunicated thougts like pinballs. In the final fight, Pete turns to his best friend for help, and we finally see what lies behind all the fighting, the arguments, and the hatred: 3 good friends who need each other to live.
Only to watch moments later as Harry dies, leaving Mary Jane and Pete to repopulate the earth. Oh, wait, no, that was just implied.
In Shaun of the Dead, the best friend only holds the main character down, but, when he realizes this, he gives the Couple the chance to survive by dying, becoming a christ-like novelty in the process. IN the end, though, he lives on as a zombie-toy-playmate for the main character. The BF has to die for the couple to survive, and even if he is able to 'keep in touch', he's religated to an objectified status, a toy, a novelty for escapism from marriage.
Superman's pal Jimmy Olsen suffers a far worse fate, being second-rate forever. He is the second choice, the almost-macho guy who cannot be best, and isn't a villain, who must forever support the main couple. Even alive, the BF is merely a flying buttress of support, unable to move, unable to become his own person.
This is because the BF, in the male form, is a source of suspciion. Why doesn't he find his own girlfriend? Is he gay? Does he want one or both of the Couple members? Will he endanger our ability to breed?! GASP! DROOL! WHAT ARE WE TO DO?
What's wrong with him and how does the girlfriend rid herself of this paranoia? Not by being sane, that's for sure. Instead, alienate the main male from the friend, or, even better, create an expectation that the friend will sacrifice himself for the couple, as we see written into so many films that it makes me barf.
What happens when that BF position changes, you might ask. Is there hope for we male-gendered friends?
In X-men 3, Wolverine, the best friend/competition, lives. He even manages to make it past the lame-ass ending where Brett Ratner and Fox kill off any chance for X-men as a franchise to remain interesting. In the process, though, he must kill the woman he might have loved, and the woman that his friend Cyke did love. Scott in the meantime was molecule-ized by his lover; only when the main couple is dead can the best friend live. In X-men the comic, there is at least some hope, in that Wolverine lives often quite separate from Scott and Jean, but that oft-oggled redhead still dies over and over. It seems that the cost of the male best friend living at all is the perpetual death of the functioning, fertile couple. (Although, thankfully, Emma Frost steps in with her strong feminity that remains outside gender norms to manipulate Scott out of this ridiculously old and stale myth of BFF threats).
In Slither and 28 days, the best friend dies, to be replaced by a fill-in, a child, a young girl to be accurate. Thus, the family becomes the model, and the BF is not even necessary. In the place of all those nights of video games and fun, have some dirty diapers jackass (although in both of these films the 'daughter' character is old enough to experience some icky daddy love, godihopenot).
Why does this even matter, you might ask?
Because people live their lives according to movies and stories. What we can imagine is the limit of our ambition. SO FUCKING MANY of my friends have blown me off once they find a COUPLE to be in---if I were to stick around, they must imagine, what would stop me from threatening their relationship with my gooey-sticky hormones? (which by the by, this particular person is not stupid enough to constantly give in to like some predestined fate; the wrong or right action is an individual choice----SIDENOTE: one of my sister's students answered a question by stating that sex is ipmossible to predict and just happens at any point that it wants to happen---imagine walking down the street every day and just finding yourself organsmic and naked...yikes!)
So stop letting corporate money-making machines tell you what to imagine. There are so many places to look for friends who live and help a couple or just live their own lives. See your LIFE first and foremost. YOur friends are real and there and not forever, so care about them and love them. DOn't just use them to keep you safe. See Buffy, Angel, Firefly (ok, just Joss Whedon, huh)----the point being that you choose what to imagine by choosing which stories to hear. Choose wisely, or you will not only lose your friends, as illustrated in so many films/stories/life in general, but you will also lose your lover and eventually yourself. For what is a person without friends?
A corporation. A ghost. A person who sees only the world through one set of eyes. And if you value that, you might as well poke out your eyes and be blind already.
Friends. Best friends, to be specific. Male best friends, to be even more specific. Harry Osborn, Shaun's rommate, and Jimmy Olson. Best friends each doomed to their own version of hell.
In Spiderman 3, we watch as Harry finally confronts his deep-seated fear that he allowed his father to die, and realizes again that his actual fear is not being his father's son, only to realize that he was in fact good enough, good enough for his friends. Meanwhile, Mary Jane and Pete are doing their regular doomsday dance, bouncing off of one another's hormones and uncommunicated thougts like pinballs. In the final fight, Pete turns to his best friend for help, and we finally see what lies behind all the fighting, the arguments, and the hatred: 3 good friends who need each other to live.
Only to watch moments later as Harry dies, leaving Mary Jane and Pete to repopulate the earth. Oh, wait, no, that was just implied.
In Shaun of the Dead, the best friend only holds the main character down, but, when he realizes this, he gives the Couple the chance to survive by dying, becoming a christ-like novelty in the process. IN the end, though, he lives on as a zombie-toy-playmate for the main character. The BF has to die for the couple to survive, and even if he is able to 'keep in touch', he's religated to an objectified status, a toy, a novelty for escapism from marriage.
Superman's pal Jimmy Olsen suffers a far worse fate, being second-rate forever. He is the second choice, the almost-macho guy who cannot be best, and isn't a villain, who must forever support the main couple. Even alive, the BF is merely a flying buttress of support, unable to move, unable to become his own person.
This is because the BF, in the male form, is a source of suspciion. Why doesn't he find his own girlfriend? Is he gay? Does he want one or both of the Couple members? Will he endanger our ability to breed?! GASP! DROOL! WHAT ARE WE TO DO?
What's wrong with him and how does the girlfriend rid herself of this paranoia? Not by being sane, that's for sure. Instead, alienate the main male from the friend, or, even better, create an expectation that the friend will sacrifice himself for the couple, as we see written into so many films that it makes me barf.
What happens when that BF position changes, you might ask. Is there hope for we male-gendered friends?
In X-men 3, Wolverine, the best friend/competition, lives. He even manages to make it past the lame-ass ending where Brett Ratner and Fox kill off any chance for X-men as a franchise to remain interesting. In the process, though, he must kill the woman he might have loved, and the woman that his friend Cyke did love. Scott in the meantime was molecule-ized by his lover; only when the main couple is dead can the best friend live. In X-men the comic, there is at least some hope, in that Wolverine lives often quite separate from Scott and Jean, but that oft-oggled redhead still dies over and over. It seems that the cost of the male best friend living at all is the perpetual death of the functioning, fertile couple. (Although, thankfully, Emma Frost steps in with her strong feminity that remains outside gender norms to manipulate Scott out of this ridiculously old and stale myth of BFF threats).
In Slither and 28 days, the best friend dies, to be replaced by a fill-in, a child, a young girl to be accurate. Thus, the family becomes the model, and the BF is not even necessary. In the place of all those nights of video games and fun, have some dirty diapers jackass (although in both of these films the 'daughter' character is old enough to experience some icky daddy love, godihopenot).
Why does this even matter, you might ask?
Because people live their lives according to movies and stories. What we can imagine is the limit of our ambition. SO FUCKING MANY of my friends have blown me off once they find a COUPLE to be in---if I were to stick around, they must imagine, what would stop me from threatening their relationship with my gooey-sticky hormones? (which by the by, this particular person is not stupid enough to constantly give in to like some predestined fate; the wrong or right action is an individual choice----SIDENOTE: one of my sister's students answered a question by stating that sex is ipmossible to predict and just happens at any point that it wants to happen---imagine walking down the street every day and just finding yourself organsmic and naked...yikes!)
So stop letting corporate money-making machines tell you what to imagine. There are so many places to look for friends who live and help a couple or just live their own lives. See your LIFE first and foremost. YOur friends are real and there and not forever, so care about them and love them. DOn't just use them to keep you safe. See Buffy, Angel, Firefly (ok, just Joss Whedon, huh)----the point being that you choose what to imagine by choosing which stories to hear. Choose wisely, or you will not only lose your friends, as illustrated in so many films/stories/life in general, but you will also lose your lover and eventually yourself. For what is a person without friends?
A corporation. A ghost. A person who sees only the world through one set of eyes. And if you value that, you might as well poke out your eyes and be blind already.