that's the way it went today pt. deux

so...

i somewhat randomly decided to watch "oh, god!" today. it sounded good from the description--god, characteristically played by an old, endearing george burns, arbitrarily intervenes in the life of an ordinary man, an impossibly average assistant manager at a grocery store, played by the impossibly average, late, john denver--and it's a movie i'd always seen around (seems pretty ubiquitous), but never found much reason to watch. thanks to encore! on demand, though, and my inexplicable compulsion to see every movie ever made, despite any real inclination or interest, i had an excuse to sit down and witness what, let's face it, could have been an excellent lifetime film.

it's not the technical aspects, or visual elements, of the film that i found so off-putting, really. that's actually one thing i really liked. films from the nineteen-seventies, as a rule, always get a couple of freebie points from me if, for nothing else, for being so amazingly aesthetically-pleasing. something about the grainy celluloid and groovy sensibilities, which always seem to manifest themselves on film. i love it.

however, my big beef with the film was that i was aware, the whole time, that i was being preached at. "the plums can wait," burns says, in one not-so-thinly-veiled attempt at philosophical profundity, "it's not every day you get to talk to god." it's lines like these, even as a christian, which just scream dishonest christian propaganda. and there are plenty of these insights throughout. i actually had to turn the movie off halfway into it because i got a little queasy. i mean, i get it. a guy hears the voice of god and (i guess) it's lamentable that no one, in our supposedly decadent era, would possibly believe him. like, we're a godless society and anyone, according to the film, who dares exhibit their faith publicly risks being labeled insane. i get it. i really do. and i think that's--whatever. it's fine. but the film really draws away from its integrity by relentlessly pounding this somewhat conniving discourse into our heads every time a character opens his or her mouth.

sample dialogue:

john denver: "god spoke to me--that's the biggest story of the century!--and they won't publish it because they think i'm crazy. boy, what's wrong with the world?"

of course, i'm paraphrasing. but, you get the idea.

it just upsets me, immensely, when christians, who are apparently honest and humble (or should be), use cheap gimmickry like this to rope in converts. for one, it's dishonest. they're trying to make this movie relatable to those they see as worldly. so, they have george burns playing god. and, of course, there's some sexy "adult situations," but, overall, it's a pretty clean-cut experience. i can just imagine the type of guy who goes to the theater, rents the movie, expecting a george burns raunchfest with plenty of intellectual musing on religion and the nature of god and, upon putting the movie in, realizing, "shit...it's john denver."

i mean, you can't trick people into being christians. that's not how it works. it's something people have to decide on their own. and people aren't dumb. they know or they can figure out pretty easily when they're being preached at and it doesn't matter who you cast in your movie, or how it's marketed, people are going to figure out, sooner or later, that they're being baited--and in the worst way possible, by the very people from whom you'd least expect this kind of behavior. i mean, this is, sadly, not unlike some of the tactics used by cigarette companies to get kids hooked on tobacco. right? just like camel and everybody's favorite camel, camel joe, "oh, god!" is not all that it seems to be--it's strategic (and kinda sleazy) marketing. it's george burns saying, "hey, i buy the god thing. so you should, too. you know, god can be pretty hip, too. huh?"


i don't know.

maybe the film's heart is in the right place, but the execution, the way the film presents itself, just reeks of manipulative insincerity.

can you believe how lucky we are?

man is restricted by his own selfishness. one of my goals is to overcome this restriction--to become entirely selfless--to want to help people without, consciously, wanting to help people. it's a selfish pursuit, though, in and of itself, and i'm completely aware of this; how can you not want something, when not wanting to want anything is just another form of wanting?

if i can find a way to overcome this barrier, i think i might be o.k.. but, probably not.

my motivation has to be completely altruistic. i can't want to do it because i think it will benefit me in some, either, direct or indirect way.

sadly, i don't think this is possible.

oh well.

whatever.

bowling for smegma

i was driving home after school today and had to take a bit of a detour through carefree to get to my house. while passing through said neighborhood, a thought occured to me. actually, it's something i've thought about quite a bit. but one look at the ridiculous street signs and i was once again reminded of why i either love or hate the fairly remote suburb where i grew up. all the street names in carefree sound like or, are a reflection of, the times in which they were given.

examples:

dreamy street
never mind
leisure lane
serenity

it's like they paid some half-baked bozo to take a bunch of acid and wander through this new residential area and lazily designate streets as this or that according to some completely moronic and arbitrary whim. never mind that they're complete nonsense. just as long as it "sounds cool."

it's so silly. i like it though. it definitely dates itself--these names. they sound so ridiculous now. like, maybe, back in the seventies, when people were still emulating that bearded convict from the illustrated kama sutra and bowling was a legitimate and new and exciting "sport," they seemed like awesome names. but, now--i don't know.

it's kind of funny.

staircase upon tangled staircase

what should have happened:

teacher: white people are brought up to hate black people. it's ingrained in their heads from birth.
(unanimous approval--jeers of "that's right" and "uh-huh" across the room)
me: wow. is it just me. or was that kind of racist?
teacher: what do you mean?
me: you're saying that all white people are raised to hate black people, right?
teacher: no, but--a majority--.
me: yeah, well, that's a stereotype.
teacher: no, it's not.
me: then it's a generalization?
teacher: yeah. wait--.
me: and what's the difference, in your opinion?
teacher: well, a stereotype is like a generalization, but it's a negative generalization about a large group--.
me: ok. so, saying that all white people hate black people is a good thing?
teacher: no, it's not. not at all. it's a bad thing--.
me: ok. here's the deal. not all white people hate black people. maybe some do. but not all. to lump the haters in with everyone else--you're making a stereotype--a negative generalization about a large group of people. a race of people.
teacher: well, a good majority--.
me: how do you know that?
teacher: look around you--racism is still an issue in this country.
me: we just elected a black man as president. we, as a country, a predominately white country, elected a black man as our leader. true, racism may still be an issue. but, white people make up the majority in this country--so, how can a race of people, who you claim are raised to hate black people, elect a black man into office? how is that possible? you're perpetuating stereotypes and, even worse, perpetuating racism by trying to combat it with even more racism. it's not a logical argument.
teacher: well, i still stand by what i said: most white people hate blacks.
me: really, though? really? most white people? do you have evidence, statistics? where is this coming from? anecdotal authority?
teacher: it's obvious--just look at the programs we watch on television, look at the--
me: you're an idiot.
teacher: because i'm black and proud of it?
me: no. because you're a person--an individual--with some messed up ideas. you say idiot things and you believe in idiot things. you show all the signs of being an idiot. therefore, you're an idiot.
teacher: get out of my classroom.
me: and you're a racist.
teacher: get out.
me: know what i mean, jelly bean?
teacher: now!

how it really went:

teacher: white people are brought up to hate black people.
me:(internal outrage)
class: yeah!

what?

i've come to the conclusion (or maybe just at peace) that there are approximately two types of music listeners in the world. not so surprisingly, they are generic counterparts to one another.

first, there is the latent racist.

this person is usually at odds with their own conflicting desire to, at once, appear "cultured" (i.e. not liking country music) and still express their general distaste for anything related to black people (i.e. rap).

they can often be heard saying something like: "well, i listen to just about everything. you know? well, except for rap and country. i hate rap."

this is usually followed up with what they believe to be an incredibly insightful and profound quip on the devolvement of contemporary music: "you know, they should put a 'c' in front of 'rap.' then it would be 'crap.' and that's what rap sounds like: 'crap.'"

har har har.

they have no idea that this is actually a stock answer and that, furthermore, it stopped being funny seconds before it was first uttered. ok, i take that back. it was never funny.

bands this person typically gravitates towards, ironically, display hints of being vaguely rap and country at the same time, with a dash of white-boy aggression. these bands include: linkin park, kid rock, limp bizkit...basically, if you can imagine a scene in a movie where domestic violence is being glorified, one of these bands is probably responsible for providing the soundtrack.

the second type of generic music listener may seem to many to be the exact opposite of the "crap" guy. but don't be fooled. because he is the "crap" guy. only, he's more honest. he knows he's not cultured and has no wish to pass himself off as such. i guess, in that sense, he's more respectable. basically, though, he's the "crap" guy before he took that big leap laterally towards even more retarded artists (note: i'm not saying that rap and country music are retarded genres of music. i actually like several artists from either field. what i am saying is that--this guy used to listen to billy ray cyrus...in earnest).

this, of course, is the "i-only-listen-to-rap-and-country-exclusively" guy.

popular catchphrase: "i only listen to rap and country."

i have no beef with this guy. he's not putting on any front. he knows what he likes--bad country and bad rap. to him, johnny cash is "old" and, therefore, can't even touch the artistic bravura of a more recent (read: undeniably trendy) artist like --whoever-the-fuck recorded that song "honky tonk badonka donk" (this guy's anthem).

public enemy, jay z?

"did they do the 'can't touch this' song?"

i'll type more later.

an exercise

topic for discussion: is a sinful thought necessarily the same as a sinful deed?

according to the bible, a man who lusts after a woman "in his heart," has already committed adultery.

this is from Jesus' sermon on the mount.
it's something i've wrestled with for a long time. not adultery, but the idea that what you harbor in your heart, as distinguished from the mind, is just as bad as the act, itself.

i'm not sure if the two are the same. maybe, because all sins are the same (according to the scriptures), they are. but, it seems to go without saying that, if you were to go out and do serious bodily harm to someone, your action is going to be more effective--at least, in a physical sense. that is, it's going to effect that person directly vs. some sort of fantasy where you work out your anger, or compulsion, in a healthy and therapeutic hypothetical situation.

jhonen vasquez, in his preface to jthm, defended his titular "homicidal maniac," as nothing more than a healthy manifestation of his (vasquez's) bitter imagination. he makes the case that, it's far better to exercise your malicious thoughts in a constructive manner (i.e. through art or, in his case, a comic book) than to keep it pent up where it may be unleashed through actual physical violence.

like i said, it's a form of therapy.

so, in that sense, i think it's better. i don't know if it's right. but, it's definitely better.

i think it's in our nature, as humans, to feel compelled to express ourselves through violent and physical means when we are directly affected by others. it's how we express our emotions. but, i think, by it's very definition, human nature can often be equated with sin. and your feelings come out, one way or the other. writing something down is just as much a physical act as beating someone up. and who's to say which is more detrimental?

in that sense, i think a sinful thought can be seen as on par with a sinful deed. at some point, a thought become an action. maybe not the action in question, but an action. and one that is, probably, similarly unhealthy.

but, this begs the question: how do you block out a sinful thought? is there any way to suppress human nature or is this an absurd quest in and of itself?

i don't know. i think, it's in our nature to be sinful (as i've already said, the two are very much equatable). and i don't know if it's possible to change what is in our nature to do, but i know that there are some things, innate inclinations, which seem infinitely more harmful, to our mental health, than other natural leanings.

of course, it's important to bear in mind that Jesus uses the word "heart" (read: conviction, passionate belief) where thought could, but doesn't, do. he also uses the verb "lust," which implies an honest longing, an honest desire for something vs. any old thought that just happens to pop in your head. so, in terms of semantics (not intended), it's important to remember, here, that what He is saying is that just thinking of something, sinful in nature, is not an actual sin. it's backing that thought with a natural desire to act upon it. or, to want to act upon it.

what i'm saying is that, you're not going to go to hell because the concept of murder popped into your head. say, you hear about it on the television and immediately a mental image is born in your skull. no, you have to want to commit murder for it to actually be a sin.

then again, like everything else in this entry, this is all speculative. i could be wrong. (but if i believe it to be the truth--that's another story altogether).

that's the way it went today

went to nikki's tonight and had an extensive conversation on sex toys.
determined that facebook is a social dildo.
it satisfies, in a very selfish way, the need to interact with other human beings.
just as a dildo satisfies one's desire for sexual pleasure without ever actually having to leave the house to look for it.

so, there's that.

the boy who questioned everything

well, it's gotten worse.

i went to the pharmacy tonight and picked up some anti-psychotics i was prescribed almost a year ago. we'll see if they work.

it just frightens me to think that at any moment i could just lose it--go absolute bat-shit crazy. and who's to say i haven't already?

i did some research and seems i may have schizophrenia. i have a number of the symptoms associated with the disorder. namely, thought disorder. my growing inability to verbally express myself is what some psychologists would see as an outward manifestation of this symptom.

i can only communicate through writing. or maybe that's a delusion, as well.

i'm really confused right now. i used to have a sort of frame of mind, a concrete perspective, through which i could see things clearly. maybe not clearly, but it made sense to me. now, i seriously question whether anything i think or say makes a lick of sense to anyone.

i feel like my mind has been split--cut in slabs, like meat. it sits on the counter top, occasionally taking in the sting of pepper and spices. but what is it being prepared for? who is it being prepared for?

is there any point to this off-the-map kind of thinking?

it's incredible to me how so many people can harbor such different perspectives and still agree on one universal idea of sanity--the one absolute clear perspective.

i mean, what if i forget and act out my unbridled thoughts?

who's to say i'm wrong? when everyone's wrong.

i've got to stop dwelling on it. it's only making it worse. i need to find a way to block it all out. hopefully, these pills will work.

you know that feeling you get when...

you say something over and over in your head until it doesn't make sense anymore and the words sort of sound silly and not unlike gibberish?

i feel like that most of the time.

there is only you and what you make the truth

i think if i ever make a muvee, it will revolve entirely around a seemingly meaningless incident or innocuous gesture. for instance, the main character is walking down the street (why?) and notices an attractive woman staring at him. she then hands him a twenty dollar bill. or, perhaps, even more mundane. a man is standing in an elevator and thinks twice, visibly hesitates before selecting the floor he wants to get off at. the whole movie would revolve around these characters decisions and explore every facet of how they arrived, why they arrived, etc. at these decisions. it would explore every motivation, factor, etc. concievable and offer no definitive explanations for anything. it would be a mess of random information--sensory and otherwise--just like life. which, actually (this is something i wanted to address), kind of fascinates me: i mean, it's incredible how adept humans are at selectively engaging in their environment. in conversation, for instance, we know the tone and the overall vibe created by this interaction simply because we know what to look for and what to discard as irrelevant. there is so much going on--literally, a myriad of unrecognized phenomena--simultaneously which we actively choose to ignore. yet, people know exactly where they are and exactly what kind of experience they're having at any given moment. or, they like to think so.

sometimes, i think we slip up.
i know i do.

anyway, back to the movie idea. i think tonight would be a good basis for this film. i could literally spend the rest of my days trying to analyze and rationalize the garbage that went on in my head tonight and i wouldn't feel like it was a life wasted. not in the least. i could probably write pages upon pages here, but i won't. because i'm lazy.

really, though, this is what i wanted to write about. i feel like i should get as much of it down as possible before i'm no longer able to communicate it sufficiently to a psychiatrist.


as soon as i arrived at work, i headed for the bus and noticed a rush of blank dullness. a frenzy of gray and a general terror as i realized words and images, experiences, were no longer tangible. i shuddered at the thought of not being able to speak. to be stuck inside my head for the rest of my life--confined to writing my thoughts down, no matter how inefficiently.

it's been a fear of mine for as long as i can remember. a sort of intellectual palsy. not being able to express myself. a vegetable and at the complete mercy of god-only-knows.

in theory, it doesn't sound so bad. but the reality of it is devastating. it only comes in spurts but it's been happening quite a bit lately. i have to shut my eyes, really tight, and concentrate on everything going on around me. sometimes, words lose their bite. and i feel completely drained.

for someone as obsessed with self-expression, via writing or various other forms of art, this is a total nightmare. i can't imagine (or maybe i can and that's what makes it so horrifying) losing my ability to effectively communicate my ideas. most people i know would probably much rather lose their minds than their genitals. in fact, i know a guy who would rather kill his own brother, to whom he is closer than anyone in this whole, wide world, than lose his dick. the thought, alone, is enough to make him shiver. for me, however, it's the other way around. i'd rather create (or have the ability to create) than procreate. the idea of being shut-up completely is enough to make me visibly squirm. it keeps me awake at night, if you want to know the truth. so, when i get little tastes of this, like tonight, i absolutely lose it. i go crazy. it's something akin to a severe panic-attack. i shutdown and sort of retreat into my head which, by then, is a completely unwelcoming entity all to itself. i start sweating. and i can't function. or i think i can't function.

i can't even trust my own thoughts. i think i'm crazy. but it could just be that i think i'm going crazy. so...

basically, it's the worst.

my only option is to try to remain calm, not say anything, and wait for it to pass. though, i have about three definite voices, clearer than the others, telling me conflicting things. this is forever, say. or, it's only temporary. things naturally come and go. or, it's the law of entropy, my friend. all things are destined for disorder. and your sanity is no different.

then again, i don't believe in sanity. so, by my own standards, i'm already a mess.

i don't know if i should embrace it, attempt to tame the wave, or seek psychiatric help as soon as possible--before it gets worse. i'm a big advocate of "going with the flow." and i believe any sort of revolt against the natural order of things, anytime you fail to keep it real, the consequences impact you with just as much force. if not more. but, at the same time, maybe i can learn to adapt. i mean, medicine may be unnatural (whatever) and maybe i'd be better off without consel trying to figure out a combative strategy on my own, but, at this point, i'm not optimistic.

i think i might actually be schizophrenic.

i spout off gibberish sometimes and it doesn't necessarily make sense or possess content but it sounds right in my head. also, like i said before, i go absolutely bat-shit mad whenever i feel like words no longer register as tangible.

my dad would be so disappointed....