Yes, people do some absolutely horrible things, but to only look at the negative is pointlessly pessimistic. What does thinking that do for others? If you think that humans are disgusting creatures that should be destroyed, and you spread this negativity to others, you are contributing to the negative aspect of the human condition.
Why live then?
Among the bad, there is also good.
The discovery of penicillin has saved millions of lives. Anti-biotics have as well.
Something quick to be pointed out is war. Yes, war has cost billions of lives, but there are also millions of people devoted to helping these war victims. That alone shows humanity is not helpless.
Humanity is making progress. Women used to be less than men, blacks used to be enslaved nationwide, people used to be killed because they were "witches". Humanity has been making progress.
I think to look at only the negative, that is pointless. I am not saying to be unaware of suffering. It is necessary to be aware of suffering so we can help those who are suffering.
There are many who, from the start, have had barely a glimpse of the good humans can accomplish. From the beginning all they see is death, greed, and hatred. Then why not make an effort to bring peace to them as a fellow human? I have seen people who have been helped make a total perspective change for the better and begin to help others around them. This is the kind of "viral happiness spreading" that we need.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
It ruined his entire morning.
Alex liked waking up sometimes. After all, he was a morning person, and felt a smug sense of superiority at being separate from the morning zombies that trudged past him at the bus stop. Sometimes that song from the 90s, he thought it was called “Zombie” by a band named “The Cranberries”, would force its way into his head and he could not stop the echoed chorus, simply repeated, “Zombie, zombie, zombie, zombie.”
This morning, however, his eyes were crimson, bloodshot, demonically red. So red they practically glowed. Taking a shower was normally one of his favorite things, a strict morning routine, part of the "Triple S" he learned from his best friend's grandpa years ago: Shit, Shave, and Shower.
He loved the sound the faucet made when he turned it on, that rumbling deep within the walls, and finally the miniature typhoon of water that flowed, swirling around on the smooth, porcelain surface of the bath tub. Initially, the water was cold. Most people he knew didn't like freezing showers, and mostly he made an effort to avoid taking one himself. When he pulled the knob that started the shower, sometimes he would stand under the cold water as it fell upon his back, piercing-cold, straight to his spine. He would stand under it just for a second and feel the shocking chill. It felt all the better when the water steadily phased from cold to warm, to hot, right on the threshold of too hot.
This entire process was quickly put out of mind when he felt a slight burning sensation in his eyes that quickly rose to an agonizing hellfire that simply would not go away, no matter how much water he attempted to rinse his face off with, or how hard he rubbed his eyes with the towel. He never was a fan of showering in the dark, and attempting to wash his body blindly now ruined his entire morning.
The rest of his morning routine passed in a blur of painful squinting, including getting dressed and eating two cherry poptarts with a glass of milk to wash the gluey bread-like substance down his throat.
By the time Alex stepped out the door, they weren’t hurting quite as much, but he still had trouble opening them in the face of the wind that now dragged course sandpaper over his eyes. He had a hard time seeing the rest of the day turning out good, though he couldn’t help but reveal a short, staccato smile when something about seeing the world through rose-colored glasses came to mind.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
World of Warcraft
There is one common opinion about World of Warcraft that I've seen among practically everyone I've spoken to about it, online and offline; It is evil.
WoW is an insideous beast, a wolf in sheep's clothing, luring unwary gamers in with it's siren song of infinite replayability only to devour their very souls, consume their very humanity, turning them into a lobotomized zombie with the single goal of playing Wow. Constantly. It is manipulative, luring you away from your friends, your family, your job, and eventually, your life.
List of known WoW victims:
http://news.softpedia.com/news/Two-Fanatic-World-of-Warctaft-Gamers-Have-Died-Becouse-Of-WoW-11821.shtml
http://www.eurogamer.net/article.php?article_id=59697
http://www.tomsgames.com/us/2006/08/08/world_of_warcraft_players_addicted/
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/4183340.stm
WoW is an insideous beast, a wolf in sheep's clothing, luring unwary gamers in with it's siren song of infinite replayability only to devour their very souls, consume their very humanity, turning them into a lobotomized zombie with the single goal of playing Wow. Constantly. It is manipulative, luring you away from your friends, your family, your job, and eventually, your life.
List of known WoW victims:
http://news.softpedia.com/news/Two-Fanatic-World-of-Warctaft-Gamers-Have-Died-Becouse-Of-WoW-11821.shtml
http://www.eurogamer.net/article.php?article_id=59697
http://www.tomsgames.com/us/2006/08/08/world_of_warcraft_players_addicted/
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/4183340.stm
Monday, October 13, 2008
Existential Crisis
Who am I? Why am I here? What is the meaning of life? What is the meaning of meaning? What the hell?
As I sit here, as I have for the past month and a half, devoid of all human contact for extended periods of time, I have come to realize that I am undergoing what they call an "Existential Crisis", though I think just a mild one.
Mild or not, sitting around all day pondering 'why' is the mental equivalent of engaging yourself in physical combat. At the end of the day I can feel my brain trying to leak out of my ears.
In place of humans, I have substituted my dog and cat. I regularly have meaningful discussions with my dog that involve talkingrealfast and running around dancing interpretively, only to have him follow me with more enthusiasm than Rosie O'Donnell during Dykes on Bikes. Just the other day, I took a stroll down my hallway, only to spy the black and white beast lounging on the couch, staring longing out of the window. I was moving before I was even aware of the compulsion to jabber nonsense while jerking my arms and legs wildly. Within a second or two, he was dancing beside me, a look of all-encompassing enjoyment on his doggy face.
My conversations with the cat include no words. Instead, we stare at each other for a while, I inevitably blink first, sometimes two or three times, before the cat blinks once, and then she meows at me. I, of course, respond with a high pitched 'meow' of my own, to which the cat replies, "Meow?" Repeat for a while before the cat somehow lets me know by the inflection of her 'meows' that she wants me to pick her up and set her next to her bowl of food.
Do animals have Existential Crises? Do they sit around and try to figure out their purpose? The purpose of everything? I've known a lot of people who have turned to drugs for the answer in my situation, and now that I think about, I would if I could. Is it only humans who are arrogant enough to assume that we even have a purpose other than to, say, destroy the earth as part of the natural cycle of things? Maybe humans are too lazy or afraid to create their own purpose, and just want one given to them? Oh well, people have tried for years to find an answer, but 'why' doesn't make sense in the first place.
Essentially, you are asking "why is" ? You might as well ask "why is blue"...if the question doesn't make sense, there is no answer, and my current, most comforting belief is that people make their own purpose, and right now mine is to suffer is much as possible so that I will never take anything for granted, even simple things like walking around the block. Eventually, I guess I will try and stress this to other people, and get them to wake up/open their eyes/whatever general metaphor you feel like using.
As I sit here, as I have for the past month and a half, devoid of all human contact for extended periods of time, I have come to realize that I am undergoing what they call an "Existential Crisis", though I think just a mild one.
Mild or not, sitting around all day pondering 'why' is the mental equivalent of engaging yourself in physical combat. At the end of the day I can feel my brain trying to leak out of my ears.
In place of humans, I have substituted my dog and cat. I regularly have meaningful discussions with my dog that involve talkingrealfast and running around dancing interpretively, only to have him follow me with more enthusiasm than Rosie O'Donnell during Dykes on Bikes. Just the other day, I took a stroll down my hallway, only to spy the black and white beast lounging on the couch, staring longing out of the window. I was moving before I was even aware of the compulsion to jabber nonsense while jerking my arms and legs wildly. Within a second or two, he was dancing beside me, a look of all-encompassing enjoyment on his doggy face.
My conversations with the cat include no words. Instead, we stare at each other for a while, I inevitably blink first, sometimes two or three times, before the cat blinks once, and then she meows at me. I, of course, respond with a high pitched 'meow' of my own, to which the cat replies, "Meow?" Repeat for a while before the cat somehow lets me know by the inflection of her 'meows' that she wants me to pick her up and set her next to her bowl of food.
Do animals have Existential Crises? Do they sit around and try to figure out their purpose? The purpose of everything? I've known a lot of people who have turned to drugs for the answer in my situation, and now that I think about, I would if I could. Is it only humans who are arrogant enough to assume that we even have a purpose other than to, say, destroy the earth as part of the natural cycle of things? Maybe humans are too lazy or afraid to create their own purpose, and just want one given to them? Oh well, people have tried for years to find an answer, but 'why' doesn't make sense in the first place.
Essentially, you are asking "why is" ? You might as well ask "why is blue"...if the question doesn't make sense, there is no answer, and my current, most comforting belief is that people make their own purpose, and right now mine is to suffer is much as possible so that I will never take anything for granted, even simple things like walking around the block. Eventually, I guess I will try and stress this to other people, and get them to wake up/open their eyes/whatever general metaphor you feel like using.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Poetry class.
I've always enjoyed reading and writing, but I've never taken any classes geared towards developing me as a writer. All throughout high school, it was either grammar classes or English classes run by crazy feminists who endlessly quoted Helen Keller and Ralph Waldo Emerson.
When I signed up for "Creative Writing", I was hoping that, since it's a college, the classes would be less full of silly dolts that detracted from my intellectual development(recurring theme in high school) as a writer, and instead helped me develop creative ways to torture inconceivably obnoxious children.
Well, my hopes were partially enforced, as there were no annoying chatterbugs boring into my brain. I was confronted by a whole new breed of annoying. These people, when they chose to sign up for a poetry class, somehow didn't realize that they would have to write poetry (maybe they understood this part), and have it critiqued by the professor in the class. Admittedly, I wasn't aware of this, either. However, almost every person in the class become irreversibly offended when the professor offered criticism. It was as though their belief was that they were beyond any sort of help, that they transferred onto paper the literary equivalent of God Himself.
One of the most prominent examples, and most repetitive, was that of trying to explain to everyone what they meant by particular words. A student, when faced with another's interpretation of their poem, actually said, "No, what I meant by'word' was 'other word', you are wrong."
What they failed to realize what that, had that piece of writing been published, or had they not been there, the other student's interpretation of their writing would have remained. Basically, if someone is extracting from your poem something other than you intended, you did not do a good job of writing it. Of course, the professor, being more intelligent that everyone in the room, attempted to offer some constructive criticism, but was met with closed-minded hostility.
It reminds me of American Idol. At the beginning of the show, you always have the horrible vocalists who honestly think they can sing, and sing well, only to appear heartbroken when faced with Simon's honest and almost always correct opinion. They then proceed to villify him. That's natural, I guess. Kill the messenger.
The exact same thing happened in this creative writing course. When offered with constructive criticism(as it always was), they completely shut down and probably didn't learn anything.
Please, people, I have one request. If someone sucks at something, do not lie and tell them they are good at it! You don't have to come out and say "Man, you suck", but you also don't have to stroke their ego like Paris Hilton strokes her ego.
Tell them how they can improve.
When I signed up for "Creative Writing", I was hoping that, since it's a college, the classes would be less full of silly dolts that detracted from my intellectual development(recurring theme in high school) as a writer, and instead helped me develop creative ways to torture inconceivably obnoxious children.
Well, my hopes were partially enforced, as there were no annoying chatterbugs boring into my brain. I was confronted by a whole new breed of annoying. These people, when they chose to sign up for a poetry class, somehow didn't realize that they would have to write poetry (maybe they understood this part), and have it critiqued by the professor in the class. Admittedly, I wasn't aware of this, either. However, almost every person in the class become irreversibly offended when the professor offered criticism. It was as though their belief was that they were beyond any sort of help, that they transferred onto paper the literary equivalent of God Himself.
One of the most prominent examples, and most repetitive, was that of trying to explain to everyone what they meant by particular words. A student, when faced with another's interpretation of their poem, actually said, "No, what I meant by
What they failed to realize what that, had that piece of writing been published, or had they not been there, the other student's interpretation of their writing would have remained. Basically, if someone is extracting from your poem something other than you intended, you did not do a good job of writing it. Of course, the professor, being more intelligent that everyone in the room, attempted to offer some constructive criticism, but was met with closed-minded hostility.
It reminds me of American Idol. At the beginning of the show, you always have the horrible vocalists who honestly think they can sing, and sing well, only to appear heartbroken when faced with Simon's honest and almost always correct opinion. They then proceed to villify him. That's natural, I guess. Kill the messenger.
The exact same thing happened in this creative writing course. When offered with constructive criticism(as it always was), they completely shut down and probably didn't learn anything.
Please, people, I have one request. If someone sucks at something, do not lie and tell them they are good at it! You don't have to come out and say "Man, you suck", but you also don't have to stroke their ego like Paris Hilton strokes her ego.
Tell them how they can improve.
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