The Last Night

I am sitting on my bed after rearranging the furniture in my dorm back to the original locations. I am again against the left wall (if viewing the room from the doorway), leaning against it like I did on so many late nights last semester, talking to Mihir about everything. I remember how much I depended on him. I look over to where his bed used to be, and it's still there, but not really. He has been gone for months, he has moved on. I have too, but this being the last night I ever spend in this room as a resident, I feel I must be nostalgic.

I remember the first week in this room. Mihir couldn't stay in the dorm because he had not gotten some vaccination that escapes my memory. So I was here in this big little world of unfamiliarity and aloneness, trying to fall asleep but the loud air conditioner kept me awake. Everything was new and exciting and yet simultaneously absolutely terrifying.

This room lost something when Mihir left. Even though he was slowly dying, I felt like I was finally living during that first semester. I was having new experiences that I will always remember, experiences linked to Radiohead's OK Computer album, the smell of the stairwell in the middle of our hall, the 7-11 on Treadaway and North 13th, the Leaf, the sidewalk outside the Leaf at nighttime, Hastings, the Rocks, and most of all, this room. I remember protecting Mihir from himself on multiple occasions. I think I talk about him alot, but I can't help it; we were each others' closest friend during the first semester.

I think back to the first week and how terrified I was. I was so scared that I wouldn't make any friends, that everyone was douchebags and I would be stranded. I also felt freedom from the grasp of my parents and wondered how I would be at the end of the semester. Here I am, 10 months later, probably different but feeling the same, still wondering who I am. I would have never guessed that the guy I played RISK with would become my roommate next semester. I would have never guessed that I would have gotten two jobs and become friends with people who are graduating in two days. I didn't imagine that the "cool introverted, reserved, mysterious" persona I created over the first semester (or at least attempted to create) would be something I would come to regret. But I don't regret it. Every experience I have had has made me who I am, and I think who I am deserves unashamed ownership of his history.

I would have never imagined that I would come to a place where I feel nothing for her, a fact that simultaneously pleases and saddens me. But I have come to peace with everything, knowing that my experiences serve the purpose of making sure I do things right the next time, and the time after that. I am a boy, but manhood is poking its head at me from around the corner.

I don't feel any different from the boy who slept in room 317 for the first time 10 months ago, yet I know I am not the same person anymore. I am more mature, slightly more self-confident, more aware of my needs and desires. I am less naive, less musically challenged, less scared.

I want to write this great piece about my freshman year, something grand, poetic, and profound. But I really don't think I am capable of greatness. I can only capture several thoughts that are flying through my head and put them in print. So excuse the following cliches and triteness. I learned much during my freshman year. I made great friends who I hope will be in my life forever but I know that probably won't happen. I had experiences that taught me how to act correctly in the future when similar situations arise. I felt so much, and I gave less than I took. My greatest regret is how much I let the past dictate the present. But as I sit here, I know that I am loved, that I am valuable, that I love others and that I have a presence in the world. And that knowledge is something I would never trade for anything.

Goodbye Mabee Hall, room 317. The memories you housed will remain forever, but you are no longer mine. Be as good to those who follow as you were to me.

Film Weekend Semi-Review

In the past 3 days, two courageous and far away from home buddies and I watched 16 movies. We were hooked up by this insanely awesome owner of a Ma & Pop video rental store who gave us a sweet deal because we wanted to rent so many movies. He said we only had to pay for the two new releases (The King's Speech and The Fighter), and that he would throw in the other five for free. I almost peed my pants I was so excited. We basically camped in my buddy Evan's room, setting up three semi-comfy chairs facing his huge TV that looks like it came out of the 90's. We ate meals there, we watched movies there, we decided what we were going to do between meals and movies there. It was wonderful.

I believe my film appreciation grew exponentially as a result of this film. For one thing, I feel like I have a better grasp on how to tell a story through a lens (this will not come out right, but it makes sense in my head). You have to show every action through a perspective that emphasizes that action. If two people are talking, one sitting and the other standing, you have to shoot the person standing at an up angle to give the subconscious impression that you are the other character (although you can shoot over the shoulder of the person sitting down. Actually, that's probably best), and the person sitting needs to be viewed from a higher angle. If two people are sitting on the same side of a table and are talking, the dialogue needs to be seen as if the camera is leaning out and looking down the table. Two films that I saw this done wonderfully were The Social Network and Juno (I think The Ring did it well too, I just can't remember because I was too captivated by the beauty of the film's overall color. The bleak, greenish grey palate was superb). Those films are articulate in the language of film, each shot emphasizing something and every camera movement perfect. I began seeing the films the way they should be seen; no, I began seeing the films as if I were making them. I think that's a good sign.

The Car Scene/Subsequent Reflections

I don't care if Chuck Klosterman is an asshole or not. I like him because his writing somehow causes me to think about things. Lots of things. And I enjoy that. Anyone who can make me think about things deeply and thoroughly is all right by me.

In one of his chapters, Chuck creates a scene that I will probably never forget. He is driving in his rental car, thinking about Eric Clapton's validity as a human being/guitarist and claiming that the only good music Clapton created was on Derek and the Dominos' album Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. I don't really listen to Clapton, so I can't argue with him in my head and I'll have to resort to keeping his opinion in the back of my mind in the future whenever I consider Eric Clapton. During his consideration of Clapton, Chuck imagines that one of his best friends (and former lovers) Quincy appears in the passengers seat. She argues that Chuck views relationships all wrong. For example, she says, the year before they (Quincy and Chuck) had sex for the first time, she viewed the time they spent together as having fun, while Chuck viewed it as work he had to do in order to sleep with her.

Suddenly, Lenore (Chuck's current girlfriend) appears in the backseat. She agrees with Quincy and adds that Chuck merely casts different women in a script that has him always playing the same role. She supports this with an anecdote about how he used a cheesy, romantic line on her once, then used it again two years later and merely changed out some of the words.

Then Diane (the girl he's having an affair with...? I can't keep it straight) pops up in the back next to Lenore and questions Chuck about his attraction to problematic women/women in serious relationships. She asks why he was attracted to her, if he would be attracted to her if she cut her hair and gained 40 pounds. Then Chuck argues that if he was less funny or if he stopped caring about her trivial banter, she would like him less as well. But Quincy points out that the difference between those two arguments is the reason why he doesn't understand Layla. Diane's argument is one of attractiveness; Chuck's is one of likability. Then she continues and comments that Chuck's whole writing career is based on comparing two unlike situations in hopes that they will have undiscovered symbolic meaning. 

I find this whole scene fascinating. For one, the whole scene is taking place inside his head. Secondly, the three women he has loved/is currently in love with are in the same car, agreeing with one another and yet also arguing with him. I love this. I don't know why. 

. . . . . . . 

Something that makes me upset is that I live my life but don't remember most of it. Something that makes me upset more than most things is that I don't remember anything about the relationships that mean the most to me. Let me explain.

The relationship that has meant the most to me is the one I had with Andreina. I'm not going to lie to myself. Over the past few months I've examined our relationship from different vantage points and motivations, but what I'm always left with is the startling fact that I don't remember much about the 4 years we spent in each others' lives. What I mean is this: for a good chunk of those years, we saw each other literally every day. We spent so much time together that it was insane and crazy and yet perfect because that's what we both wanted. And yet, I can only remember several memories (by several, I mean a few hundred if I really thought hard). I don't remember the daily interactions that became the foundation of our relationship. I only remember the dramatic parts, the amazingly blissful, quietly heartbreaking, emotionally taxing situations that amount to a small fraction of the overall relationship. And more than anything, that makes me sad. Anger is a close second, but mostly, I'm just sad. I'm sad that I don't remember more things she said to me or things I said to her. She was my best friend, and yet I easily forgot everything.

I think I forget things because I don't value them enough. The reason I forgot interactions with Andreina was probably because I assumed that we would always have more. I held on to the most important memories but let the average ones fade away, unaware that I would later view every one as important but would be unable to get the forgotten ones back. 

I think about her when I think about romantic relationships, because I don't want to fuck another one up like I did the one I had with her. I wonder how much a person is actually a projection of themselves in one's own mind. But disregarding that, I often think about how much she loved me, how much she hurt herself because she kept loving someone so much who couldn't (or wouldn't) return the love, and how I might never have that again. She was smart, attractive, whimsical, badass, and completely in love with me. That might never come around again. That's the reason I think about all this-my fear that I might have missed the best thing that could ever happen to me. 

And I think part of the reason it fell apart was because I didn't value our relationship enough to take the time to remember. That made me ask, how can you remember the things that are important to you but currently seem inconsequential? The only answer I came up with was to write them down. Keeping a daily account of both actual events and internal thoughts is how one can chronicle, and therefore remember, the interactions that simultaneously mean nothing and yet mean everything. I think I'm going to try to do that.

Killing Yourself to Live Reflections

My friend Caitlin regularly reads this blog and asked me to write about something other than Facebook. So I will.

I am reading Chuck Klosterman's Killing Yourself To Live, a book where he travels around the US to sites where important figures in rock history died. I love reading Chuck, because he says what he's thinking, no matter if that will get him in trouble or not. In this book, he talks about how he cheated on his girlfriend, and I kept wondering how he could write about such a personal subject and not offend/hurt the people involved. I concluded that he must ask the people if he can write about them, or he just cares about making money more than maintaining relationships.

If you can't tell by now, my style of writing adapts to whomever I am currently reading. I'm writing like Chuck, or at least I'm sounding like him in my head as I write.

In his book, Chuck talked about how certain things are understood by a society. He said that "this is how popular culture works: you allow yourself to be convinced you're sharing a reality that doesn't exist." He talked about how when he was growing up, there was this one kid that everybody loved, but then everybody simultaneously decided to hate the kid. Out of the blue, people started harassing him to no end. I totally understand this concept. It is seen here at ACU through how all the freshman guys wear hideously trashy wife-beaters, and it is considered cool. No where on Earth should anyone be allowed to wear only a wife-beater. They're gross. But here, everyone accepts the fact that wife-beaters are "cool," while wearing a fedora is considered nerdy. I don't understand.

Chuck also talks about how "the greatest career move a musician can make is to stop breathing," commenting on how rock stars get exponentially more famous and revered than when they were alive. He wonders why that is (that's the purpose for going on his trip, he said), and I do to. Why are you cooler when you die? Why does everything you did in your life seem more meaningful after your dead when, while you were still alive, it was just considered normal? I know that if my sister died suddenly, I would want to know everything she did in the last 6 months (hell, I'd want to know everything she ever did in her life). I'd find her close friends and have them talk about her, telling me her daily routine, what she ate, what she did with her spare time. I would want to know everything I could about her. I don't know why everything would seem more important, but it would. It's almost as if death makes us realize that people don't go to work, wash clothes, and buy groceries forever, that people have a certain number of times they do things, and after someone dies, the number of times is finished.

Right now, my neighbors are blasting rap, and it's seeping through the wall. I don't mind though. I nod my head to the beat as I remember how I'm on a rap kick, loving Childish Gambino and My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. I tried to get my group into rap (specifically Drew, who hates rap), but I stopped when I felt that my efforts would not produce a crop. Some people just don't like rap. I don't know why. I genuinely like all types of music, even pop, the genre I taught myself to dislike because it is not "good" music. I don't remember when I started hanging around people who thought pop was below them, but it happened, and now I have to let myself realize that it's okay to like Lady Gaga or Kesha. I have this fear that if I tell people I like pop music, they will value me less because they won't think I have good taste. I never take that train of thought further and ask myself if I'd want to be friends with those people if they judge so harshly. I just allow myself to be scared into a stereotype that fits into a reality that doesn't really exist.

Facebook Day 7

Aha, here it is. The day has come. I got on Facebook just to waste time. I knew it wouldn't take long.

I was going to write about how Facebook had finally mutated into the time consuming, mind numbing entity I always assumed it was, but then I realized that Facebook didn't change. It didn't vie for my attention any stronger than it did the first day I got a profile. What changed was my resolve about how I would handle Facebook.


I didn't have anything to do today between 11:30 and 2pm (besides, you know, the homework and research papers and videos I have to make for the Optimist), so I pulled my laptop onto my thighs as I reclined in a round, sunken-in black chair and got online. First, as always, I checked the notifications that are specific to me, the ones about how people had commented on my status or my wall or on what I had commented on someone else's status or wall. That took no time. But then, I was bored, so I just let myself wander.


 I checked the newsfeed of friends' recent activities. Click. I found out that two of my friends are dating. Click. I friend requested people I don't know very well. Click. Click. I observed a conversation two people were having about a dog in a pool. Click click click. In no time, I realized I was caring about things that are a waste of time. Why should I care that someone I know found it funny that a group of people sang the Veggietales song "His Cheeseburger?" I shouldn't. Why should I be looking at prom pictures of someone I don't know and feeling like I'm beginning to know them? I shouldn't, and I don't. 


What I have done is begin to care about trivialities, things that don't matter whatsoever, because on Facebook, everything matters. If it's posted, it's newsworthy, no matter the legitimacy or merit of the content. And I even compromised my promise to myself that I would only post articles and videos that provide my friends with news about relevant or intellectual ideas, trends, and events. I posted "Conditions by The Temper Trap is the perfect soundtrack to driving through a lightning storm. Until it starts raining. Then it just makes you more nervous than you already are" because I wanted people to know that I had an enjoyable, then frightening, experience that I assumed was worth sharing to the general public. To justify the post, it is somewhat relevant, because people need to listen to The Temper Trap. Nevertheless, I bought into the mindset that whatever you do is noteworthy to everyone. 


How do you counter the way of thinking that says every action should be shared with the public? One way is to do something for the result the action provides, not so you can look cool and busy and fun online. When people do things for the sole purpose of taking pictures and posting them on Facebook, I call that Facebook-living, and I hate it. Facebook-living is a lifestyle for many people my age, but what they don't realize is that it also cheapens their real life. People who Facebook-live aren't really living. But when you reject Facebook-living and attempt to find life away from a computer, your life actually becomes more valuable. Do something and don't take pictures of yourself doing it, letting the memory of it only exist in the minds of those present. Instantly, the event is more intimate and organic, because the memories come from people's minds rather than someone's camera. 


Another way to protect yourself from practicing Facebook-living is to regulate your time spent online. If you get on without any specific purpose, you will do what I did today, aimlessly gazing at other people Facebook-living, legitimizing their illegitimate virtual lives, and mentally planning how you can become like them. Like many other things, Facebook can be a drug if left unchecked. It can provide affirmation, emotional stimulation, (artificial) connection, and other human necessities and people won't be able to stop. Therefore, take a break from Facebook. Go a few days without checking it. Some people can't, and frankly, it's sad. Tame the beast before it destroys you. 

Almost Famous

I love Almost Famous. I really do. From the opening scene of William and his mother walking down the street, discussing To Kill A Mockingbird to the last shot of the bus driving away into the orange sunset, I love this movie. I love it for so many reasons.

I love it because it has everything-humor, drama, heartbreak, rock and roll. The comedy is funny, the sadness is deep, the music is good. Try, just try, to find a better heartbreak scene than the one where William tells Penny that the man she loves sold her to another band for $50 and a case of beer. Penny turns away, takes a moment to collect herself, wipes a tear away. She looks back at William, smiling as she says "what kind of beer?" But everyone knows that she's using humor to cover her sadness, that she is always putting up a front to the world so no one can see the real girl. She asks what kind of beer, and she smiles as a tear rolls down her cheek.

I love it because I relate to the main character, William. I have always been the young one, the naive one, the one who is swept up in the whirlwind of a world of older, more mature yet still immature people who see something in me that they like. For some reason, I don't connect well with people my age. Like William, I am embarrassingly and overtly earnest, a trait I am coming to terms with. In the film, William is wide-eyed as he walks into concerts, into parties, into his version of heaven where angels are scantily clad Band Aides and the gods are the men with the guitars and the flowing hair. The reason the film is so potent is because William finds a place to belong through music. In the guitar solos and intense drum beats, William finds magic and wonder that, for him, exist no where else. I am the same way with movies. That's why I love this one so much. I experience a feeling unlike any other as I watch a character experience a feeling unlike any other. I'm watching myself on screen.

Multiple times, I found myself laughing, but it was a different laugh than usual. It was a laugh of empathy, of understanding. It was a laugh that came from the fact that I knew exactly what William was feeling. I heard echos of my mother in the way his mother guilted him for not calling everyday- "you told me you would call me twice a day. You told me you wouldn't miss more than one test..." I understand the mistake of introducing two people to each other when have already met. I know what it's like to have too much responsibility overtake you suddenly, and all you want to do is cry. I understand loving something so much and wanting to succeed and not knowing what's going on and feeling awkward at parties and singing while driving and having an overprotective mother and seeing the world only as that one thing that you love the most. I know William because in so many ways, I am William.

I love the movie for more reasons, like when Penny Lane dances alone among the trash and debris in the empty venue. Like when Penny Lane does anything, for that matter. Like when William's mother scares Russell into submission, but then tells him that he still has the potential to be a man of substance. Like when William finds out that he's 11 instead of 12. Like when... well, you get the idea. There are myriad reasons why I love this film. But mostly, I love this film because I am a part of it. Because it is a part of me.

Facebook Day 6 and Musings

I feel pressure to have as many friends on Facebook as I can. I think this pressure is ridiculous and self-imposed (which is even more ridiculous than the pressure itself). Why should I be embarrassed that I only have a few friends on Facebook? Is that supposed to be indicative to others about myself in real life? It's not, and it's not. However, I still hesitate to friend request some people because I don't want them to see that I only have 30 friends, think I'm a loser, and no longer want to hang out with me. Why would I want to be friends with someone if they were that shallow? I don't think people really are that way. Well, maybe I do. Even though I know they're not. 

I posted a video that I saw on Sandra's tumblr. The speaker is this woman who teaches spoken word poetry to high schoolers and uses it to show them how to express themselves creatively. It's an inspiring and emotional talk. It makes me want to write a best-selling book about my life. Not for the fame, but for the sharing of my story. Although I don't think my story is very interesting. I think it's getting better, though. 

Sometimes I pray that God would show Himself to me. He never does. At least, he never does in a way that I notice. Is that my fault or His? I wonder if I would follow Him if once, just once, He came to me in human form like I've asked Him to do for so long. I think He did once. But I shrugged him off and rejected any form of friendship with Him because He was socially inept. I assumed that wasn't God. But the more I think about it, the more I think it was. I don't take care of the outcast and the unloveable--I just pretend to.

Facebook Day 5

I think these posts are going to get repetative (if they haven't already). Basically my interactions with Facebook go like this:
I got on Facebook, checked my notifications, responded to wall posts and messages, sent some friend requests, posted a status update, checked my friends' pages, and got off.

Yay for the experiment.

I wonder if there are interesting things you could do on Facebook to keep it fresh, like finding a random person and starting a conversation. However, that might be a bad idea, because the person you befriend could actually be a 43 year old pedophile who fakes interest in Ke$ha and Gilmore Girls in order to prey on teenage girls. Or anyone else who likes Ke$ha and Gilmore Girls. Bad idea #1.

Maybe I could do something more rational, like start a conversation with someone I actually know. That's probably a better idea.

Facebook Day 4 and Ramblings

I'm in a rambling mood tonight. Forewarning.

I'm getting more or less bored with Facebook. I'm not allowing it to consume me like it once did. Instead, I take days between the times I check it. In doing so, I'm less obsessed with it. However, tonight, I found myself checking her page more than once. Awesome. I need to learn how to fall out of love with the idea of someone.

I accepted some friend requests and perused some walls. Mihir has sent me several lengthy messages that I have avoided reading because if I read them, then I'll have to take the time to respond to them, and I don't have the time to do that right now.

I saw pictures of an old friend who has a new girlfriend. It was strange seeing him being romantic. But I think about that the way I think about all the people from my past-they won't stay the same. Hell, I'm not the same, why should I expect them to be? I set double standards all the time.

Sometimes rooming without a roommate gets lonely. Take right now, for instance. If there were someone sharing the room with me, I could at least peek at them out of the corner of my eye and observe them studying, reading, playing on the computer, etc. and at least feel less lonely because someone is in close proximity to me. But right now, everyone is shut behind their wooden doors and I'm behind mine too, wishing that someone else's name shared the space on the outside of the door.

Everyone gets lonely. But tonight, I feel like the only one.

Teenage angst is understood when experienced, but is impossible to communicate with words.

I did down some Nyquil earlier. Maybe that's why I'm so reflective. Fuck it. I'll let myself feel sad today. Hopefully I can sleep it off.

Random Thoughts

Why do I feel like writing late at night? Why do I feel heavy-hearted whenever a certain song comes on, and I can't do anything but slowly drift into sadness, a feeling I've come to love? 

I think I'm emotionally masochistic. 

Oh, you're such a teenager, Ben. One day you'll forget what it's like to feel this way. One part of you is saying to cherish it, to remember it, don't belittle it. And another part of you feels the weight of everyone who has ever felt the same way and has grown up, gotten married, lived 4590 more days that have worn the memories thin and replaced them with thoughts of grandchildren, vocation, and retirement. You're young, so what? I was young once too. You're not unique.

Facebook Day 2

I am attempting to get on Facebook as infrequently as I can, in hope that I won't become a slave to it.

Yesterday, I saw my Facebook activity through my email throughout the day, learning that people had accepted my friend requests or written on my wall. Using email notification was a smart move by Facebook, because it brings to my attention every interaction that occurs, thus making me want to get online to respond. Very sneaky, FB.

Here's the deal. I consider getting on Facebook on my phone lesser than getting on Facebook on a computer. I don't know why. Maybe it's because the screen is smaller and the format is different, thus making it inferior to the traditional, formal layout of computer layout Facebook. I prefer dealing with Facebook on a computer because it seems easier to navigate than on a phone, where you have to touch everything with your finger (which sometimes is difficult) and zoom in all the time. Computers are the best way to interact with Facebook.

I accepted some friend requests, observed what people had written on my wall, responded to messages people sent me (which I find to be most intimate and personal interaction on Facebook) and half-heartedly scanned through photos of several people. I then realized that I hadn't ever updated my status, and I started to stress. I find status updates to be taxing, because I used to put up quotes that made me seem intellectual and artistic, but the trick was to not to post quotes that made me seem too intellectual and artistic, a line that is difficult to walk. Now, in an attempt to avoid that excessive effort, I've decided only to post statuses that provide relevant, interesting, or important information. I don't want to update people with my every thought, because most of my thoughts are immature, incomplete, and illogical. Why would I want to share that with everybody? That's just asking for trouble.

My feelings toward Facebook are still positive. Maybe I had bad feelings about Facebook because I was angry that I enslaved myself to it, and I transfered the hatred of my actions to the neutral entity to which I had bonded myself. If I can keep from depending on Facebook, maybe I won't see it as a bad thing anymore.

Beat Generation Response (for Core)

Learning about the Beat generation is interesting to me, because the more I learn, the more I think I am a reincarnation of that generation. By that I mean I think my personality, my struggles, my teenage angst that grows from an unknown source, all that correlate with those who grew up with the threat of the atom bomb, who watched their friends get drafted to Vietnam, and saw violence in their streets. They observed the previous generation promising life and success and modesty and censorship as the remedies for happiness. They knew they could not trust those promises, because those promises produced the senseless violence that pervaded their lives. They were without role models, without instruction about how to live, without a leader to show them the way home. So they set out on a journey, with On The Road as their Bible and Bob Dylan as their voice, that they hoped would end at a purpose for their lives, a purpose that was deep and worthy and emotional and real.

I think my generation is a sedated version of the Beat generation. My generation has been raised in a world where technology is prevalent, where instant communication and information and validation can be found at the tips of a keyboard. We don't know any other world, just like the beats didn't know a world without wars and violence. However, I don't think we care enough to search for another way. Yes, we hate the emptiness that barges in when we turn off the music and sit in silence, but we can always turn the music back on. We hate the loneliness we feel whenever we are alone, but we can always get online and simulate conversations and emotions and intimacy through social networking institutions. The beat generation turned to sex and drugs (among other things) in search of identity and direction--we don't turn anywhere, because we don't have to realize that we have no direction. We don't have to lie awake at night, wondering about this feeling of heaviness that doesn't go away--we don't have to wonder because, instead, we can go online and find something to divert our attention. Moments that usually define peoples' courses of action, moments that stand out in one's memory years later, have been stolen by the flickering of a television screen.

Our generation can learn from the Beat generation, because we are in a similar predicament. We have been handed a lifestyle that is doing more harm than good. And once we stir from our sleep, we're going to need some direction. Hopefully we can learn from their mistakes.

Facebook Day 1 contd.

This is not good. I thought I would be able to restrain myself from Facebook and limit myself to getting on it once a day. This was not the case. Not even 2 hours after I erected my profile and interacted with some people on it, I checked it again. I received heartwarming welcomes to Facebook from friends, which was positive and reaffirming. I'm going to give myself some lee-way in the first few days. It's a new toy, my excitement will die down. Hopefully.

Facebook and Day 1: Optimism

I am starting an experiment with Facebook.

Recently it has occurred to me how prevalent social networking is in filmmaking. Who knows who got connected by this guy who knew her once at a party...

Personally, I tend to shy away from social networking, because I don't like relationships being based on a person we both know. It seems like a mutual bond, and it is, but it's a weak bond. Nevertheless, some would cry that that is how you make it in the real world, or something to that extend. I understand, and I have now started my compliance.

I decided to get a Facebook account, and I'm going to use it as an experiment. I will chronicle my Facebook interactions for the first 30 days. If I find that after 30 days my life was worse than when I started, I will get rid of it.

Here's my reasoning-I've not had a Facebook profile for over a year and a half. I've got to see life without the immediate interaction, without the constant updates, and without the missed opportunities that it brings. I think I can responsibly take an adventure into the jungle of Facebook and keep my head on my shoulders, avoiding trivial banter and worthless postings while discovering thought-worthy ideas and concepts and engaging in (hopefully) productive social interaction. I don't know how it will go. Let's find out.

........

Day 1

I created a Facebook account with ease. Props to Zuckerburg for making the process easy enough for anyone to create one (I, along with millions of others probably, would have had second-thoughts if the process were difficult). I added my favorite movies, music, TV shows, and books, a process that actually made me sad because I had a difficult time coming up with favorite books, revealing that I don't actually read that much. Need to get on that.

I tried to find my friend Cari to add her as my first friend, but I couldn't find her. I thought she had an account. "Oh well," I thought. "I'll find her through someone else" (that should be a slogan for Facebook). I searched for several friends without luck. Finally I found my friend Jake and added him. Suddenly, I had found a portal into my friends' world. I found friend after friend and easily added them with friend requests. I hesitated asking several people to be my "friend," because I didn't want them to see me with 5 friends and think I was a loser. I realize that train of thought is self-absorbed and shallow. That's how I think most of the time. It's constraining and frustrating, but I continue on with it for some reason.

I'm going to let it lie for right now. I can't decide if I want to make a rule for myself that I can only get on once a day. I have done that more or less by choosing to make myself blog about each Facebook encounter I have, so that should be fine.

My feelings towards Facebook (as of right now) are friendly. I see the benefit of having a profile through the connections I can make with my friends, with whom I have previously had no contact. But will the connections I'm going to make with my friends be genuine? Will we actually be communicating our true thoughts, ideas, and emotions, or will we merely be sending and receiving cardboard cutouts of ourselves; rigid, fake, static images of either who we are or who we want others to think we are. I don't know.

I wonder if I'll be able to refrain from posting pretentious, self-involved statuses about On The Road or all the films I watch that others consider elitist. Let's hope so.

Pessimist Article

I wrote this for our school newspaper's April Fool's Day edition. I don't know if it will get published or not. We'll have to wait and see.

Next fall, ACU students will find their daily commute to classes to be a little smoother. ACU plans to up its already high bar and equip every incoming freshman with a Segway, a decision that was almost easy, said President Schubert. "With the iPhone initiative, not only have we successfully condensed the majority of students to a single electronic demographic, we have also taken students' social relationships and made them virtual, eliminating the need for face-to-face interaction," Schubert said excitedly Monday. "This generation lives more in the virtual world than in the real one. With that in mind, we decided to give every incoming freshman a Segway, thus eliminating the fading necessity of experiencing the world through walking."
Others have agreed that walking is becoming obsolete in this technological world. "No one enjoys walking anymore," comments Mabee janitor Rick Steinfeld. "It's boring and it takes forever. Sometimes I just take off in a dead sprint because it makes the trip shorter." Faculty and students agree that walking is a tired tradition that is becoming outdated in today's world. "I stay at home so much because I'd rather watch TV than walk," says hermit and ACU drop-out Jesse Blacksmith. "If ACU had given us Segways, I probably would have gone to class more and not failed my classes."
However, not everyone is on board with the idea. Freshman Adam Simpson started a group on campus that doesn't wear shoes to voice their disagreement. Group members, deemed ‘Hobos’ by dissenting observers, can be seen walking across campus barefoot with smug smiles on their faces. "The sixties had sit-ins and boycotts," Simpson commented Tuesday evening, "an effective tool to communicate a point. Today, we have shoe-offs. Hopefully the administration will see that Segways are as detrimental to human flourishing as segregation."
Despite minor backlash, ACU is excited about next year. “The goal with all our initiatives are to keep our students on the forefront of emerging technology,” said Dr. Jeanine Varner, ACU Provost. “In recent years, the necessity for walking has obviously deteriorated. As educators, we must equip our students with the knowledge and the power to change this changing world. With the Segway initiative, we are helping our students change the world not on two feet, but on two wheels, which happen to be dynamically stabilized and electrically propelled.”

Relaxed Musings of an Anxious Existence

I often experience a feeling of overwhelming anxiety that stems from my fear of underachieving. Since I was young, I have been told countless times from parents, adults, random strangers at church, that I would achieve great things in my life. Sometimes it was in the context of spirituality, but most often it was vaguely intended as vocational prophecy. Coupled with my slightly above average talent in numerous areas (yes, that is narcissistic, I realize that), I've come to live with this smug knowledge, stored in the back of my mind, that I will do something in my life, that I will achieve something worthy of pride, for both myself and others who know me. That knowledge surfaces anytime I do something noteworthy, as if I am one step closer to fulfilling the awesomeness that is to come.

As of lately, however, I've come to strain under that burden. I make films that are good for people my age who are close in proximity to me. I have no idea what films are being made by freshman at NYU or USC, but I assume they are better than the ones I have made. But around here, I make above average films. I made a film for ACU's Filmfest, a film festival for students, and people were astounded that I made such a good film "as a freshman," assuming that I would take that as a complement. I don't. I don't want the value of my work to be dependent on my age. Orsen Wells made "Citizen Kane," arguably the greatest film of all time, when he was 25. Secretly, I have a desire to make a better film than "Citizen Kane" by the time I'm 25. It's an unrealistic, naive goal to have, but hey, I'm young (right?), I can think like that.

I beat myself up because I'm not constantly making films. I think I should be making them all the time, improving my style and skills daily so that I will be making masterpieces by age 30. Truthfully, I have the fear that, over the course of my life, I will never make a good film, that I will never find genuine success in creating a piece of art. I just want to make something from which people can discover truth about life, about humanity, about relationships. I want people to study my films like I study films. I want to be regarded as an artist, as an enduring master of my field.

In the end, I think I'm ultimately searching for immortality. I'm looking to live on, even after I'm dead. I think everyone does this. It's not uncommon. I think everyone in the world is searching for a way to outlast the Earth, outlast life and other people and the problems that tie us down to this confused, confusing existence. This is the internal conflict of the human soul-we are not original or noteworthy in any way, but we want to be.

Racism Response

Throughout American history, whites refused to acknowledge the humanity of blacks. Whites protected their social superiority through physical and psychological abuse of blacks. I think of the whole situation as if it were a large canyon, black Americans in the valley, and for the majority of American history, whites on the top rim. Whites kept blacks down in the valley, suppressed and unaware of life outside the canyon walls, merely submitting to the will and work of those above. Whites developed a superiority complex, no doubt about it. However, all of a sudden, the blacks realized that they did not have to stay in the valley. They began to climb to treacherous walls of the canyon, with each step they found themselves closer to the wide, beautiful, fertile plains of respect and common decency.
However, whites would not watch their animals become their equals quietly. Whites fought to keep the status quo, pushing mountainous boulders onto the heads of the ascending blacks, cheering when it crushes a skull and laughing as bodies tumble back into the void of submission.
During the time of Malcolm X's Harvard speech and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s Letter from Birmingham Jail, one can see that blacks had just about reached the top of the canyon. On one side are the blacks, exhausted from the climb but no where near giving up now; on the other side are whites, aghast at the progress of their former slaves; in the middle lies emptiness, space, nothingness. There is no bridge connecting the two sides. The only communication found between the two sides is yelling, people screaming from full lungs, spit flying from their pointed mouths, neither side able to listen to what the other is saying.
Dr. King said that "injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." He knew about the lack of respect that whites showed to blacks because he had seen it his whole life. Malcolm X had seen evil through the eyes of a victim, and his mission was to hold a mirror up to the faces of the oppressors. The blacks were toeing the edge of the cliff, trying any way they could to build something to bridge the gap.
Today racism is far from over. The canyon still exists, although many have tried to say it no longer does. The best solution is to continue supporting the building of bridges over the canyon, connecting one side to another. But it is important that it is a bridge. Concrete will not do. We cannot fill up the canyon and act like it never existed--that would be just as terrible as when blacks were still down in it. We need to build bridges because it not only creates a pathway between the two camps, but it also recognizes the existence of a troubled past and reminds us often from where we have come.

Typical Day

I'm still recovering from a cold. This morning, when my alarm went off, I decided I'd skip my 9am Bible class again, something I do frequently because it's boring and the teacher doesn't take attendance. However, I enjoy my 10am Media Messages class, so, while still sleepy and lethargic, I set my alarm for just enough time to get up, eat breakfast, and make it on time to class.

I got to class five minutes early. There were only three people in the classroom, one being the proud, gun-on-college-campuses activist who annoys me with her obvious self-approval. I sat down and checked Pitchfork to pass the dead time. Pitchfork and I agreed that the new Strokes album was less than noteworthy (they gave it a 5.9 out of 10). People filled the classroom, one being the cute girl with a nose piercing and reads Chuck Klosterman. She's dating a guy I know, or at least "talking" to him, and that gives me a reason not to approach her and make conversation and show that I'm interested. I've realized that I find almost every girl with a bad side attractive (or at least what I think portrays having a bad side), and I watch them with frozen curiosity as they walk past, unaware of my transfixion.

I've often thought about relationships with girls. I've wondered why I can effortlessly talk to girls on a friend to friend basis, but when I even entertain the possibility of liking a girl in my mind, I get nervous and tense and sweaty. Well, that's not true--I'm sweaty all the time. Nevertheless, I think the reason behind my problem is the same for guys everywhere--vulnerability. When you like someone, you become vulnerable. And most guys don't like to be vulnerable, because it means you don't have control over the situation anymore. You aren't in control if the girl will like you, it's up to her, so all you can do is hope and wait. Which sucks. However, this is how it has to be. It is magnificently rewarding to realize that your vulnerability paid off when you find yourself in a wild, unpredictable, unbelievably-fulfilling relationship with a girl whose smile is your ultimate prize.

After class, I noticed the cute girl standing outside, waiting for someone. I nonchalantly slid my phone out of my pocket and acted like I was reading something while I watched her. Sometimes, I think of myself as someone who is fearless around women, a suave badass that girls flock to because they love his indifferent attitude. But I think girls, more than anything, like guys who know what they want and go after it, and that's one thing I'm not good at, but I'm working on it.

I entered Moody among the masses of rushing students and found my seat next to Drew, my friend who has a girlfriend and always wears a baseball hat. Brandon, a quiet yet silly accounting major who almost joined the Air Force (and looks like it), came up and sat on my right. Today was Wednesday, which means Praise Chapel, which means everyone stands and sings except me. I read On The Road.

Every ACU student is required to attend chapel 55 times each semester, and attendance is recorded through a card swiping system. Students slide their IDs through one of the many card readers located on the railing of Moody Collusium, and that's how they receive credit. I watched today as students funneled slowly down the stairs, waiting in an unconsciously formed line to slide their cards. I tried to come up with a metaphor for what it looked like, but I couldn't think of one.

After chapel, I walked with Drew, Brandon, and Allen (Brandon's roommate and cousin) back to the dorm, where I continued On The Road until lunchtime.

Lunch in the Bean, our cafeteria, is always entertaining. We crammed five people around a table barely built to hold four. Evan, my thoughtful friend who currently has five women pandering for his affection, was the fifth. Before he sat down, we observed him talking to two girls at a table across the room. I narrated what I thought they were saying, with Evan saying things like "I'm smooth, and you want me," and the girls saying in a high pitched voice "ooh, Evan, I love you...". I shouldn't wonder why I don't have a girlfriend. During lunch, I looked over to the eating room that is enclosed in glass panels. I deemed it the Holy of Holys in the Bean and imagined myself shooting the glass pannels with a machine gun in slow motion, then yelling to all those eating inside it, "the temple curtain has been torn, bitch!" I told my fantasy to the guys at the table, and they said I would probably get in trouble for having a gun in the Bean. I see now that they just have a lack of imagination.

After lunch, I walked out the campus center and heard someone yell "hey BEN!" I looked over and there was Bek, my bubbly friend who always makes me feel loved, running towards me. She had on an interesting yellow shirt and her bleech blonde hair was pulled back. She said that someone had earlier called her a sun goddess, and I agreed. We walked over to the benches from which she had run to see Jake, my old high school buddy who is known for being a solid guy in every way possible, and his friend Wes, who almost worked on the Optimist videography staff with me. I sat down. Jake and Wes were studying Greek, but most of the time we played a game where, if you see someone you know walking by, you say "hey" and then their name. However, you don't say it to them, you say it so only the four of us can hear. The game is basically saying how many people we know. I didn't know that many. After a while the three of them got up to go somewhere, and I rambled on back to the dorm.

I continued reading Kerouac's novel, learning about Sal and his trip from New Jersey to Denver to San Fransisco, and his adventures all along the way with Dean, Carlo, and all the other beat hipsters. Then, when 1:50pm rolled around, I walked to work at the Learning Studio on the upper floor of the ACU Library, which is where I currently sit typing.

This has been my day so far, without the many minute thoughts, feelings, interactions and assumptions that mold together to create what we remember as a typical day.

Eternal Amazing

"Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" is the best film made in the past 30 years. I'm saying it. This statement is more for my peace of mind than for other people to gasp at my audacity, because really, who am I? A 19 year old kid who likes movies. What do I know? I know that "Sunshine" is the best film made in the past three decades, and here's why.

First, it is meticulously crafted. I've watched the film over 5 times, and each time I notice a small detail that I hadn't seen before, and each detail reflects the overall goal of the film. There is so much information to be found about the film in every single scene that it's impossible to catch it all in the first viewing. For example, in the scene where Joel (Jim Carrey) is remembering leaving the beach party where he met Clementine (Kate Winslet) for the first time, dozens of details create this chaotic, bizarre, yet nostalgic, heartbreaking scene. At one point, Joel is buried in sand, while in the car. Outside the car, scenes of his life are flashing by. And yet, the audience understands the purpose of these details without consciously thinking about it. It makes sense, so we go with it. It's wonderful.

More importantly, the core of the film is a love story, a story that is timeless and real. A guy falls in love with this quirky girl who makes him feel alive, except as the relationship progresses, the nuances and quirks start to wear on him (and his on her as well), and they fall apart. Everyone has a relationship like this in their lives. This story is applicable to people growing up now, or 50 years ago, or 200 years from now, because it captures a piece of humanity in that we grow tired of one another, no matter how much love exists between the two parties. We have to learn how to love each other, even when we get annoyed and feel trapped and want to leave. This is a story about enduring love, which is something that every human wants.

And that's two of the reasons why this film is the best film made in a long time.

Vietnam Response (Brief)

The dealings of the United States and Vietnam in the 1960's are shocking to me, namely because I didn't pay attention in high school history classes. For the first time, I have listened to the accounts of what happened in the 60's, and I am appalled. It's surprising to me how upset I am over a series of events that occurred over half a century ago. I think it's because our government blatantly chose to protect themselves, and in doing so, they neglected the oppressed and supported the oppressors.

Now, I understand that it is difficult for me to comprehend the state of the nation at that time, what with the Red Scare and all. Everyone was scared. Everyone was nervous. I get that. Nevertheless, I would think that someone, somewhere at that time would see how wrong the United States was and do something to stand up against it. Thankfully, I was right, as seen in the YouTube video of a news report that showed thousands of protesters marching against the war. People were burning draft cards, holding signs, and standing up against the government, even in the face of water hoses and possible arrest. The nation knew that our government was interfering in a conflict that we had no business being in, and the people found a way to express their discontent.

The United States, in supporting France in the war, showed their belief that humans should do whatever is necessary to protect themselves and their people. However, the people of the United States believed the opposite view, that we should help those in need rather than try to protect ourselves. Obviously, I agree with the nation on this point. I'm angered that the government would take advantage of time, resources, and people in order to safeguard their ideals.

A Response For Class

Can there be a sadness greater than the one caused by disillusionment? Jacob Brackman discusses his transition from blind optimism of youth to reluctant cynicism of age in his "Shock Waves from the Baby Boom" article. While this sadness is startling, it is hardly unusual; actually, this discontent with life, culture, and surrounds is ubiquitous throughout modern American youth, although the majority of it is unnoticed. We have been given technology to make our lives better and easier, and it does just that; however, in doing so, technology has reduced the quality of human interactions from necessity to peripheral and drained the aspirations of the young.

My close friend moved to Austin over Christmas break. Over time, we have texted, skyped, and communicated through various other media avenues. We talk about whatever we think about, whatever comes into our minds. And although we are in constant communication, I know the next time we see each other, the first few hours will be awkward. We communicate with the help of technology, but we really don't have anything to say. This situation is common throughout young people today. Friends are friends because people don't want to be alone, so we surround ourselves with those around us and fill the empty spaces with words about pop culture and news that becomes irrelevant at the week's end. We don't have anything to say to each other anymore, but we talk more than ever.

I've met more people at college who have no idea what they are going to do with their lives. Moreover, I've talked to people who don't even have a dream job. People are caught up in the daily, repetitive, mundane exercise of existence that the ability to create your future is forgotten, and this is due to technology. We are so inundated with the capacity to create that we get bogged down in trivial creations, and we neglect to imagine an existence that is rich and full and vibrant. We become consuming nonexistence, which is different than the ideology of Buddhism that states that we are only a composition of other things. We don't exist, yet we are obsessed with ourselves.

So what can we do? How can live? The greatest action we can take against the foreboding and ominous future is to unplug. Unplug. Leave at home. Go for a walk in the park. Write a letter to a friend. Sit and watch cars drive by. Play music live. Essentially, do things that require one to merely exist (an act that has come to be seen as trivial). Just exist. Technology has allowed to be be in one hundred places at once, and in doing so, making us not really present anywhere. So just be. And learn that life is better when experienced through the wind, not the airwaves.

Things I am thankful for

1. Having Bruce Springstein's "Born To Run," so that I can access the escape in his songs whenever needed.
2. The ability to wash my clothes for free whenever I decide it's convenient.
3. An Uncle who I can listen to talk about God and feel no disgust about the Christian language used.
4. My sunglasses that I think are the coolest thing since James Dean.
5. The fact that emotions are temporary, seasonal, that they go so, so, so far down, but always find their way up the mountain also.
6. People who I think validate my existence with their approval of me.
7. The ability to walk barefoot to class.
8. A sweater that covers up my pit sweat and keeps me feeling swanky.
9. Friends who want to be around me.
10. Annie, the lady who makes me an omlet every morning.
11. A computer on which I can watch tv shows and movies at my convenience.
I tried making a list of things I'm thankful for in an attempt to forget my sadness, but it didn't work. I'm just going to go watch T.V. instead, to numb the pain away.

I didn't watch T.V. I experienced the pain, tried to understand it, thought about it. Maybe that's the way to beat it.

An Unceasing Wound

The unintentional, unnoticed rejection of loved ones is a heart-breaking affair. I get this way sometimes. I get so fucking lonely. And so fucking sad. Why the fuck am I this way? I have so much. I'm so ungrateful. And yet, I whine about not feeling good, yet I neglect to reflect on the times when life is wonderful. I wallow in the sadness, refusing to pull myself up. Everyone feels sadness. I have it great.

Is that enough self degradation so that I can now not feel guilty about feeling this way? Hope so. Because for now, all I can see is myself when I feel like this.

I'm so alone. I reach out to people, but somehow, I always break or break something. It's this sinking feeling in my chest, like its about to cave in on itself. It's pressure behind my eyes, they're about to cry, but can't seem to do it. It an invisible weight on my head, pushing it down. I'm feeling the intense pressure of my body and soul being compacted in on itself, where the pain snaps my head to the side and cranks my eyes tightly shut. This feeling is the absence of the feeling of love, of belonging, of importance. This feeling is the intense void that crushes me.

Don't you dare condescend. Don't you dare belittle my feelings. I can't take it anymore. I understand people have it worse than me, but I'm fucking tired of sucking it up in the name of those less fortunate. I'm fucking selfish, you say. Okay, well fuck me, cuz I can deal with that. I can't deal with not being real anymore. I'm hurting. I hurt sometimes. It's been less frequent lately, but tonight shows me that time doesn't heal all wounds. This wound is as fresh now as it was in October. It's worse, because I was under the false impression that it wouldn't hurt this badly anymore. But it hurts because I was mistaken. I assumed that I felt lonely only because this one person I loved rejected me. But now I know I feel lonely when anyone I love rejects me.

I just discovered that the language through which I give and receive love is verbal communication. That's when it's real to me. When the people I want to love me tell me they love me, I can think of no greater source of happiness for myself. But right now, I feel so alone because I can't remember the last time someone said they loved me and I believed them. It has to be verbal-text message or letter or email won't do. I have to audibly hear the other person speaking those words, I have to visually see them with my eyes. My "love language" is the spoken word.

Hindusim and Red Scare

Hinduism claims that there is an entity that exists in all things, through all things, and because all things. This entity, called Brahman, is the connection that runs through everything. It is inside you, inside me, inside that car, that deer, that tree, that moon- inside everything. This theory is found in Christianity as well, although most Christians would deny this, seeing as though the idea is found in Hinduism and Christians in the 21st century are especially afraid of hearing about other religious, lest they find something that sounds like truth.

In Christianity, there is believed to be one god. He is described as omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. If a being is capable of knowing everything, doing anything, and being everywhere, does that not mean that he/she/it is in everything? It would have to, if the entity is everywhere. You cannot be everywhere and yet not be in something that occupies space. Therefore, it is logical to say that the Christian god is in everything. He is in you, in me, in that car, that deer, that tree, that moon- in everything.

Hinduism describes Brahman as humanity's link to everything. It says that we are connected to everything in such a way because what is inside us is inside everything else as well. This gives us a certain responsibility, it would seem to me, to treat not only humans but everything with reverence and respect.

However, Americans during the 40s, 50s, and 60s didn't share this believe. During that time, the Soviet Union was a major world power, and America thought its liberties were in jeopardy. Therefore, the government decided that the collective conscious of the nation should be that of cultivated fear. Government institutions started instilling terror in the hearts of the people at the expense of communism, claiming it as the worst evil of all, and any sympathizers were a threat to America and should be ostracized. Myriad campaigns of patriotism sprung up. President Truman favored the word "freedom" in his speeches. American citizens were taught that freedom was the greatest asset and should be protected religiously.

Strangely, America made severe missteps while on the march to end Communism. Firstly, America claimed that anyone who was on its side was not a threat to freedom, basically saying that if you're with us, your right. Also, America overlooked its own racism, an obvious obstruction of freedom to millions of Americans. America was so focused on ending Communism that it neglected to consider how it was inflicting pain upon itself with segregation and injustice. America refused to see the humanity in Communists. It refused to see the strain of life that runs through all humanity. Instead, it chose to protect itself at all costs, costs that included the life and well being of millions of people.

Obviously, the Red Scare was ridiculous. Widespread panic was commonplace, and it was propagated by the government, which somehow makes it legitimate. Today, we must look to the humanity in everyone. Otherwise, peace and life and love cannot be accomplished.

Terrible Essay

What would you do if you were trapped, out in nature, all alone? Why would you be out there by yourself anyway? In two films, "Into the Wild" and "127 Hours," two men explore the wilderness with reckless abandon, and only one makes it out alive.

In the two films, the main characters retreat into nature because they feel most alive there. In "Into the Wild," Christopher McCandless (played by Emile Hirsch) talks about how he can no longer take living in society and can only feel alive in the wild. In "127 Hours," Aron Rolston (played by James Franco) thrives on being in nature, and it is apparent that he is a tad loco and doesn't fit well in civilization. These movies (whose stories are true) show men who find solace and pure existence in the dangerous and isolated wild, away from people and technology and city blocks.

However, both men get into trouble. McCandless (who later changes his name to Alexander Supertramp) travels deep into the Alaskan bush alone and eats a poisonous plant by mistake, and Rolston pulls a large boulder onto his hand, trapping him in a deep crevasse. The two are faced with impossible situations--if you want to live, you have to be willing to die. McCandless couldn't make it across the raging river to get help, and Rolston has to decide if he can endure the pain of cutting his own arm off. Both films make me wonder what I would do if I were in those situations. Would I have enough will power to do what is necessary to live? Would I value life enough to cut my arm off?

In the end, McCandless dies from starvation in the bus that he inhabited for four months. However, Rolston succeeds in cutting his arm off and staggering to freedom. Two men, both encountering nature in order to find vibrant existence, meet opposite fates, and share lessons to us that should always be considered when going into the wild.

Rothko

Rothko stated that the objective for his art was to draw people out of the mundane daily life and to make them feel the deep, intrinsic emotions that make us human. As one approaching Rothko's abstract art, I find this description helpful in interpreting and understanding his paintings. At first glance, an ignorant eye might see his work and think it bland or simple. Their are no people or distinguishable objects, merely lines, shades, and colors. However, understanding that his art is for the emotions, not the mind, allows one to experience the fullness of his work.

In life, the majority of people find themselves unknowingly trapped in the rut of status quo. Get this type of job, buy this type of home, attend these sorts of social functions. The American Dream has become a mold into which masses of people are pressed, creating a nation of individuals who live exactly the same. In this mold, we are told that wealth is everything, it will bring happiness and contentment. And it is this mold that Rothko found so repulsive, because it shreds away humanity through the dissipation of basic feeling.

So, when the Four Seasons restaurant commissions Rothko to decorate their building, he is at a conundrum. They are willing to pay, what would be the equivalent in today's money, two million dollars for his paintings. However, Rothko considers, the Four Seasons is a restaurant for the excessively rich, those who are happy and content within the American Dream mold. So ultimately, Rothko refuses to supply artwork for the restaurant. He believes that people who eat there are not worthy (or even capable) of understanding his work.

I agree with Rothko in that the excesses of life take away our humanity. While today, we have technology to make our lives easier (they say), it is actually dehumanizing us. It takes away the encounters that provide us with fear, ecstasy, sadness, hope, and every other emotion that comes from experiencing life.

Best Directors: Darren Aronofsky

Darren Aronofsky is one of the best directors currently working, due to his attention to detail, real characters and unique story lines.

Watching an Aronofsky film is like looking at a painting by a meticulous painter who considered every brush stroke, every shade of color, every aspect of his creation. In Aronofsky's latest film, "Black Swan," multiple sound effects can barely be heard (the flapping of wings, low frequency rumblings, etc.), as if they were subconscious. The effect they have is almost undetectable, and yet it makes the film so much more complex. In his second film, "Requiem For A Dream," Aronofsky uses extreme close ups paired with amplified, exaggerated sound effects for a creative montage that underscores each character's addiction. Aronofsky knows that the more thought you put into something, the better it will be.

His characters, while the story line might not always be taken literally, are real and heart-breaking. Aronofsky's most gentle film, "The Wrestler," exemplifies this the most. In it, washed up wrestler Randy clings to the fame and adoration that his sport brings while getting older, less able, and more fragile. All the while, Randy realizes his loneliness and tries to assuage it with having sex, attempting to mend broken relationships, and continuing wrestling, even after he has a heart attack. Randy's hopelessness and sadness are poignant to the point of tears. Aronofsky takes characters and forces audiences to empathize with them.

All five of Aronofsky's films expertly handle the topic of obsession, an interesting and necessary topic for audiences to consider. In his films, Aronofsky shows real situations of obsession, not fake, overdone plotlines that lack creativity. In Aronofsky's first film, "Pi," the main character is obsessed with numbers and tries to find a pattern that will predict the stock market, a task that ultimately consumes him. In "The Fountain," the main character is possessed by the notion that he can find the tree of life and live forever with his wife. He becomes so obsessed that his life becomes enslaved to the idea, completely overtaking him. Aronofsky knows that anything can become an addiction, and if left unchecked, it probably will.

With only five films under his belt, Aronofsky has yet to make a film that lacks depth or complexity, has flat characters, or a traditional storyline. It looks like he might become a staple of American filmmaking with his current work and his work to come.

Under Cover of Darkness

For over a year, I have been waiting for this moment. It was always in the back of my mind, popping up whenever I would think about following a band religiously, which is what I do. And now, this is it (reference very much intended): the Strokes put out their new single from their forthcoming album. The single is called "Under Cover of Darkness." And I will say, I like it.



The song starts with an upbeat drum and guitar combo, sounding like a 60's pop song went through a garage rock washing machine. Then, Julian's voice comes on. At first, I was sad that they chose to leave his voice clean, without the effects found on the first two albums. He chose no voice box on "First Impressions of Earth," and I wasn't impressed, so I assumed it wasn't going to be good. Later in the song, though, I would be proved wrong. The guitars are peppy, and your head instantly bobs up and down. When Julian sings "it's a nightmare," it is apparent that the Strokes have not lost their sound one bit. The first verse sounds playful, yet also hurt, as most Strokes songs sound.

The build up hears Julian tell someone "don't go that way, I'll wait for you." In those lines, a longing (that is amplified in the chorus) is poignant in a way that reminds me of Counting Crows, which was cited as one of the influences for this new album.

I just noticed that in the background of the chorus is harmony. I don't recall the Strokes ever doing harmony before, however, I could be wrong. Nevertheless, it works. The chorus reads "I'm tired of all your friends, listening at your door. I won't, I better call you. So long, my friend and adversary. But I'll wait for you." I'm impressed that one song can sound both chipper and also heartbroken.

After the first chorus, an interesting two guitar riff is played. At first, they play the same notes, but then one switches into a high pitched squeal. It's a sound I've not heard before, or at least consciously.

The second verse is similar to the first, except that in it, Julian verbalizes so much more emotion. At one point he sings "I've been out around this town and everybody's been singing the same song ten years," a profound discontent that I like.

The second chorus is composed of enigmatic lyrics that I can't decipher. Nevertheless, I like it because what I've come to understand about the Strokes is that feeling is most important. The tone of the song is essential.

The guitar solo starts off simple, unimpressive, rhythmic. Then, the drums break down and the solo jumps into a sort of looping, meandering sound. Next, the drums build up and the solo goes back to the simple sound. While it doesn't sound technically complex, it is pleasant and provides an adequate emotional build up to the next chorus.

In this chorus, Julian really communicates that he has had enough. "I'm TIRED of all your friends, KNOCKING down your door" he sings with emphasis. Then he respectably grabs a high note out of nowhere, a fitting end to the song.

Under Cover of Darkness is confusing in that it seems to be catchy and shallow; however, it skillfully intertwines sadness into a jangly pop song, a sound that the Strokes have not done this well ever before. While the song lacks the outright badass sound of the first two albums, it contains a remnant of it that makes the song feel like it is being sung by rock stars who have looked back at their careers, their lives, and seen things they regret. Which is exactly what the song is, or at least, where it's coming from.

I do understand that I am bias and am more likely to enjoy the song because it's the Strokes. But this isn't always certain--First Impressions of Earth made me feel queasy. That said, I give this song a 8.7 out of 10. High hopes for the new album have just been solidified.

Into the Wild

The length of this post will not express the feeling I am experiencing. Nevertheless, I am finding it increasingly more difficult to make time to write my thoughts down, even though I myself value them tremendously (a fault that I will eventually have to confront) and take pleasure in reading them once they are written down. Apart from the narcissism, I am always surprised to read the words I write because I doubt that I am capable of writing anything coherent, intelligent, or moving. Nevertheless and moving on, here are my thoughts.

I am increasingly, rapidly, and frequently thinking about nature, about the wild. I think it has something to do with the trip I am making over spring break, coupled with a recent viewing of "Into The Wild." There is just something about nature that appeals to me so strongly now, an appeal that was absent in my growing up years. I have the strong urge to wash my clothes in a river and hang them on a clothesline; to wear boots that take me to the top of a mountain that overlooks an expansive forest; to watch a campfire dance and to hear the crackling of the wood. I wonder if this longing is typical in youthful males, in every male even. It must be, because since starting "Into the Wild" (the book), I have had over a half dozen males tell me how good of a book it is, comments that aren't typically expressed in Abilene community (that is a comment more on the lack of desire to read in my generation than anything else).

I regret that this desire has come over me after I left home. My father was always trying to get me interested in the outdoors: we participated in multiple father-son nature groups, we went camping once or twice, he bought me a pair of intense boots that would keep your feet dry if you jumped into a lake, things like that. And every attempt he made was met with my violent indifference, the same as if someone asked you how your day was. I realize now that, along with everything else in my life, I had to find it for myself. I had to discover the desire within without any prodding or encouragement or optimistic hopefulness.

Now, I think I could converse with my dad about nature and not feel the stinging hesitation of apathy that pushes my shoulders forward and cocks my head sideways into a pitiful, weak stance that indicates how I don't want to comply, but I also don't want to offend.

Hopefully, this feeling won't go away, like so many other motivations in my life. I hope I can see this desire through the rest of my days, a life full of experiences of clean air, fresh earth, dangerous encounters and lasting memories.

"Nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future." Christopher Johnson McCandless

My Future

I was sitting on my bed, thinking about many things. The topic that was most prevalent in my head was my future; more specifically, my hopes for the future. I came to the conclusion that I have no dream of what a perfect life would be. I don't know what I want to do for myself for the rest of my life if I had the chance. I would like to be a cinematographer, but that is only for a profession (and an art, yes). But if I could go anywhere, where would I go?

I came up with this: if I have to stay in the U.S., I want to go to Horseshoe Canyon in Arkansas. I want to live in that beautiful valley, facing the tree-lined mountains, free to fish or ride horses or run and be away from it all, and yet close enough to be around the people I love without too much loss of time or money.

What I learned about myself is that I want to be both consumed by nature and near people. Those seem contradictory, I know. I can't understand it. All I know is that I want to be able to interact with people often, but not necessarily every day. Or, better yet, I have a stable, easy job that lets me have the weekends (or whenever the most awesome waves come in) to go be in the wild. That would be legit.

Why the nature kick all the sudden? I have no idea. There's just something about being in the wild that is so appealing, almost subconsciously. It's as if my body knows that it was not made for these buildings, cars, and suburban lives. That's my theory about why my feet stink--my body knows that my feet aren't supposed to be wrapped up in shoes all day but rather, able to walk free, so it makes the feet rebel in the only way they can. Outlandish, yeah, but possible.

I want to surf, I want to hike, I want to see the tops of mountains and the world they watch over, I want to camp, I want to run, and I want to be in the place where we were created to be.

If I could go anywhere in the world, I would go to Ilha Grande. That place is the perfect mixture of wild and civilization. I decided that if I don't have a job lined up after graduation, I will go live down their for at least a month. I hope I can't find work.

My Unhated Least Favorite

I didn't like Rain Man.

Everyone I've ever talked to about movies has told me "you have to see Rain Man!" Everyone said it was great, that Dustin Hoffman was amazing.

I disagree. I think Dustin Hoffman was just acting like a robot, that's it. And that's been done a million times and isn't difficult. I think it is interesting that Tom Cruise has perfect hair in every single scene of the movie, and he looks like a barbie with all that makeup. I think the plot was trite and that none of the characters truly changed (a weak script, I would cry).

But what I think about most is how safe the cinematography was. Everything was standing still. No movement. In the 60's, there was so much experiment with the camera--different movements, angles, and most of all, long shots. One shot without being interrupted by close up. This is the style I want to shoot. I want every single shot to be different than anything that has ever been done before. I want to experiment, to try and break new ground in the field. I want to make a movie that was completely the opposite of Rain Man.

Sartre

Chapter 9 of Ten Theories of Human Nature discusses Sartre, the famous existentialist philosopher, and his concepts. His major theory is about human freedom, in that we are more free than we think we are. Most people see their lives as a collision of unavoidable occurrences (going to school, being late for work, running out of coffee, etc.), and therefore are trapped as a victim of circumstance. "I can't leave him" a girl in an abusive relationship cries; "I have to study" moans the overwhelmed student; "I need to eat something" the hungry man says. All of these statements (and the countless others that are possible) are statements of captivity to one's situation. What Sartre wants the world to realize is that we are who and where we are by choice. One chooses to study because the consequences would be a failed test and undesirable effects to follow; however, one could choose to not study and face the consequences. Same goes for the food illustration--when one is hungry, he/she has the option of eating and satiating the hunger or not eating and enduring the body's breakdown. Sartre wants the world to see that the chains of bondage are actually an illusion.

I agree with Sartre to an extent. I believe we as humans victimize ourselves far too often and live lives guided by mirages. For example, take freshmen guys living in Mabee. Curfew is at midnight, every guy knows that. If at 12:30am, one guy gets hungry, he feels helpless because he thinks he can't leave the building. It's a subconscious constraint that he places over himself. Sartre desires that boy to consciously see that he has the capability to walk out the doors, however, he will also have to suffer the consequences. This is something that we could learn to do better--to see the world as it really is, not how we assume it is.

The area in which I disagree with Sartre is his extent of control. He believes we have control over every aspect of our lives, and I simply disagree. I disagree because of relationships, both of friendship and of love. Try to understand why you love the people you do, and you will soon realize how irrational your behavior is. It is impossible to make someone else love you thoroughly and genuinely. I think Sartre was on to something with his existential philosophy, but I think he takes it too far.

Our Cry

Our generation is not like yours.
In our generation,
children experience adulthood when
adulthood should only exist in the children's minds.
Children are coming and going, to and fro,
pushing and pulling, there and here-
and then they put their clothes back on
and go to school.
Children are being pressed down and suffocated
by the opportunities of their future.
Children are inhaling and ingesting and shooting up
the only antidotes they know for their
disillusionment and unhappiness,
attempting to enter a brief moment of existence
where their is no pain, where there is no fear.

And yet, you scold us.
You patronize us.
You tell us that we must act according to
a morality that suited your time,
but does not fit in ours.

Can you not see that we only want to live?
Truly live?
We want to love, and be loved.
We want to feel capable, to feel trusted,
to feel empowered and able and respected and honored.
Can you not see that we want to find life,
our life?
We want to own it, to draw dignity from it,
to create an existence that is worth claiming.

One day, our time will come
when we have no choice but to discover our way.
However, today, we long for that day,
the day when we find the path that is only real when we find it ourselves,
when we step through the thicket and bushes,
that scrape away the remains from our childish adventures down
other lying and false trails,
when we emerge onto the path of recognition and maturity
from which we will start our journey that leads
to the place where the sun sleeps,
just over that hill.
Only then will we breathe-
right now, we're slowly fading into darkness.

Too Funny

Hilarious.

See more funny videos and Entertainment at Todays Big Thing.

Being Good? Pass.

I have wondered this for a while. What does it mean to be a good kid? I understand that my parents believe that it means not doing anything bad. However, I think it is different than that. I think being good is at the heart, that I care for others, protect my friends and family, and treat everyone with human decency. I don't think being good is just the absence of bad, or that someone who does "bad" things isn't good.

Is it even right to aspire to be good? Should I just be who I am, see who that is, determine if that is good or bad, and go on with life? You see, I don't worry about being good. I worry about taking care of my friends, even if that means I suffer somehow.

What stage of life are you in when you realize that your definition of what is right, what is friendship, what is good, is different from what you were taught?

2010 Movies

After extended searching of the internet's lists and much strain on my brain to remember what came out this year, here are my Top 10 Films of 2010. They are not ranked, but I will tell which one is my favorite at the end of the post.


Never Let Me Go

My desire to see this film came after reading the novel of the same name. I found it on some "Best Of" list and decided to give it a go. The novel is heartbreaking, poignant, incisive, and frightening. And the film is the same way--I will contend that this is the best adaptation I have seen to date. The picture itself is beautiful, with its muted tones of brown and dark green. The story is intimate, almost as if you know the characters. My favorite aspect of the novel was that the author captured the little nuances of relationships, (how one looks at another, the tone of one's voice filled with implicit meaning, etc.), and the film does it almost as well. I will always remember when Kathy confronts Ruth about how she rubs Tommy's shoulders like the older teens that Ruth idealizes. The film is a tender, emotional walk with characters that you feel you know personally.


Exit Through The Gift Shop

This film is the "Waking Life" of documentaries in that it reinvents how one a movie can be made. Is it real? What does it say about art regardless? The film shows a (whether real person or character) happy-go-lucky goofball whose love of graffiti art leads him on adventures with the most dangerous artists of our time. And the mystique of Banksy grows and grows...

Toy Story 3

This summer was my last summer at home; I was leaving for college in several weeks, and Toy Story 3 was like seeing my situation on screen. I'm sure mothers across the world were feeling the same way. I will never forget the scene where Andy plays with his toys for the last time before handing them over to another youngster. Although the super-hype over this film left me feeling annoyed, the film itself made me feel wonderful.

Inception

I am always kicking myself because I haven't been able to experience cultural phenomenons (Seinfeld, MASH, Lost, etc.)--I can now say that I have my phenom. For weeks, people everywhere were talking about it, whether the totem fell or not. It almost became a joke itself how much people talked about it. It spurned deep discussions and in depth analysis. And, for the first time for me, I experienced a real movie moment: at the end of the film when the totem is spinning, wobbling, spinning, and then BOOM, the credits roll, the entire audience groaned. Like, audibly groaned. It was incredible. The film is mind blowing with its special effects, its acting, its tone, and its imagination. This was by far the most creative and entertaining film of the year.

The Social Network

I hate hype. It prevents me from viewing a movie without expectations and bias. People were saying that The Social Network was a perfect film. Now I'm not sure I can judge if it is or not, but it is very, very good. It just feels like an expertly made film from the very first scene (if I could ever write a scene like that, I would be a millionare). Jesse Eisenberg is great, contrary to popular hearsay. A great film.

Somewhere

I love this film. I think the absent story arch, the style, the message are in a different category than most films. While most films are concerned with telling a story in traditionally strict perimeters, Somewhere ambles and meanders, just short of too much. I think that style is daring and avent-garde. The film shows how empty a life of celebrity is, even when you can have everything. It shows that having everything does not result in happiness. Stephen Dorff is spot on as a bored star, and Elle Fanning is adorable. This is a film ahead of its time.

Black Swan

This film has the darkest tone I've ever seen in a movie. It deals with obsession, perfection, corruption, and ballet. Natalie Portman is amazing (like everyone says) and Mila Kunis is hot. Using a handheld camera to allow the audience to dance with the dancers was a great choice.

Blue Valentine

This is the scariest movie I've ever seen. It's scary because it is real, real people who once loved each other now have nothing left. It's terrifying for someone like me who values the love of others above most everything else. How do I know I won't fall out of love with someone? How do I know someone won't get tired of me? Michelle Williams is terrific, but Ryan Gosling is outstanding. His distinct portrayal of a person at two different points in his life is the best I've ever seen.

127 Hours

I love this film because it feels the way Born To Run (the book) feels--going out there in the wild, running, feeling free and alive, at least for the first few minutes. It is exciting and entertaining, emotionally taxing and triumphant. And if this film doesn't win Best Cinematography, I will lose faith in the Academy Awards.

The Kids Are All Right

A fun, raunchy, hilarious look at an atypical family. Julianne Moore is great as a hippie mom, and Annette Benning is good as her wife. Mark Ruffalo is funny and charming, and the kids are all right. Ba-dump CH.

My favorite film of the year: tie--Inception and Somewhere.

Great Episode

Tina Fey,
I want to congratulate you on the Anna Howard Shaw Day episode of 30 Rock. That episode was by far one of the best episodes you have created to date. The end result after watching it was a feeling of happiness, for I felt that the character Liz Lemon was taken care of and had someone who loved her. That someone is Jack Donaghy, and while it may only be a platonic, friend love, it is true and genuine. Also, Jack met his feminine match, a highly entertaining plot line. Jenna's obsession with her stalker was a terrific sub-plot line, hilarious and touching when Kenneth pretends to stalk her (without seeing the show, I realize this sounds strange). Overall, I want to say well done Fey--the Anna Howard Shaw Day episode is one to remember.

30 Rock

I don't think anyone besides my sister knows this, so I'll get it in the open--I am addicted to "30 Rock". I love Liz Lemon, even though she is nerdy and was a bully in high school and uses her humor to combat others who get to intimate. I love Jack Donaghy, even though he is capitalism incarnate and selfish and rude. I love Tracy Jordan and Kenneth and Jenna Maroni and Topher and Frank and every other character.

That being said, I also realize that I am putting myself through emotional torture. The show's content is directly dependent on what will get the highest ratings. Every show is. So although I hope that Jack and Elana will get married and have a happy, uneventful life together, I doubt they could make seasons out of that plot line. I also want Liz to find someone awesome and caring who doesn't mind that she's nerdy and a wreck; however, that is the core dilemma of the show, so I doubt it will come to fruition.

I am purposefully hurting myself, over and over, every time I watch this show. At least I know it, right?

Lemon out.

Landslide and others

The reason "Landslide" is such a good song is because it creates such a unique and rare tone. The tone is one of nostalgia, of longing, of happiness, all at once. Few songs feel like "Landslide" does. Some come close, and these are the few that I have found. Some are closer than others.

So Close Now--Eli Young Band
Everything Is You-- Eli Young Band
October-- FM Static
Iris-- Goo Goo Dolls
Streetlights-- Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit
In Your Atmosphere-- John Mayer
Free Fallin' (cover)--John Mayer
Matt Nathason's whole At The Point live album, especially "I Saw" and "Bent"
Losing Innocence--Nevertheless
Motorcycle Drive-By --Third Eye Blind
Interstate-- Randy Rogers Band
Samson-- Regina Spektor
Shadow Proves The Sunshine-- Switchfoot
The Temper Trap's whole Conditions album.
Catapult, I'm Not Sleeping, Recovering The Satellites-- Counting Crows

This is as far as I got, but I'm sure there are more.

Genesis and Dragonball Z

I am sitting in Jake's living room along with Jake, Cameron, and Ben. We just got back from taking Cari lunch. Right now, Cameron is playing a Dragonball Z game, and Jake and Ben are playing Pokemon on their laptops. I didn't feel in the mood to just sit and watch someone else play a video game. I remembered that Jake's dad's iPad was charging on the kitchen counter, unused and waiting. So I decided to pick it up and mess with it. After some imdb action, I decided to turn my pondering to a more significant matter. I found a literary analysis or Genesis by some guy named Dennis Bratcher, who I think teaches at Point Loma Nazarene University, whatever that is. I am currently at the end of the essay, but I wanted to write down my thoughts on it before I forget.

Initially, Bratcher urges readers to (as best as one can) approach genesis without theological hopes, without using other books to understand Genesis, and to read the story completely instead of lifting verses or paragraphs, a method that i think is appropriate. It is foolish to try to solve our problems from today with textual evidence from Genesis. Now, I'm not saying that i don't believe in the Bible's legitimacy. I'm saying that the themes and ideas and concepts from the stories in the Bible are the real truth. Jesus drank wine and walked around without a home. I don't think we should live like Jesus just because He lived that way. We should try to understand why He was doing those things, everything He did, then we can see the nature of God, the things that we should care about. I don't think I explained that very well.

Bratcher talks about the two separate creation stories in Genesis and the meaning for the first story. The Isrealites had lived in a society where the common belief was that Ba'al created the world. Here, however, the author chooses the directly challenge that assertion with a story of God creating the world. I was grateful for this cultural context.

He also talk about how the greatest part of all of God's work is 'the creation of a community in which the man can exist in interaction with others'. I thought this was an interesting assertion.

The most interesting part of the article came when Bratcher discusses the consequences of Adam and Eve eating the fruit. Originally, God said that the penalty for eating the fruit was death, even on the very day. However, if you remember, Adam and Eve don't die. They are cursed, along with the serpent and the ground, and then cast out of the garden forever. Bratcher says that 'the simple fact of the story is that God does less than His own law allowed. He lets the couple live and gives them the gift of life a second time, on the other side of the boundary! Here is a profound affirmation of the nature of God. God responds to disobedience, not with the full weight of justice, but with mercy and grace!'

This was mind blowing to me.