I will forever be confused by forms asking for ethnicity. There’s never enough room to put ½ German, ¼ Castilian and ¼ Scotch/Irish/English (roughly). Further, they want to know whether I’m Hispanic/Latino, which, as you can see, is yes- my maternal grandfather’s family immigrated from the Basque region on the Iberian Peninsula, which is the textbook definition of Hispanic.
As a kid, I was told to checkmark “Caucasian.” The Caucasus is the region between the Black and Caspian Seas in which several ethnicities reside, but none of them are called Caucasian. A cursory glance at the origin of this term is horrifying. It seems some 18th Century German “philosopher” proposed the human race could be divided into two categories, based on the inherent beauty of their skin. Shortly thereafter, a colleague added the criteria of skull structure, and I assume that either inspired or was inspired by the sham science of phrenology. The “beautiful” races were labeled Caucasian and the “ugly” ones Mongolian. Yikes! This made-up racist term should never be used by anyone, let alone an official document.
I suspect these forms are most interested in my skin tone, but it seems obvious to me that “White” is not an ethnicity. Where would Whites come from- Whitelandia? That’s what makes American racism so dumb- what the hell does skin tone have to do with ANYTHING? Maybe they should have a color chart; although probably it’d be more accurate if the choices were just on a spectrum between Privileged and SOL.
Many years ago my grandpa stated, “The great thing about America is that you can choose your ethnicity.” Thinking this an odd statement but willing to explore what he meant, I replied by asking, “Have you read Anti-Semite and Jew, by Simone DeBeviour?” He apparently hadn’t because he sort of stared at me befuddled before continuing: “In America, all you have to do to be American is act American. If you embrace the ideas of capitalism, you can have everything you want in this country.” Ever the contrarian, I observed, “But that creates a conundrum if you don’t want to be a capitalist,” which led my grandpa into a rant about that being exactly the problem with so many foreigners- that they refused to accept the American dream.
The irony of this conversation is my grandpa was the same person who’d boasted to me that in all his years as a banker he’d never given a home loan to a minority.
In retrospect, I think perhaps he meant “your” in “choosing your ethnicity” to be singular instead of plural. He might not have been saying everyone can choose their ethnicity, but that I could. As his family had moved to California from Mexico when he was a boy, he knew this firsthand. I guess because his ethnic roots were Castilian and not Mexican, he looked “white.” He went by Joseph, not José, and was an eloquent English speaker. He was well-read in classic Western literature; interestingly his favorite writer seemed to be the Transcendental essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson, who declares in his most famous work, entitled Self-Reliance: "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds."
A few years ago, in circumstances I do not recall, I casually mentioned to a friend from Great Britain that I was part Castilian. “That explains so much about you!” she exclaimed, “Castilians are fiery!” As this was coming from a redhead, I knew it was a compliment. I had no idea that Castilians possessed any stereotypical traits, but the revelation especially excited me because, after discovering Ronaldinho around 2005, I had begun following Spanish soccer. Also, possibly because of the awareness that I’m a Taurus, I’ve long been fond of illustrations depicting bull fighting.
Since that moment, I’ve been taking my grandpa’s advice, and choosing to identify as Castilian. Poor Grandpa Vasquez must be rolling in his grave. Honestly, I know nothing about Basque culture and I’ve never been to Spain, but I have done some cursory reading on Spanish history and try to keep up on Spanish politics. Because of my bias toward Futbol Club Barcelona, I’d admittedly rather be Catalan, but at least it's in the vicinity (I looked on a map).
Lest my point be lost, it is not that I have forgotten the absurdity of racism, but that I have chosen to embrace that absurdity to an extent. It allows me to think to myself, I’m German, Scotch/Irish/English and Basque: of course I love soccer! I’m fully aware the assertion is ridiculous, as I could make the same claim if I were Brazilian, Argentine and Dutch. But it seems to me that’s precisely the fun, curse and irony of ethnicity: we pick and choose which of our traits are genetic and do the same in others. This deceptive cloud of racial identity gives us power to place blame, embrace interests and eschew responsibility at our discretion. We can use race as a tool to infuse or incite pride or shame. Maybe it’s not the concept that’s defective so much as how we choose to use it.
In any other country, I’d be considered an American, but when I think of Americans, nothing much resembling me comes to mind. Perhaps that’s why I tend to be critical of American nationalism. Honestly, I’ve never trusted Americans or its government, precisely because I’ve always been fascinated by American history, and when I was a kid, I wanted to be a Native American when I grew up….
Monday, December 17, 2012
Monday, November 26, 2012
To Build a Fire
Growing up, I was in both a scouting group and a frontiersmen re-enactment organization, and camping was the only thing I enjoyed more than G.I. Joes. It wasn’t until I became an adult and began camping with others that I realized how naïve most are to basic survival techniques, such as shelter building, trail navigation, food preparation and, possibly most importantly, fire building. The interesting thing about watching others build fires, besides the extreme incompetence, is the stubborn refusal to accept any help, especially when males are involved. Every man assumes that the knowledge of starting a fire is somehow embedded in their genes; if their ancestors could figure it out, so can they. Consequently, I’ve seen rituals involving bundles of smoldering newspaper, bottles of wasted starter fluid and smoldering logs strewn throughout the campsite (apparently in an attempt to put them out).
I can start a fire in a light rain or heavy winds with absolutely no problem. I’m not bragging, because all it takes is a basic understanding of how fire behaves, which I’m keen to share with anyone willing to listen. I’m also content to sit back and mock stubbornly desperate and futile attempts.
Tenet #1: Fire is lazy. If you are willing to do the work for it, it is content to let you. It will consume the easiest thing available that will sustain its current state. It doesn’t want to grow and doesn’t like change.
Tenet #2: Fire can’t hold its breath. It needs a constant supply of oxygen. Wood does not act as a substitute for oxygen; in fact oxygen is more important than fuel.
That’s pretty much all you need to know about fire to get one started.
The ideal diameter area in which to build a normal-sized fire is about a yard (meter), but most provided pits at modern campsites are about half that. This is because the people providing them know most people become idiots in the presence of fire and are trying to restrict the size of it as much as possible. I don’t blame them. Speaking of idiots- things that should never be discarded in a fire pit include glass, metal, plastic and rubber. Burning railroad ties is also a bad idea.
Have all your firewood gathered before starting the fire. There are three categories of wood, and you will need all three to progress a flame into a campfire. The finest materials used to get the fire started are called tinder. You don’t need much of it- just enough to fill two cupped hands. Tinder can be: a dried out bird’s nest, dried pine needles, shredded paper or a ripped up brown paper grocery sack. A ripped up weekday newspaper also works, but avoid the glossy pages printed with color ink. Do not use dried leaves; they just create smoke and tend to smother the fire. A common mistake in building a fire is using too much tinder. Its purpose is to get the fire started and not to keep it going. As long as you keep feeding tinder to a jejune fire, tinder is the only thing it will consume (refer to tenet #1). The goal is to ween it off tinder and force it to burn larger materials.
Kindling is the term used for the wood used to grow the fire. Basically, kindling is tree branches. As your fire building skills improve, you will need less and less kindling, but an armload or one dead tree branch should be more than enough. The main thing is to have a progression in size from twigs to about 2 inch diameter sticks. If a branch bends instead of snaps or is green in the middle, it is not dried, or cured. Also, I’d better point out that in some states it is illegal to use tree branches found on site at certain campgrounds. Alternatively, you can use a progression from tightly rolled up newspaper or brown paper bag to corrugated cardboard or paint stir sticks to untreated lumber or quartered logs.
The goal of building a fire is to get it to burn logs, which are called fuel. In ideal conditions, the progression from match to log takes about 5 minutes. If you’re not using dry wood, a realistic goal is more like 10-15 minutes. If you construct the tinder, kindling and fuel properly, very little work is needed once the tinder is lit, whereas if you just haphazardly chuck wood into the pit, you will spend more time than necessary fussing with it.
Please note: starter fluid is for putting on charcoal briquettes, not on campfires.
You want to provide a way for a little air to get under the tinder. I do this by placing two ½” sticks in a V shape pointing away from the wind (opposite how a weather vane works) so the wind blows inside the opening of the V and laying several small twigs across the V like a grate. Nest, I surround that small V with a much larger V of two 4” logs. Across this large V make an A by placing a wedges log across it. I recommend a wedge both because that’s an easy way of preventing it from rolling off and because it provides an easier meal for the fire than a rounded log. This wedged log is the goal of our fire building operation. Once that wedge is in flames, you should be able to keep the fire going simply by adding more logs.
The tinder goes in the area on top of the small twigs held up by the small V and inside the A of the logs. One handy cheat I use as the primary thing to light is a stick of sawdust compressed with resin or wax that you can either make or buy for cheap in any store with a camping section.
If you are using some method other than a match or lighter to start the fire, you’ll have to wait before stacking any more wood, because it’ll probably involve cupping and blowing on the tinder to get it smoking before putting it into the A frame. (Flint and steel is a technique that’s easier than it looks while using a friction bow is far more difficult than you’d imagine.) As long as you have something you can light and fit under the A-bar of the big logs to light the tinder, you can arrange the kindling before doing so. I’ve recently been using an aim-and-flame but that’s not really as good as using wood matches stored in a waterproof container. If you opt for more of a challenge in fire-starting, you’ll have to add the rest of the wood as you make sure the tinder is getting air (which isn’t particularly challenging, actually, as long as the kindling is with easy reach).
Secret #1: The fuzz stick. If your wood isn’t dry or weather conditions aren’t amenable, I highly recommend taking a few minutes to construct a fuzz stick, which acts as a transitional device between the tinder and the kindling. Get a stick about a ½” thick and a foot or so long, and cover the entire thing with a series of thin U-shaped cuts. Each U gets flared out so the stick looks fluffy. Finally, sharpen the end opposite the one the knife blade has been facing to a point and stab it through the middle of the tinder in the A frame so that it stands erect. The fire will climb the stick, first burning the flared out notches until it consumes the stick itself. This might seem like a waste of time, but it’ll save you a few matches in the event your tinder goes out before the kindling is fully lit. Making the fuzz stick for the next trip is a great pastime while sitting around the fire. You can quickly improvise a substitute by ripping a bunch of tears into a brown paper bag and then rolling it up.
Immediately after the fuzz stick is in place, the smallest twigs are placed in rows above the tinder across the triangle of the A frame. Leave space between the sticks for air to be able to pass through. Then, form the largest kindling, consisting of three thick branches or log wedges, into a tripod above them. Finally, lean medium-sized kindling against the tripod, making a teepee surrounding the outside of the A frame but not between the legs of the A.
Now all you need to do is light the tinder. You might be noticing that there are a lot more places where more wood can be added. Instead of acting on this impulse, refer to tenet #2.
Once the tinder is started (if you don’t have a match long enough to reach under the log, light something longer, like a thinly rolled piece of paper, first), you want to make sure to keep airflow underneath it as the flames raise up and into the kindling. The classic methods are to contort your head down there and blow or use a bellows. I have to credit my friend Chant for introducing me to a third option.
Secret #2: The blow tube. Take approximately two feet of ¾” copper tubing and flatten one end with a hammer, leaving a sliver for an opening. Wrap glow tape at the top of the opposite end so that you remember which end is which. Then all you do is aim the flattened end where air is needed and blow through it. Don’t be overly worried about blowing out the flame; even if you do, a couple more blows should get it started again. The flames going out is not the same as the fire going out, but if you run out of glowing embers you might be hosed.
Depending upon the dryness of the wood, you might need to add a bit more kindling before the fire is hot enough to burn the log. If it starts going out, there is no need to immediately panic, because the small grated platform for the tinder that was the first thing placed acts as emergency back-up kindling. Build the fire by adding slightly larger sizes while keeping it supplied with oxygen; resist the urge to frantically dump on a bunch more tinder. The teepee will eventually collapse and you might need to push the sticks together to prevent the fire from getting too spread out, and the blow tube can be reappropriated for this task. Once the largest kindling that acted as the main support for the teepee is burning, another log can be placed alongside the cross bar of the A frame on top of the V with space between the two logs for airflow and then two more logs can be stacked perpendicular on top of those. That’s all there is to it. Occasionally consolidating and adding logs is all you’ll have to do for the rest of the evening.
White-hot coals are ideal for cooking on, and at this point I usually start prepping food, as it’ll be about a half hour before there are enough of them to cook with.
Unless it rains, after the inaugural fire has burnt down to coals, you should be able to start a new one simply by putting some twigs on them and blowing.
Before abandoning the vicinity, be sure to first sprinkle (to avoid a cloud of smoke and ash) and then completely douse the entire fire pit area with water.
I can start a fire in a light rain or heavy winds with absolutely no problem. I’m not bragging, because all it takes is a basic understanding of how fire behaves, which I’m keen to share with anyone willing to listen. I’m also content to sit back and mock stubbornly desperate and futile attempts.
Tenet #1: Fire is lazy. If you are willing to do the work for it, it is content to let you. It will consume the easiest thing available that will sustain its current state. It doesn’t want to grow and doesn’t like change.
Tenet #2: Fire can’t hold its breath. It needs a constant supply of oxygen. Wood does not act as a substitute for oxygen; in fact oxygen is more important than fuel.
That’s pretty much all you need to know about fire to get one started.
The ideal diameter area in which to build a normal-sized fire is about a yard (meter), but most provided pits at modern campsites are about half that. This is because the people providing them know most people become idiots in the presence of fire and are trying to restrict the size of it as much as possible. I don’t blame them. Speaking of idiots- things that should never be discarded in a fire pit include glass, metal, plastic and rubber. Burning railroad ties is also a bad idea.
Have all your firewood gathered before starting the fire. There are three categories of wood, and you will need all three to progress a flame into a campfire. The finest materials used to get the fire started are called tinder. You don’t need much of it- just enough to fill two cupped hands. Tinder can be: a dried out bird’s nest, dried pine needles, shredded paper or a ripped up brown paper grocery sack. A ripped up weekday newspaper also works, but avoid the glossy pages printed with color ink. Do not use dried leaves; they just create smoke and tend to smother the fire. A common mistake in building a fire is using too much tinder. Its purpose is to get the fire started and not to keep it going. As long as you keep feeding tinder to a jejune fire, tinder is the only thing it will consume (refer to tenet #1). The goal is to ween it off tinder and force it to burn larger materials.
Kindling is the term used for the wood used to grow the fire. Basically, kindling is tree branches. As your fire building skills improve, you will need less and less kindling, but an armload or one dead tree branch should be more than enough. The main thing is to have a progression in size from twigs to about 2 inch diameter sticks. If a branch bends instead of snaps or is green in the middle, it is not dried, or cured. Also, I’d better point out that in some states it is illegal to use tree branches found on site at certain campgrounds. Alternatively, you can use a progression from tightly rolled up newspaper or brown paper bag to corrugated cardboard or paint stir sticks to untreated lumber or quartered logs.
The goal of building a fire is to get it to burn logs, which are called fuel. In ideal conditions, the progression from match to log takes about 5 minutes. If you’re not using dry wood, a realistic goal is more like 10-15 minutes. If you construct the tinder, kindling and fuel properly, very little work is needed once the tinder is lit, whereas if you just haphazardly chuck wood into the pit, you will spend more time than necessary fussing with it.
Please note: starter fluid is for putting on charcoal briquettes, not on campfires.
You want to provide a way for a little air to get under the tinder. I do this by placing two ½” sticks in a V shape pointing away from the wind (opposite how a weather vane works) so the wind blows inside the opening of the V and laying several small twigs across the V like a grate. Nest, I surround that small V with a much larger V of two 4” logs. Across this large V make an A by placing a wedges log across it. I recommend a wedge both because that’s an easy way of preventing it from rolling off and because it provides an easier meal for the fire than a rounded log. This wedged log is the goal of our fire building operation. Once that wedge is in flames, you should be able to keep the fire going simply by adding more logs.
The tinder goes in the area on top of the small twigs held up by the small V and inside the A of the logs. One handy cheat I use as the primary thing to light is a stick of sawdust compressed with resin or wax that you can either make or buy for cheap in any store with a camping section.
If you are using some method other than a match or lighter to start the fire, you’ll have to wait before stacking any more wood, because it’ll probably involve cupping and blowing on the tinder to get it smoking before putting it into the A frame. (Flint and steel is a technique that’s easier than it looks while using a friction bow is far more difficult than you’d imagine.) As long as you have something you can light and fit under the A-bar of the big logs to light the tinder, you can arrange the kindling before doing so. I’ve recently been using an aim-and-flame but that’s not really as good as using wood matches stored in a waterproof container. If you opt for more of a challenge in fire-starting, you’ll have to add the rest of the wood as you make sure the tinder is getting air (which isn’t particularly challenging, actually, as long as the kindling is with easy reach).
Secret #1: The fuzz stick. If your wood isn’t dry or weather conditions aren’t amenable, I highly recommend taking a few minutes to construct a fuzz stick, which acts as a transitional device between the tinder and the kindling. Get a stick about a ½” thick and a foot or so long, and cover the entire thing with a series of thin U-shaped cuts. Each U gets flared out so the stick looks fluffy. Finally, sharpen the end opposite the one the knife blade has been facing to a point and stab it through the middle of the tinder in the A frame so that it stands erect. The fire will climb the stick, first burning the flared out notches until it consumes the stick itself. This might seem like a waste of time, but it’ll save you a few matches in the event your tinder goes out before the kindling is fully lit. Making the fuzz stick for the next trip is a great pastime while sitting around the fire. You can quickly improvise a substitute by ripping a bunch of tears into a brown paper bag and then rolling it up.
Immediately after the fuzz stick is in place, the smallest twigs are placed in rows above the tinder across the triangle of the A frame. Leave space between the sticks for air to be able to pass through. Then, form the largest kindling, consisting of three thick branches or log wedges, into a tripod above them. Finally, lean medium-sized kindling against the tripod, making a teepee surrounding the outside of the A frame but not between the legs of the A.
Now all you need to do is light the tinder. You might be noticing that there are a lot more places where more wood can be added. Instead of acting on this impulse, refer to tenet #2.
Once the tinder is started (if you don’t have a match long enough to reach under the log, light something longer, like a thinly rolled piece of paper, first), you want to make sure to keep airflow underneath it as the flames raise up and into the kindling. The classic methods are to contort your head down there and blow or use a bellows. I have to credit my friend Chant for introducing me to a third option.
Secret #2: The blow tube. Take approximately two feet of ¾” copper tubing and flatten one end with a hammer, leaving a sliver for an opening. Wrap glow tape at the top of the opposite end so that you remember which end is which. Then all you do is aim the flattened end where air is needed and blow through it. Don’t be overly worried about blowing out the flame; even if you do, a couple more blows should get it started again. The flames going out is not the same as the fire going out, but if you run out of glowing embers you might be hosed.
Depending upon the dryness of the wood, you might need to add a bit more kindling before the fire is hot enough to burn the log. If it starts going out, there is no need to immediately panic, because the small grated platform for the tinder that was the first thing placed acts as emergency back-up kindling. Build the fire by adding slightly larger sizes while keeping it supplied with oxygen; resist the urge to frantically dump on a bunch more tinder. The teepee will eventually collapse and you might need to push the sticks together to prevent the fire from getting too spread out, and the blow tube can be reappropriated for this task. Once the largest kindling that acted as the main support for the teepee is burning, another log can be placed alongside the cross bar of the A frame on top of the V with space between the two logs for airflow and then two more logs can be stacked perpendicular on top of those. That’s all there is to it. Occasionally consolidating and adding logs is all you’ll have to do for the rest of the evening.
White-hot coals are ideal for cooking on, and at this point I usually start prepping food, as it’ll be about a half hour before there are enough of them to cook with.
Unless it rains, after the inaugural fire has burnt down to coals, you should be able to start a new one simply by putting some twigs on them and blowing.
Before abandoning the vicinity, be sure to first sprinkle (to avoid a cloud of smoke and ash) and then completely douse the entire fire pit area with water.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Paradoxical Viewpoints
While the two people I hung out with most in junior high are two of the most generous and caring people I’ve encountered, it chagrins me to admit that the three people I spent the majority of my time with in high school are utterly despicable. I mention this not to speak ill but to ponder why I didn’t notice. They would criticize how I have changed, but I perceive my own character back then as deficient. I blame this in part on a typically teenage combination of wholly self-assured and utterly confused, but also on a fundamentally skewed view of reality.
One insight into my high school mindset is an occurrence I remember in one of Bob’s classes. (Bob was the teacher: his name was Mr. Roberts, but everybody called him Bob, because he allowed them to do so.) One of his assignments was to write a character sketch of him. I essentially wrote, “Bob adheres to New Age beliefs,” and turned it in, proud that I had so succinctly captured his persona. It came back with a failing grade and the comment, “You didn’t follow the assignment, which was to describe my personality.” I was genuinely confused by this. It seemed like he was suggesting there was something more to him than which religious stereotype he most resembled. Perhaps there was a religion I was unfamiliar with which better reflected his ideology? Perhaps he wasn’t privy to the accuracy of my insight? I thought about challenging the grade I’d received and get to the bottom of this obvious misunderstanding on his part, but decided against it.
The whole affair seems utterly strange to me today, especially considering the only thing I know about New Age is that it somehow involves crystals and John Tesh, and have no idea how I related these to Bob. I can’t figure out how I presumably didn’t understand that people have unique traits and qualities separate from any ideology. I can only surmise that I didn’t see them because I didn’t know to look for them. I just assumed everyone was either going to heaven or hell when they died, and it was best not to get to know the ones that were going to hell because they were bad influences. This heavily suggests that I was a major tool, to use parlance that, as far as I know, didn’t exist back then.
All life would be tragic if we weren’t provided the opportunity to learn, change and grow; but even more unfortunate is the life of someone who refuses that chance. I’ve long held that our lives our guided foremost by our priorities; that the things we value the most affects our perception of everything we encounter. I propose that even if we understand our own priorities, egocentrism makes it difficult to discern the motivations of others. For instance, I’ve long scratched my head at those prone to declare, “You’re just jealous,” as it seems ridiculously dismissive reductionism. But I’m not at all a jealous person, and perhaps that is why I’ve never considered it a valid motive for any pronouncement.
I’m notoriously impatient, and that bad habit prevents me from paying enough attention sometimes. I think of replies while others are still speaking, can be easily frustrated by communication failures and never see the point of beating around the bush. I’m prone to attack a sentence before heeding the clarifying or qualifying follow-up. My hurriedness tends to cause me to neglect affability and embrace crass bluntness. Our society is generally more comfortable with pretense and niceties than frankness, and perhaps rightfully so. Honest opinions tend to either offend or infuriate. Others are prone to informing me, “It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it,” to which I respond, “It’s not what you hear, it’s what you’re listening for.”
Oh, the irony. What am I listening for?
I find the nature of reality both fascinating and important. Sadly (from my perspective), this puts me in the minority. I’m constantly struggling to see things objectively and from multiple angles. This translates into a fondness for debate. While I strive to understand, often by exposing untruths (following Sherlock Holmes’ famous maxim), I’m often seen as argumentative. In actuality, I don’t at all like to argue and find it counter-productive.
Because some might retort that the difference between argument and debate is only semantic, I want to address what I see as a key difference: in argument there is always disrespect or the feeling of being disrespected whereas in debate both parties attempt to find mutual respect. Debate is sometimes impossible; one can only argue with a grocery store employee explaining store policy or a driver trying to run people off the road. Argument is the expression of one’s own bias causing frustration at another’s perceived faults. Debate, on the other hand, seeks accuracy and avoids assumption.
For some, the goal of debate is to trick another into a corner from which they cannot get out. This makes sense if you’re a prosecuting attorney or simply want to humiliate someone, but often results in chasing red herrings. I prefer to stay on topic.
Perhaps the greatest result of any debate is to come to a mutual understanding and appreciation for why divergent opinions are held, but this is only possible when both viewpoints have validity. When I don’t perceive this to be the case, I am strongly inclined to try and talk some sense into another. Although I might optimistically strive to change another’s mind, usually the best I can hope for is to promote further reflection or exploration on a topic. My debate tendency is to attempt to introduce concepts and variables as well as point out assumptions and fallacies pertaining to a conviction that perhaps another hasn’t considered. Unconsciously, I tend to assume refusal to accept facts is due to stubbornness. But after reflecting on some similarly confusing conversations and encounters with others through the years, I’m realizing some conversations never get anywhere precisely because their priorities, motivations and goals are fundamentally incompatible with mine, resulting in two separate conversations taking place simultaneously.
Some see stubbornness as a virtue. In this framework, the person who most refuses to concede is seen to have more conviction in what they believe, and through some fallacy of logic conclude that this validates those beliefs. Facts are considered a crutch for those who fail to “feel it in their heart.” In lieu of valid evidence, these people will tend to recite quotes echoing their position and metaphors explaining them. They will boast of their faith-based beliefs, not realizing that term was originally intended as a mocking antonym for fact-based beliefs. Rigidly hoping does not lead to truth, but (to state a tautology) it does sustain hope, and that is the highest of priorities for many. For me, as already stated, futility is found in a life refusing change, so what others perceive as retaining hopefulness I view as hopelessness. Eureka.
The Christian ideology I grew up with emphasized humility, devotion and long-suffering. My cynical self now realizes this as a successful scheme to keep subjects blithe, passive and obedient. However, there is another Christian angle that venerates success, prosperity and accolades because those things are granted by a higher power only to those deemed worthy enough to have them. This latter twist is so foreign, my inclination is to approach it with incredulousness, but both concepts are right there in the same compilation of books. Just as piety can be thought to bring success, success can be thought to prove piety.
There are yet others who esteem dominance, intimidation and oppression. They adhere to the premise, “might makes right,” and for them, the goal of debate is to display the most strength. This chauvinist mentality will admit making mistakes but not that they’re wrong. They seek out perceived weaknesses, such as compromise, modesty, frustration and empathy, and attempt to exploit them. They epitomize schadenfreude. One way in which their assumption of another’s weakness can be detected is in bizarre attempts at inducing guilt. They talk loud, interrupt and use unnecessarily arcane words.
Again, this prioritizing of bravado over reasoning seems to me so patently flawed, it is very difficult for me to accept that it’s how some people think. However, upon reflection, we all tend to assume docile creatures, like cows, are dim-witted. Further, it is convenient to assume that this perceived dumbness makes us inherently superior to them, and this perceived superiority seemingly justifies our opinions and behaviors over theirs.
Another motivation that I’ve discovered others to have is the desire for affirmation. Some become crazed when their viewpoints go unacknowledged. My assumption would be that these people suffer from low self-esteem, and was surprised to find it is in fact a major symptom of narcissism. Like an over-inflated balloon, narcissists’ exaggeratedly self-important egos are highly fragile. They will criticize others of the same traits they justify in themselves. They love to boast of their possessions and accomplishments while hypocritically underestimating and devaluing others. Narcissists are often envious of things belonging to others since they see themselves as more deserving. They hold grudges. From my perspective, the most frightening trait of narcissists is that they see themselves as having or even being the cure for all that is wrong with the world.
However, it should be considered that seeking approbation can also be due to a desire for respect; which is justifiable considering without respect all debate is doomed. Disrespect is rooted in lack of empathy, and lack of empathy is the root of all kinds of evils. It is the common thread between those motivated by both dominance and narcissism. Without empathy, people are compartmentalized with labels and lumped into prepackaged categories, exactly as I had done with Bob in high school. The feelings and experiences of others, being considered less important than loftier, purer ideals, can be dismissed. Only those beliefs which personally affect that individual’s life matter, so, for example, a man will not value women’s rights.
While my goal here is to understand the perspectives of others in order to find common ground from which more productive dialogue can be generated, I’m at a loss how to see eye to eye with the trait of lacking empathy, as it creates a conundrum. I suppose the best we can do is find other characteristics or qualities within a person which make communication possible. We must look beyond the ease with which we can write someone off as a sociopath, for example, and gain awareness and understanding of each person as a fellow human being. We must strive to remain empathetic even when it seems others are being wholly selfish. In the end, it is not our ability to successfully debate but our humanity that prevents us from destroying ourselves.
One insight into my high school mindset is an occurrence I remember in one of Bob’s classes. (Bob was the teacher: his name was Mr. Roberts, but everybody called him Bob, because he allowed them to do so.) One of his assignments was to write a character sketch of him. I essentially wrote, “Bob adheres to New Age beliefs,” and turned it in, proud that I had so succinctly captured his persona. It came back with a failing grade and the comment, “You didn’t follow the assignment, which was to describe my personality.” I was genuinely confused by this. It seemed like he was suggesting there was something more to him than which religious stereotype he most resembled. Perhaps there was a religion I was unfamiliar with which better reflected his ideology? Perhaps he wasn’t privy to the accuracy of my insight? I thought about challenging the grade I’d received and get to the bottom of this obvious misunderstanding on his part, but decided against it.
The whole affair seems utterly strange to me today, especially considering the only thing I know about New Age is that it somehow involves crystals and John Tesh, and have no idea how I related these to Bob. I can’t figure out how I presumably didn’t understand that people have unique traits and qualities separate from any ideology. I can only surmise that I didn’t see them because I didn’t know to look for them. I just assumed everyone was either going to heaven or hell when they died, and it was best not to get to know the ones that were going to hell because they were bad influences. This heavily suggests that I was a major tool, to use parlance that, as far as I know, didn’t exist back then.
All life would be tragic if we weren’t provided the opportunity to learn, change and grow; but even more unfortunate is the life of someone who refuses that chance. I’ve long held that our lives our guided foremost by our priorities; that the things we value the most affects our perception of everything we encounter. I propose that even if we understand our own priorities, egocentrism makes it difficult to discern the motivations of others. For instance, I’ve long scratched my head at those prone to declare, “You’re just jealous,” as it seems ridiculously dismissive reductionism. But I’m not at all a jealous person, and perhaps that is why I’ve never considered it a valid motive for any pronouncement.
I’m notoriously impatient, and that bad habit prevents me from paying enough attention sometimes. I think of replies while others are still speaking, can be easily frustrated by communication failures and never see the point of beating around the bush. I’m prone to attack a sentence before heeding the clarifying or qualifying follow-up. My hurriedness tends to cause me to neglect affability and embrace crass bluntness. Our society is generally more comfortable with pretense and niceties than frankness, and perhaps rightfully so. Honest opinions tend to either offend or infuriate. Others are prone to informing me, “It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it,” to which I respond, “It’s not what you hear, it’s what you’re listening for.”
Oh, the irony. What am I listening for?
I find the nature of reality both fascinating and important. Sadly (from my perspective), this puts me in the minority. I’m constantly struggling to see things objectively and from multiple angles. This translates into a fondness for debate. While I strive to understand, often by exposing untruths (following Sherlock Holmes’ famous maxim), I’m often seen as argumentative. In actuality, I don’t at all like to argue and find it counter-productive.
Because some might retort that the difference between argument and debate is only semantic, I want to address what I see as a key difference: in argument there is always disrespect or the feeling of being disrespected whereas in debate both parties attempt to find mutual respect. Debate is sometimes impossible; one can only argue with a grocery store employee explaining store policy or a driver trying to run people off the road. Argument is the expression of one’s own bias causing frustration at another’s perceived faults. Debate, on the other hand, seeks accuracy and avoids assumption.
For some, the goal of debate is to trick another into a corner from which they cannot get out. This makes sense if you’re a prosecuting attorney or simply want to humiliate someone, but often results in chasing red herrings. I prefer to stay on topic.
Perhaps the greatest result of any debate is to come to a mutual understanding and appreciation for why divergent opinions are held, but this is only possible when both viewpoints have validity. When I don’t perceive this to be the case, I am strongly inclined to try and talk some sense into another. Although I might optimistically strive to change another’s mind, usually the best I can hope for is to promote further reflection or exploration on a topic. My debate tendency is to attempt to introduce concepts and variables as well as point out assumptions and fallacies pertaining to a conviction that perhaps another hasn’t considered. Unconsciously, I tend to assume refusal to accept facts is due to stubbornness. But after reflecting on some similarly confusing conversations and encounters with others through the years, I’m realizing some conversations never get anywhere precisely because their priorities, motivations and goals are fundamentally incompatible with mine, resulting in two separate conversations taking place simultaneously.
Some see stubbornness as a virtue. In this framework, the person who most refuses to concede is seen to have more conviction in what they believe, and through some fallacy of logic conclude that this validates those beliefs. Facts are considered a crutch for those who fail to “feel it in their heart.” In lieu of valid evidence, these people will tend to recite quotes echoing their position and metaphors explaining them. They will boast of their faith-based beliefs, not realizing that term was originally intended as a mocking antonym for fact-based beliefs. Rigidly hoping does not lead to truth, but (to state a tautology) it does sustain hope, and that is the highest of priorities for many. For me, as already stated, futility is found in a life refusing change, so what others perceive as retaining hopefulness I view as hopelessness. Eureka.
The Christian ideology I grew up with emphasized humility, devotion and long-suffering. My cynical self now realizes this as a successful scheme to keep subjects blithe, passive and obedient. However, there is another Christian angle that venerates success, prosperity and accolades because those things are granted by a higher power only to those deemed worthy enough to have them. This latter twist is so foreign, my inclination is to approach it with incredulousness, but both concepts are right there in the same compilation of books. Just as piety can be thought to bring success, success can be thought to prove piety.
There are yet others who esteem dominance, intimidation and oppression. They adhere to the premise, “might makes right,” and for them, the goal of debate is to display the most strength. This chauvinist mentality will admit making mistakes but not that they’re wrong. They seek out perceived weaknesses, such as compromise, modesty, frustration and empathy, and attempt to exploit them. They epitomize schadenfreude. One way in which their assumption of another’s weakness can be detected is in bizarre attempts at inducing guilt. They talk loud, interrupt and use unnecessarily arcane words.
Again, this prioritizing of bravado over reasoning seems to me so patently flawed, it is very difficult for me to accept that it’s how some people think. However, upon reflection, we all tend to assume docile creatures, like cows, are dim-witted. Further, it is convenient to assume that this perceived dumbness makes us inherently superior to them, and this perceived superiority seemingly justifies our opinions and behaviors over theirs.
Another motivation that I’ve discovered others to have is the desire for affirmation. Some become crazed when their viewpoints go unacknowledged. My assumption would be that these people suffer from low self-esteem, and was surprised to find it is in fact a major symptom of narcissism. Like an over-inflated balloon, narcissists’ exaggeratedly self-important egos are highly fragile. They will criticize others of the same traits they justify in themselves. They love to boast of their possessions and accomplishments while hypocritically underestimating and devaluing others. Narcissists are often envious of things belonging to others since they see themselves as more deserving. They hold grudges. From my perspective, the most frightening trait of narcissists is that they see themselves as having or even being the cure for all that is wrong with the world.
However, it should be considered that seeking approbation can also be due to a desire for respect; which is justifiable considering without respect all debate is doomed. Disrespect is rooted in lack of empathy, and lack of empathy is the root of all kinds of evils. It is the common thread between those motivated by both dominance and narcissism. Without empathy, people are compartmentalized with labels and lumped into prepackaged categories, exactly as I had done with Bob in high school. The feelings and experiences of others, being considered less important than loftier, purer ideals, can be dismissed. Only those beliefs which personally affect that individual’s life matter, so, for example, a man will not value women’s rights.
While my goal here is to understand the perspectives of others in order to find common ground from which more productive dialogue can be generated, I’m at a loss how to see eye to eye with the trait of lacking empathy, as it creates a conundrum. I suppose the best we can do is find other characteristics or qualities within a person which make communication possible. We must look beyond the ease with which we can write someone off as a sociopath, for example, and gain awareness and understanding of each person as a fellow human being. We must strive to remain empathetic even when it seems others are being wholly selfish. In the end, it is not our ability to successfully debate but our humanity that prevents us from destroying ourselves.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Obsessions
I was on my second day of writing an essay in my head about my brother’s uncanny cleaning abilities before the realization that I’d been making a living because of my cleaning abilities for the past several years set in. Writing essays while I clean is a common activity. My “24-hour memory trick” is that I continuously repeat a paragraph in my head until I am content with the construction of it. Then, I add another paragraph and continuously repeat both. Finally, I stop repeating the first paragraph but instead add a third paragraph and repeat it with the second. This process will yield about two pages of type-written material that, for whatever reason, will reappear in my head when I wake up the next morning. If it is longer than that, I only remember bullet points and type those instead. Then the essay vanishes from my brain similar to how you remember a dream when you first wake up but forget it soon after.
This ability was useful for getting me through college, but it is frustrating to consider how smart I would be if it didn’t have a built-in lifespan. In order to preserve the information longer, I would need to continue to repeat it in my head, which seems unnecessarily tedious since I can just write it down. As it is, I can simply re-read what I’ve written and think, I don’t remember writing that! Physical activities, however, can’t be written down, and that might explain why I spent about 10 years of my life practicing drums a minimum of 6 hours a day. And that, in turn, might explain why I got really into the process of recording music for awhile, and why I often experienced a sense of surprise and excitement upon hearing my drumming on a recording and thinking, I don’t remember playing like that!
It’s really weird to discover something consistent or fundamental about one’s own personality. It’s even weirder to realize it’s clinically diagnosable.
Most people know about the condition called Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, or OCD, in which people obsessively repeat an activity. Lesser known is an altogether different condition known as Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder, or OCPD, which is also called Anankastic personality disorder. (It is different than but sometimes confused with the more publicized of late Asperger syndrome.) OCPD is a genetic disorder that occurs in males more than females. The nutshell difference between OCD and OCPD is that, in the former and more familiar condition, a person mindlessly repeats a behavior they don’t find desirable, while in OCPD a person willfully adheres to a lifestyle that they consider laudable. Those with OCPD wouldn’t say that they “suffer” from it, precisely because from their point of view, others suffer from a lack of it.
One of the primary manifestations of OCPD is a preoccupation with remembering minute details which usually includes list-making. People with OCPD have what I would call a fear of losing, forgetting or overlooking details. I save my work after the completion of every single satisfactory sentence. (I just typed that sentence, hit Control-s, noticed I had left the “t” out of “sentence,” fixed it, and reached for Control-s again but decided to add this editorial first.) I’d suggest the overwhelming feature of OCPD is a profound annoyance with imprecision.
Starting a task can be intimidating because of the awareness that once you commit to doing so, you are going to fastidiously obsess over aspect of the job until it is completed. It is next to impossible not to become completely fascinated with a project or conviction. I’m sure I’m not the only one with OCPD that hates jigsaw puzzles because once one is started I can’t stop until every piece is found and put in its place. The other day I was talking to a friend about how when I see a movie I really like, I usually proceed to watch every movie that director made, and she replied, “I’ve always wanted to do that.” Hers is a completely different mentality than mine.
To prevent being overwhelmed by everything needing to be thoroughly finished, I am very good at breaking tasks into mini goals. When I reach the mini goal, I then have to muster the energy to continue with the overall task. I also have a strange habit of beginning several projects at once and then running back and forth trying to complete them all simultaneously. This is because it’s impossible to remain focused on one task without being distracted by the knowledge that there are others to be done. I’d wager OCPD is readily found amongst chefs.
Over-zealous cleanliness is actually a symptom only found in some with OCPD and is not a diagnostic criterion.
Another major symptom of OCPD is those with it are inflexible in their beliefs; in other words, dogmatic. I’m highly opinionated and value the ability of forming opinions. I can’t comprehend those you just say they “like” everything. But I’m always striving to perfect my opinions to be as accurate and precise as possible, which dogmatism doesn’t allow. In fact, I strongly believe in not being dogmatic, so go ahead and try wrapping your head around that paradox. It may be due to that quirk that, compared to most of my family, I seem to have a relatively mild case of OCPD. I do highly value integrity- being true to one’s word- which is perhaps another way of looking at the same thing. I am also incredibly punctual, loyal and stubborn. I don’t take advice on principle and can’t stand being micro-managed. I am also persistent- I don’t like last-minute changes in plans, never see the point in having or making back-up plans and will either refuse to quit or immediately quit entirely. I generally feel that my way of doing things is better than everyone else’s, unless it is a task that requires more expedience than precision, in which case I am jealous of others who can pull that off.
I love understanding and dissecting rules and I have spent countless hours researching rule nuances in various games and sports. I think one thing I appreciate most about sports is there is always, in the end, a winner and a loser. Dogmatism is commonly found in sports fans, and I am an obsessive soccer and baseball fan, but even then I don’t think my team is always superior to all others- I just want them to be. I can, however, be a bit of a grammar-Nazi (I deplore the gratuitous use of the word “Nazi,” finding it offensively trivializing, but can’t think of an appropriate substitute; striving to be as precise as possible).
Other common traits of OCPD are miserliness and hoarding tendencies. I don’t possess these nearly as much as others in my family, who tend to have refrigerators virtually empty except for old and rotten food. Then again, I can’t fathom those who don’t eat leftovers. I do have a tendency for collecting like items, but nothing trivial, which is again typical of OCPD. Incomplete, expensive or easy to obtain collections are too annoying. I’ve long wondered why everyone else doesn’t peruse every neighborhood thrift store once a week; it never occurred to me to wonder why I do. Also, I despise losing things, and could make a fairly complete list of everything I’ve ever lost. I took up disc golf a couple years ago, and it is similar to drumming in promoting an effort to control and perfect muscle mechanics with the added bonus of seeking to buy, used or on cheap on EBay, backup upon backup of discs I like in case one goes unfound after hours of searching.
People with OCPD are also often controlling, but I consider myself laissez-faire. I don’t have the energy to begin to analyze and critique every detail in somebody else’s life. I consider attempts to change others to behave like ourselves a surefire sign of insecurity. Being controlling also seems a waste of time, considering I tend to judge others on a continuum from uncommitted to lazy. I generally view most others as unreliable, and I can see how that could encourage a controlling nature in those that thought they themselves were reliable, but I’m skeptical of my own decision-making abilities. While I can be somewhat of a perfectionist, I don’t believe in perfection, and so it isn’t something I’d ever demand of anyone else.
People with OCPD tend to have few friends. In my case, I think this is because I don’t see the point of casual conversation and idle chat. And also because I generally come across as an overly-opinionated asshole. There is not much casual about me. I find the concept of relaxation befuddling. Why would anybody want to do that? I’m basically either passionate about something or ignorant of it.
Do obsessive people attract? I think they do, and I personally find my life has been filled with others with OCPD. I think it relates to the fundamental notion that people with OCPD believe their behaviors are desirable, and also because we have trouble relating to those without our convictions. Crazy like me is a good thing!
This ability was useful for getting me through college, but it is frustrating to consider how smart I would be if it didn’t have a built-in lifespan. In order to preserve the information longer, I would need to continue to repeat it in my head, which seems unnecessarily tedious since I can just write it down. As it is, I can simply re-read what I’ve written and think, I don’t remember writing that! Physical activities, however, can’t be written down, and that might explain why I spent about 10 years of my life practicing drums a minimum of 6 hours a day. And that, in turn, might explain why I got really into the process of recording music for awhile, and why I often experienced a sense of surprise and excitement upon hearing my drumming on a recording and thinking, I don’t remember playing like that!
It’s really weird to discover something consistent or fundamental about one’s own personality. It’s even weirder to realize it’s clinically diagnosable.
Most people know about the condition called Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, or OCD, in which people obsessively repeat an activity. Lesser known is an altogether different condition known as Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder, or OCPD, which is also called Anankastic personality disorder. (It is different than but sometimes confused with the more publicized of late Asperger syndrome.) OCPD is a genetic disorder that occurs in males more than females. The nutshell difference between OCD and OCPD is that, in the former and more familiar condition, a person mindlessly repeats a behavior they don’t find desirable, while in OCPD a person willfully adheres to a lifestyle that they consider laudable. Those with OCPD wouldn’t say that they “suffer” from it, precisely because from their point of view, others suffer from a lack of it.
One of the primary manifestations of OCPD is a preoccupation with remembering minute details which usually includes list-making. People with OCPD have what I would call a fear of losing, forgetting or overlooking details. I save my work after the completion of every single satisfactory sentence. (I just typed that sentence, hit Control-s, noticed I had left the “t” out of “sentence,” fixed it, and reached for Control-s again but decided to add this editorial first.) I’d suggest the overwhelming feature of OCPD is a profound annoyance with imprecision.
Starting a task can be intimidating because of the awareness that once you commit to doing so, you are going to fastidiously obsess over aspect of the job until it is completed. It is next to impossible not to become completely fascinated with a project or conviction. I’m sure I’m not the only one with OCPD that hates jigsaw puzzles because once one is started I can’t stop until every piece is found and put in its place. The other day I was talking to a friend about how when I see a movie I really like, I usually proceed to watch every movie that director made, and she replied, “I’ve always wanted to do that.” Hers is a completely different mentality than mine.
To prevent being overwhelmed by everything needing to be thoroughly finished, I am very good at breaking tasks into mini goals. When I reach the mini goal, I then have to muster the energy to continue with the overall task. I also have a strange habit of beginning several projects at once and then running back and forth trying to complete them all simultaneously. This is because it’s impossible to remain focused on one task without being distracted by the knowledge that there are others to be done. I’d wager OCPD is readily found amongst chefs.
Over-zealous cleanliness is actually a symptom only found in some with OCPD and is not a diagnostic criterion.
Another major symptom of OCPD is those with it are inflexible in their beliefs; in other words, dogmatic. I’m highly opinionated and value the ability of forming opinions. I can’t comprehend those you just say they “like” everything. But I’m always striving to perfect my opinions to be as accurate and precise as possible, which dogmatism doesn’t allow. In fact, I strongly believe in not being dogmatic, so go ahead and try wrapping your head around that paradox. It may be due to that quirk that, compared to most of my family, I seem to have a relatively mild case of OCPD. I do highly value integrity- being true to one’s word- which is perhaps another way of looking at the same thing. I am also incredibly punctual, loyal and stubborn. I don’t take advice on principle and can’t stand being micro-managed. I am also persistent- I don’t like last-minute changes in plans, never see the point in having or making back-up plans and will either refuse to quit or immediately quit entirely. I generally feel that my way of doing things is better than everyone else’s, unless it is a task that requires more expedience than precision, in which case I am jealous of others who can pull that off.
I love understanding and dissecting rules and I have spent countless hours researching rule nuances in various games and sports. I think one thing I appreciate most about sports is there is always, in the end, a winner and a loser. Dogmatism is commonly found in sports fans, and I am an obsessive soccer and baseball fan, but even then I don’t think my team is always superior to all others- I just want them to be. I can, however, be a bit of a grammar-Nazi (I deplore the gratuitous use of the word “Nazi,” finding it offensively trivializing, but can’t think of an appropriate substitute; striving to be as precise as possible).
Other common traits of OCPD are miserliness and hoarding tendencies. I don’t possess these nearly as much as others in my family, who tend to have refrigerators virtually empty except for old and rotten food. Then again, I can’t fathom those who don’t eat leftovers. I do have a tendency for collecting like items, but nothing trivial, which is again typical of OCPD. Incomplete, expensive or easy to obtain collections are too annoying. I’ve long wondered why everyone else doesn’t peruse every neighborhood thrift store once a week; it never occurred to me to wonder why I do. Also, I despise losing things, and could make a fairly complete list of everything I’ve ever lost. I took up disc golf a couple years ago, and it is similar to drumming in promoting an effort to control and perfect muscle mechanics with the added bonus of seeking to buy, used or on cheap on EBay, backup upon backup of discs I like in case one goes unfound after hours of searching.
People with OCPD are also often controlling, but I consider myself laissez-faire. I don’t have the energy to begin to analyze and critique every detail in somebody else’s life. I consider attempts to change others to behave like ourselves a surefire sign of insecurity. Being controlling also seems a waste of time, considering I tend to judge others on a continuum from uncommitted to lazy. I generally view most others as unreliable, and I can see how that could encourage a controlling nature in those that thought they themselves were reliable, but I’m skeptical of my own decision-making abilities. While I can be somewhat of a perfectionist, I don’t believe in perfection, and so it isn’t something I’d ever demand of anyone else.
People with OCPD tend to have few friends. In my case, I think this is because I don’t see the point of casual conversation and idle chat. And also because I generally come across as an overly-opinionated asshole. There is not much casual about me. I find the concept of relaxation befuddling. Why would anybody want to do that? I’m basically either passionate about something or ignorant of it.
Do obsessive people attract? I think they do, and I personally find my life has been filled with others with OCPD. I think it relates to the fundamental notion that people with OCPD believe their behaviors are desirable, and also because we have trouble relating to those without our convictions. Crazy like me is a good thing!
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Distractions
When I was in high school, I was profoundly affected by an essay (perhaps written by Walker Percy) that explores people going to the Grand Canyon so that they can take pictures of it. Its gist is that people get so caught up in preserving a record of things they’ve done while simultaneously fitting them into their preconceived notions that they’re distracted from appreciating the moment they’re in, completely missing it in any unadulterated state. The author elucidates the ludicrousness of filtering such a vast landscape through a camera lens, especially when you’re trying to frame it to resemble the professionally photographed postcard of the same location that you can buy across the street at the gift shop for 5 cents.
Is it The Matrix where one of the characters bemoans the “tourists” who wander around their entire lives never perceiving anything as it is? I haven’t seen that movie since those insipid sequels came out and really need to re-watch it….
To me, everything about photography cameras are a frustrating distraction- from trying to figure out how to get them to work to trying to figure out how to pose to sorting through the results. A few years ago, in Portland, OR, where the citizens are mostly pathetic, attention-seeking idealists, I was watching a soapbox derby on Mt. Tabor when I was interrupted by a group asking me to take their picture. I strongly responded, “No,” and they shriveled in horror at such audacity. What’s insulting to me is they think they can just impose their inane activities on me by expecting me to remove myself from my existence to indulge theirs. If you want your picture taken, hire a bloody photographer.
Technology seems to thrive when it’s effective at enabling us to avoid interactions. Instead of cooking, we can watch cooking shows on television. Instead of having conversations, we can make pithy remarks on Facebook that are almost instantly buried under a pile of other pithy remarks. Instead of listening to the birds and rustling leaves in the park, we can listen to digitally compressed music through earbuds on our iPods. Don’t even get me started on fucking smart phones, which are turning us into a bunch of zombies, wandering around with our faces immersed in 3 inch rectangles…. To quote Yoda, “Never your mind on where you are, what you are doing.”
But the issue goes beyond technology. I used to live in Oakland, CA- working hard 40 hours a week at a print shop and playing drumming gigs on the side- where I struggled to afford basic necessities. I rented a room in a small apartment shared with a couple and their four cats (not including mine). I shopped at the discount grocery store that sold the surplus from other grocery stores, and my roommates would tease me about how many days in a row I could eat burritos, which I often made with only tortillas, refried beans and chopped habaneros because I couldn’t afford cheese. My other meals tended to be cold cereal with milk and a bagel with schmear for lunch. My weekly food budget cap was $40 but I tried to keep it at $30. Obviously, I didn’t drink at all. Alcohol is expensive.
My favorite dish is Thai curry, which I now know how to make, but didn’t back then. Just down the street from where I lived was an excellent Thai place, or so I had been told, as I’d never actually been there. For weeks, I longed to try that restaurant, and little by little I managed to save up enough money to be able to treat myself. Finally, on a weekend afternoon, with a hard-earned $20 bill in my pocket, I walked down to the Thai place, sat outside in the courtyard and ordered Thai green curry with tofu, as spicy as they could make it, and a Thai iced tea. As I awaited my food, I watched the only other person at the restaurant, also sitting alone. He was reading one of the Lord of the Rings books.
I’ve actually read the first book of that trilogy twice… and found it tedious enough both times that I never picked up the others. Basically it’s about a midget who wanders around with a powerful ring and shenanigans ensue. What I don’t like about it, besides the unrealistically patent distinctions made between good and evil, is that any competent bad guy would’ve gotten the ring from that stupid hobbit in about five minutes. I mean, about the first thing he does (in the book, it isn’t in the movie- yeah, I saw all three of those in the theater…) is hand it over to some raving lunatic!
The food arrived for the kid reading the book before mine. I watched in horror as, instead of putting the book down to enjoy his food, he continued to read as he mindlessly shoveled the food into his mouth. Perhaps because I was so looking forward to my meal, this upset me to the point of tears, and when my food arrived, I had to make a deliberate effort to forget about this distraction I had now created for myself.
I’m certainly not exempt from being distracted. But what I love most are things that demand riveted focus on the present as it continuously unfolds into the future while revealing its dependence upon past knowledge and training. This is what I loved about playing improvisational music, what I love about so many Japanese films, what I love about watching every baseball pitch and every pass of a soccer ball for 45 minutes straight as incredibly fit players reach the brink of exhaustion…, what I love about playing disc golf, where the design of the course and the discs and the choices and execution of each throw set up the next shot. There’s an Anne Lamott book called Bird by Bird in which the author describes her method for writing, which consists of allowing it to evolve word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph, chapter by chapter, book by book. This, for me, is the essence of what it means to live life to its fullest.
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” -Henry David Thoreau
Is it The Matrix where one of the characters bemoans the “tourists” who wander around their entire lives never perceiving anything as it is? I haven’t seen that movie since those insipid sequels came out and really need to re-watch it….
To me, everything about photography cameras are a frustrating distraction- from trying to figure out how to get them to work to trying to figure out how to pose to sorting through the results. A few years ago, in Portland, OR, where the citizens are mostly pathetic, attention-seeking idealists, I was watching a soapbox derby on Mt. Tabor when I was interrupted by a group asking me to take their picture. I strongly responded, “No,” and they shriveled in horror at such audacity. What’s insulting to me is they think they can just impose their inane activities on me by expecting me to remove myself from my existence to indulge theirs. If you want your picture taken, hire a bloody photographer.
Technology seems to thrive when it’s effective at enabling us to avoid interactions. Instead of cooking, we can watch cooking shows on television. Instead of having conversations, we can make pithy remarks on Facebook that are almost instantly buried under a pile of other pithy remarks. Instead of listening to the birds and rustling leaves in the park, we can listen to digitally compressed music through earbuds on our iPods. Don’t even get me started on fucking smart phones, which are turning us into a bunch of zombies, wandering around with our faces immersed in 3 inch rectangles…. To quote Yoda, “Never your mind on where you are, what you are doing.”
But the issue goes beyond technology. I used to live in Oakland, CA- working hard 40 hours a week at a print shop and playing drumming gigs on the side- where I struggled to afford basic necessities. I rented a room in a small apartment shared with a couple and their four cats (not including mine). I shopped at the discount grocery store that sold the surplus from other grocery stores, and my roommates would tease me about how many days in a row I could eat burritos, which I often made with only tortillas, refried beans and chopped habaneros because I couldn’t afford cheese. My other meals tended to be cold cereal with milk and a bagel with schmear for lunch. My weekly food budget cap was $40 but I tried to keep it at $30. Obviously, I didn’t drink at all. Alcohol is expensive.
My favorite dish is Thai curry, which I now know how to make, but didn’t back then. Just down the street from where I lived was an excellent Thai place, or so I had been told, as I’d never actually been there. For weeks, I longed to try that restaurant, and little by little I managed to save up enough money to be able to treat myself. Finally, on a weekend afternoon, with a hard-earned $20 bill in my pocket, I walked down to the Thai place, sat outside in the courtyard and ordered Thai green curry with tofu, as spicy as they could make it, and a Thai iced tea. As I awaited my food, I watched the only other person at the restaurant, also sitting alone. He was reading one of the Lord of the Rings books.
I’ve actually read the first book of that trilogy twice… and found it tedious enough both times that I never picked up the others. Basically it’s about a midget who wanders around with a powerful ring and shenanigans ensue. What I don’t like about it, besides the unrealistically patent distinctions made between good and evil, is that any competent bad guy would’ve gotten the ring from that stupid hobbit in about five minutes. I mean, about the first thing he does (in the book, it isn’t in the movie- yeah, I saw all three of those in the theater…) is hand it over to some raving lunatic!
The food arrived for the kid reading the book before mine. I watched in horror as, instead of putting the book down to enjoy his food, he continued to read as he mindlessly shoveled the food into his mouth. Perhaps because I was so looking forward to my meal, this upset me to the point of tears, and when my food arrived, I had to make a deliberate effort to forget about this distraction I had now created for myself.
I’m certainly not exempt from being distracted. But what I love most are things that demand riveted focus on the present as it continuously unfolds into the future while revealing its dependence upon past knowledge and training. This is what I loved about playing improvisational music, what I love about so many Japanese films, what I love about watching every baseball pitch and every pass of a soccer ball for 45 minutes straight as incredibly fit players reach the brink of exhaustion…, what I love about playing disc golf, where the design of the course and the discs and the choices and execution of each throw set up the next shot. There’s an Anne Lamott book called Bird by Bird in which the author describes her method for writing, which consists of allowing it to evolve word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph, chapter by chapter, book by book. This, for me, is the essence of what it means to live life to its fullest.
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” -Henry David Thoreau
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