A couple years ago, I reached a point where I completely lost all interest in music. Whether it was the Beatles, Beastie Boys or Beethoven, nothing seemed to have any entertainment value for me. When it first came around, I'd just brush it off as "Hmmph. Nothing's on." But as time went on, I began to dwell on it, searching for deeper reasons for it.
Having just read Daniel Levitin's "This is Your Brain on Music," a scholarly thesis on music's role in the brain's physiology, I came up with a small handful of theories as to why my tastes in music simply vanished.
1) The music that was new and popular at the time was hardly to my liking. I "got" much of it, but I really didn't like it. So that, along with various setbacks in my life, had made me feel disconnected from the times. Adding to that, listening to "old" stuff just made me feel outdated, further out of touch.
2) Levitin's book showed how music assists with the brain's physiological development, I figured that my brain - for the time - had just developed to its fullest.
3) His book also ruminated on why different types of people liked different types of tunes, so maybe I was more fascinated with understanding what music tastes said about the people around me. Maybe it gave me insight to their personalities and characters that were either unnoticed or underappreciated.
4) At the time, I was in a place of very comprehensive contentment with my life's situation. If you think about it, music is a way to customize your surroundings to your taste. Given I was happy with the way things were, I had no problem with simply leaving them they way they were.
In the end, I concluded that the correct answer was 5) All of the Above, but in a manner where each reason's proportion would be changing.
Recently, I was looking at an issue of Entertainment Weekly. I realized that not only has this phenomenon re-occurred, but also became further reaching. Now, it seems as if I really have in current music, television or movies.
Since boy bands took over radio and forced the schism that split rock music into hip-hop/R&B and the southern pop that now passes for country, I still have little interest in music. Sure, I rebuilt a YouTube playlist that now includes almost 200 songs on it. But little of it ends up on the radio, some of it never released as a single.
TV has been taken over by unscripted "reality" shows, either about wealthy young sexy people being simply social with each other, or jobs that I respect, but don't necessarily envy or sympathize for. And whatever isn't "reality" show has pretty much been quarantined to medical and crime dramas. In the past four years, only three shows - "Mad Men," "Sons of Anarchy," and "Hung" have really become must-see in my mind, while shows like "House M.D." are simply starting their final descents.
However, if there is to be found a lack of original ideas, its within mainstream movies. Everything I see is either a raunchy comedy or a translation of a comic book or other story designed for children. I know this is not always the case. Plus, I'm not unaware that books are always made into movies ("Gone with the Wind" and "Wizard of Oz" are examples.) But I always thought there was a greater artistic variety to what came into my local cinemaplex than this onslaught of movies that just seem to further the stereotype of the genre they're in.
Of course, there's exceptions. But usually when I flip on any broadcast medium, it spits out something at me that instinctively inspires me to curl up my nose and change the channel, or at least search for something else.
What have I been paying attention to? Well, mainly it's been news and sports. Now, when I say "news," that means stories that don't involve celebrities, manufactured or not. Stories/news about those people pretty much represent a cancerous growth of "reality" TV into our true "reality." No, I'm talking stuff that would only make the cut prior to the O.J. Simpson trial.
Right now, this whole "Tea Party" phenomenon is fascinating me, seeing how an entire faction of this party that was lulled into a groupthink is now seeing their own Kool-Aid finally start taking affect on them. It's gonna get uglier before it gets easier, but I think for drama that hits home, there's nothing better on the air right now. However, the episode guide is a little tricky.
Well, that and sports. All of them. Happy the Mavs bet the Heat. I was going to be happy no matter who won the Women's World Cup final. Baseball is kind of interesting now that the Indians are possibly in a post-season chase. And I'm looking forward to the NFL pulling their collectives heads out of their collected asses and getting back to work.
In a way, the same four reasons I surmised a couple years ago are still pretty much relevant today. I do not like them, while many of my peers do, so I am out of touch. Watching the old stuff just makes me just as out of date as it did then. As for my brain being developed, well...can't really say anything. That, and I don't really take someone's pop cultural tastes and try to read their thinking patterns that much anymore. However, I am more interested in the moment I'm in rather than the moment I wish I was in via entertainment. I don't have time for songs, dances and theater anymore. Or patience either.
I want Life to be the greatest story ever told. I want love stories happening to those around me. I don't want to see the people I know have to be sick or in legal trouble, but I do want justice and health for those who deserve it. I don't care to hear idle gossip about people who accomplish nothing, nor do I want to laugh at the characteristic shortcomings of people. I want to do my best to unleash their better angels so they can be enjoyed by all. I want my heroes here. I want my comedy, drama, horror and recreation here. I want art to imitate life, not the other way around. And I want to be there when it happens.
So, in a society that virtually defines itself via cultural means, I am gradually becoming more and more difficult to define within that scope. I have morals, feelings, thoughts, beliefs, opinions and judgments, but I don't really pattern myself too much after anyone in particular. Maybe I just want to be my own hero. I don't know.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Want my vote?
The GOP is being riddled with all sorts of "pledges" offered to candidates so that they will act in certain ways if elected. Grover Nordquist wants them to sign a pledge so that they'd never raise taxes. Conservative Christians want them to sign a pledge that they won't quit until anyone who isn't off the sets of "The Cosby Show" or "Leave It To Beaver" is allowed to get married.
Fine. You want my vote? Then sign this pledge.
I (name here) heretofore pledge to do the following should I be elected President of the United States.
1) Pass any policy designed to place more money in the hands of the impoverished while working against any policy to financially reward those who profit without re-investing into the economy.
2) Until we get a second planet to inhabit, all policies shall be designed to protect the interests of the environment with the "Boy Scout" standard of leaving the ground in better shape than you found it.
3) Maximize freedoms of any social sub-set to live in any fashion they want, carry any legal title they want, work they want, and express themselves how they want if they do not prevent others from doing the same.
4) Until you overturn the First Amendment, make an ongoing policy to leave religion at the curb. All religion. Not the door...but the curb. If a decision is based on moral terms, it can be done in secular terms.
5) Enable those who misuse their freedom of speech with statements borne out of inaccurate, non-factual statements, to be held accountable by those who are affected by those false statements.
6) Determine that public safety, education, communication, energy and health, when made for profit, leave those who need it vulnerable to losing opportunities for equality and therefore should be fully overseen or taken over by publicly accountable enterprise.
7) Since all 50 states are part of the union, I will not pass the buck to the states to compete against themselves, cutting their own throats. National issues shall be handled nationally.
8) With the true growth of our nation depending on a solid infrastructure, I will place top priority on achieving a top global standard in our nation's infrastructure all communities large and small.
9) Encourage an ongoing renaissance of manufacturing so the United States of America will not depend on foreign countries for manufactured goods.
10) Set a standard for other nations to follow in terms of personal freedom economic self-reliance in conjunction with cooperation, rewarding those countries who follow that example and marginalizing our relations with those countries who do not.
11) Update our military philosophy to acknowledge that wars are won before with intelligence prior to the battle. Nation building shall be a global initiative and not a U.S.-borne policy.
12) Foreign aid shall be overseen with maximum oversight to ensure it goes to those who truly need it within those borders.
On the GOP, I sincerely doubt signing this pledge - in any form, will find themselves politically drawn and quartered by the current Republican establishment, although I wouldn't be surprised that moderate "independent" voters disillusioned by the recent cavings by President Obama might return to the GOP by a candidate going "rogue" in a manner like this. It would be bold, but logical to see one of these guys say "You know, we've gotten everything we've ever wanted. I think in some ways we've overdone it." He can site the examples that tax breaks for large companies don't result in increased jobs, can cite that if business wants to see higher sales, that is only make sense to put more money in customers hands. They can ask any business owner in Vermont, who doesn't have to pay a dime in health care after the state created a European/Canadian-style single-payer system that Obama didn't even dare try to offer. In short, he can finally bring sense to a party whose supply-side economics has run it's course, and whose social conservatism has become too overreaching and authortarian.
The GOP has reached a point where they must enforce the goose to eat the gander for its own good, and is working more for their own benefit than it does those who elect them. 1984 might have been Morning in America, but their day has now passed.
When any candidate can recognize that, then they get my vote.
Fine. You want my vote? Then sign this pledge.
I (name here) heretofore pledge to do the following should I be elected President of the United States.
1) Pass any policy designed to place more money in the hands of the impoverished while working against any policy to financially reward those who profit without re-investing into the economy.
2) Until we get a second planet to inhabit, all policies shall be designed to protect the interests of the environment with the "Boy Scout" standard of leaving the ground in better shape than you found it.
3) Maximize freedoms of any social sub-set to live in any fashion they want, carry any legal title they want, work they want, and express themselves how they want if they do not prevent others from doing the same.
4) Until you overturn the First Amendment, make an ongoing policy to leave religion at the curb. All religion. Not the door...but the curb. If a decision is based on moral terms, it can be done in secular terms.
5) Enable those who misuse their freedom of speech with statements borne out of inaccurate, non-factual statements, to be held accountable by those who are affected by those false statements.
6) Determine that public safety, education, communication, energy and health, when made for profit, leave those who need it vulnerable to losing opportunities for equality and therefore should be fully overseen or taken over by publicly accountable enterprise.
7) Since all 50 states are part of the union, I will not pass the buck to the states to compete against themselves, cutting their own throats. National issues shall be handled nationally.
8) With the true growth of our nation depending on a solid infrastructure, I will place top priority on achieving a top global standard in our nation's infrastructure all communities large and small.
9) Encourage an ongoing renaissance of manufacturing so the United States of America will not depend on foreign countries for manufactured goods.
10) Set a standard for other nations to follow in terms of personal freedom economic self-reliance in conjunction with cooperation, rewarding those countries who follow that example and marginalizing our relations with those countries who do not.
11) Update our military philosophy to acknowledge that wars are won before with intelligence prior to the battle. Nation building shall be a global initiative and not a U.S.-borne policy.
12) Foreign aid shall be overseen with maximum oversight to ensure it goes to those who truly need it within those borders.
On the GOP, I sincerely doubt signing this pledge - in any form, will find themselves politically drawn and quartered by the current Republican establishment, although I wouldn't be surprised that moderate "independent" voters disillusioned by the recent cavings by President Obama might return to the GOP by a candidate going "rogue" in a manner like this. It would be bold, but logical to see one of these guys say "You know, we've gotten everything we've ever wanted. I think in some ways we've overdone it." He can site the examples that tax breaks for large companies don't result in increased jobs, can cite that if business wants to see higher sales, that is only make sense to put more money in customers hands. They can ask any business owner in Vermont, who doesn't have to pay a dime in health care after the state created a European/Canadian-style single-payer system that Obama didn't even dare try to offer. In short, he can finally bring sense to a party whose supply-side economics has run it's course, and whose social conservatism has become too overreaching and authortarian.
The GOP has reached a point where they must enforce the goose to eat the gander for its own good, and is working more for their own benefit than it does those who elect them. 1984 might have been Morning in America, but their day has now passed.
When any candidate can recognize that, then they get my vote.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Neil before my lyrical talents?
True Story: April 15, Rush shows up for a concert at Gund Arena. Since I wouldn’t have missed it for the world…well, someone owes me the world now, ‘cause I missed it.
However, the next day, words started popping in my head. They began to cluster, but not really join together. Then they started to occasionally rhyme. Then they developed a little meter.
It was about 10:30 a.m. when I began putting pen to paper. Rough as they were, I estimated the band was definitely still in Ohio. Maybe in Cleveland, and possibly still in a suburb. Or maybe with an early breakfast, they could’ve departed and been most the way to Toledo or Columbus by then.
The real x-factor would be lyricist/drummer Neil Peart himself. While guitarist Alex Lifeson and Vocalist/Keyboardist/Bassist Geddy Lee are on the bus, Peart travels alone on motorcycle to each tour stop. An avid reader, I later realized as I was writing this at a bookstore right along Interstate 71, he could’ve easily been riding by. Of course, Rush’s next tour stop could’ve been in Detroit or Pittsburgh, which would’ve had them entirely avoiding I-71.
This is what I ended up with after an hour or so:
All we know is from neurons firing
Products of our natural wiring
Creating from unpredicted cognition
From yesterday to tomorrow’s definition
When you see the balance between art and science
You see we don’t own the world
Instead we’re it’s clients
(chorus)
Living and Dying
Laughing and Crying
Feeling and Thinking
Thirsting and Drinking
Beginnings and endings lead to the transcendings
Of what we think we know
So Stop
And Let it Go
There’s really no difference between a field and a street
We truly never know any people we meet
No answer can be made with a perfect objective
And you’re just left with a noble perspective
Consequences eliminate all possible choices
To with our true eyes or speak our true voices
(chorus)
Key change/bridge
Always under above and above what’s below
It’s either coming too fast or going too slow
There’s nothing to give when it’s too much to take
So either get your fix, or just take a break
The days are too short as the years fly by
It’s every reason to wonder why
Just forget it
Before you regret it
Don’t you get it?
Stop
And let it go
(solo)
(back to original key)
Whether you see it as a blessing or feel like it’s a curse
We’re all physically made from the same universe
It could be pre-ordained destiny or just all random chance
Mystically choreographing these parts in this improvised dance
Discovering what will be the next unknown
All by ourselves, but never alone
As we’re…
(chorus)
Basically, I think I wrote the worst, or at least the most generic Rush song in history. Okay, so it’s not a real Rush song since the band didn’t compose it, but if you know Rush, you can easily see the similarities, especially in the Test for Echo album. It has a definite philosophical and detached aura to it, which the band is well-known for. It certainly has Neil Peart’s high level of academic glossary.
Who knows? It might be good. It does contain a consistent theme, stays true to many lyrical structural standards of the time they helped shape. It’s all up to the reader, and if someone should put music to it and record it (Royalities, guys. Remember…royalties! I can negotiate fairly, but…royalties!), it’ll be up to the listener.
I’ve never really tried to write lyrics before. I tried poetry that wound up being pretty lyrical, but this is my first attempt to approach with the intent of writing lyrics. It probably just needs a little polish. After all, some songs written by Leonard Cohen were tinkered with for over two decades before he was satisfied with them.
What I do remember is thinking as I wrote: “I don’t write like this. I don’t do lyrics, and if I did, I don’t think this would be how I’d do it.” What I knew was that I was writing something I thought could be good, which ultimately is the mark of a professional writer – the ability to write in any style. But the lyrics I wrote above seemed to come too fast for someone as inexperienced as me. Writers often romanticize that the pen does the writing as if it is doing the creating independently of the person holding it. I’ve written things that “developed a life of their own.” But in those instances, I could see my role in guiding the pen through it’s creative process. This? This was like I wasn’t even thinking with my own mind, even in terms of trying to imitate. I, for lack of a better term, was out of my mind while I wrote this. (Clever excuse for it being low quality, eh? At least it’s not overused.)
Since the writing mind is a completely intangible entity, one is almost required to err on the side of possibility. Although we’re required (and sometimes limited) by the medium and language of our choice, if you are to conceive anything, you have to conceive everything. So while there’s no rational evidence my mind was channeling Rush’s lyrical creativity, it becomes completely understandable why I’d want to believe, in more ways than simple wishful thinking.
After all, science does have evidence when they found houseplants can at least detect our emotions. I can’t say I’m more psychically developed than a fern, but I hope I’m more psychologically developed than a fern. So you have to allow for a possibility – as least in conceptual theory – that if a brain wave can be read by an EKG in direct contact with a skull, that maybe that brain wave could make it farther, to the point that it can be understood by a brain it reachers – namely mine. And since we never figured out how a fern can detect emotions as well as display them, maybe I learned a little bit myself that day as a drummer might’ve been, um, “Rush”-ing out of town.
Logically, the only test would be to actually contact Peart himself and ask “Hey, Neil! When you were leaving Cleveland on your last tour, do you remember having any song ideas?” If he did, find what he may remember – if not wrote down – and compare any results.
Moreover, think about what you’re looking at. A screen that displays little lines – curved and straight, attached in various ways – that you’ve been taught to recognize as letters, when put together in certain order are mentally constructed into words, each word representing…a concept! While I can estimate a good chance that my idea, converted into these words using these configured, predetermined straight and curved lines, the idea that you’ll understand it 100 percent as I do is almost unreachably Utopian.
And in that minimal margin lies the conceived possibility that an idea can be transmitted without a tangible medium. If you think about it, all you really have is my testimony, which is independent from yours, and just as intangible as any other theory about how anyone really conceives an idea.
But until then, I’ll probably stick to the ideas that I actually experience germinating in my own mind…unless the ghosts of John Updike or Hunter Thompson want to possess me at another time.
However, the next day, words started popping in my head. They began to cluster, but not really join together. Then they started to occasionally rhyme. Then they developed a little meter.
It was about 10:30 a.m. when I began putting pen to paper. Rough as they were, I estimated the band was definitely still in Ohio. Maybe in Cleveland, and possibly still in a suburb. Or maybe with an early breakfast, they could’ve departed and been most the way to Toledo or Columbus by then.
The real x-factor would be lyricist/drummer Neil Peart himself. While guitarist Alex Lifeson and Vocalist/Keyboardist/Bassist Geddy Lee are on the bus, Peart travels alone on motorcycle to each tour stop. An avid reader, I later realized as I was writing this at a bookstore right along Interstate 71, he could’ve easily been riding by. Of course, Rush’s next tour stop could’ve been in Detroit or Pittsburgh, which would’ve had them entirely avoiding I-71.
This is what I ended up with after an hour or so:
All we know is from neurons firing
Products of our natural wiring
Creating from unpredicted cognition
From yesterday to tomorrow’s definition
When you see the balance between art and science
You see we don’t own the world
Instead we’re it’s clients
(chorus)
Living and Dying
Laughing and Crying
Feeling and Thinking
Thirsting and Drinking
Beginnings and endings lead to the transcendings
Of what we think we know
So Stop
And Let it Go
There’s really no difference between a field and a street
We truly never know any people we meet
No answer can be made with a perfect objective
And you’re just left with a noble perspective
Consequences eliminate all possible choices
To with our true eyes or speak our true voices
(chorus)
Key change/bridge
Always under above and above what’s below
It’s either coming too fast or going too slow
There’s nothing to give when it’s too much to take
So either get your fix, or just take a break
The days are too short as the years fly by
It’s every reason to wonder why
Just forget it
Before you regret it
Don’t you get it?
Stop
And let it go
(solo)
(back to original key)
Whether you see it as a blessing or feel like it’s a curse
We’re all physically made from the same universe
It could be pre-ordained destiny or just all random chance
Mystically choreographing these parts in this improvised dance
Discovering what will be the next unknown
All by ourselves, but never alone
As we’re…
(chorus)
Basically, I think I wrote the worst, or at least the most generic Rush song in history. Okay, so it’s not a real Rush song since the band didn’t compose it, but if you know Rush, you can easily see the similarities, especially in the Test for Echo album. It has a definite philosophical and detached aura to it, which the band is well-known for. It certainly has Neil Peart’s high level of academic glossary.
Who knows? It might be good. It does contain a consistent theme, stays true to many lyrical structural standards of the time they helped shape. It’s all up to the reader, and if someone should put music to it and record it (Royalities, guys. Remember…royalties! I can negotiate fairly, but…royalties!), it’ll be up to the listener.
I’ve never really tried to write lyrics before. I tried poetry that wound up being pretty lyrical, but this is my first attempt to approach with the intent of writing lyrics. It probably just needs a little polish. After all, some songs written by Leonard Cohen were tinkered with for over two decades before he was satisfied with them.
What I do remember is thinking as I wrote: “I don’t write like this. I don’t do lyrics, and if I did, I don’t think this would be how I’d do it.” What I knew was that I was writing something I thought could be good, which ultimately is the mark of a professional writer – the ability to write in any style. But the lyrics I wrote above seemed to come too fast for someone as inexperienced as me. Writers often romanticize that the pen does the writing as if it is doing the creating independently of the person holding it. I’ve written things that “developed a life of their own.” But in those instances, I could see my role in guiding the pen through it’s creative process. This? This was like I wasn’t even thinking with my own mind, even in terms of trying to imitate. I, for lack of a better term, was out of my mind while I wrote this. (Clever excuse for it being low quality, eh? At least it’s not overused.)
Since the writing mind is a completely intangible entity, one is almost required to err on the side of possibility. Although we’re required (and sometimes limited) by the medium and language of our choice, if you are to conceive anything, you have to conceive everything. So while there’s no rational evidence my mind was channeling Rush’s lyrical creativity, it becomes completely understandable why I’d want to believe, in more ways than simple wishful thinking.
After all, science does have evidence when they found houseplants can at least detect our emotions. I can’t say I’m more psychically developed than a fern, but I hope I’m more psychologically developed than a fern. So you have to allow for a possibility – as least in conceptual theory – that if a brain wave can be read by an EKG in direct contact with a skull, that maybe that brain wave could make it farther, to the point that it can be understood by a brain it reachers – namely mine. And since we never figured out how a fern can detect emotions as well as display them, maybe I learned a little bit myself that day as a drummer might’ve been, um, “Rush”-ing out of town.
Logically, the only test would be to actually contact Peart himself and ask “Hey, Neil! When you were leaving Cleveland on your last tour, do you remember having any song ideas?” If he did, find what he may remember – if not wrote down – and compare any results.
Moreover, think about what you’re looking at. A screen that displays little lines – curved and straight, attached in various ways – that you’ve been taught to recognize as letters, when put together in certain order are mentally constructed into words, each word representing…a concept! While I can estimate a good chance that my idea, converted into these words using these configured, predetermined straight and curved lines, the idea that you’ll understand it 100 percent as I do is almost unreachably Utopian.
And in that minimal margin lies the conceived possibility that an idea can be transmitted without a tangible medium. If you think about it, all you really have is my testimony, which is independent from yours, and just as intangible as any other theory about how anyone really conceives an idea.
But until then, I’ll probably stick to the ideas that I actually experience germinating in my own mind…unless the ghosts of John Updike or Hunter Thompson want to possess me at another time.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Oh, and until I get a photo up...
Some of you might know what I look like. Some of you might know what I used to look like. Lastly, some of you couldn't pick me out of a crowd of two.
But no matter which category you belong to, go here and flash ahead to the 0:52 mark.
The guy in glasses is NOT me, but my dad said it was a spitting image.
So no matter which of the aforementioned categories you belong to, it's still an interesting link for a unique reason.
Maybe some day, someone will find that bloke and we can have a nice game of "Prince and the Pauper." After all, we're both football/soccer fans.
Naaahhh...
But no matter which category you belong to, go here and flash ahead to the 0:52 mark.
The guy in glasses is NOT me, but my dad said it was a spitting image.
So no matter which of the aforementioned categories you belong to, it's still an interesting link for a unique reason.
Maybe some day, someone will find that bloke and we can have a nice game of "Prince and the Pauper." After all, we're both football/soccer fans.
Naaahhh...
The Apartment Game, Version 2011: Eleven Sub-Faces of Me
I don't know if I ever blogged about this previously on my myspace entries, but a couple years ago, I took advantage of a distinct phenomenon that ensued in my life to create a parlor game.
Every apartment I've ever had, including one I spent many nights in with two now ex-girlfriends (each one had their own domicile), was the on the middle floor of a three-story, 12-unit building. In each of the buildings, we'd see people move in and out over the months, letting our curiousities ruminate over what kind of neighbor we'd have next. Eventually, my hyper imagination ran this idea to its full extent and it turned into this fantasy game.
The rules are simple: You, like I (and she) was, is in one of the four units on the middle floor of a similar three-story, 12-unit building. Next, fill the remaining eleven units with people you'd like to have living near you. They can be living or dead, fictional or real, public or personal, or any mixture of those three dichotomies.
Sometimes I'd mull it over during a slow time at work, or on a drive, or any time I had time for a mental diversion. Then I realized something: The people I was putting above me had those qualities I aspired to have, the ones on my floor I saw as peers, and the those who I put on the bottom floor were those who connected to the lesser-but-necessary parts of me. Plus, the location of each resident on that particular floor began to reflect how far away I saw those qualities either being or wanting to be. Quite the symbolic paradigm, eh?
Basically, the one who lives above you on the unit diagonally from you is your ideal that you think you can never attain, while those who share a wall with you have a partnership role in your consciousness, and those who live across from you have that which is the rival that inspires healthy competition within yourself.
I think it was the poet/author Robert Bly who theorized that fictional characters were really the fleshing out of the author's own collective consciousnesses. In that line of thinking, what I did was take personalities and characters that influence a person and create a literal physical construct to analyze who and how you are influenced by characters. Whether or not they share the same mortal plane of living or not still really doesn't change the fact that personality and character are still ultimately intangible, ergo perfect for an ultimately intangible symbol for the physical representation of how they represent themselves.
So without further ado, here's my fantasy three-story, 12-unit apartment building of real people who are currently alive.
Middle floor: Me (duh.)
I share a wall with Michelle Beadle, who I see as a female ideal; With a perfect blend of ethereal grace and selfless accessibility, you have to wonder if she's actually easier on the mind than she is the eyes. Will I ever meet her? Doubt it. Date/Marry her? That line is too long, and there are too many in it who are more qualified for her than I, but the public persona she exhibits carries a great majority of the qualities look for in a woman who I intend to be a personal partner in my life. Of course, this probably assumes that I see myself psychologically ready for such a long-term marriage. In previous entires, I have put ideal wives on higher floors, while maintaining that direct neighbor spot for those I saw in a sibling manner.
Diagonally from me is - surprisingly to me - Keith Olbermann. Previously, I put him on the floor above me as someone I aspired to be. An expert on writing, sports and later politics, he is someone I don't see myself taking a path to follow, but intellectually I probably don't find to be too far ahead of me, despite the miles of distance between us in terms of economy and career accomplishments, which is probably what puts him diagonally to me. Maybe it's because of the ways I've questioned if I could write some of his "special comments" myself with comparable quality and effectiveness, as I have begun to refine my own voice as he has greatly refined his.
Another great surprise to me was my placement of Garrison Keillor across from me. If there's one uniquity to Mr. Keillor, it is that he is the only one on this list with whom I had a direct conversation. Previously, I have seen him as a form of my Higher Self, placing him on a higher floor, but it turns I have developed a mental austerity and pragmatism that may now be similar instead of inferior.
The Lower Floor:
Directly below me is Bill Maher. Seemingly a confirmed bachelor, a cynical athiest, and a man whose wit is poignative and entertaining but ultimately bitter and skeptical of the world we live in. I think he, like I want to believe in the world we live in, but Maher is a very accurate reflection of my negative perceptions.
Sharing a wall with him is Anthony Bourdain. A world traveler, accomplished chef, he lived the cool version of a rock-and-roll life we all admire. Now, I wish to be a fantastic cook. I wish to travel the world that tourists usually miss. But I don't want to make my entire life that devoted to those things like he has. It's a nice place to visit, but his world is not one I'd like to live with full time.
Across the hall from Maher and diagonally from Bourdain is Chelsea Handler. Now, I've always seen her as a pretty woman, but recently, from watching her show and from articles I've read about her, her stock has risen as she seems to be outgrowing the realm of celebrity gossip and smalltalk. At Borders, I've rummaged through a few of her books, and for the most part, she's lived a personal life, that I can relate to pretty well. When life sucks in all the mediocre ways, there's no one I'd rather have harmonize my verbal middle finger with than her. However, she seems to not be the romantic - in many senses of the word. The troubles that she's written about, while I find a miserable companionship with, is still not the mental state I wish to maintain.
(Note: There are many women I like who aren't blonde. This is an exceptional coicidence that does not prove any rule for my taste in female allurement. Two words: red kryptonite. Maybe I could come up with a 12-unit "Big Love" buiding? Oh, the Viagra Blues.)
Rounding out the Lower Floor was another surprise in ESPN blathering head Woody Paige. Probably the most entertaining of the bunch of blathering heads that is evaluated daily by Tony Reali on ESPN's Around the Horn, his wild antics and half-baked notions and reliance on limited elements of sport are something that I used to do in life. He was a career newspaperman, a destiny I used to assume was mine. A columnist, like I want to be. Talking sports, like I used to do when I hadn't fleshed out my entire realm of thought. I guess what's clinched it is recent allegations of plagiarism, a cardinal sin in the journalism world just as bad as factual inaccuracy. Well, in my life, I have committed my own cardinal sins - personal and professional, which I still feel remorse, shame and self-pity over at times.
The Upper Floor:
I'll start with the diagonal unit from the one right above me.
When he dies, I dream that James Burke will simply ascend into an academic utopia that's a Valhalla-like library/labratory/lecture hall where all the greats can oooh and ahhh over his achievements. Seeing the world through his eyes is probably the way Einstein wished he could elaborate on his objective analyses of our world's operational history. Simply put, I am simply a different person without his documentaries. As China sees itself as a Middle Kingdom between Earth and God, then I see James Burke as the Middle Intellect between me and Omniscience.
Diagonally from (I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!) Burke is actor/author/musician/art collector/...ah, screw it...Renaissance Man Steve Martin. I am a well-rounded culturalist at heart, full of humor and whimsy that inspires while still maintaining a moderate level of humility. It would be difficult to find someone who has a greater comedic range than him. His comedy career is enough to make me a fan, but then add in that he is a Grammy-winning banjo player, a stellar art collector, and still at heart a philosopher, you might see him - and me - as being emotionally shut in, but there's a secret that both Martin and I conceivably share: When you're surrounded by life's beauty, the best way to enjoy it is to simply relax and become part of it, content in knowing you're simply blessed you and it can simply co-exist with its presence.
Across from Martin and next to Burke is MSNBC wizard Rachel Maddow. Watching her explain current events is like seeing an Iron Chef's brain function as (s)he figures out recipes. Another comparison is that she orchestrates her show as a current event, real-time exercise of Burke's "Connections" format. A data and raw information junkie, I love to vicariously enjoy the glimmer in her eyes as she puts it all together in an objective argument that, despite respectfully acknowledging opposing perspectives, reaches a conclusion that makes more sense and pulls more weight. She cares for her side of the issues; but like Voltaire, she will defend someone's right to say something no matter how much she disagrees with it. She loves taking a status quo and pushing it's limits, seeing if it really true, or just a lesser statement that can't stand up to functioning realities. In essence, that's what I've been doing my whole life. Proudly.
Lastly, Mark Knopfler is in the unit upstairs that shares the wall with Steve Martin. For one thing, it would be an interesting jam session with his guitar and Martin's banjo playing. Lacking solid musical chops myself, I share a passion for music as a high art form, as it is one of the few things that simultaneously stimulates both the creative and analytical halves of the brain. His career is an epitome of how I wish my life's work could be: Start out as a reporter, then become an artistically, creative genius that maintained his own identity in the face of commercialism. His songs are snapshots of life that tell a story, summoning the troubadours of history, making me wonder if other traditions can be updated. And in keeping with a truly noble belief of mine, he intends to share what he's got in hopes he future will be even better by opening up a school for student musicians.
Not to mention, he also composed music that will be played at my funeral if my wishes are granted.
There are other names that proverbially "live" in a psychic adjoining building, like Al Franken, Michael Stipe, Neil Peart, Kari Byron, and many more. But when in terms of having a public face, sometimes its interesting to consider what external influences affect that persona you present to people.
Although, maybe if I ever find an apartment, it'll be in a ten-story skyscraper.
Every apartment I've ever had, including one I spent many nights in with two now ex-girlfriends (each one had their own domicile), was the on the middle floor of a three-story, 12-unit building. In each of the buildings, we'd see people move in and out over the months, letting our curiousities ruminate over what kind of neighbor we'd have next. Eventually, my hyper imagination ran this idea to its full extent and it turned into this fantasy game.
The rules are simple: You, like I (and she) was, is in one of the four units on the middle floor of a similar three-story, 12-unit building. Next, fill the remaining eleven units with people you'd like to have living near you. They can be living or dead, fictional or real, public or personal, or any mixture of those three dichotomies.
Sometimes I'd mull it over during a slow time at work, or on a drive, or any time I had time for a mental diversion. Then I realized something: The people I was putting above me had those qualities I aspired to have, the ones on my floor I saw as peers, and the those who I put on the bottom floor were those who connected to the lesser-but-necessary parts of me. Plus, the location of each resident on that particular floor began to reflect how far away I saw those qualities either being or wanting to be. Quite the symbolic paradigm, eh?
Basically, the one who lives above you on the unit diagonally from you is your ideal that you think you can never attain, while those who share a wall with you have a partnership role in your consciousness, and those who live across from you have that which is the rival that inspires healthy competition within yourself.
I think it was the poet/author Robert Bly who theorized that fictional characters were really the fleshing out of the author's own collective consciousnesses. In that line of thinking, what I did was take personalities and characters that influence a person and create a literal physical construct to analyze who and how you are influenced by characters. Whether or not they share the same mortal plane of living or not still really doesn't change the fact that personality and character are still ultimately intangible, ergo perfect for an ultimately intangible symbol for the physical representation of how they represent themselves.
So without further ado, here's my fantasy three-story, 12-unit apartment building of real people who are currently alive.
Middle floor: Me (duh.)
I share a wall with Michelle Beadle, who I see as a female ideal; With a perfect blend of ethereal grace and selfless accessibility, you have to wonder if she's actually easier on the mind than she is the eyes. Will I ever meet her? Doubt it. Date/Marry her? That line is too long, and there are too many in it who are more qualified for her than I, but the public persona she exhibits carries a great majority of the qualities look for in a woman who I intend to be a personal partner in my life. Of course, this probably assumes that I see myself psychologically ready for such a long-term marriage. In previous entires, I have put ideal wives on higher floors, while maintaining that direct neighbor spot for those I saw in a sibling manner.
Diagonally from me is - surprisingly to me - Keith Olbermann. Previously, I put him on the floor above me as someone I aspired to be. An expert on writing, sports and later politics, he is someone I don't see myself taking a path to follow, but intellectually I probably don't find to be too far ahead of me, despite the miles of distance between us in terms of economy and career accomplishments, which is probably what puts him diagonally to me. Maybe it's because of the ways I've questioned if I could write some of his "special comments" myself with comparable quality and effectiveness, as I have begun to refine my own voice as he has greatly refined his.
Another great surprise to me was my placement of Garrison Keillor across from me. If there's one uniquity to Mr. Keillor, it is that he is the only one on this list with whom I had a direct conversation. Previously, I have seen him as a form of my Higher Self, placing him on a higher floor, but it turns I have developed a mental austerity and pragmatism that may now be similar instead of inferior.
The Lower Floor:
Directly below me is Bill Maher. Seemingly a confirmed bachelor, a cynical athiest, and a man whose wit is poignative and entertaining but ultimately bitter and skeptical of the world we live in. I think he, like I want to believe in the world we live in, but Maher is a very accurate reflection of my negative perceptions.
Sharing a wall with him is Anthony Bourdain. A world traveler, accomplished chef, he lived the cool version of a rock-and-roll life we all admire. Now, I wish to be a fantastic cook. I wish to travel the world that tourists usually miss. But I don't want to make my entire life that devoted to those things like he has. It's a nice place to visit, but his world is not one I'd like to live with full time.
Across the hall from Maher and diagonally from Bourdain is Chelsea Handler. Now, I've always seen her as a pretty woman, but recently, from watching her show and from articles I've read about her, her stock has risen as she seems to be outgrowing the realm of celebrity gossip and smalltalk. At Borders, I've rummaged through a few of her books, and for the most part, she's lived a personal life, that I can relate to pretty well. When life sucks in all the mediocre ways, there's no one I'd rather have harmonize my verbal middle finger with than her. However, she seems to not be the romantic - in many senses of the word. The troubles that she's written about, while I find a miserable companionship with, is still not the mental state I wish to maintain.
(Note: There are many women I like who aren't blonde. This is an exceptional coicidence that does not prove any rule for my taste in female allurement. Two words: red kryptonite. Maybe I could come up with a 12-unit "Big Love" buiding? Oh, the Viagra Blues.)
Rounding out the Lower Floor was another surprise in ESPN blathering head Woody Paige. Probably the most entertaining of the bunch of blathering heads that is evaluated daily by Tony Reali on ESPN's Around the Horn, his wild antics and half-baked notions and reliance on limited elements of sport are something that I used to do in life. He was a career newspaperman, a destiny I used to assume was mine. A columnist, like I want to be. Talking sports, like I used to do when I hadn't fleshed out my entire realm of thought. I guess what's clinched it is recent allegations of plagiarism, a cardinal sin in the journalism world just as bad as factual inaccuracy. Well, in my life, I have committed my own cardinal sins - personal and professional, which I still feel remorse, shame and self-pity over at times.
The Upper Floor:
I'll start with the diagonal unit from the one right above me.
When he dies, I dream that James Burke will simply ascend into an academic utopia that's a Valhalla-like library/labratory/lecture hall where all the greats can oooh and ahhh over his achievements. Seeing the world through his eyes is probably the way Einstein wished he could elaborate on his objective analyses of our world's operational history. Simply put, I am simply a different person without his documentaries. As China sees itself as a Middle Kingdom between Earth and God, then I see James Burke as the Middle Intellect between me and Omniscience.
Diagonally from (I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!) Burke is actor/author/musician/art collector/...ah, screw it...Renaissance Man Steve Martin. I am a well-rounded culturalist at heart, full of humor and whimsy that inspires while still maintaining a moderate level of humility. It would be difficult to find someone who has a greater comedic range than him. His comedy career is enough to make me a fan, but then add in that he is a Grammy-winning banjo player, a stellar art collector, and still at heart a philosopher, you might see him - and me - as being emotionally shut in, but there's a secret that both Martin and I conceivably share: When you're surrounded by life's beauty, the best way to enjoy it is to simply relax and become part of it, content in knowing you're simply blessed you and it can simply co-exist with its presence.
Across from Martin and next to Burke is MSNBC wizard Rachel Maddow. Watching her explain current events is like seeing an Iron Chef's brain function as (s)he figures out recipes. Another comparison is that she orchestrates her show as a current event, real-time exercise of Burke's "Connections" format. A data and raw information junkie, I love to vicariously enjoy the glimmer in her eyes as she puts it all together in an objective argument that, despite respectfully acknowledging opposing perspectives, reaches a conclusion that makes more sense and pulls more weight. She cares for her side of the issues; but like Voltaire, she will defend someone's right to say something no matter how much she disagrees with it. She loves taking a status quo and pushing it's limits, seeing if it really true, or just a lesser statement that can't stand up to functioning realities. In essence, that's what I've been doing my whole life. Proudly.
Lastly, Mark Knopfler is in the unit upstairs that shares the wall with Steve Martin. For one thing, it would be an interesting jam session with his guitar and Martin's banjo playing. Lacking solid musical chops myself, I share a passion for music as a high art form, as it is one of the few things that simultaneously stimulates both the creative and analytical halves of the brain. His career is an epitome of how I wish my life's work could be: Start out as a reporter, then become an artistically, creative genius that maintained his own identity in the face of commercialism. His songs are snapshots of life that tell a story, summoning the troubadours of history, making me wonder if other traditions can be updated. And in keeping with a truly noble belief of mine, he intends to share what he's got in hopes he future will be even better by opening up a school for student musicians.
Not to mention, he also composed music that will be played at my funeral if my wishes are granted.
There are other names that proverbially "live" in a psychic adjoining building, like Al Franken, Michael Stipe, Neil Peart, Kari Byron, and many more. But when in terms of having a public face, sometimes its interesting to consider what external influences affect that persona you present to people.
Although, maybe if I ever find an apartment, it'll be in a ten-story skyscraper.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
I am Keith Olbermann Ultra Light
In 1998, I obtained a journalism degree with a naive and optimistic sense to change the world with my writing. Much like those politicians who think they'll go to Washington only to see Washington change them, I soon found out when people pay attention to what you put in the paper, it truly is an enjoyable moment. However, it's also too rare, as well as usually targeted with unfair criticism.
But something was brewing inside me. I realized I was itching for arguments too much. I was trying to pursue the greatest truths I could find. I was demanding too much out of myself...and others. Those I covered were starting to annoy me, even when they shouldn't have (Which, ideally, is never. But then again, you could say that about any workplace.)
Then I left. In the following months and years, I learned that my Voice - with the capital V symbolizing the artistic ways the small-"v" voice is used - was dramatically underdeveloped from what I thought it should be. Every source who showed me a different possibility, every story that either fit into my mythical paradigm, and every deep introspection into putting it all together; they just left me feeling lost.
I gave up writing for a while, although I dabbled in personal blogs on here in 2004 and on myspace from 2007 as therapy for rough patches in this process. But eventually I did navigate my way through to a place where I am content with my values and beliefs, confident enough that I could share them without fear.
Then last year, I thought about writing a column that was objective. Politics was too divisive. I wasn't at a point where I could find a comfortable way to write distinctively.
During a subsequent period of unemployment, I realized there was something I could try. All my life, I've been a sports fan. Not really that skilled of a player, but watching teams work together in a plan seemed to fascinate me from childhood. That, and the fact I was able to gain trivial knowledge about sports that neared "Geek" level. I couldn't play, but I could talk sports with some of the best of them.
So when I noticed a sports blog site I frequented was accepting free posts, I signed up, especially hearing that it was a great way to re-start a portfolio, since I was curious about any rebirth of reporting skills. A year later left me with this:
http://bleacherreport.com/users/282069-john-stebbins/archives/newest?rel=nofollow
It felt good to write about things I really enjoyed - and at a pace I wanted to write about them. I got lauded and I got criticized. While I relished in the ability to enjoy semi-directly answering to critics, I sometimes overdid it. But I think you can say I never overreached my expertise, which was the proverbial "wall" my political reporting career kept slamming me against.
However, unlike political reporting, I realized on my own terms that sports was something that I just enjoy. The rest of the world is where I truly live. It is simply time to focus on writing about the world once again.
I think the main difference between then and now is that when I discuss people's thoughts about the world, I am more able to be considerate and sympathetic enough to incorporate other beliefs when discussing my own, even if they should be distinct and conflicting.
Like B/R, I will do this at my own pace. It'll ebb and flow, but unlike daily or weekly reporting, it'll never be forced in accordance to a regular schedule. Should I reach the level of composing on a daily basis, then maybe this will be my ticket somewhere.
To where, I don't know. In his fantastic speech to the Dartmouth Class of 2011, Conan O'Brien stated that fulfillment can lie truly on the unpredicted paths life takes you. I can't say where this will take me - if anywhere, but then again, that can be a good thing.
But something was brewing inside me. I realized I was itching for arguments too much. I was trying to pursue the greatest truths I could find. I was demanding too much out of myself...and others. Those I covered were starting to annoy me, even when they shouldn't have (Which, ideally, is never. But then again, you could say that about any workplace.)
Then I left. In the following months and years, I learned that my Voice - with the capital V symbolizing the artistic ways the small-"v" voice is used - was dramatically underdeveloped from what I thought it should be. Every source who showed me a different possibility, every story that either fit into my mythical paradigm, and every deep introspection into putting it all together; they just left me feeling lost.
I gave up writing for a while, although I dabbled in personal blogs on here in 2004 and on myspace from 2007 as therapy for rough patches in this process. But eventually I did navigate my way through to a place where I am content with my values and beliefs, confident enough that I could share them without fear.
Then last year, I thought about writing a column that was objective. Politics was too divisive. I wasn't at a point where I could find a comfortable way to write distinctively.
During a subsequent period of unemployment, I realized there was something I could try. All my life, I've been a sports fan. Not really that skilled of a player, but watching teams work together in a plan seemed to fascinate me from childhood. That, and the fact I was able to gain trivial knowledge about sports that neared "Geek" level. I couldn't play, but I could talk sports with some of the best of them.
So when I noticed a sports blog site I frequented was accepting free posts, I signed up, especially hearing that it was a great way to re-start a portfolio, since I was curious about any rebirth of reporting skills. A year later left me with this:
http://bleacherreport.com/users/282069-john-stebbins/archives/newest?rel=nofollow
It felt good to write about things I really enjoyed - and at a pace I wanted to write about them. I got lauded and I got criticized. While I relished in the ability to enjoy semi-directly answering to critics, I sometimes overdid it. But I think you can say I never overreached my expertise, which was the proverbial "wall" my political reporting career kept slamming me against.
However, unlike political reporting, I realized on my own terms that sports was something that I just enjoy. The rest of the world is where I truly live. It is simply time to focus on writing about the world once again.
I think the main difference between then and now is that when I discuss people's thoughts about the world, I am more able to be considerate and sympathetic enough to incorporate other beliefs when discussing my own, even if they should be distinct and conflicting.
Like B/R, I will do this at my own pace. It'll ebb and flow, but unlike daily or weekly reporting, it'll never be forced in accordance to a regular schedule. Should I reach the level of composing on a daily basis, then maybe this will be my ticket somewhere.
To where, I don't know. In his fantastic speech to the Dartmouth Class of 2011, Conan O'Brien stated that fulfillment can lie truly on the unpredicted paths life takes you. I can't say where this will take me - if anywhere, but then again, that can be a good thing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)