I’ve been isolated lately. I can handle being alone for long periods but eventually it begins to grate on me. It’s not so much an emotional connection that I am missing when I isolate myself but an intellectual one. That’s not to say that a sense of friendliness or comraderie is not appreciated when I interact with people but there is a greater need at my core. Continue reading “Intellectual Connection”
I came back to an old episode of Star trek Voyager called “Meld”. Tuvok performs a mind meld with one of the Voyager crew called Suder.
Basically Suder is a serial killer that wound up being lost on board Voyager in the delta quadrant. Suder murders one of the crew and Tuvok apprends him. When definite proof that Suder is the murderer is obtained Suder is asked what his motive for the crime is. This is his response:
Tuvok is puzzled and insists on a real answer. Suder respondes with:
“I didn’t like the way he looked at me.” Continue reading “No Reason”
I just watched “13 Reasons Why” season two. It was well produced and intended. It is hyperbolic in that way that afterschool specials are but I got enough out of it. One thing you can’t fault is the intensions of the creators and producers. They seem to genuinely mean well.
Something was bugging me about it though. Many of the plot developements are meant to be rather affecting towards the audience but that really is the point with a project like this. Along those lines I found myself having emotional reactions on a gut level that I usually don’t notice in myself. I am aware, though, that they are there even if only in the back of my mind. Continue reading “13 Reasons Why”
I was trying to get some fiction writing done over the last few days and I actually made some progress for once. So many ideas to express. Science fiction loaded with intellectual analysis that engaged the reader on more than an emotional level. Drama, character arcs… I’ve had all these idea in my head for a while. Getting them on the page is the difficult part. I need some direct motivation to actually force my hands to the keyboard. Sometimes I listen to music. Actually, a lot of time I listen to music. Like many people my tastes are varied but one of those genres that seems to energize me is old style hip hop and gangsta rap. There is something about it… What is it?
Hip hop emerged in the early 80s as an outgrowth of frustration. Like punk music and several experimental art-house styles of music such as techno hip hop grew from a collection of individuals who were at the low end of the social scale. Poorer urban residents combined Latin, funk, bebop and several original styles and found a new sound, or more accurately a new series of sounds. The effort and the novelty was enough to attract attention but there was something more. The pioneers of this new form of musical expression were often the disenfranchised, the poor, and the most likely to have violence subjected to them. Hip hop was there form of poetry. In many cases it was all they had. it was there platform to complain. Continue reading “Hip Hop Anthem”
I came across one that of those common internet memes a few months ago. Apparently there are 36 questions you can ask someone that will lead to love. The idea is that you sit with someone and each if you answers three sets if questions. There are 36 if them all together. The first are basic get to know you questions that are meant to open up your outlook on life and your interests. The questions get more involved the further you go and eventually they ate supposed to build intimacy because of the self disclosure. At the end you look into each other’s eyes for four minutes straight and then you supposedly fall in love.
When I met a group of people the other day I felt nervous but I also felt that it was a very good day. There are not many of those for me but when they do happen it makes me feel like I did something right. A good day is when you seem to have a small but positive impact on the people you meet.
Now, I do have a double standard when I compare myself to others. Other people deserve kindness, respect, compassion, humor, attention, validation and a decent chance at life. I can’t quite make the argument that I deserve all those things. There is no logical reason why this is so. I have simply been habituated to think this way. The double standard was enforced all throughout my childhood and now my brain automatically does it without any external force dictating that I should feel this way.
Irrational guilt. That’s a persistent component to my c-ptsd. I met a lovely group of people the other day. When I finally ventured to open up about myself I felt a great deal of relief that I had not felt for some time. It was a positive experience for me but something happened that I should have been prepared for.
When people are nice to me I begin to feel a creeping sense of guilt build up within me. The more sympathetic the person I’m talking to the greater the sense of guilt. Why does this happen? The conditions that led to my c-ptsd also left a self-correcting mechanism within it. This leads to my questioning of why I am worth anybody spending time on in the first place.
My last ramble about George Orwell’s classic work of literature, “Nineteen Eighty-Four”, got me thinking about what other books are apt metaphors for my life and my inner issues.
The short stories and novellas of H. P. Lovecraft kept coming to my mind. For those who are unfamiliar with Lovecraft’s work I could describe him as the figure in American horror/sci-fi/fantasy fiction that sits between Edgar Allan Poe on the one had, and Stephen King on the other. Like both Poe and King he described otherworldly situations and threats from beyond the realm of what we would consider “normal”. Unlike these other two authors though Lovecraft always tried to give a semi-scientific justification for the horrors that emerged from his writings. Ancient alien races from millions of years in the past and hedious intelligences from extradimensional spaces would slowly be revealed to the reader as a dry, academic, no nonsense investigator gradually went mad at the realization of what was lurking beyond the everyday world that occupies our attention.
When I was in high school I was directed to read a number of classic works of literature. I could see the value in this exercise but I never really got much out of them until I read George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. The novel gave me an insight into the way things had developed on the world stage since the beginning of the modern era and it showed an extreme vision of what could have been.
The real value in it for me though was that it provided a disturbingly close, though hyperbolic it was, view of my life up to that point.