Novocaine for the Soul by the Eels (from Beautiful Freak, 1996)
Catharsis is a term with several definitions. The ones I will use are from the American Heritage Dictionary:
1) A purifying or figurative cleansing of the emotions, especially pity and fear, described by Aristotle as an effect of tragic drama on its audience.
2) A release of emotional tension, as after an overwhelming experience, that restores or refreshes the spirit.
Catharsis, used this way, applies to music as well as tragic drama. There are songs that, for want of a better term, are simply disturbing. Whether you want to call it angst, despair, or simply a wailing and gnashing of teeth, they convey a mood similar to the tragic side of Greek drama. And listening to them can provide the cathartic relief that Aristotle alluded to. Novocaine for the Soul is one such song. Although it is sung in a plain, understated manner, the words have an intense effect of a person crying out in anguish over his difficulty in assimilating life. The singer is sarcastic, brutally blunt, and chillingly calm. bringing about an effect much stronger than if he had screamed the words out loudly with a vicious metal guitar thrashing about violently in the background. There is also a strange, sudden three-second moment of total silence stuck in the middle of this song that seems to make the whole world stop! Novocaine for the Soul is a short song, and one that does not define my own world outlook. But we all feel a little down in the dumps sometimes when maybe just listening to “happy” music isn’t really going to do us much good. The feeling that there is a “rock bottom” within ourselves that we can go to (without sinking further) and then come back from, is important. And down there in that area dwells songs like this one. Maybe it’s a variation of the old saying “Misery loves company”. Whatever it is, it works for me! And now, I’ve added my own ridiculous verse to it:
Life is good,
And so’s this song
Just four more songs to go,
It won’t be long …
Next favorite song: #4
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Monday, July 2, 2007
2012: A Mayan Odyssey
During the last few years, I have heard from time to time, mostly on the nationwide late-night radio show Coast-to-Coast AM, that there is supposedly an old Mayan calendar that is said to “end” some time in the year 2012. So what, you might say. And so what, I say as well! But apparently, there are some who say that this portends momentous changes in the Earth and for humanity as well. All kinds of cataclysmic events may end up running amuck around (and within) us because some ancient Central Americans got tired of counting the years. To me, if anything, they overshot “the end” quite a bit, since one day their civilization suddenly and mysteriously went “poof!” and reverted to the surrounding jungle (although the people still remained, but in a decentralized mode of existence). But nowadays, there are some people who are willing to sacrifice themselves as talk show guests in a supremely altruistic effort (and they have books and seminars you can buy from them to help spread the important word) to rescue our collective humanity from this fate. And what is the fate? It could be anything from a massive solar coronal ejection hitting the Earth to our poles reversing themselves to other planes of dimensional reality dipping into ours (although I’m not really sure what that’s supposed to mean). The problem that I’ve been wondering about all this is: what’s going to happen to these people and their great predictions when 2012 comes and goes with nothing of consequence occurring?
Certainly those setting a firm date for something to happen are putting their own reputations, as well as their economic futures, on the line. Most likely nothing will happen, right? So, imagine my delight when I happened to be tuned in on my radio to Coast-to-Coast AM one night recently when George Noory was hosting. He had as guest a David Wilcock, who apparently studies and makes money selling books about “higher consciousness” types of things such as chakras, energy fields, multiple dimensions, and galactic consciousness. During the segment I listened to, Noory brought up 2012. Wilcock said something to the effect that those attuned to a higher level of consciousness will then experience all sorts of phenomena, such as telekinesis, levitation, telepathy, and time travel. But what of the average Joe in the street? Well, according to guru Wilcock, it’ll be something like in the movie Matrix, when people just went about their own business, thinking that they operated in reality but actually lived in a manufactured illusory reality. Only with 2012, according to Wilcock (who obviously is planning on having all the “expected” cool mind-expanding experiences associated with 2012), those who are out-of-tune will simply invent their own realities and go on living as if nothing happened. Only Mr. Wilcock and his ilk will be there to assist those (for a reasonable price, no doubt) who want to join them in this great consciousness-raising opportunity. So in 2013, when skeptics like Michael Shermer or James Randi (or me) say, “A-ha, you’re wrong, nothing happened, now admit it!”, they can just reply, “You poor pitiful little creatures, it is you who are living in a false reality of your own making!” So, this 2012 “story” will by no means end in 2013. As a matter of fact, it will only have just begun!
I will admit that David Wilcock was one of Coast-to-Coast’s more interesting and entertaining guests, in spite of everything I’ve just said. Some of his far-out claims seem, at least to me, to resonate with Native American Red Elk (a frequent guest in the past on the same show) and his stated views. His attempt to justify spiritualism in scientific terms, though, rings hollow with me. And host George Noory just sits there gobbling up anything he says uncritically, no matter how preposterous it sounds. But I forget: this is entertainment!
Certainly those setting a firm date for something to happen are putting their own reputations, as well as their economic futures, on the line. Most likely nothing will happen, right? So, imagine my delight when I happened to be tuned in on my radio to Coast-to-Coast AM one night recently when George Noory was hosting. He had as guest a David Wilcock, who apparently studies and makes money selling books about “higher consciousness” types of things such as chakras, energy fields, multiple dimensions, and galactic consciousness. During the segment I listened to, Noory brought up 2012. Wilcock said something to the effect that those attuned to a higher level of consciousness will then experience all sorts of phenomena, such as telekinesis, levitation, telepathy, and time travel. But what of the average Joe in the street? Well, according to guru Wilcock, it’ll be something like in the movie Matrix, when people just went about their own business, thinking that they operated in reality but actually lived in a manufactured illusory reality. Only with 2012, according to Wilcock (who obviously is planning on having all the “expected” cool mind-expanding experiences associated with 2012), those who are out-of-tune will simply invent their own realities and go on living as if nothing happened. Only Mr. Wilcock and his ilk will be there to assist those (for a reasonable price, no doubt) who want to join them in this great consciousness-raising opportunity. So in 2013, when skeptics like Michael Shermer or James Randi (or me) say, “A-ha, you’re wrong, nothing happened, now admit it!”, they can just reply, “You poor pitiful little creatures, it is you who are living in a false reality of your own making!” So, this 2012 “story” will by no means end in 2013. As a matter of fact, it will only have just begun!
I will admit that David Wilcock was one of Coast-to-Coast’s more interesting and entertaining guests, in spite of everything I’ve just said. Some of his far-out claims seem, at least to me, to resonate with Native American Red Elk (a frequent guest in the past on the same show) and his stated views. His attempt to justify spiritualism in scientific terms, though, rings hollow with me. And host George Noory just sits there gobbling up anything he says uncritically, no matter how preposterous it sounds. But I forget: this is entertainment!
Sunday, July 1, 2007
The Sinbad Syndrome
Back in those glorious old days of my super-duper overhyped elementary school, yes, back when I’d cut classes unnoticed by my teachers and wander around, often I’d end up in the library (who knows, maybe this was all part of the master plan). I managed to do a lot of reading this way. One of the books that I read described the many voyages and adventures of the fictional hero Sinbad the Sailor. Sinbad, it seemed, was a prosperous man living in Baghdad, at the time (many centuries ago) considered (at least in the Muslim world) to be the center of civilization. He would make a lot of money, enjoy his family life, and eventually become bored and restless with his relatively sedate life. And then he would sail off on a dangerous quest somewhere. In the midst of his adventure, inevitably, Sinbad would reach a dangerous crisis point when he regretted having left his comfortable life for such dire peril, but since he was committed to defeating the dangers surrounding him (death was usually the only alternative), he saw his quest through and returned to Baghdad. Then he would go back to his comfort, wealth, and eventual dissatisfaction. This happened time and time again (that’s why there were several voyages of Sinbad).
We obviously can’t all be Sinbad with his glorious, exciting adventures (I for one wouldn’t want to be), but we do have our own private quests that we feel the need to embark on. At the beginning, there is often much enthusiasm, optimism, and excitement. But all too often, in the midst of our efforts to accomplish something enduring and important in our lives, we experience a crisis of confidence that tests our resolve to follow through with our efforts. How well we do depends in part, as with Sinbad, on how well-committed we are to succeeding. It is not enough to remind ourselves of the original rationale behind the quest; a crisis will create its own reasoning, going in the opposite direction. Averting potential crises is crucial, but once we’re in the middle of one the important thing is to recognize it for what it is, treat it as something with an ending, and focus on the small steps needed to get through it. At this point, the big picture is not as important as maneuvering through the difficulties. If we make our quest public, or with at least someone we feel accountable to, this will strengthen our commitment and give an incentive to endure through hard times. Once past, the momentum for positive change can resume stronger than ever!
We obviously can’t all be Sinbad with his glorious, exciting adventures (I for one wouldn’t want to be), but we do have our own private quests that we feel the need to embark on. At the beginning, there is often much enthusiasm, optimism, and excitement. But all too often, in the midst of our efforts to accomplish something enduring and important in our lives, we experience a crisis of confidence that tests our resolve to follow through with our efforts. How well we do depends in part, as with Sinbad, on how well-committed we are to succeeding. It is not enough to remind ourselves of the original rationale behind the quest; a crisis will create its own reasoning, going in the opposite direction. Averting potential crises is crucial, but once we’re in the middle of one the important thing is to recognize it for what it is, treat it as something with an ending, and focus on the small steps needed to get through it. At this point, the big picture is not as important as maneuvering through the difficulties. If we make our quest public, or with at least someone we feel accountable to, this will strengthen our commitment and give an incentive to endure through hard times. Once past, the momentum for positive change can resume stronger than ever!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Shows and Kids
I remember as a kid watching the Our Gang comedies, also known as the Little Rascals, over and over again. They had very funny episodes, especially the earlier ones. The later ones weren’t very funny at all to me. Why was this so? The early Little Rascals, going from Jackie Cooper though Alfalfa and most of Spanky’s tenure with the series, depicted life as kids would normally experience it: going out with friends fishing, playing hooky from school (and suffering the consequences), having a crush on the pretty young teacher, and building a long, ramshackle cart to race against a rich kid’s store-bought “car” (to impress a girl) were examples of what these early shows were about. Not only could children relate to them, but so could adults, at least those who could remember being kids at one time. From time to time, the gang would put on a show, which they dubbed “Our Gang Follies”. The first “Follies” reflected the idea of kids just coming together to put on a simple show, without any pretenses. Each of the following “Our Gang’s” follies-type shows became slicker and more professional-looking than the previous. The last of this type that I saw, titled “Ye Olde Minstrels” was almost unrecognizable to me as an Our Gang comedy.
I have a theory as to why this happened. The first Our Gang comedies were silent 1920s productions. When the talkies began, the country had gone into the Great Depression. The original idea was to let the children in the series be natural. Adult characters were often inserted into the stories to serve as comical foils to the gang’s antics. But once the political push to show that the U.S. had recovered from this troubled economic period took hold in the late 1930s, then it was considered more important to put on slicker productions instead of highlighting the kids as before just being themselves, living often under near-poverty conditions. Also, there apparently was pressure exerted to portray adults as more respectable in the later flicks, while the children displayed the expected deference to them. So it was a social agenda, I believe, that made the series less about the humor and joy involved with being a kid and made it more of kids acting like model citizens, which is actually unrealistic, and to be truthful, pretty boring to watch as well. So, what, if anything, does this have to do with today?
I could be totally off base with this, but in my opinion, putting children on stage in big productions is a phenomenon in schools and churches that’s getting a little out of hand. I recognize that participating in a performance here and there has always been a legitimate part of a child’s education and social training. It’s important to learn how to handle oneself in a poised manner in front of an audience. But it just seems to me that sometimes these shows are given more significance than they really merit. The pressure, be it real or imaginary, felt by teachers, parents, and volunteers to put on professional-caliber shows starring the children who are in their care, is apparently very strong. Instead, at least the way I see it, there should be more of a balance between excellence and participation. The idea that putting on a flawless production with near-professional acting and singing is supposed to promote the agenda of the organization putting it on doesn’t cut it with me. The performance, along with the preparation that goes into it, should be about the children, not the other way around. And anyway, life’s got to be more than just putting on one show after another. But that’s sometimes what it seems like, though. I do appreciate the efforts of all involved in putting on these shows nonetheless.
I have a theory as to why this happened. The first Our Gang comedies were silent 1920s productions. When the talkies began, the country had gone into the Great Depression. The original idea was to let the children in the series be natural. Adult characters were often inserted into the stories to serve as comical foils to the gang’s antics. But once the political push to show that the U.S. had recovered from this troubled economic period took hold in the late 1930s, then it was considered more important to put on slicker productions instead of highlighting the kids as before just being themselves, living often under near-poverty conditions. Also, there apparently was pressure exerted to portray adults as more respectable in the later flicks, while the children displayed the expected deference to them. So it was a social agenda, I believe, that made the series less about the humor and joy involved with being a kid and made it more of kids acting like model citizens, which is actually unrealistic, and to be truthful, pretty boring to watch as well. So, what, if anything, does this have to do with today?
I could be totally off base with this, but in my opinion, putting children on stage in big productions is a phenomenon in schools and churches that’s getting a little out of hand. I recognize that participating in a performance here and there has always been a legitimate part of a child’s education and social training. It’s important to learn how to handle oneself in a poised manner in front of an audience. But it just seems to me that sometimes these shows are given more significance than they really merit. The pressure, be it real or imaginary, felt by teachers, parents, and volunteers to put on professional-caliber shows starring the children who are in their care, is apparently very strong. Instead, at least the way I see it, there should be more of a balance between excellence and participation. The idea that putting on a flawless production with near-professional acting and singing is supposed to promote the agenda of the organization putting it on doesn’t cut it with me. The performance, along with the preparation that goes into it, should be about the children, not the other way around. And anyway, life’s got to be more than just putting on one show after another. But that’s sometimes what it seems like, though. I do appreciate the efforts of all involved in putting on these shows nonetheless.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Tariffs and British Music
I am an unapologetic fan of the British musical invasion of the 1960s. From early 1964 through much of 1967, British music dominated the American pop music charts. Leading the way was the legendary band the Beatles, but there were many other artists that made the oceanic jump with varying degrees of success. Artists like Petula Clark, the Animals, the Dave Clark Five, the Rolling Stones, Dusty Springfield, Herman’s Hermits, Peter and Gordon, Gerry and the Pacemakers, and Chad and Jeremy all had multiple hits over here that owed, at least a small part, to appearances on TV variety shows, most important among them the Ed Sullivan Show. But then something strange happened around in 1967. British acts as a wholesale phenomenon began to not do so well. Other than the superartists, radio played fewer and fewer British songs. It wouldn’t be until the early 1980s when British music would reinvade American airwaves. What happened?
In the 1970s, my parents told me that it was the U.S. recording industry that manipulated British music off the American scene in the late 1960s by pressuring Congress to impose stiffer tariffs on British music imports. It wasn’t just idle speculation on my parents’ part: they had actually seen a news story on TV explaining that. And it figures this way: I have a book that goes back to that 1960s period. Month-by-month, it lists the top-ranked songs for each the United States and Britain, on facing pages. And around 1967, a curious thing happened. Groups like Herman’s Hermits and the Hollies, who had been doing equally well on both sides of the Atlantic, suddenly were only charting high in Britain, and in the U.S. they charted low if at all. And groups like the Who and Pink Floyd, who were really coming in on their own at this time, had great difficulty getting their singles played and charted. Did American listeners’ tastes suddenly change like this? I seriously doubt it. But I’ve tried to research this tariff idea and so far I’ve come up with nothing. But I know that there is at least a kernel of truth somewhere. So I’m floating it out there in the blogosphere: do you know anything about this? Even as a kid back then, I could sense that something had changed, but I couldn’t put my finger on it until a few years later.
In the 1970s, my parents told me that it was the U.S. recording industry that manipulated British music off the American scene in the late 1960s by pressuring Congress to impose stiffer tariffs on British music imports. It wasn’t just idle speculation on my parents’ part: they had actually seen a news story on TV explaining that. And it figures this way: I have a book that goes back to that 1960s period. Month-by-month, it lists the top-ranked songs for each the United States and Britain, on facing pages. And around 1967, a curious thing happened. Groups like Herman’s Hermits and the Hollies, who had been doing equally well on both sides of the Atlantic, suddenly were only charting high in Britain, and in the U.S. they charted low if at all. And groups like the Who and Pink Floyd, who were really coming in on their own at this time, had great difficulty getting their singles played and charted. Did American listeners’ tastes suddenly change like this? I seriously doubt it. But I’ve tried to research this tariff idea and so far I’ve come up with nothing. But I know that there is at least a kernel of truth somewhere. So I’m floating it out there in the blogosphere: do you know anything about this? Even as a kid back then, I could sense that something had changed, but I couldn’t put my finger on it until a few years later.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Going the Extra Mile
The idea of going the extra mile is entrenched within our culture, the actual reference being from an exhortation by Jesus related in the New Testament. Some dismiss the wisdom of doing more than asked by another in authority. The reasoning is two-fold: one, it would only legitimize the hierarchy of authority that imposed open the “doer” in the first place. Two, if the authority making the demand (or “request”) is treated with a better-than-asked-for result, that may just become the new minimum standard when a new demand is levied. And this could be imposed on everyone, bringing up peer resentment against the overachiever. It would seem to be a wiser option, in the minds of these people, to do a mediocre job of technically fulfilling the chore so that the “boss” figure will have second thoughts about asking again. And to be perfectly honest, I see some truth in this argument! I think that some people will deliberately go “above and beyond” on assigned tasks in order to: one, give themselves a sense of freedom or self-determination and, two, encourage the authority figure to let them work more independently. To me, the first reason rings true, but anyone who thinks that someone who has scraped and clawed their way to a position of authority is going to simply turn a blind eye to a subordinate because they overachieve is a bit deluded. If anything, this would in reality send out an alarm that the hard-working subordinate is an ambitious person who at some future time may challenge or even replace the person in charge. So, at least how I see it, the best thing to do would be to honorably fulfill the assigned job, but to be careful not to overstep oneself in such a way as to ostentatiously attract the authority's attention. But I think it also is important that in fulfilling assignments, one does them with an attitude of respect and cooperation toward those in charge.
The idea of going the extra mile has a broader application than this, though. In school, for example, it behooves a student to consciously exceed the homework assigned, at least marginally, by answering a few more questions and reading a little more material. Putting a foot ahead into the not-yet-assigned material that is to be covered in the immediate future is another way of marginally exceeding expectations. As a principle of habit, it’s a good idea to overshoot (a little) whatever is on our plates at the time. This gives us the healthy perspective that we are a more active force in our own lives and less prone to seeing ourselves as passive, helpless victims of our circumstances, something that helps no one.
The idea of going the extra mile has a broader application than this, though. In school, for example, it behooves a student to consciously exceed the homework assigned, at least marginally, by answering a few more questions and reading a little more material. Putting a foot ahead into the not-yet-assigned material that is to be covered in the immediate future is another way of marginally exceeding expectations. As a principle of habit, it’s a good idea to overshoot (a little) whatever is on our plates at the time. This gives us the healthy perspective that we are a more active force in our own lives and less prone to seeing ourselves as passive, helpless victims of our circumstances, something that helps no one.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
My Blog in Its Third Month
It’s been just a little over two and a half months since I’ve begun this blog. There has been no shortage of things to write about, and doubtless that will always be the case. Doing this has been, for me, more of a joyful exercise than I ever would have imagined. Not only has it helped with my writing, but the act of sitting down and sorting my thoughts out to where they make sense on a blog entry has helped me to be prioritize areas of my life better, as well as to look different sides of issues before I render opinions. And even with opinions that I disagree with, I’ve found that there is value to those as well.
I deeply appreciate the enormous variety of blogs out there and the people who make the effort necessary to maintain them. Some blogs, which share the same ideologies, seem to band together in their own circles, promoting and feeding off each other. There are things in the blogosphere called “carnivals”, whereby some parties review blog articles from approved sources that support a particular ideology, select the ones that most meet with their approval and interest (keeping within that ideology’s parameters, of course), and publish them as a separate blogging event, tailor-made for the ideology-in-question. Don’t get me wrong: there’s nothing at all inappropriate for people to link to (and be linked by) others who have the same point of view. But the problem is that I don’t think any of us really have the exact same positions on issues and priorities, and some of us, as bloggers, may feel compelled to an extent to customize our expressed opinions so that whoever it is judging our works for acceptance into a particular ideology’s carnivals or family of blogs won’t think that we’re too “impure” in our opinions. Speaking from my own experience, I would probably be excluded from just about all of these types of “blog-conglomeration societies” because I have varying views on different issues that don’t fit neatly into someone else’s shoebox. Besides, my blog is deliberately eclectic in nature. And frankly, I don’t know why anyone would just want to read stuff that parrots his or her own beliefs, anyway. When I surf around blogs, I like to read about all sorts of different takes on things. To borrow Rush Limbaugh’s terminology, I don’t need to be a blog “ditto-head”! Now many “carnivals” out there (such as the History Carnival or Mathematics Carnival) are oriented to certain interests rather than ideologies. And likewise, I have certain interests and show them on my featured blog links. But I also know that my pages will never pass an ideological litmus test for inclusion in someone else’s club, which means that it probably will be read by fewer people. That’s too bad, since I have something to say, too. And the consolidation of blogs on the basis of ideology gives a false sense that if a large bloc of blogs conveys a particular outlook, then that outlook is somehow more real or true. The counterargument could be made, though, that putting blogs together that share an ideology performs the useful function of making that ideology easier for anyone, regardless of their viewpoint, to explore.
So, I don’t have any particular ideological agenda with this blog, specific issues and opinions I express from time to time notwithstanding. But if you, my reader, enjoy reading it, whether you agree or disagree, then that’s good enough for me!
I deeply appreciate the enormous variety of blogs out there and the people who make the effort necessary to maintain them. Some blogs, which share the same ideologies, seem to band together in their own circles, promoting and feeding off each other. There are things in the blogosphere called “carnivals”, whereby some parties review blog articles from approved sources that support a particular ideology, select the ones that most meet with their approval and interest (keeping within that ideology’s parameters, of course), and publish them as a separate blogging event, tailor-made for the ideology-in-question. Don’t get me wrong: there’s nothing at all inappropriate for people to link to (and be linked by) others who have the same point of view. But the problem is that I don’t think any of us really have the exact same positions on issues and priorities, and some of us, as bloggers, may feel compelled to an extent to customize our expressed opinions so that whoever it is judging our works for acceptance into a particular ideology’s carnivals or family of blogs won’t think that we’re too “impure” in our opinions. Speaking from my own experience, I would probably be excluded from just about all of these types of “blog-conglomeration societies” because I have varying views on different issues that don’t fit neatly into someone else’s shoebox. Besides, my blog is deliberately eclectic in nature. And frankly, I don’t know why anyone would just want to read stuff that parrots his or her own beliefs, anyway. When I surf around blogs, I like to read about all sorts of different takes on things. To borrow Rush Limbaugh’s terminology, I don’t need to be a blog “ditto-head”! Now many “carnivals” out there (such as the History Carnival or Mathematics Carnival) are oriented to certain interests rather than ideologies. And likewise, I have certain interests and show them on my featured blog links. But I also know that my pages will never pass an ideological litmus test for inclusion in someone else’s club, which means that it probably will be read by fewer people. That’s too bad, since I have something to say, too. And the consolidation of blogs on the basis of ideology gives a false sense that if a large bloc of blogs conveys a particular outlook, then that outlook is somehow more real or true. The counterargument could be made, though, that putting blogs together that share an ideology performs the useful function of making that ideology easier for anyone, regardless of their viewpoint, to explore.
So, I don’t have any particular ideological agenda with this blog, specific issues and opinions I express from time to time notwithstanding. But if you, my reader, enjoy reading it, whether you agree or disagree, then that’s good enough for me!
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Favorite Song #6
#6 Father and Son by Cat Stevens (from Tea for the Tillerman, 1970)
I didn’t hear Father and Son for the first time until late 1972, when someone played it (for reasons I don’t remember now) in my eleventh-grade English class. It became another example of the legacy of my secondary school education: the most enduring impressions that I came away with were not from any of the paid faculty, but rather from media events like films or songs or from books that I read, some within and some outside of the prescribed curricula. Later, I would hear it many times on the radio, played on the album-rock stations in South Florida. Father and Son, like my #7 song Dialogue, is itself a dialogue, this time between a father and his son. But only one singer, Cat Stevens, sings both roles, singing in low and high pitches to signify the father and son, respectively. The father in the song sees the son as an extension of himself who should follow his example and advice, while the son cries out for respect and support for his own independent decisions.
Father and Son also illustrated for me the crunch of pressure and anxiety that a young person can experience as he or she enters adulthood. It seems that almost any direction taken carries with it some dire consequence, with some loved one there who is only too willing to point out the folly in taking the “wrong” path. Why is it that we as a society put this incredible burden on our young, when in truth life can be a vast stretch of time within which one can change directions many times? It’s no surprise to me that so many young adults suffer mental breakdowns, with all of the conflicting expectations, imposed both from without and within, that they must deal with in some way. To be sure, there are certain specific pitfalls that can befall them about which parents would be unloving if they did not act or speak out to warn or protect them. But in a broader sense, everyone needs to be treated in a dignified way as individuals who need to make, as adults, significant life choices for themselves.
This subject has never been more compellingly illustrated than by this poignant but sad song. There are other songs of this genre, most notably Neil Young’s Old Man and Conway Twitty’s sweet tear-jerker, That’s My Job (one of my all-time favorite country songs). Cat Stevens produced some other songs I liked, such as Sitting, Crab Dance, and Oh Very Young. He later converted to Islam, abandoned his pop music recording career, but later came back. He has now apparently reconciled his faith with his music to the point where he is recording and performing again.
Next favorite song: #5
I didn’t hear Father and Son for the first time until late 1972, when someone played it (for reasons I don’t remember now) in my eleventh-grade English class. It became another example of the legacy of my secondary school education: the most enduring impressions that I came away with were not from any of the paid faculty, but rather from media events like films or songs or from books that I read, some within and some outside of the prescribed curricula. Later, I would hear it many times on the radio, played on the album-rock stations in South Florida. Father and Son, like my #7 song Dialogue, is itself a dialogue, this time between a father and his son. But only one singer, Cat Stevens, sings both roles, singing in low and high pitches to signify the father and son, respectively. The father in the song sees the son as an extension of himself who should follow his example and advice, while the son cries out for respect and support for his own independent decisions.
Father and Son also illustrated for me the crunch of pressure and anxiety that a young person can experience as he or she enters adulthood. It seems that almost any direction taken carries with it some dire consequence, with some loved one there who is only too willing to point out the folly in taking the “wrong” path. Why is it that we as a society put this incredible burden on our young, when in truth life can be a vast stretch of time within which one can change directions many times? It’s no surprise to me that so many young adults suffer mental breakdowns, with all of the conflicting expectations, imposed both from without and within, that they must deal with in some way. To be sure, there are certain specific pitfalls that can befall them about which parents would be unloving if they did not act or speak out to warn or protect them. But in a broader sense, everyone needs to be treated in a dignified way as individuals who need to make, as adults, significant life choices for themselves.
This subject has never been more compellingly illustrated than by this poignant but sad song. There are other songs of this genre, most notably Neil Young’s Old Man and Conway Twitty’s sweet tear-jerker, That’s My Job (one of my all-time favorite country songs). Cat Stevens produced some other songs I liked, such as Sitting, Crab Dance, and Oh Very Young. He later converted to Islam, abandoned his pop music recording career, but later came back. He has now apparently reconciled his faith with his music to the point where he is recording and performing again.
Next favorite song: #5
Monday, June 25, 2007
Affirmation: I Am
One of the principles that author Steven Covey laid out in his book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People was to “begin with the end in mind”. In other words, look back on your life from an imagined point near its end (or even beyond) and get the perspective on what you really should be doing with it now. How do you want to be remembered? A lot of that has to do with the roles a person plays with which they identify themselves. For example, Michael Jordan will always be known as a basketball player. Steven Hawking has his identity as a physicist. Donald Trump is known to be an entrepreneur. At what point did these people (and others) assume their identities? Only when they achieved their fame and material reward? If not, how far back would you have to go to see the beginning point, say, when Jordan thought of himself as a “basketball player”? I submit that it was the moment that Michael, in his early youth, decided for himself that he was. Did he play well? Not at first. Did he have a lot to learn? Of course! But he identified himself with the sport, and that’s what he became, long before he achieved any appreciable recognition for his accomplishments. And so it goes for the rest of them.
I say this because I see myself as being certain “identities” as well, even though I may be in the “infant” stage of growing in them. I recently began piano lessons and feel awkward at the keyboard. The inclination is for me to say that I don’t yet play the piano since I’m just a beginning student. Nevertheless, I am a piano player (read piano teacher Dan Starr’s excellent take on this). I am a runner, although I probably won’t run in (much less finish high in) any races in the near future, just having resumed the activity recently after a long hiatus. And I am a writer. I write this blog, and at this stage of writing, it suits my purposes. As a writer, I’m bound to expand into frontiers that I would like to explore, and at a point in the future this may involve professional writing. Whatever happens, though, one thing is certain: I am a writer. Also, from now on if someone asks me whether I speak any foreign languages, I’m going to answer yes: I’m a speaker of Spanish, French, German, Polish, Russian, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Japanese. No longer am I going to hem and haw about not being fluent in them. Fluency will come more easily with the deep feeling of identification within me of speaking them already.
I think the key with regard to affirming one’s identity this way is to do it in relatively generic terms, not being too specific. Thus, I don’t call myself a concert pianist, Olympic runner, best-selling author, or United Nations interpreter. That would be delusional. But saying that I’m a pianist, runner, writer, and speaker of foreign languages is the absolute truth!
This affirming of one’s identity, even at the beginning of a possibly long-term effort to achieve competency (and ultimately excellence) in an area cannot be underestimated in its importance. When one identifies closely with a dream, this internalizes it, giving it a better chance to grow to fulfillment. And that fulfillment of a dream can be anything from a humble showing of success or proficiency all the way to outstanding achievements and recognition!
I say this because I see myself as being certain “identities” as well, even though I may be in the “infant” stage of growing in them. I recently began piano lessons and feel awkward at the keyboard. The inclination is for me to say that I don’t yet play the piano since I’m just a beginning student. Nevertheless, I am a piano player (read piano teacher Dan Starr’s excellent take on this). I am a runner, although I probably won’t run in (much less finish high in) any races in the near future, just having resumed the activity recently after a long hiatus. And I am a writer. I write this blog, and at this stage of writing, it suits my purposes. As a writer, I’m bound to expand into frontiers that I would like to explore, and at a point in the future this may involve professional writing. Whatever happens, though, one thing is certain: I am a writer. Also, from now on if someone asks me whether I speak any foreign languages, I’m going to answer yes: I’m a speaker of Spanish, French, German, Polish, Russian, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Japanese. No longer am I going to hem and haw about not being fluent in them. Fluency will come more easily with the deep feeling of identification within me of speaking them already.
I think the key with regard to affirming one’s identity this way is to do it in relatively generic terms, not being too specific. Thus, I don’t call myself a concert pianist, Olympic runner, best-selling author, or United Nations interpreter. That would be delusional. But saying that I’m a pianist, runner, writer, and speaker of foreign languages is the absolute truth!
This affirming of one’s identity, even at the beginning of a possibly long-term effort to achieve competency (and ultimately excellence) in an area cannot be underestimated in its importance. When one identifies closely with a dream, this internalizes it, giving it a better chance to grow to fulfillment. And that fulfillment of a dream can be anything from a humble showing of success or proficiency all the way to outstanding achievements and recognition!
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Conservative Talk Radio
When I’m at work, sometimes I have access to the radio. And there are a couple of talk stations that, of course, are saturated with opinion shows from a right-wing, conservative perspective. Now there’s nothing wrong about this, as far as I’m concerned. I like hearing different takes on the issues of the day. I’d just like to hear a more liberal take on them every now and then, that’s all. But even conceding that I’m only going to hear the conservative shows on my radio, I would at least expect the shows to show some reasonable variation as far as the actual subject matter for discussion is concerned.
And, to be fair, there are some differences between shows. Neal Boortz is a confirmed libertarian (except when the military is concerned) who lashes out from time to time against organized religion and what he sees as attempts by them to influence public policy. Michael Savage is hung up on his own continual rant about “borders-language-culture” and sometimes goes off on autobiographical tangents (which I often find to be touching). When he pitches an occasional angry fit on the air (like he did recently against Mississippi Senator Trent Lott), he reminds me of that insane newscaster in the movie Network who said, “I’m as mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore!” It really cracks me up when Savage explodes like this. Both Boortz and Savage express unremitting contempt for fellow talk show host Bill O’Reilly, whom Savage sarcastically dubs “The Leprechaun”. In spite of the fact that I personally dislike and usually politically disagree with these two, I find myself respecting and listening to them more than other hosts like O’Reilly, Laura Ingraham, Mark Davis, Jerry Doyle, Rush Limbaugh, or Sean Hannity, all of whom sound disingenuous and phony to me. Also, I like the way Boortz and Savage talk about their home towns on the air (Boortz in Atlanta and Savage in San Francisco).
But there is one conservative talk show host who is, in my opinion, leaps and bounds above the others: Gregg Knapp. I first began to listen to him in 2000, when he was the local Gainesville, Florida, weekday-morning talk show host on 97.3 WSKY. Later, he left to join a station in Texas. But now he’s come back with his own nationwide syndicated show, and is on a different Gainesville station (99.5 WBXY) early on weekday evenings. Knapp can be counted on to parrot most of the conservative talking points you’d hear on the other shows, but he works hard to win you over to his side with detailed facts and reasoned arguing. One of his most compelling tactics is to take an issue and progress through the pro and con arguments from each side’s point of view, usually at a breakneck pace. Sure, he makes fun of people whom I generally support, but that’s part of the game. I personally like and respect Gregg. He’s the “real McCoy”! Neil Boortz and Michael Savage are entertaining, but I have my guard up against them. But Greg Knapp is a different kind of host: he persuades by appealing to the listeners’’ common sense, without drowning them in a sea of insults, fear-mongering, ideological mumbo-jumbo, and phony patriotism the way too many of the others carry out their craft. His style should be the imitated standard that other talk show hosts try to live up to, regardless of which side of the political spectrum they may speak from. He’s still got a ways to go in his career, but he’s going in the “right” direction. I wish Gregg Knapp the best!
And, to be fair, there are some differences between shows. Neal Boortz is a confirmed libertarian (except when the military is concerned) who lashes out from time to time against organized religion and what he sees as attempts by them to influence public policy. Michael Savage is hung up on his own continual rant about “borders-language-culture” and sometimes goes off on autobiographical tangents (which I often find to be touching). When he pitches an occasional angry fit on the air (like he did recently against Mississippi Senator Trent Lott), he reminds me of that insane newscaster in the movie Network who said, “I’m as mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore!” It really cracks me up when Savage explodes like this. Both Boortz and Savage express unremitting contempt for fellow talk show host Bill O’Reilly, whom Savage sarcastically dubs “The Leprechaun”. In spite of the fact that I personally dislike and usually politically disagree with these two, I find myself respecting and listening to them more than other hosts like O’Reilly, Laura Ingraham, Mark Davis, Jerry Doyle, Rush Limbaugh, or Sean Hannity, all of whom sound disingenuous and phony to me. Also, I like the way Boortz and Savage talk about their home towns on the air (Boortz in Atlanta and Savage in San Francisco).
But there is one conservative talk show host who is, in my opinion, leaps and bounds above the others: Gregg Knapp. I first began to listen to him in 2000, when he was the local Gainesville, Florida, weekday-morning talk show host on 97.3 WSKY. Later, he left to join a station in Texas. But now he’s come back with his own nationwide syndicated show, and is on a different Gainesville station (99.5 WBXY) early on weekday evenings. Knapp can be counted on to parrot most of the conservative talking points you’d hear on the other shows, but he works hard to win you over to his side with detailed facts and reasoned arguing. One of his most compelling tactics is to take an issue and progress through the pro and con arguments from each side’s point of view, usually at a breakneck pace. Sure, he makes fun of people whom I generally support, but that’s part of the game. I personally like and respect Gregg. He’s the “real McCoy”! Neil Boortz and Michael Savage are entertaining, but I have my guard up against them. But Greg Knapp is a different kind of host: he persuades by appealing to the listeners’’ common sense, without drowning them in a sea of insults, fear-mongering, ideological mumbo-jumbo, and phony patriotism the way too many of the others carry out their craft. His style should be the imitated standard that other talk show hosts try to live up to, regardless of which side of the political spectrum they may speak from. He’s still got a ways to go in his career, but he’s going in the “right” direction. I wish Gregg Knapp the best!
Saturday, June 23, 2007
The Block and the Search
A long, long time ago, back in the mid-1970s, I used to run regularly. The course I usually ran on was around a 2.9 mile block in Davie, Florida that encompassed Broward Community College and some public schools. The terrain varied greatly from place to place. Sometimes I’d run on asphalt, while other times I’d run over different types of grass and dirt. There was a stretch along the northwest corner of the course that was rocky and riddled with holes. The two main characteristics of my course were wide-open spaces and the surrounding schools. The fact that I wasn’t running through residential neighborhoods was a big plus, since at that time runners were generally jeered at by people and chased after and bitten by the nice dogs running around loose (at least in my fine neighborhood). The culture of “Runner’s World” had not yet descended on our society, and people who were running out in public were seen, at worst, as suspicious and at best, as ridiculous. So I always sought out places to run that were more out in the open country, so to speak. This did not prevent people from cursing me, honking at me, yelling at me, and/or throwing garbage at me from their cars as they passed by. But those events were the exceptions and not the rule. Usually, people around there went about their business and I went about mine. At the beginning of each run, I often felt uncomfortable and even stiff, but once I put in a mile or so, I was “sailing”! I experienced a kind of detached, peaceful feeling while running out there, something that I haven’t been able to recapture to any significant degree since I moved to Gainesville.
But now I am on the search for a similar place in my current hometown. Around my neighborhood is a stretch called “Mile Run” that many people use to run, walk, ride bicycles, or walk dogs. But it seems a bit too “urban” to me. My residential neighborhood is okay, as far as worrying about dogs or unfriendly people is concerned. But I’d be pretty much limited to running on asphalt here, and, once again, it doesn’t have an “out in the country” feel to it. And besides, there are asphalt tracks that I can use if I want to run on this kind of surface. I’ve thought about the University of Florida campus as a possibility, but the traffic there is horrendously high, even out in the more rural areas. There are some places further out west from Gainesville that seem more promising. Thanks to an Internet site called MapMyRun.com that I picked up off a running blogsite, I can now design my own course using any combination of roads I want and measure out its distance on my computer. Up to now, I confined my runs to a treadmill until I built my distance up. But now I’m covering three miles per run and would like a more interesting experience than that treadmill, although I’m grateful to be able to use it when it’s an unbearable 95˚F outside (or raining cats amd dogs)! The search is on, though. I know that somewhere out there is a running course with my name on it, waiting to be discovered!
But now I am on the search for a similar place in my current hometown. Around my neighborhood is a stretch called “Mile Run” that many people use to run, walk, ride bicycles, or walk dogs. But it seems a bit too “urban” to me. My residential neighborhood is okay, as far as worrying about dogs or unfriendly people is concerned. But I’d be pretty much limited to running on asphalt here, and, once again, it doesn’t have an “out in the country” feel to it. And besides, there are asphalt tracks that I can use if I want to run on this kind of surface. I’ve thought about the University of Florida campus as a possibility, but the traffic there is horrendously high, even out in the more rural areas. There are some places further out west from Gainesville that seem more promising. Thanks to an Internet site called MapMyRun.com that I picked up off a running blogsite, I can now design my own course using any combination of roads I want and measure out its distance on my computer. Up to now, I confined my runs to a treadmill until I built my distance up. But now I’m covering three miles per run and would like a more interesting experience than that treadmill, although I’m grateful to be able to use it when it’s an unbearable 95˚F outside (or raining cats amd dogs)! The search is on, though. I know that somewhere out there is a running course with my name on it, waiting to be discovered!
Friday, June 22, 2007
Civil War and Religion in China
Being an American, I have grown up being taught about the different crises that my country has gone through in its long history. The most severe one has to be our Civil War, which lasted from 1861 to 1865 and cost more than 600,000 lives, mostly due to disease. Since antibiotics had not yet been introduced, soldiers wounded in battle often had their injured limb(s) amputated as a preventative measure to prevent gangrene from fatally infecting them. I remember seeing a photograph once of the surgeon’s area in one of these outdoor army “hospitals” following a battle that show a large pile of sawed off arms and legs. For decades after the war, the whole country had a very large number of men coping with the burden of living out the rest of their lives without arms and/or legs. And the southern part of the country (along with border states loyal to the Union like Kentucky and Missouri) was devastated and took many decades to recover. As severe as the scale of carnage and damage was to us in this country during the U.S. Civil War, though, it was insignificant in comparison to what occurred in China during the same general period.
In south central China, during the mid-nineteenth century, an ostensibly Christian movement rose up, proclaiming the arrival of a self-proclaimed Christ-Messiah figure in the carnation of a Chinese man, Hong Xiuquan. Together with his associate, Yang Xiuqing, they began a campaign of religious and class warfare that swept through central and south China, destroying anything and anybody in its path that could be remotely construed as straying from the Taiping movement’s doctrine. They were enormously successful for the first few years and took over many large cities, including Nanjing. They, seeing themselves as Christians, invited the Western nations to support them in the rebellion. But the West instead uniformly aided the Qing government to hold them off, and ultimately the rebels were defeated, both by outside attacks and by inside weakness and corruption. The leaders of the rebellion died. The Taiping Rebellion lasted from 1851 to 1864. The most conservative estimates put the dead from this conflict at twenty million, giving it the second highest death toll ever in a war (after World War II)! Some of the tactics used by the Taipings, including show trials of landowners and communal sharing of property looked like forerunners of the Communists in the following century. But this movement also rightly put the fear of spontaneous grass-roots religious movements in the hearts of the Chinese leadership, a fear that explains to a great degree why the government only tolerates some long-established religious denominations (or, better yet, state-controlled denominations) and persecutes a group like Falun Gong, especially after they showed their ability to quickly mobilize a protest demonstration a few years ago.
Although it would be tempting to judge the actions of the current Chinese regime regarding banned religious activity from our perspective as members of Western society with its long-established respect for the principles of religious freedom, it is very important to understand the traumatic historical experience of China with regard to a religious movement that grew out of control and spread like a cancer across this great nation. Certainly the China back then is much different than the China today, and there may be some “victim as aggressor” in play as they hold down growing religious movements that are out of the state’s control. But traumatic experiences in history do play a big role in a country’s take on later events. Just look at how the American Civil War and our more recent experiences with Vietnam and 9/11 have painted our outlook on society and history in this country.
In south central China, during the mid-nineteenth century, an ostensibly Christian movement rose up, proclaiming the arrival of a self-proclaimed Christ-Messiah figure in the carnation of a Chinese man, Hong Xiuquan. Together with his associate, Yang Xiuqing, they began a campaign of religious and class warfare that swept through central and south China, destroying anything and anybody in its path that could be remotely construed as straying from the Taiping movement’s doctrine. They were enormously successful for the first few years and took over many large cities, including Nanjing. They, seeing themselves as Christians, invited the Western nations to support them in the rebellion. But the West instead uniformly aided the Qing government to hold them off, and ultimately the rebels were defeated, both by outside attacks and by inside weakness and corruption. The leaders of the rebellion died. The Taiping Rebellion lasted from 1851 to 1864. The most conservative estimates put the dead from this conflict at twenty million, giving it the second highest death toll ever in a war (after World War II)! Some of the tactics used by the Taipings, including show trials of landowners and communal sharing of property looked like forerunners of the Communists in the following century. But this movement also rightly put the fear of spontaneous grass-roots religious movements in the hearts of the Chinese leadership, a fear that explains to a great degree why the government only tolerates some long-established religious denominations (or, better yet, state-controlled denominations) and persecutes a group like Falun Gong, especially after they showed their ability to quickly mobilize a protest demonstration a few years ago.
Although it would be tempting to judge the actions of the current Chinese regime regarding banned religious activity from our perspective as members of Western society with its long-established respect for the principles of religious freedom, it is very important to understand the traumatic historical experience of China with regard to a religious movement that grew out of control and spread like a cancer across this great nation. Certainly the China back then is much different than the China today, and there may be some “victim as aggressor” in play as they hold down growing religious movements that are out of the state’s control. But traumatic experiences in history do play a big role in a country’s take on later events. Just look at how the American Civil War and our more recent experiences with Vietnam and 9/11 have painted our outlook on society and history in this country.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Extremes in Space and Time
As human beings, we are oriented to a certain range of space and time that is the most conducive to our survival as organisms. With space, we interpret the real world around us according to events and things that are on a relatively narrow spatial scale, from the very smallest things we can see with the unaided eye to the most distant things visible on the edge of the horizon. Things beyond that, such as the sun, moon, planet, and stars, are intuitively out of our grasp, which goes a long way toward explaining why they have been given supernatural or mythological status in the past. Speaking temporally, we tend to understand events transpiring from the duration of a second all the way through the span of a lifetime. Once again, this may go a ways toward explaining the tendency of some to worship their ancestors (who lived beyond their range of intuitive understanding) as well as that of many to give special status to ancient writings as being of a supernaturally-inspired origin. For many centuries, of course, these ranges have been greatly expanded through the recorded and shared collective experiences of people to give those who have been “educated” a wider sense of what the real “world” is like, even as it conflicts with their intuitive grasps of things. But nowadays, with our electron microscopes, Hubble and radio telescopes, atomic clocks, general relativity, quantum mechanics, and radiocarbon and isotope-dating systems, the ranges of space and time have been stretched so far that even for the “educated”, there no longer remains a sense of connection between the extremes of time and space and their own day-to-day existence, which for the most part is within the same space/time range as always. And when considering the extremely short distances, the extremely far distances, the extremely short durations in time, or the extremely long durations in time, the processes that we can relate to on our human level become distorted or even seem to be transformed into something altogether different and alien.
With this in mind, I sympathize (but only up to a point) with those who cannot fathom the concept of evolution and who instead attribute their human existence literally to the account given in the first chapters of Genesis. But I don’t agree with that viewpoint. Rather, the way I see it, people who insist on oversimplified explanations like this for the mysteries of the universe (and they usually involve the “extremes” of space and time) are basically stating that if they themselves cannot understand something, then their God cannot either. Doesn’t that seem a bit insulting and limiting to God, who is supposedly omniscient and omnipotent? Before microbes were relatively recently (historically speaking) discovered and determined to be the cause of many diseases, people commonly attributed outbreaks and epidemics to either God's wrath or to demonic forces instead of just admitting ignorance. That was another example of something outside of people's intuitive grasp (the extremely small).The Bible itself makes repeated points about the mysteries of God, but some people apparently don’t seem to dig those sections. Why can’t these people just have the honesty to say that they don’t know everything and that they have difficulty, like most everyone else, understanding on a deep level the sometimes bizarre world of the extremes in space and time, along with the processes occurring therein?!
With this in mind, I sympathize (but only up to a point) with those who cannot fathom the concept of evolution and who instead attribute their human existence literally to the account given in the first chapters of Genesis. But I don’t agree with that viewpoint. Rather, the way I see it, people who insist on oversimplified explanations like this for the mysteries of the universe (and they usually involve the “extremes” of space and time) are basically stating that if they themselves cannot understand something, then their God cannot either. Doesn’t that seem a bit insulting and limiting to God, who is supposedly omniscient and omnipotent? Before microbes were relatively recently (historically speaking) discovered and determined to be the cause of many diseases, people commonly attributed outbreaks and epidemics to either God's wrath or to demonic forces instead of just admitting ignorance. That was another example of something outside of people's intuitive grasp (the extremely small).The Bible itself makes repeated points about the mysteries of God, but some people apparently don’t seem to dig those sections. Why can’t these people just have the honesty to say that they don’t know everything and that they have difficulty, like most everyone else, understanding on a deep level the sometimes bizarre world of the extremes in space and time, along with the processes occurring therein?!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Last Month's Readings
Over the past month, I’ve been continuing my reading of Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series, just finishing the fourth book, Foundation’s Edge and starting the fifth book, Foundation and Earth. These two books, written decades after the original trilogy, are much longer and are closely connected with each other in terms of plot and characters. There are further Foundation novels written later, of which I have Prelude to Foundation and Forward the Foundation. So, I’m going to be busy for a while longer with this interesting series! As far as I know, no one ever adapted the Foundation series to the screen, but it would be a worthwhile undertaking.
Besides Asimov’s famous series, I finished Stephen King’s short story collection Night Shift. Like any other collection, I like some stories more than others. If you have time to read just a few of them, I would recommend The Ledge, Gray Matter, Quitters, Inc., and Sometimes They Come Back (which was made into a movie). Jerusalem’s Lot is similar to his novel Salem’s Lot, but takes place at a different time. Children of the Corn was made into a movie, but the two versions diverge greatly from each other at times with regard to the characters and the plot. Another story, Battleground, was presented on the miniseries Nightmares and Dreamscapes (based mainly on stories from the book with that title) shown on cable network TNT a few months ago. Overall, I enjoyed Night Shift. I also read The Tommyknockers and The Shining, both made into movies that I have yet to see. I read somewhere that Stephen King wasn’t altogether happy with the movie version of The Shining, though. I just began reading his short crime novel The Colorado Kid. One other Stephen King note: look for the movie 1408 to come out soon. It’s based on the story with the same title from the book Everything’s Eventual. I thought 1408 was the best one in the book!
Aside from reading a lot of Asimov and King, I finished Robert Ludlum’s first novel The Scarlatti Inheritance. It wasn’t quite as good as I had hoped it would be, but I think one of the reasons for that was that the novel contained a lot about the world of high finance, something about which I am relatively ignorant. But I plan to keep on reading more of his work.
I’ve got to pick another short story collection to read. Maybe I’ll pick out a “year’s best science fiction” book off my shelf and resume tackling some of the old classic sci-fi short stories!
Besides Asimov’s famous series, I finished Stephen King’s short story collection Night Shift. Like any other collection, I like some stories more than others. If you have time to read just a few of them, I would recommend The Ledge, Gray Matter, Quitters, Inc., and Sometimes They Come Back (which was made into a movie). Jerusalem’s Lot is similar to his novel Salem’s Lot, but takes place at a different time. Children of the Corn was made into a movie, but the two versions diverge greatly from each other at times with regard to the characters and the plot. Another story, Battleground, was presented on the miniseries Nightmares and Dreamscapes (based mainly on stories from the book with that title) shown on cable network TNT a few months ago. Overall, I enjoyed Night Shift. I also read The Tommyknockers and The Shining, both made into movies that I have yet to see. I read somewhere that Stephen King wasn’t altogether happy with the movie version of The Shining, though. I just began reading his short crime novel The Colorado Kid. One other Stephen King note: look for the movie 1408 to come out soon. It’s based on the story with the same title from the book Everything’s Eventual. I thought 1408 was the best one in the book!
Aside from reading a lot of Asimov and King, I finished Robert Ludlum’s first novel The Scarlatti Inheritance. It wasn’t quite as good as I had hoped it would be, but I think one of the reasons for that was that the novel contained a lot about the world of high finance, something about which I am relatively ignorant. But I plan to keep on reading more of his work.
I’ve got to pick another short story collection to read. Maybe I’ll pick out a “year’s best science fiction” book off my shelf and resume tackling some of the old classic sci-fi short stories!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Favorite Songs:#8 to #7
#8 Invisible Sun by the Police (from Ghost in the Machine, 1982)
Invisible Sun is a chilling, ominous song about an apocalyptic, nightmarish world of the future. Or is it singer/songwriter Sting’s take on today? Along with the enormous steps in technology that seem to progressively weave the world together into an tapestry of increased communication, transportation, and material abundance comes the flip side, the progressive unraveling of society, crazed mass movements of extremism, genocide and destruction, ever-spreading pollution, sporadic outbreaks of disease and famine, and most of all the suffocation and desperation arising from the overcrowding that is strangling this planet. Is that what Invisible Sun is about? That’s the reaction I get from it, at least. I first heard this disturbing song when I saw the video in 1983, and it was equally as somber as the music was. The Police only made five studio albums during their short existence together, but had an enormous impact on the rock music scene, fusing reggae and rock together with seamless ease. My favorites of theirs are It’s All Right For You, Walking On the Moon, The Bed’s Too Big Without You, Don’t Stand So Close to Me, Canary in a Coal Mine, Synchronicity I, Synchronicity II, and King of Pain. After the group’s breakup in 1984, Sting came out with solo gems like All This Time and Fields of Gold. I’ve heard they reunited this year to give some concerts, but I’m skeptical that they’ll ever recapture that tight dynamic cutting-edge sound of theirs when they were at their zenith.
#7 Dialogue (Parts I & II) by Chicago (from Chicago V, 1972)
Just listen to this 35-year old song and tell me that it doesn’t totally apply to today: “Don’t it make you angry when a war keeps draggin’ on? ---Well, I hope the President knows what he’s into, I don’t know…”. The first part of Dialogue is just what its name says: a brutally frank conversation between two very different souls. One is a gadfly who questions and provokes the other, a complacent and materialistic figure who rationalizes all matters of conscience in terms of how well he is personally feeling while turning a blind eye toward anything that doesn’t promote his personal agenda. The song’s second part is a great instrumental jam interlaced with the optimistic litany “We can make it happen”. Dialogue is, to me, the best of that era in Chicago’s long history when they took bold chances with their music for the sake of creativity. Make Me Smile, Questions 67 & 68, and Saturday In the Park are other examples of this group’s “golden age”. In later years, they would succumb to the allure of cranking out one slow, insipid, commercially-successful ballad after another, but they were an exciting band to follow in the early 1970s, with their blaring horns and electrifying drums and guitars. I first heard Dialogue in early 1973 when it was played once during my high school’s daily morning Ad-Com (short for administrative communications, you see, they never made anything easy) TV show. So, every time I hear it, I’m transported back to that time and (personal) turmoil. It’s a great, powerful piece of inspired music!
Next favorite song: #6
Invisible Sun is a chilling, ominous song about an apocalyptic, nightmarish world of the future. Or is it singer/songwriter Sting’s take on today? Along with the enormous steps in technology that seem to progressively weave the world together into an tapestry of increased communication, transportation, and material abundance comes the flip side, the progressive unraveling of society, crazed mass movements of extremism, genocide and destruction, ever-spreading pollution, sporadic outbreaks of disease and famine, and most of all the suffocation and desperation arising from the overcrowding that is strangling this planet. Is that what Invisible Sun is about? That’s the reaction I get from it, at least. I first heard this disturbing song when I saw the video in 1983, and it was equally as somber as the music was. The Police only made five studio albums during their short existence together, but had an enormous impact on the rock music scene, fusing reggae and rock together with seamless ease. My favorites of theirs are It’s All Right For You, Walking On the Moon, The Bed’s Too Big Without You, Don’t Stand So Close to Me, Canary in a Coal Mine, Synchronicity I, Synchronicity II, and King of Pain. After the group’s breakup in 1984, Sting came out with solo gems like All This Time and Fields of Gold. I’ve heard they reunited this year to give some concerts, but I’m skeptical that they’ll ever recapture that tight dynamic cutting-edge sound of theirs when they were at their zenith.
#7 Dialogue (Parts I & II) by Chicago (from Chicago V, 1972)
Just listen to this 35-year old song and tell me that it doesn’t totally apply to today: “Don’t it make you angry when a war keeps draggin’ on? ---Well, I hope the President knows what he’s into, I don’t know…”. The first part of Dialogue is just what its name says: a brutally frank conversation between two very different souls. One is a gadfly who questions and provokes the other, a complacent and materialistic figure who rationalizes all matters of conscience in terms of how well he is personally feeling while turning a blind eye toward anything that doesn’t promote his personal agenda. The song’s second part is a great instrumental jam interlaced with the optimistic litany “We can make it happen”. Dialogue is, to me, the best of that era in Chicago’s long history when they took bold chances with their music for the sake of creativity. Make Me Smile, Questions 67 & 68, and Saturday In the Park are other examples of this group’s “golden age”. In later years, they would succumb to the allure of cranking out one slow, insipid, commercially-successful ballad after another, but they were an exciting band to follow in the early 1970s, with their blaring horns and electrifying drums and guitars. I first heard Dialogue in early 1973 when it was played once during my high school’s daily morning Ad-Com (short for administrative communications, you see, they never made anything easy) TV show. So, every time I hear it, I’m transported back to that time and (personal) turmoil. It’s a great, powerful piece of inspired music!
Next favorite song: #6
Monday, June 18, 2007
The Space Odyssey Series
When I was a teenager, I went out and saw the groundbreaking, sensational science fiction movie 2001: A Space Odyssey, conceived and written by Arthur C. Clarke and directed by Stanley Kubrick. Like many who saw it, this movie made a lasting impression on me in different ways. For one, it set a timetable for putting up a base on the moon by the late 1990s, which of course we’ve failed miserably to do. By 1999, (in the movie) we already had a huge, sophisticated space station that had Bell Telephone booths to call to Earth from space as well as long hallways with weird red avant garde furniture. It also established that by 1999, we had the technology to build a complex spaceship for a manned expedition to as distant a place as Jupiter. The idea that humanity’s progress was in fact guided by aliens was put forth in this movie as well, a viewpoint that probably didn’t have a resoundingly positive effect on our society. The most striking thing about this movie, to me, though, was the dazzling, puzzling, and ultimately frustrating ending, which seemed to depart somehow from science fiction and enter into obscure mysticism. Arthur C. Clarke wrote the book following the movie and changed some things, including the ultimate destination of the deep space mission. But I enjoyed the book and got a good taste of this great author’s writing. A few years later, 2010 was released as a sequel to 2001. It, as well as its book, lined up with the 2001 movie instead of the book. 2010 had a much more literal interpretation of things than 2001. And whereas in 2001, the U.S. and Soviet Union were characterized as having reached a peaceful accommodation with each other, 2010 portrayed them as being on the precipice of a nuclear war. 2010 was nowhere as popular as 2001, and that may be why the series ended there, at least as far as movies were concerned. Once I realized the scope of 2010 and stopped trying to compare it with 2001, I came to appreciate and like it. It did have an incredibly exciting ending! Clarke followed up these two movie/books with two more books: 2061: Odyssey Three and 3001: The Final Odyssey. I very strongly recommend these two books to anyone who enjoyed either of the movies. There are factual discrepancies between all four books that the reader needs to understand and then “get over”, but they don’t interfere with the overall flow of the stories. Clarke has such a smooth, enjoyable writing style that I whizzed through these books very quickly. Why they weren’t made into movies is beyond me. After all, look at what they did with Battlestar Galactica, resurrecting it from an earlier, failed series! At the very least, they could combine the last two books into a Sci-Fi Channel mini-series. I think there are an awful lot of people out there that would regard something like that as a special event to set aside time to watch!
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Producing a Product
I’ve found that, sometimes in life, it’s necessary to emphasize the continuity of my endeavors, especially during periods when it seems difficult just to go through the motions. Well, going through the motions is at least something, and sometimes the best work is accomplished when all I’m trying to do is just “produce a product”. Some of my best papers in college were written hastily, with the thought of just getting them turned in and through with. Later, when I got them back with “A”s and complimentary teacher remarks on them, I’d read them again and wonder how I was able to write quality work like that! The best mile run I did, 5:25, occurred one morning when I felt physically weak and queasy. I decided to run just doing the best I could to finish without going too slow. And ended up surprising myself and some others! When I was originally hired at my current place of employment, it was necessary to undergo difficult training that required much memory, hand-eye coordination, and manual dexterity. From day to day, it seemed like little progress was being made, but I was assiduous in my efforts and made dramatic progress over a span of weeks, easily passing the required training.
Much of what we aspire to in life is the culmination of long stretches of time within which we train, practice, study, strive, or whatever else you’d like to call it. At any given time, progress seems to come at a snail’s pace or even not at all. But even over relatively short spans like a couple of months, improvement can seem sudden, and at times almost miraculous. But this involves punching through the all-too-many times when there seems to be little motivation, time, priority, or energy to keep up with things. But if stuck to, I believe almost anything is possible!
Nowadays, I’m engaged in a number of self-improvement projects, apart from my family and home. One is writing a daily substantive entry in this blog, not necessarily the easiest thing to do as some of you may already know from experience. I’m taking piano lessons for the first time, faithfully practicing each day, but feeling totally clumsy each time (although I know I’m improving daily). I’ve also started to run again. It would be easy for me to compare myself unfavorably with all of the younger, more talented, and more experienced runners out there, especially those I read about in the blogosphere, but I’m fifty years old and have to make my progress one step at a time and in a prudent manner that gradually increases my load. Just since May 14, when I started, I’ve made a lot of progress. But that has only come because I forced myself to run on days that I really didn’t feel like making the effort. There are some other areas in my life that it would be cool to get better at, and perhaps in the future, if I get started on these, I’ll share them with you as well. For my self-improvement guru-friend Anthony Robbins has said that making a public commitment to accomplish something is a very helpful step toward that end in itself. And I add to that, “Just produce a product!”
Much of what we aspire to in life is the culmination of long stretches of time within which we train, practice, study, strive, or whatever else you’d like to call it. At any given time, progress seems to come at a snail’s pace or even not at all. But even over relatively short spans like a couple of months, improvement can seem sudden, and at times almost miraculous. But this involves punching through the all-too-many times when there seems to be little motivation, time, priority, or energy to keep up with things. But if stuck to, I believe almost anything is possible!
Nowadays, I’m engaged in a number of self-improvement projects, apart from my family and home. One is writing a daily substantive entry in this blog, not necessarily the easiest thing to do as some of you may already know from experience. I’m taking piano lessons for the first time, faithfully practicing each day, but feeling totally clumsy each time (although I know I’m improving daily). I’ve also started to run again. It would be easy for me to compare myself unfavorably with all of the younger, more talented, and more experienced runners out there, especially those I read about in the blogosphere, but I’m fifty years old and have to make my progress one step at a time and in a prudent manner that gradually increases my load. Just since May 14, when I started, I’ve made a lot of progress. But that has only come because I forced myself to run on days that I really didn’t feel like making the effort. There are some other areas in my life that it would be cool to get better at, and perhaps in the future, if I get started on these, I’ll share them with you as well. For my self-improvement guru-friend Anthony Robbins has said that making a public commitment to accomplish something is a very helpful step toward that end in itself. And I add to that, “Just produce a product!”
Saturday, June 16, 2007
The Four Personality Types
I’ve attended a few different churches over the course of the past twenty years. For the ones that I’ve stayed at for a while, inevitably, either in a discipleship class, a small group “family” meeting, Sunday school, or in a sermon, the folks “in charge” have presented the idea that there are four basic personality types and that people are distinguished from each other by which category they favor the most. Along with this presentation, there usually was a self-test that people would take to determine which personality type they had. The names given to these four types were either based on ancient notions of the body or on names of animals that gave clues as to the nature of each type. There were the choleric (“lion”), melancholy (“beaver”), phlegmatic (“golden retriever”), and sanguine (“otter”) personalities. In a very small nutshell, cholerics tend to be bossy, type A’s. Melancholies are finicky, perfectionist, and slaves to detail. Phlegmatics are more relaxed and laid back, with a tendency to be lazy. And sanguines are naturally sociable types who sometimes have trouble keeping up with their commitments.
I remember when one small church I attended gave out the self-test and then asked those in the assembled group to stand when the personality name that they belonged to was called out. I stood up by myself when “phlegmatic” was called. When “choleric” was called out, almost everyone else stood up! This was in spite of the fact that the teacher had just said that the choleric personality accounted for only about 2% of the general population. That should have been a dead giveaway that I was in a decidedly unbalanced social environment. I probably should have left that church then, but, you know, I’m a phlegmatic and, well, I didn’t see what the point would be in making a big fuss about it. Besides, I suspect that some of those who stood up were trying to paint themselves as “leaders”, so answering questions to appear choleric was, to them, an exercise in virtue (as opposed to lazy old me, who just answered the questions honestly). I think the rationale behind the churches promoting this four-type idea was threefold. First, they wanted their congregations (or fellowships, or whatever you want to call it) to appreciate rather than pass judgment on people, especially fellow church-goers, just because their personalities were oriented a little (or a lot) differently. Second, the idea was put forth that Jesus was the perfect balance of all four categories, and that believers should consciously strive to grow in those areas that do not come naturally to them. And third, it gave church leaders another opportunity to get their people to “volunteer” to perform service functions for the church (in other words, you don’t have to be a “lion” to mow the church lawn or clean the bathrooms).
Although it was organized religion through which I became aware of this four-part psychological division of humanity, I’ve found that it's enhanced my understanding of the different characters presented in fictional literature. And one of the true masters at depicting people by personality types (albeit not in the described formal manner) is Stephen King. In his novel The Tommyknockers, which I just recently finished reading, Bobbi Anderson’s sister Anne has to be the “choleric from hell” (actually most cholerics seem that way to me, that former church notwithstanding). But most fictional characters, as well as most real people, don’t fit perfectly in one particular category. They are rather composites of the four in different proportions, and at different times and under different circumstances may seem to be more like one than the others. I think this four-personality-type idea is a good exercise, but I wouldn’t advise anyone to get carried away with it. With a little effort, I could probably come up with a different system to divide up the collective human psyche along completely different “fracture lines”.
I remember when one small church I attended gave out the self-test and then asked those in the assembled group to stand when the personality name that they belonged to was called out. I stood up by myself when “phlegmatic” was called. When “choleric” was called out, almost everyone else stood up! This was in spite of the fact that the teacher had just said that the choleric personality accounted for only about 2% of the general population. That should have been a dead giveaway that I was in a decidedly unbalanced social environment. I probably should have left that church then, but, you know, I’m a phlegmatic and, well, I didn’t see what the point would be in making a big fuss about it. Besides, I suspect that some of those who stood up were trying to paint themselves as “leaders”, so answering questions to appear choleric was, to them, an exercise in virtue (as opposed to lazy old me, who just answered the questions honestly). I think the rationale behind the churches promoting this four-type idea was threefold. First, they wanted their congregations (or fellowships, or whatever you want to call it) to appreciate rather than pass judgment on people, especially fellow church-goers, just because their personalities were oriented a little (or a lot) differently. Second, the idea was put forth that Jesus was the perfect balance of all four categories, and that believers should consciously strive to grow in those areas that do not come naturally to them. And third, it gave church leaders another opportunity to get their people to “volunteer” to perform service functions for the church (in other words, you don’t have to be a “lion” to mow the church lawn or clean the bathrooms).
Although it was organized religion through which I became aware of this four-part psychological division of humanity, I’ve found that it's enhanced my understanding of the different characters presented in fictional literature. And one of the true masters at depicting people by personality types (albeit not in the described formal manner) is Stephen King. In his novel The Tommyknockers, which I just recently finished reading, Bobbi Anderson’s sister Anne has to be the “choleric from hell” (actually most cholerics seem that way to me, that former church notwithstanding). But most fictional characters, as well as most real people, don’t fit perfectly in one particular category. They are rather composites of the four in different proportions, and at different times and under different circumstances may seem to be more like one than the others. I think this four-personality-type idea is a good exercise, but I wouldn’t advise anyone to get carried away with it. With a little effort, I could probably come up with a different system to divide up the collective human psyche along completely different “fracture lines”.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Piano Lessons
Since early childhood, I’ve been an avid music listener. There are many different genres of music that I like, such as classical, some jazz, blues, rock and roll, dance, country, zydeco, children’s, seasonal, soundtrack/themes, and hymns. My main musical interest and “mental catalogue” resides in the area of rock and roll. In spite of this, I have for my whole life been a listener and not a performer. Well, I’ve just decided to change that. I have now begun to take piano lessons. My goal is nothing less than to be able to play any song that I can remember, as well as master playing sheet music in any key. I believe this is totally within my capabilities, and if there is any uncertainty with me about this, it is in answering to myself why I didn’t do this earlier! In learning how to play the piano proficiently, I will emphasize two principles that I picked up a while back from self-improvement guru Anthony Robbins: one, I will keeping trying until I succeed (giving up is not an option), and two, I am committed to unconscious competence rather than cognitive understanding. In other words, like any other skill, piano playing involves persistent determination and the commitment to unconscious habit (without thinking). I am supremely confident of my eventual success. It might be noted, though, that I am starting at the very beginning! Unlike Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, I won’t become a virtuoso pianist in a day, and it will be a bit humbling for a while at first. But I have everything in place to make rapid progress. Now I just have to take the time to practice rigorously. I’m using the same teacher who has been teaching piano to my two children, and they’ve done quite well by her. She holds her students accountable for learning the assignments and practicing them, and also knows what to say that can encourage and inspire them to transcend previously believed limitations and to achieve a higher level of skill and understanding.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Empty Fields
Back in the early-to-mid 1980s, I lived in an apartment complex here in Gainesville, situated on the edge of a large field (formerly the site of an airfield). The reason I had moved out here away from the more central part of the city was largely due to the fact that it was quieter, with less traffic. And it was closer to my workplace, which happened to be within walking distance (across this field). Nowadays, though, this is one of the most congested areas in Gainesville, and for various reasons. I think there are some people in the world who think that an open field is a waste of space. Buildings and parking lots should be there, in their view, for the space to have utility. But in my experience with that field, people at-large came up with many uses for it. Kids played soccer there. Golfers used it as a practice driving range. Some people set up a small obstacle course in a corner of the field to ride bicycles and ATV’s (now this is something that I’m strongly against, ATV’s being too dangerous). On weekends, some model plane enthusiasts flew their planes there. For a while, on Sunday mornings, there were hot air balloon rides offered to the public. From time to time, the field was used for special events, such as the circus I went to one time. People brought their dogs out and let them run around a little. Many sandlot games in football and softball were played there. Some nights I would walk to the center of the field and just stand there, thinking or gazing at the stars. And it was from this field that I observed and charted Halley’s Comet in late 1985. Around 1986-1987, a Lowe’s and a Wal-Mart shopping center, with the obligatory vast parking lot, plugged up my field. There was also a large theater and several restaurants that soon lined the bordering streets. Goodbye, peaceful wide-open spaces and hello, noisy overcrowding! The only saving grace to this was that, by this time, I had moved somewhere else.
Wide-open spaces always carry with them an appeal for me. I love the scene in the movie North by Northwest when Cary Grant is out on a remote Indiana road next to a cornfield and suddenly finds himself being chased by a crop-duster. I also enjoyed running around and through the many fields that existed (and no more) around my old high school. I also wonder what happened to the supposedly-protected species of owl there that built their homes in the ground and would stand by them, angrily screaming at any humans who came too close. Sometimes, when I’m on the road sitting as a passenger looking out the window, I’ll just stare at empty fields, wondering what the running surface there would be like, how bright the stars would look at night from them, or how numbered are their days before “civilization” supplants them with asphalt and concrete.
Wide-open spaces always carry with them an appeal for me. I love the scene in the movie North by Northwest when Cary Grant is out on a remote Indiana road next to a cornfield and suddenly finds himself being chased by a crop-duster. I also enjoyed running around and through the many fields that existed (and no more) around my old high school. I also wonder what happened to the supposedly-protected species of owl there that built their homes in the ground and would stand by them, angrily screaming at any humans who came too close. Sometimes, when I’m on the road sitting as a passenger looking out the window, I’ll just stare at empty fields, wondering what the running surface there would be like, how bright the stars would look at night from them, or how numbered are their days before “civilization” supplants them with asphalt and concrete.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
