As I get older the passage of time and the sequence of events that I experience become increasingly perceptively transient. Perhaps it is a symptom of growing older, and maybe it has something to do with the age group of which I am a part. Regardless of the reason, events accelerate more and more and I find myself astounded with how quickly time passes and how trivial the actions of myself and all the people around me seem. All around people live, they get into relationships, they get promoted, they graduate, they move, they achieve and they strive to succeed. Lately all of these endeavors have left me cold in that my mind continually seems to focus on the bigger end goal -- in other words, to what ends do we toil away in our little lives? Do we work towards some benevolent 'greater good'? Are we really furthering humankind by getting a degree and working a 40 hour a week job for the rest of our lives? Is artistic expression of any more value? For every 'Mona Lisa' or 'Sistine Chapel', a thousand thousand artistic expressions will have absolutely zero effect on the rest of the world. Movies are made and given increasing importance, but what does it add? A distraction; a subterfuge to divert attention to the fact that we are all hurtling light speed towards an ambiguous ending?
What's the point?
Perhaps the point is selfish. Maybe life and all of our secret machinations should be geared exclusively towards our own subjective pleasures. Maybe we should travel the world to see everything we can. Maybe we get the degrees so that we have the money to buy all the nice things that we believe we should have to obtain a complete life. Selfishly we can pretty much have it all, or better yet anything that we define 'it all' to be. Maybe. As for me, I find that a subjective existence is perhaps personally rewarding, but ultimately meaningless. As masters of our own destinies, we are in control to the reaches of our own little confined worlds. I can see how that would be enough for some, but personally (and perhaps ironically -- subjectively) it seems hollow. Anyone can be astonishing if they're setting the bar for being it.
If I was being honest, I think I am probably complicating matters far beyond what they should be. Fulfillment is subjective. One man's success is another man's wallowing. In the end, does any of it have meaning beyond the fact that we have satisfied ourselves? Is that enough? I enjoy my life. I do things. I do as many things as I can, but instead of feeling accomplished I wonder if I fill my life with events to ignore the fact that I'm doing it because I can't handle what's left without them.
Life is a series of events chained together to create a personal and unique timeline that ends up defining our existence. What if that series of events are just an unstoppable collection of moments we blindly choose as we miss the fact that time will run out before we ever get close to putting it in perspective? The more we do the faster time ticks away and sooner rather than later we turn around and realize we're just a series of memories that may or may not matter. And by the time we've realized this, isn't it too late to get context? Time is too big and we are too small to ever understand it the way its meant to be. I probably have a lot of life left to live. Still, I can't shake the feeling that the rest of it will play out fairly predictably; universally speaking. I'm racing towards oblivion at the variable speed of time and no matter what I do I can't seem to find how that counts. Is that the point?
Showing posts with label ponderance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ponderance. Show all posts
Monday, July 18, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Perceiving Reality and the Many Problems Therein.
Before I begin, perhaps it would be prudent to assert that this whole post is going to be deeply philosophical but not in any studied or formative way. This is to say that I will be dealing with some existential questions in lieu of almost absolutely nothing for the sheer exercise of it. I don't know if I'll find any answers.
Reality and perception are two concepts that work together in a human life to define the very fabric of being. Reality is, by some accounts, that which still exists even when we are not aware of it. This awareness is our perception. Perception is the way in which our minds conceive of the world around us. By these definitions then it would seem that while perception cannot meaningfully exist without reality, the latter notion is nevertheless unaffected by the former. This idea of course proposes the question of the tangibility of reality without perception: is what we perceive not in fact somehow more real than reality? This is a concept that has been explored by numerous minds in innumerable methods for decades. To wit, popular culture has most famously explored the notions of reality versus perception in films such as The Matrix and Inception to name just two. In both of these works, the central ideas form around that which is indisputably 'real' and the 'reality' that our minds create. Both stories involve characters who live in realms that are entirely the construct of the human mind. This is to say that these 'realities' are an illusion; a fact that the characters are fully aware. Yet it must be noted that despite the awareness of illusions in both instances, the characters therein still perform meaningful actions while inhabiting them. There are causes and there are effects -- actions and reactions. This raises the question of further examination: what is it that constitutes reality from fiction?
Reality as we know it is defined by infallible truths or laws. These are always the same no matter the circumstance -- they are constants. Concepts such as the passage of time, forces of gravity, and conservation of matter fall under the purview of 'constant'. These very same ideas can be implemented in the exploration of perceptional reality. Put simply, because these rules cannot be institutionally enforced or checked they invalidate the so-called reality of the construct. Indeed, free from the laws and measures by which we bind the term 'real', the human mind is conceptually without bounds. Consider the fact that dreams often follow the operational guidelines of waking only as a reference point that our conscious minds may more easily process. Now consider the notion that while dreams may operate fundamentally in a synchronous pattern with 'waking reality' (a term that I'll use as a means to footnote the reality we perceive while we are awake that is generally considered to be 'real'), the laws by which it does are not. Concepts such as linear time, singular perception, and physical possibility are liquid or malleable in even the most shallow daydream. The human conscious is so complex that events can take place in an incongruous fashion and still be extrapolated as logical. This is testament to but a fraction of the limitless potential for perception of the human mind. Still, it is widely accepted that the realms of the imaginative unconscious do not a reality make. The key here is the nature of subjectivity.
Subjectivity is the individual perception of an object or concept apart from its true nature independent of whether one perceives it or not. This is of course the very heart of this examination. One could potentially invalidate the idea of perceptional realities by the simple acceptance that outside of that individual perception such realities cannot exist. Essentially by virtue of being perceived they are perceptible. This argument would be extremely potent if not for the fact that 'waking reality' as we know it can paradoxically ever be subjectively perceived. Though it may sound incredibly obvious, by being wholly and inextricably oneself it is therefore impossible to measure objectivity without the bias of subjective perception. While chances are good that if a baseball rolls off a table it will fall to the floor, whether that happens free of our perception can never be completely proven. This is of course indicative of the age-old question: 'if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to see it, does it still make a sound?'.
This is the point in the argument that the proverbial wheels come off and it becomes purely speculative. Take the aforementioned tree in the woods. One imagines that the proof of it falling is illustrated in the discovery of the tree laying on the ground. The tree being on the ground is, for all intents and purposes, objective reality. It is there, it is on the ground, and it is a tree. Now consider the action of the tree falling and the assumed sound it would make. It is known that in order for a tree to fall it must lose stability and be forced by gravity to the ground. A creaking or cracking sound is generally assigned to this action. One knows that trees follow this pattern by observing it in other instances in life. In the case of the tree found fallen in the woods though, one must extrapolate these actions as having happened without any way of knowing if they did. The question becomes whether the falling action and its accompanying sound happen if there is not a perception of it doing so. Does 'reality' as we know it depend on our perception of it? Is it any more real than the processes of a dreaming mind if no one is present to perceive it? By the mere action of perceiving something does one not remove its objectivity?
In the end, the tree as well as its fall are defined as real because it leaves a lasting effect on the world around it -- there is a fallen tree in the middle of the woods. That effect has meaning in context to the things around it. This meaning is perhaps then the most crucial part of defining a reality. That which is real has the capacity to affect meaning to the world and the perceptions surrounding it. If it is meaning that defines the reality of things, is it not possible then to view byproducts of the human mind as such? Concepts such as love and happiness or anger and sadness are no more tangible than the tree falling in the woods that no one saw, and yet these ideas carry with them meaning that implicate far more than the individual perception of a single person. They can be perceived by others and yet still exist in an individual regardless of that outside perception. By this thinking, are things like love and sadness not in part objective? Paradoxically, do they exist if there is not one person to originally and subjectively perceive them? By this logic, is there not room to consider that though no one else may be privy to individual perceptional reality that it may indeed be just as real regardless? Perhaps not in a way that fits concretely into our pedestrian surface-knowledge of 'real', but still in a meaningful and contextual way that would make it thus. The Matrix yields a helpful illustration. In the end of the film, Neo enters the Matrix to save Morpheus and along the way fights Agent Smith and even dies. When recounting the events of the movie, would one not include these acts as having happened? Or would one simply choose to explain that Neo sat in a chair for an hour and had a lucid dream? The Matrix in the film is real because it has meaningful effects on the world outside of it and therefore is considered as such.
There are of course arguments to be made against what I have pondered above, and I could go on at length about the difference between physical realities and conceptual realities. My overarching point is that perhaps reality is more than it seems. Perhaps perception is not unimportant to objective reality; perhaps it is essential. Maybe more of the world is a byproduct of our perceptions than we care to realize. I don't know for sure which school I belong, but I am aware of the power of ideas and thoughts. I can't help but wonder if this power makes them any more real, and if they can be real what's to stop any construction of perception from being so?
Reality and perception are two concepts that work together in a human life to define the very fabric of being. Reality is, by some accounts, that which still exists even when we are not aware of it. This awareness is our perception. Perception is the way in which our minds conceive of the world around us. By these definitions then it would seem that while perception cannot meaningfully exist without reality, the latter notion is nevertheless unaffected by the former. This idea of course proposes the question of the tangibility of reality without perception: is what we perceive not in fact somehow more real than reality? This is a concept that has been explored by numerous minds in innumerable methods for decades. To wit, popular culture has most famously explored the notions of reality versus perception in films such as The Matrix and Inception to name just two. In both of these works, the central ideas form around that which is indisputably 'real' and the 'reality' that our minds create. Both stories involve characters who live in realms that are entirely the construct of the human mind. This is to say that these 'realities' are an illusion; a fact that the characters are fully aware. Yet it must be noted that despite the awareness of illusions in both instances, the characters therein still perform meaningful actions while inhabiting them. There are causes and there are effects -- actions and reactions. This raises the question of further examination: what is it that constitutes reality from fiction?
Reality as we know it is defined by infallible truths or laws. These are always the same no matter the circumstance -- they are constants. Concepts such as the passage of time, forces of gravity, and conservation of matter fall under the purview of 'constant'. These very same ideas can be implemented in the exploration of perceptional reality. Put simply, because these rules cannot be institutionally enforced or checked they invalidate the so-called reality of the construct. Indeed, free from the laws and measures by which we bind the term 'real', the human mind is conceptually without bounds. Consider the fact that dreams often follow the operational guidelines of waking only as a reference point that our conscious minds may more easily process. Now consider the notion that while dreams may operate fundamentally in a synchronous pattern with 'waking reality' (a term that I'll use as a means to footnote the reality we perceive while we are awake that is generally considered to be 'real'), the laws by which it does are not. Concepts such as linear time, singular perception, and physical possibility are liquid or malleable in even the most shallow daydream. The human conscious is so complex that events can take place in an incongruous fashion and still be extrapolated as logical. This is testament to but a fraction of the limitless potential for perception of the human mind. Still, it is widely accepted that the realms of the imaginative unconscious do not a reality make. The key here is the nature of subjectivity.
Subjectivity is the individual perception of an object or concept apart from its true nature independent of whether one perceives it or not. This is of course the very heart of this examination. One could potentially invalidate the idea of perceptional realities by the simple acceptance that outside of that individual perception such realities cannot exist. Essentially by virtue of being perceived they are perceptible. This argument would be extremely potent if not for the fact that 'waking reality' as we know it can paradoxically ever be subjectively perceived. Though it may sound incredibly obvious, by being wholly and inextricably oneself it is therefore impossible to measure objectivity without the bias of subjective perception. While chances are good that if a baseball rolls off a table it will fall to the floor, whether that happens free of our perception can never be completely proven. This is of course indicative of the age-old question: 'if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to see it, does it still make a sound?'.
This is the point in the argument that the proverbial wheels come off and it becomes purely speculative. Take the aforementioned tree in the woods. One imagines that the proof of it falling is illustrated in the discovery of the tree laying on the ground. The tree being on the ground is, for all intents and purposes, objective reality. It is there, it is on the ground, and it is a tree. Now consider the action of the tree falling and the assumed sound it would make. It is known that in order for a tree to fall it must lose stability and be forced by gravity to the ground. A creaking or cracking sound is generally assigned to this action. One knows that trees follow this pattern by observing it in other instances in life. In the case of the tree found fallen in the woods though, one must extrapolate these actions as having happened without any way of knowing if they did. The question becomes whether the falling action and its accompanying sound happen if there is not a perception of it doing so. Does 'reality' as we know it depend on our perception of it? Is it any more real than the processes of a dreaming mind if no one is present to perceive it? By the mere action of perceiving something does one not remove its objectivity?
In the end, the tree as well as its fall are defined as real because it leaves a lasting effect on the world around it -- there is a fallen tree in the middle of the woods. That effect has meaning in context to the things around it. This meaning is perhaps then the most crucial part of defining a reality. That which is real has the capacity to affect meaning to the world and the perceptions surrounding it. If it is meaning that defines the reality of things, is it not possible then to view byproducts of the human mind as such? Concepts such as love and happiness or anger and sadness are no more tangible than the tree falling in the woods that no one saw, and yet these ideas carry with them meaning that implicate far more than the individual perception of a single person. They can be perceived by others and yet still exist in an individual regardless of that outside perception. By this thinking, are things like love and sadness not in part objective? Paradoxically, do they exist if there is not one person to originally and subjectively perceive them? By this logic, is there not room to consider that though no one else may be privy to individual perceptional reality that it may indeed be just as real regardless? Perhaps not in a way that fits concretely into our pedestrian surface-knowledge of 'real', but still in a meaningful and contextual way that would make it thus. The Matrix yields a helpful illustration. In the end of the film, Neo enters the Matrix to save Morpheus and along the way fights Agent Smith and even dies. When recounting the events of the movie, would one not include these acts as having happened? Or would one simply choose to explain that Neo sat in a chair for an hour and had a lucid dream? The Matrix in the film is real because it has meaningful effects on the world outside of it and therefore is considered as such.
There are of course arguments to be made against what I have pondered above, and I could go on at length about the difference between physical realities and conceptual realities. My overarching point is that perhaps reality is more than it seems. Perhaps perception is not unimportant to objective reality; perhaps it is essential. Maybe more of the world is a byproduct of our perceptions than we care to realize. I don't know for sure which school I belong, but I am aware of the power of ideas and thoughts. I can't help but wonder if this power makes them any more real, and if they can be real what's to stop any construction of perception from being so?
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Packrat Syndrome
I was at a store the other day with my mom, and we were buying things. As you do. Along the way I idly began to catalogue the sheer volume of all of the things on the endless shelves and their myriad uses. I find it staggering to think that within the hundreds of various products to be found in any given mass retail store, there are millions of people who will find use of them. I guess it's all about minutia. Next time you're in a tall building or have a really good view, take a look at the nearest street or freeway. Hundreds of thousands of cars crawl like ants endlessly into the horizon. Now visualize that each car holds at least one human being and that the car they are driving is likely only one of hundreds of possessions that person is likely to have. Now multiply that generous "hundreds" of possessions by the number of cars you can see at any given moment. My point is that humanity seems completely tied to the things that we own. We surround ourselves with things and items and trinkets. The question of course is necessity. How much do we really need and why do we really need it?
Obviously many of the things we own come from a place of satisfying a basic need. Our homes, our means of conveyance, our food and the various storage thereof, and our clothing all stem from a reasonably justifiable life requirement. Another category of things that we collect revolve around our entertainment. While we find ways to keep ourselves busy in life, obviously much joy is derived from the things we undertake in our "free time". TV's, sports equipment, cameras, video games, books, papers, pencils, and various other and infinite items of amusement fill our lives from every angle. Lastly, we collect items as a means of memory or remembrance. This a much more broad subset that encompasses aspects of all of the categories of possession, and it is likely the aspect that causes the most problems. Pictures of family and friends, mementos of dear or lost acquaintances, heirlooms, and items attached to specific and resonant moments in our lives could all feasibly fall under the purview of acceptable collection. Even though at the most basic and essential level these items don't serve to prolong or support your living from day to day, we allow these items on a primal level as proof of our existence. No, items collected due to memory are most problematic when tied together with a sense of identity that is directly proportional to our happiness.
Refer to the aforementioned 'entertainment' possessions. Indeed while many of the forms of amusement we dabble are in essence useless in a Darwinian sense, human kind has arguably always shown a need for some kind of activity to balance idle moments. The question becomes what actions are taken when such items outlive their usefulness? For many, things are stored away and slowly fade from our consciousness over time. In some cases these items lose none of their use and upon some random thought-string we are able to recall it and put it back into use in the ebb and flow of our lives. In many more cases than some would like to admit, though, the items we store away tend to pile up and entrench us in our places both physically and figuratively. I call this the Packrat Syndrome, and it has both positive and negative effects on everyone.
As I stated earlier, it all comes down to necessity. In a purely black and white, cut and dry view of the world the only items we would own and keep are the ones that would suite us in the pursuit of living. I suppose this would come down to clothes to protect against the elements, a steady source of food, and some kind of shelter in which to seek rest or retreat. Some of these could be disputed themselves upon further scrutiny. Thus it would seem that 'necessity' is a subjective term. While some would consider dozens upon dozens of old shoeboxes filled with decades old photos stacked in an attic somewhere 'necessary' to happiness, there are just as many who may find this limiting. One of the most common trends that come with the passing of time is our joint accumulation of possession. As we age we collect and inherit and create more and more things by which we identify ourselves to the point that as we age it becomes harder and harder to simply move one's life without great effort. And here is the great debate of necessity. To some, filling one's life with things represents a natural settling down; perhaps even a planting of personal roots of which all things moving forward in life blossom. To others, accumulation is only a limiter to the things we can freely do in our lives.
The lease on my apartment is going to be up in about three months' time. I'm having a considerably hard time deciding whether to renew the lease and stay longer, or pack everything up and move home for a while. As I had these thoughts, I took stock of my living space and all the things I had accumulated over the previous year. Even though I am only one person living alone in a relatively small space, the sheer amount of 'things' I've stashed and piled is kind of impressive. Every drawer has something in it, every closet or nook or cranny... I think the oddest moment of clarity was looking over my bookshelf. I do not read an excessive amount, but I have read a good deal of different books. As I skimmed the myriad titles and genres, I could not help but ask myself what the chances were I would ever reasonably read some of the books I saw again. If I were being honest with myself, some books just as well never may be opened again outside of passing fancy. It is here that I experienced the problematic sense memory identifying attached to many people and many possessions. Regardless of their use, these were my books that I liked enough to read. Some of them were gifts. Some of them were really, really cool at the time. It wasn't long before I knew I couldn't easily part with any of them. The books had become tied to my sense of self. They defined me.
And so it is with people the world over. A long while back I had a friend who spoke to me about having to pair down their life and thusly their possessions in order to allow for ease of movement from place to place. At the time I remember thinking about all the things I called my own and what I would take with me and what I could part with if the opportunity ever arose. It's not an easy task slimming down your precious possessions to the things that really matter, and those things that do last really begin to matter in a huge way. I guess the truth is that we are the things we surround ourselves with and, like it or not, we identify ourselves by them. In the end it all comes down to necessity: the things we can't do without that define us outside of our own internal sense of self. There's a part of me that wishes I was more libertarian on the issue, but I think we all need something outside of ourselves to remind us of who we are. An objective identifier against a vast ocean of subjective definitions though not at all less personal. Life is an amazing journey of things and the things and people we surround ourselves with. Deciding what we can and cannot live without is just one facet of that fantastic voyage, and one that we all should take account.
Obviously many of the things we own come from a place of satisfying a basic need. Our homes, our means of conveyance, our food and the various storage thereof, and our clothing all stem from a reasonably justifiable life requirement. Another category of things that we collect revolve around our entertainment. While we find ways to keep ourselves busy in life, obviously much joy is derived from the things we undertake in our "free time". TV's, sports equipment, cameras, video games, books, papers, pencils, and various other and infinite items of amusement fill our lives from every angle. Lastly, we collect items as a means of memory or remembrance. This a much more broad subset that encompasses aspects of all of the categories of possession, and it is likely the aspect that causes the most problems. Pictures of family and friends, mementos of dear or lost acquaintances, heirlooms, and items attached to specific and resonant moments in our lives could all feasibly fall under the purview of acceptable collection. Even though at the most basic and essential level these items don't serve to prolong or support your living from day to day, we allow these items on a primal level as proof of our existence. No, items collected due to memory are most problematic when tied together with a sense of identity that is directly proportional to our happiness.
Refer to the aforementioned 'entertainment' possessions. Indeed while many of the forms of amusement we dabble are in essence useless in a Darwinian sense, human kind has arguably always shown a need for some kind of activity to balance idle moments. The question becomes what actions are taken when such items outlive their usefulness? For many, things are stored away and slowly fade from our consciousness over time. In some cases these items lose none of their use and upon some random thought-string we are able to recall it and put it back into use in the ebb and flow of our lives. In many more cases than some would like to admit, though, the items we store away tend to pile up and entrench us in our places both physically and figuratively. I call this the Packrat Syndrome, and it has both positive and negative effects on everyone.
As I stated earlier, it all comes down to necessity. In a purely black and white, cut and dry view of the world the only items we would own and keep are the ones that would suite us in the pursuit of living. I suppose this would come down to clothes to protect against the elements, a steady source of food, and some kind of shelter in which to seek rest or retreat. Some of these could be disputed themselves upon further scrutiny. Thus it would seem that 'necessity' is a subjective term. While some would consider dozens upon dozens of old shoeboxes filled with decades old photos stacked in an attic somewhere 'necessary' to happiness, there are just as many who may find this limiting. One of the most common trends that come with the passing of time is our joint accumulation of possession. As we age we collect and inherit and create more and more things by which we identify ourselves to the point that as we age it becomes harder and harder to simply move one's life without great effort. And here is the great debate of necessity. To some, filling one's life with things represents a natural settling down; perhaps even a planting of personal roots of which all things moving forward in life blossom. To others, accumulation is only a limiter to the things we can freely do in our lives.
The lease on my apartment is going to be up in about three months' time. I'm having a considerably hard time deciding whether to renew the lease and stay longer, or pack everything up and move home for a while. As I had these thoughts, I took stock of my living space and all the things I had accumulated over the previous year. Even though I am only one person living alone in a relatively small space, the sheer amount of 'things' I've stashed and piled is kind of impressive. Every drawer has something in it, every closet or nook or cranny... I think the oddest moment of clarity was looking over my bookshelf. I do not read an excessive amount, but I have read a good deal of different books. As I skimmed the myriad titles and genres, I could not help but ask myself what the chances were I would ever reasonably read some of the books I saw again. If I were being honest with myself, some books just as well never may be opened again outside of passing fancy. It is here that I experienced the problematic sense memory identifying attached to many people and many possessions. Regardless of their use, these were my books that I liked enough to read. Some of them were gifts. Some of them were really, really cool at the time. It wasn't long before I knew I couldn't easily part with any of them. The books had become tied to my sense of self. They defined me.
And so it is with people the world over. A long while back I had a friend who spoke to me about having to pair down their life and thusly their possessions in order to allow for ease of movement from place to place. At the time I remember thinking about all the things I called my own and what I would take with me and what I could part with if the opportunity ever arose. It's not an easy task slimming down your precious possessions to the things that really matter, and those things that do last really begin to matter in a huge way. I guess the truth is that we are the things we surround ourselves with and, like it or not, we identify ourselves by them. In the end it all comes down to necessity: the things we can't do without that define us outside of our own internal sense of self. There's a part of me that wishes I was more libertarian on the issue, but I think we all need something outside of ourselves to remind us of who we are. An objective identifier against a vast ocean of subjective definitions though not at all less personal. Life is an amazing journey of things and the things and people we surround ourselves with. Deciding what we can and cannot live without is just one facet of that fantastic voyage, and one that we all should take account.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
28 x 28: February Sixteen
Today is Fat Tuesday or, for those of us with a French inclination, Mardi Gras. It is a day of excess before the traditional fasting of the Lenten season. Mardi Gras is celebrated in a wealth of ways in a wealth of different cultures, but no matter the venue the basics remain the same; indulgence before practised reservation. But why do we have such an excessive day? As I previously stated, today is the final celebration before the beginning of Lent. Lent is a religious holiday wherein we are encouraged to fast or at the very least abstain much as it is believed Jesus Christ did for forty days and nights before the beginning of his public ministry. During this time it is said Christ endured temptations from Satan who constantly sought to corrupt his righteous path. Beyond the religious implications, it is interesting that we are encouraged during this time to give up something in our lives that we would otherwise find difficult to live without. Instead of the ominous temptation of something like Satan, we find ourselves reflexively challenged. Indeed during this time of fasting should we choose to partake, our only temptation comes from within. In this same vein of thinking it is easy to see the merit in such an exercise. Given the self-imposed limitations, Lent is a time that we can really subjectively measure ourselves. Obviously a fast or self-imposed span of restraint can be initiated at any given time during the year. Still, Lent is a universally cogent time of year that, if nothing else, has one hell of a send off before its start. I personally do not know if I will be testing myself this year, but I would encourage everyone to seriously consider the opportunity to grow and discover the depths of your control. To set a goal and to overcome it with only yourself as a judge can be an extremely rewarding experience. Best of all, you never know exactly how you will surprise yourself. In a world where you are relatively and increasingly comfortable with yourself, it can be extremely satisfying to discover that you can still learn new things about just how far your willpower can stretch. So here's to Mardi Gras! May we all indulge ourselves and wake tomorrow with wider bellies and the resolve to attempt something nobly daunting.
I am forecasting an influx of more visual media in the coming days. While I enjoy musing on various subjects, the task is proving more and more forced under the constraints of the whole 28 x 28 thing.
I am forecasting an influx of more visual media in the coming days. While I enjoy musing on various subjects, the task is proving more and more forced under the constraints of the whole 28 x 28 thing.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
28 x 28: February Thirteen
Today I have a daring tale of choosing the darker of two paths and the possible and actual repercussions of doing so. The scenario involved a night of Roller Derby and my trek to meet up with my friends. Before I could convene though, three things needed to be achieved. First, I needed to put gas in my car to make the semi-long drive to the venue. Simple enough. Second, I needed to get cash in order to pay for my ticket into the show. Third, I needed to stop at a Walgreens to get some gum and a delicious pomegranate water.
I knew the night was going well when I stopped for gas and realized that I had a Shell Gas card procured through work for my good performance. This amounted to $25 dollars of free gasoline which made the first financial knock of the evening obsolete. As an aside here, one should know that I am inexplicably superstitious. I examine little happenings like this as good fortune and tally it up on an ever tipping scale of my life. So, long story short, I was putting this happening in the win column. With a smile on my face, I drove into the night with the radio blasting some choice tunes. As I drove it occurred to me that both the second and third tasks could be easily combined in a nigh-Herculean display of ingenuity. Walgreens, the bastion of convenience for Americans everywhere, allows free cash back withdrawals with a purchase. How fortune smiles upon the wise! Minutes later I found myself in what would turn out to be both a moment of triumph and the catalyst for what would become an impenetrable clusterfuck (technical term).
With my items swiped and the cashier lazily announcing my total for payment, I slid my card and navigated the simple menus to allow for $20 dollars cash back. As I gathered up my plastic bag and reached out my hand to receive both my receipt and cash back, the fates writhed their twisted fingers together in an opera of malevolent malcontent that would trigger the gears of karma against me. Papers in hand I took a step towards the door. I double-taked. In my hand I spied usual items: A receipt and a bill... Wait, two bills? Surely this must be two ten dollar bills masquerading for my desired twenty dollar return. On second glance my weary eyes confirmed the ugly truth -- I was in possession of not one, but two glorious twenty dollar bills; a 100% PROFIT! Immediately my mouth opened to speak. The air rose up my throat, the words racing to escape my teeth. And then a truncated stifle. In what amounted to a moment in time I decided my own fortunes. Looking towards the door and continuing my exit, I folded both receipt and ill-gotten bills and placed them firmly in my pocket. I emerged into the crisp chill of the night.
I did it! I was free! Frantically I searched my mind. The suspicion of any moment yielding a panicked clerk dashing out the front doors to correct her mistake lingered. I stole looks left and right like some kind of criminal fresh from the heist. Hastily I jumped in my car and checked the rear view mirror. The coast was clear. Starting the engine I quickly dug the fruits of my decision from my jeans and surmised the glory of my escapade. As examiner and judge of my own fortunes, I for the second time accounted this happening as an example of favorable outcomes. With newly doubled funds in hand, my otherwise cost prohibitive night was now open to whatever boundless monetary possibilities it could muster. A wry smile on my face, I accelerated into the night and onwards to my destination. Somewhere a cunning mischief began its trickery with me as its target.
I would be remiss if I did not make mention of the fact that while I was indeed happy with the treasure of my actions, a certain modicum of doubt and despair began to seep its way into my waking mind. Primarily, I was guilty of a moral omission. It would have been easy to simply correct the clerk on her honest mistake and solve the problem. In reality I knew as well as many that the repercussions for an unaccounted for $20 dollars in a corporation as large as Walgreens would go most likely ignored. But yet a knowing sadness dug in that I had chosen the less righteous path and in turn betrayed on some level the credibility I had placed on my own scruples. As a secondary concern, I had been raised subconsciously to always expect the 'other shoe to drop'. In essence, when things look good and you get comfortable, never be surprised when something awful arrives to knock you down. Deep down I noted that perhaps this moment of good luck would clear the way for a torrent of badness later in the night. So much so was this thought prevalent in my head that I spoke of it to my friends once I joined them.
The rest of this story is largely perception. To some, many of the things that I now chalk up to bad luck may seem circumstantial -- that I was looking for bad things to herald as the cracking whip of justice. For instance, upon arriving at the venue for the Derby and joining with my group, the moment I sat down in my folding lawn chair was no sooner the exact moment the legs beneath chose to snap and fold the chair into disrepair. Minor though it may be, the inconvenience to my viewing pleasure was palpable. The rest of the night, to save what are most likely trivial and nonessential details, followed similar suit converging on one complete and disrupting encounter with unforetold dealings with thoughts and emotions I was unable to process properly and left me shell-shocked.
So perhaps I have misconstrued the entire night and assigned blame to events that otherwise I would take no notice. Maybe though the situation was, if not cosmically influenced, inexorably lead through reactions and events both subtle and discreet to bring me squarely to a moment in time that I distinctly associated with a self-fulfilled punishment for my inability to do the right thing. Fate is so often dismissed as the shackles of weaker minds deferring to powers greater than they to explain away the things that happen to us all. Perhaps there is truth in this, and perhaps fate is more devious an animal that resides in our darkest minds and manifests itself in our lives in ways we are only minutely aware on any perceptible level. If we are the product of our actions, then perhaps that product is not so simply displayed as the sum of objective events.
I knew the night was going well when I stopped for gas and realized that I had a Shell Gas card procured through work for my good performance. This amounted to $25 dollars of free gasoline which made the first financial knock of the evening obsolete. As an aside here, one should know that I am inexplicably superstitious. I examine little happenings like this as good fortune and tally it up on an ever tipping scale of my life. So, long story short, I was putting this happening in the win column. With a smile on my face, I drove into the night with the radio blasting some choice tunes. As I drove it occurred to me that both the second and third tasks could be easily combined in a nigh-Herculean display of ingenuity. Walgreens, the bastion of convenience for Americans everywhere, allows free cash back withdrawals with a purchase. How fortune smiles upon the wise! Minutes later I found myself in what would turn out to be both a moment of triumph and the catalyst for what would become an impenetrable clusterfuck (technical term).
With my items swiped and the cashier lazily announcing my total for payment, I slid my card and navigated the simple menus to allow for $20 dollars cash back. As I gathered up my plastic bag and reached out my hand to receive both my receipt and cash back, the fates writhed their twisted fingers together in an opera of malevolent malcontent that would trigger the gears of karma against me. Papers in hand I took a step towards the door. I double-taked. In my hand I spied usual items: A receipt and a bill... Wait, two bills? Surely this must be two ten dollar bills masquerading for my desired twenty dollar return. On second glance my weary eyes confirmed the ugly truth -- I was in possession of not one, but two glorious twenty dollar bills; a 100% PROFIT! Immediately my mouth opened to speak. The air rose up my throat, the words racing to escape my teeth. And then a truncated stifle. In what amounted to a moment in time I decided my own fortunes. Looking towards the door and continuing my exit, I folded both receipt and ill-gotten bills and placed them firmly in my pocket. I emerged into the crisp chill of the night.
I did it! I was free! Frantically I searched my mind. The suspicion of any moment yielding a panicked clerk dashing out the front doors to correct her mistake lingered. I stole looks left and right like some kind of criminal fresh from the heist. Hastily I jumped in my car and checked the rear view mirror. The coast was clear. Starting the engine I quickly dug the fruits of my decision from my jeans and surmised the glory of my escapade. As examiner and judge of my own fortunes, I for the second time accounted this happening as an example of favorable outcomes. With newly doubled funds in hand, my otherwise cost prohibitive night was now open to whatever boundless monetary possibilities it could muster. A wry smile on my face, I accelerated into the night and onwards to my destination. Somewhere a cunning mischief began its trickery with me as its target.
I would be remiss if I did not make mention of the fact that while I was indeed happy with the treasure of my actions, a certain modicum of doubt and despair began to seep its way into my waking mind. Primarily, I was guilty of a moral omission. It would have been easy to simply correct the clerk on her honest mistake and solve the problem. In reality I knew as well as many that the repercussions for an unaccounted for $20 dollars in a corporation as large as Walgreens would go most likely ignored. But yet a knowing sadness dug in that I had chosen the less righteous path and in turn betrayed on some level the credibility I had placed on my own scruples. As a secondary concern, I had been raised subconsciously to always expect the 'other shoe to drop'. In essence, when things look good and you get comfortable, never be surprised when something awful arrives to knock you down. Deep down I noted that perhaps this moment of good luck would clear the way for a torrent of badness later in the night. So much so was this thought prevalent in my head that I spoke of it to my friends once I joined them.
The rest of this story is largely perception. To some, many of the things that I now chalk up to bad luck may seem circumstantial -- that I was looking for bad things to herald as the cracking whip of justice. For instance, upon arriving at the venue for the Derby and joining with my group, the moment I sat down in my folding lawn chair was no sooner the exact moment the legs beneath chose to snap and fold the chair into disrepair. Minor though it may be, the inconvenience to my viewing pleasure was palpable. The rest of the night, to save what are most likely trivial and nonessential details, followed similar suit converging on one complete and disrupting encounter with unforetold dealings with thoughts and emotions I was unable to process properly and left me shell-shocked.
So perhaps I have misconstrued the entire night and assigned blame to events that otherwise I would take no notice. Maybe though the situation was, if not cosmically influenced, inexorably lead through reactions and events both subtle and discreet to bring me squarely to a moment in time that I distinctly associated with a self-fulfilled punishment for my inability to do the right thing. Fate is so often dismissed as the shackles of weaker minds deferring to powers greater than they to explain away the things that happen to us all. Perhaps there is truth in this, and perhaps fate is more devious an animal that resides in our darkest minds and manifests itself in our lives in ways we are only minutely aware on any perceptible level. If we are the product of our actions, then perhaps that product is not so simply displayed as the sum of objective events.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
28 x 28: February Eleven
If life is like a dream, and we asleep
Then how can anything be real or deep?
I struggle alone with these thoughts sometimes,
And I hope for reality to keep.
But sometimes it's hard to accept the facts,
And it's easier asleep on our backs.
Eventually though we must awake.
Life is living.
Then how can anything be real or deep?
I struggle alone with these thoughts sometimes,
And I hope for reality to keep.
But sometimes it's hard to accept the facts,
And it's easier asleep on our backs.
Eventually though we must awake.
Life is living.
Monday, February 8, 2010
28 x 28: February Eight
YMCA Sociology
About half a month ago, I finally cracked and signed up for my local YMCA. The nice thing about the Y I've chosen to go to is that it's not only located very close to my apartment downtown, but it's attached to my place of work. This means that either after work and before class, or after class late at night I can easily get in a quick workout. Since I've more or less been going every day for the last two and a half weeks, I let my mind muse a little while I was running tonight.
In today's world, it's hard not to be a little cynical. It would be false to think that many of the interactions we have with people both stranger and familiar are not motivated by self-gain. How often do you find yourself walking down the street these days and exchanging friendly greetings with passers-by? Granted, that kind of behavior in today's society is just as likely to get you branded a lonely, desperate lunatic as it is a kindly citizen of the world. Still, the point stands. The world for better or worse in most cursory encounters is a tad on the guarded side, if not sometimes hostile. With that in mind, I was a little stunned to observe that in a gym setting most people are far more inclined to be cordial if not downright nice. People hold doors, respectfully yield machines, make an effort to help others out, and sometimes even start up a casual conversation. It's an odd thing, to a certain degree, and I imagine it has a lot to do with the idea of a gym in the first place. A gym finds a large group of strangers all gathered in one building under a common purpose; doing silly things to get or stay in shape. The fact that everyone is united under a common ideal is the easy part. A singular purpose can be one of the most unifying forces in human society. The real lynch pin of the oddity though can be found in the second action: doing silly things.
Now, I am not at all trying to posit that working out to stay in shape is a bad or even weird thing. Instead, in the most basic sense of it, the actions involved in exercising are downright strange when you take a step back. Running in circles for miles? Lifting heavy metal objects over your head over and over? Riding a stationary bike for hours at a time? Watching yourself stretch in a variety of poses in front of a wall-sized mirror? All of these things are fairly common, but if you were to take away all sense of leisure in an average human life these things would be absurd. In the Darwinian sense, exercise is hard to classify. On the one hand, exercise enables you to be a more fit and therefore more desirable candidate for natural selection. On the other, running around in a loop for three miles serves absolutely no purpose in furthering the survival of your day or the propagating of your life. It is because society as a whole has evolved to a point where the option to exercise has become a commodity as opposed to a necessity that something like a gym even exists. This is where the argument comes back around. Essentially, in this day and age, going to the gym is a choice. No one's forcing you to go and do 20 crunches, just like no one is forcing you to eat 4000 calories of delicious candy a day.
The concept of choice is crucial in my understanding of the unity that happens in a gym. Everyone there has chosen to come and do the silly things needed to exercise otherwise neglected aspects of the body. Now, because these acts require an individual to not only do said silly action, but forces them to be vulnerable in doing so to a wide selection of people that really causes the togetherness. No one likes to feel singled out for being different. As stressed and important as it is to embrace your own individuality, on a fundamental level humans strive to be uniform. This fear of being mocked further drives what would otherwise be disparate groups of people into a necessary homogeneous unification. And so we have people who would otherwise pass just as soon as look at you suddenly holding doors for you, or asking you how a machine works. Just like that the group has a reason to be civilized to one another again.
On top of everything else, going to the gym breeds a certain kind of communal desire. Working out at a gym, particularly running on a track for a few miles, can be one of the most isolating things a person can do. Such exercise depends almost entirely on the personal drive of the individual. This is also most likely what makes it so hard for so many when it comes to getting some exercise. At the end of the day, the only person you have to deal with is yourself. So as is natural in almost all human experience, we reach out for that connection with others. Our desire to no longer be isolated causes us to actively include others in ways that would not happen under different stimuli. Running with a partner, having someone spot you while you lift, even silently competing with another gym patron to push your own limits are all tantamount to a deeper and baser human instinct to group.
In the end, the gym is a very interesting societal happening to observe. On the surface it may seem like common sense to be civil to a fellow human being, but in a heightened and logically unusual situation such as this the subtleties are so much more profound. The gym is kind of like the new age version of nomads migrating for a lifestyle or hunters working as a group. It all starts with a choice and is shaped by things so intrinsic to being alive as a human being that were we to not stop and ponder, we would likely miss entirely.
About half a month ago, I finally cracked and signed up for my local YMCA. The nice thing about the Y I've chosen to go to is that it's not only located very close to my apartment downtown, but it's attached to my place of work. This means that either after work and before class, or after class late at night I can easily get in a quick workout. Since I've more or less been going every day for the last two and a half weeks, I let my mind muse a little while I was running tonight.
In today's world, it's hard not to be a little cynical. It would be false to think that many of the interactions we have with people both stranger and familiar are not motivated by self-gain. How often do you find yourself walking down the street these days and exchanging friendly greetings with passers-by? Granted, that kind of behavior in today's society is just as likely to get you branded a lonely, desperate lunatic as it is a kindly citizen of the world. Still, the point stands. The world for better or worse in most cursory encounters is a tad on the guarded side, if not sometimes hostile. With that in mind, I was a little stunned to observe that in a gym setting most people are far more inclined to be cordial if not downright nice. People hold doors, respectfully yield machines, make an effort to help others out, and sometimes even start up a casual conversation. It's an odd thing, to a certain degree, and I imagine it has a lot to do with the idea of a gym in the first place. A gym finds a large group of strangers all gathered in one building under a common purpose; doing silly things to get or stay in shape. The fact that everyone is united under a common ideal is the easy part. A singular purpose can be one of the most unifying forces in human society. The real lynch pin of the oddity though can be found in the second action: doing silly things.
Now, I am not at all trying to posit that working out to stay in shape is a bad or even weird thing. Instead, in the most basic sense of it, the actions involved in exercising are downright strange when you take a step back. Running in circles for miles? Lifting heavy metal objects over your head over and over? Riding a stationary bike for hours at a time? Watching yourself stretch in a variety of poses in front of a wall-sized mirror? All of these things are fairly common, but if you were to take away all sense of leisure in an average human life these things would be absurd. In the Darwinian sense, exercise is hard to classify. On the one hand, exercise enables you to be a more fit and therefore more desirable candidate for natural selection. On the other, running around in a loop for three miles serves absolutely no purpose in furthering the survival of your day or the propagating of your life. It is because society as a whole has evolved to a point where the option to exercise has become a commodity as opposed to a necessity that something like a gym even exists. This is where the argument comes back around. Essentially, in this day and age, going to the gym is a choice. No one's forcing you to go and do 20 crunches, just like no one is forcing you to eat 4000 calories of delicious candy a day.
The concept of choice is crucial in my understanding of the unity that happens in a gym. Everyone there has chosen to come and do the silly things needed to exercise otherwise neglected aspects of the body. Now, because these acts require an individual to not only do said silly action, but forces them to be vulnerable in doing so to a wide selection of people that really causes the togetherness. No one likes to feel singled out for being different. As stressed and important as it is to embrace your own individuality, on a fundamental level humans strive to be uniform. This fear of being mocked further drives what would otherwise be disparate groups of people into a necessary homogeneous unification. And so we have people who would otherwise pass just as soon as look at you suddenly holding doors for you, or asking you how a machine works. Just like that the group has a reason to be civilized to one another again.
On top of everything else, going to the gym breeds a certain kind of communal desire. Working out at a gym, particularly running on a track for a few miles, can be one of the most isolating things a person can do. Such exercise depends almost entirely on the personal drive of the individual. This is also most likely what makes it so hard for so many when it comes to getting some exercise. At the end of the day, the only person you have to deal with is yourself. So as is natural in almost all human experience, we reach out for that connection with others. Our desire to no longer be isolated causes us to actively include others in ways that would not happen under different stimuli. Running with a partner, having someone spot you while you lift, even silently competing with another gym patron to push your own limits are all tantamount to a deeper and baser human instinct to group.
In the end, the gym is a very interesting societal happening to observe. On the surface it may seem like common sense to be civil to a fellow human being, but in a heightened and logically unusual situation such as this the subtleties are so much more profound. The gym is kind of like the new age version of nomads migrating for a lifestyle or hunters working as a group. It all starts with a choice and is shaped by things so intrinsic to being alive as a human being that were we to not stop and ponder, we would likely miss entirely.
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