Connection And Disconnection

Happy Bastille Day!

("What was the Bastille?" Alexandre asks us. Nice :-P)

I wanted to play the 1812 Overture (hey, it has the French national anthem in it), until I realized it's about the Russians beating the French, and then I wanted to play Les Miserables until I realized it was the wrong end of the French Revolution, and sort of a failed attempt at one at that O.o So we just shot off the cannon. Cannons work for any celebration, after all :-P

I've noticed something odd (well, I've noticed it, sort of, for a while, but I've been clarifying it more today). People that tend to be exactly like other people are always proclaiming their differences. "You don't understand!" "You don't know me!"-- and yet they stay safely within the bounds of accepted speech, fashion, music, behavior, expression-- hell, even those thoughts they so proudly guard as one-of-a-kind and unready for the world are nothing new under the sun and thoroughly unprofound. I mean, look at the Punk/Emo movement . . . can anything be more testament to the phenomenon than that? They all cry out about their loneliness in perfect unison. Part of me wants to laugh. Part of me just gets depressed, because that's such the common human tragedy, to feel alone in our collective anguish.

So then there's the different people-- the obviously different people (for we all are, indeed, immensely different . . . ). Those with physical disabilities are very good at expressing just how emotionally non-disabled they are. Consequently, I feel a lot of them are better at seeking similarities, and react to people much more maturely than people often react to them-- all, the nature action-reaction synthesis . . .

It even applies to the mental, too. Most of the greatest philosophers, to whom we owe most of our collective consciousness-- they were all weirdos. Society didn't like them. They were freaks, kookies, hermits, bizarros. Yet they spoke accurately for all humanity; they saw the similarities rather than the differences. Emo kid in the suburbs cries out that he is alone, and yet down the street a million other emo kids in the same shirt crying alone to the same band cry out the same thing; hermit philosopher is shunned by everybody within a ten-mile radius and yet proclaims his absolute brotherhood and connection to all of man.

So, in terms of the moderate (for everything moderates), where do we stand? When we feel most alone, are we really the most connected to our humankind?-- and when we cry out with the beauty of our connection to the human race, are we really some kind of counter-zeitgeist whom nobody understands? Historical and personal evidence, for me, points to that. I can explain if anyone wants, cares . . .

I don't even know if I am making any sort of a point today. I can tell the time of the month is coming up and I am throwing out accusations and bitchiness like crazy, and generally avoiding my family and Alexandre and sleeping a lot because I don't want to spread my bad mood around. Yet I think I do *think* better when I am depressed. Ha, ha . . . nothing like actual loneliness to make you more connected and more understanding of the human race . . .

( Quizzes )

Connection And Disconnection

Happy Bastille Day!

("What was the Bastille?" Alexandre asks us. Nice :-P)

I wanted to play the 1812 Overture (hey, it has the French national anthem in it), until I realized it's about the Russians beating the French, and then I wanted to play Les Miserables until I realized it was the wrong end of the French Revolution, and sort of a failed attempt at one at that O.o So we just shot off the cannon. Cannons work for any celebration, after all :-P

I've noticed something odd (well, I've noticed it, sort of, for a while, but I've been clarifying it more today). People that tend to be exactly like other people are always proclaiming their differences. "You don't understand!" "You don't know me!"-- and yet they stay safely within the bounds of accepted speech, fashion, music, behavior, expression-- hell, even those thoughts they so proudly guard as one-of-a-kind and unready for the world are nothing new under the sun and thoroughly unprofound. I mean, look at the Punk/Emo movement . . . can anything be more testament to the phenomenon than that? They all cry out about their loneliness in perfect unison. Part of me wants to laugh. Part of me just gets depressed, because that's such the common human tragedy, to feel alone in our collective anguish.

So then there's the different people-- the obviously different people (for we all are, indeed, immensely different . . . ). Those with physical disabilities are very good at expressing just how emotionally non-disabled they are. Consequently, I feel a lot of them are better at seeking similarities, and react to people much more maturely than people often react to them-- all, the nature action-reaction synthesis . . .

It even applies to the mental, too. Most of the greatest philosophers, to whom we owe most of our collective consciousness-- they were all weirdos. Society didn't like them. They were freaks, kookies, hermits, bizarros. Yet they spoke accurately for all humanity; they saw the similarities rather than the differences. Emo kid in the suburbs cries out that he is alone, and yet down the street a million other emo kids in the same shirt crying alone to the same band cry out the same thing; hermit philosopher is shunned by everybody within a ten-mile radius and yet proclaims his absolute brotherhood and connection to all of man.

So, in terms of the moderate (for everything moderates), where do we stand? When we feel most alone, are we really the most connected to our humankind?-- and when we cry out with the beauty of our connection to the human race, are we really some kind of counter-zeitgeist whom nobody understands? Historical and personal evidence, for me, points to that. I can explain if anyone wants, cares . . .

I don't even know if I am making any sort of a point today. I can tell the time of the month is coming up and I am throwing out accusations and bitchiness like crazy, and generally avoiding my family and Alexandre and sleeping a lot because I don't want to spread my bad mood around. Yet I think I do *think* better when I am depressed. Ha, ha . . . nothing like actual loneliness to make you more connected and more understanding of the human race . . .

( Quizzes )