Dear Readers,
Imagine, if you will, a man pouring gasoline on himself, bystanders watching curiously, unaware. It's 1300, in the middle of the week, in the main square of some campus, somewhere. People are everywhere. One of them figures it out all of a sudden, and makes a suicidal lunge towards the man but slipps on the spilled gas. Then the doused man lights a match.
He is instantly engulfed in flame, the man who tried to stop him rolls away, barely in time to avoid being immolated himself. Bystanders freeze for a second as the human torch erupts in front of them. Then a reaction, instantly jackets and sweaters are taken off and the man is attacked from all sides by samaritans, all trying desprately to put this man out, to save his life. One is so dedicated that he takes off his pants and tries to use that. All of it to save a life that seems determined to take itself.
Police arrive on the scene some time later. Ambulances clean up the mess. A crowd of well over two thousand people watch. I watch, and think.
A man killed himself yesterday. Publically. I missed the actual event by a total of maybe two minutes. What I did see was the body. What I smelled was burnt hair and skin. What I tasted was that awful lyme taste that fire extinguishers somehow leave in the air. Face and arms charred black, steam and smoke still rising from the shit they tried to put him out with. A small prayer circle formed near me, people who didn't look like they'd prayed in their lives joining in. I glance at that, then return my eyes to the scene.
Distantly, Intellectually, I know that I should care. I should be freaked out. I should be alight myself with empathy and sympathy for the charred corpse. But I'm not. I could care less that this man was so emotionally and mentally disturbed that he felt the need to burn himself to death in public. The stench didn't bother me, the sight didn't bother me, the taste of the fire extinguishers in the air annoyed me.
I'm not in shock. Because it doesn't shock me. People are fucked up. People kill themselves, people die in awful ways all day, every day.
I do feel something though. I feel proud that my fellow students didn't just let him die. People tried to save him.
I don't care about this man's life. He's made no statement by killing himself, merely scarred my school and left an emotional bloodstain on my classmates. He forfieted any rights to any sympathy when he made his pain public in that manner. I don't care for him, but I care about those he harmed, and those that tried to save him.
Interestingly enough, I think I would have cared a year ago. I probably would have felt really bad that this guy killed himself. Six years ago i might have cried about it. I was a sensitive child. Now i focus on important things. Half an hour after the incident I'm in Soc, and my biggest concern is that my professor is going to fast for me to take notes. Others around me are still disscussing the burning man. One kid next to me appears shell shocked. I nudge him. "Move past it man."
"How can I move past it? The guy just burned himself alive. How do you move past that?" he looks at me, "How are you feeling?"
I eyeball my weaker friend feeling bad for him, "I just don't care man. Guy was an idiot."
I wonder if I'm becoming more apathetic or my sense of Justice is changing. Maybe I'm a cold hearted bastard. Maybe it's part of my training as a Marine. I could see that.
I've been trained to push away fear, fatigue, sadness, sorrow, pain. I've been trained to care only about my teammates and the mission, never myself, never those not inside my circle. The only emotions I'm allowed to feel are agression and fierce loyalty.
Is it my training taking hold or something else? I don't know. I do know this though. I am focused, and I'm very sure that in an emergency situation I wouldn't freeze, and that's one of the things I wanted to learn in the Marines.
I'm learning these things. But sometimes I wonder at what price?
-Doug
"Come on, Come on, Put your hands into the fire."
-Into the Fire, Thirteen Senses
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Jasmine: WARNING! Dreams of bliss can not be realized :-(
WARNING SPOILERS UP AHEAD! IF YOU HAVEN’T READ FRANKENSTEIN AND YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW THE ENDING DON’T READ THIS!
Ok, I’ve warned you. Nothing more I can do about it. Here it goes. I’m not sure how it’s going to sound. It’s late and my brain is a little foggy. But I had the urge.
“He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in the darkness and the distance.” Alas I with sadness say I have finished Frankenstein. I’ve read the book, I’ve written the essay. There is nothing left there to keep me coming back apart from my own blasted admiration. Mary Shelly is a God, or Goddess , or whatever. She wrote this masterpiece when she was eighteen. Admittedly she did a hell of a lot of editing on it when she turned thirty and it was republished. But it was still written when she was eighteen. I’m eighteen. I can’t even turn out a passable novel much less a masterpiece of these proportions. Though that isn’t to say I haven’t tried.
For a little background on the piece that most of you probably already know. The inspiration here came from a little get away at Lord Byron’s house. Yes the Lord Byron. Yes he’s a vampire. If you don’t believe me talk to Jordan Krummel, she’s got the goods. Any ways she, her husband (who she ran away with while he was still married, his first wife then killed herself), and her stepsister (who was sleeping with Byron and had a child of his), all went to spend a few months with him. But the weather was acting up and they were forced to spend a lot of time indoors. Byron came up with an idea, a sort of competition of sorts, for them to each write a ghost story. Both Byron and Percy (he husband), started to write, but quickly grew bored with it. However she and Polidori, Byron’s physician went on to finish their stories. Polidori wrote The Vampyre. Something I haven’t read but need to. She came up with Frankenstein, a piece inspired by a dream she had sometime after the challenge was made.
Ok, I haven’t seen the movie. But from what I understand the movie presents Frankenstein’s monster as somewhat of an idiot who accidentally kills a girl and is then hunted down by society. I’m probably wrong on a lot of that, but I’m right when I say they got him wrong. The creature is not stupid. He’s more intelligent than most people. He’s also physically more agile, and stronger than humans. Dr. Frankenstein sought to create something better than a human, and if you don’t mind looks, he did. But intellectually, he learns French by watching a family, he reads dante’s inferno, paridise lost, and another book I don’t remember, but haven’t read so I can’t relate to it. The monster is articulate and has more love for humanity than it has for itself… at first.
There is no accidental killing of a girl by the lake. There is a sort of accidental killing of a boy, Frankenstein’s little brother. But no remorse at first, only opportunity. After killing the boy he quickly plants evidence pointing to an innocent who is killed for the crime. Later on he kills first Frankenstein’s best friend. Frankenstein is blamed for the murder and spends several months in prison. He gets sick again. I will express my opinions of his ability to get sick later on. Then when Frankenstein gets married, he kills his wife on his wedding night. Lastly he kills Frankenstein. Then he heads north to kill himself at the top of the world. There is no bumbling fool monster. The monster is most calculated in his murders, and very aware of their affects on people.
As for Frankenstein. He pisses me off. Ok, yeah, he’s amazing. He figured out the secret to life by staring at corpses and thinking about it all. But he’s a weak creature. He gets sick all the time, and takes months to recover. He freaks when the thing he’s been trying to awake actually does awake. He is freaking out, becoming sicker and sicker, because that’s what Frankenstein does when he’s emotional, he gets sick, but does he try and fix what he’s done. No he flees. Weak sauce! Admittedly he does devote his life to revenge, which, while stupid, I can admire… sort of.
Oh, and by the way, THERE IS NO ASSISTANT! Sorry Igor fans.
Anyways I loved the book, and I can’t remember if I have anything else to say about it. Actually I know I do I just can’t remember what that was. Not a good sign. The book’s amazing. I want to read it again. And again. And again. Kind of the way I fell for The Count of Monte Cristo. Hmmm. Maybe I should write an amorous blog about that book. I sort of love that one the most. My thoughts have become scattered. I need sleep. I’m not going to get it. I have to wake up early to edit my essay and then do a whole lot of other homework I didn’t do because I was busy procrastinating. Tough stuff that procrastinating, very time consuming. That is if you’re good at it. I am.
Hmmm. Good night.
Oooh this was Frankenstein studying the dead. But it’s a fine example of how he declined.
“I saw how the fine form of man was degraded and wasted; I beheld the corruption of death succeed the blooming cheek of life; I saw how the worm inherited the wonders of the eye and brain.”
Ok, I’ve warned you. Nothing more I can do about it. Here it goes. I’m not sure how it’s going to sound. It’s late and my brain is a little foggy. But I had the urge.
“He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in the darkness and the distance.” Alas I with sadness say I have finished Frankenstein. I’ve read the book, I’ve written the essay. There is nothing left there to keep me coming back apart from my own blasted admiration. Mary Shelly is a God, or Goddess , or whatever. She wrote this masterpiece when she was eighteen. Admittedly she did a hell of a lot of editing on it when she turned thirty and it was republished. But it was still written when she was eighteen. I’m eighteen. I can’t even turn out a passable novel much less a masterpiece of these proportions. Though that isn’t to say I haven’t tried.
For a little background on the piece that most of you probably already know. The inspiration here came from a little get away at Lord Byron’s house. Yes the Lord Byron. Yes he’s a vampire. If you don’t believe me talk to Jordan Krummel, she’s got the goods. Any ways she, her husband (who she ran away with while he was still married, his first wife then killed herself), and her stepsister (who was sleeping with Byron and had a child of his), all went to spend a few months with him. But the weather was acting up and they were forced to spend a lot of time indoors. Byron came up with an idea, a sort of competition of sorts, for them to each write a ghost story. Both Byron and Percy (he husband), started to write, but quickly grew bored with it. However she and Polidori, Byron’s physician went on to finish their stories. Polidori wrote The Vampyre. Something I haven’t read but need to. She came up with Frankenstein, a piece inspired by a dream she had sometime after the challenge was made.
Ok, I haven’t seen the movie. But from what I understand the movie presents Frankenstein’s monster as somewhat of an idiot who accidentally kills a girl and is then hunted down by society. I’m probably wrong on a lot of that, but I’m right when I say they got him wrong. The creature is not stupid. He’s more intelligent than most people. He’s also physically more agile, and stronger than humans. Dr. Frankenstein sought to create something better than a human, and if you don’t mind looks, he did. But intellectually, he learns French by watching a family, he reads dante’s inferno, paridise lost, and another book I don’t remember, but haven’t read so I can’t relate to it. The monster is articulate and has more love for humanity than it has for itself… at first.
There is no accidental killing of a girl by the lake. There is a sort of accidental killing of a boy, Frankenstein’s little brother. But no remorse at first, only opportunity. After killing the boy he quickly plants evidence pointing to an innocent who is killed for the crime. Later on he kills first Frankenstein’s best friend. Frankenstein is blamed for the murder and spends several months in prison. He gets sick again. I will express my opinions of his ability to get sick later on. Then when Frankenstein gets married, he kills his wife on his wedding night. Lastly he kills Frankenstein. Then he heads north to kill himself at the top of the world. There is no bumbling fool monster. The monster is most calculated in his murders, and very aware of their affects on people.
As for Frankenstein. He pisses me off. Ok, yeah, he’s amazing. He figured out the secret to life by staring at corpses and thinking about it all. But he’s a weak creature. He gets sick all the time, and takes months to recover. He freaks when the thing he’s been trying to awake actually does awake. He is freaking out, becoming sicker and sicker, because that’s what Frankenstein does when he’s emotional, he gets sick, but does he try and fix what he’s done. No he flees. Weak sauce! Admittedly he does devote his life to revenge, which, while stupid, I can admire… sort of.
Oh, and by the way, THERE IS NO ASSISTANT! Sorry Igor fans.
Anyways I loved the book, and I can’t remember if I have anything else to say about it. Actually I know I do I just can’t remember what that was. Not a good sign. The book’s amazing. I want to read it again. And again. And again. Kind of the way I fell for The Count of Monte Cristo. Hmmm. Maybe I should write an amorous blog about that book. I sort of love that one the most. My thoughts have become scattered. I need sleep. I’m not going to get it. I have to wake up early to edit my essay and then do a whole lot of other homework I didn’t do because I was busy procrastinating. Tough stuff that procrastinating, very time consuming. That is if you’re good at it. I am.
Hmmm. Good night.
Oooh this was Frankenstein studying the dead. But it’s a fine example of how he declined.
“I saw how the fine form of man was degraded and wasted; I beheld the corruption of death succeed the blooming cheek of life; I saw how the worm inherited the wonders of the eye and brain.”
Friday, October 24, 2008
Doug: I Swore I'd never do this.
Dear Readers,
First off, congrats to Sarah on the Miss New Mexico thing, that's too cool for school. Meaning you should drop out of college and become a model. Cause that would be cool, and probably more profitable than helping starving refugees in bora bora.
Now, on to today's topic. Love.
We've all seen people on TV "In Love". These great little packaged romances always start off with the two lovebirds at odds with each other, and in the end they're all over each other. This is TV love. TV Love is fun, easy, simple, and most of all, it always works out in the end.
Everyone wants TV Love.
Well. News flash, that doesn't happen.
Next, We've all seen friends and family in love. I know a couple that has been together for more than five years now. I'm absolutely sure they're in Love. For some people it's like that, they just know, and have always known. But it's not like that for most of us. Another example is your parents. I'm not necessarily talking about your biological parents necessary, but your parental role models. Those people you look up to for advice and comfort.
My folks are happily married, and have been for like, twenty years now. That's kind of cool. My grandparents, Grandma Jeannie and Grandpa Stan, were happily married for well over fifty years, since Grandma Jeannie was 18 and Grandpa Stan just a few years older. My Aunt and Uncle dated in high school, sepeated for college, and then got back together and got married after. They have two kids and are the most successful family I've ever seen. They're locked on. All three of these groups are in Love.
Now here's the kicker. I don't know how they've done it.
As you all may or may not know, I've been in a few serious relationships. I've said, "I love you" to people, and they've said it back. And most importantly, I've believed it. Well, I believed it on one, and was just saying it for the other. I wanted to believe it for the other. Want and do are two different things.
But I wasn't. Or if I was it somehow turned off.
So I'm a little leery of the words. And of relationships in general.
But I'm not here to talk about relationships. I'm here to talk about love. A lot of my friends, people I consider family, are all tied up in this thing right now. Love is either sending them to heights of unimaginable joy, or choking them to death on their own words. This is just how it is. I've decided that to be in Love, is to be in a Hell of your own creation, but to be so thouroughly pleased with your creation that you don't realize it, and you stay in love as long as you are enthralled with the monster you've spawned.
That sounds pretty negative. It is pretty negative, I'll try and define it positively this time:
Love is giving all of yourself, and expecting nothing in return.
Love is the willingness to die, to cease to exist, for those you love, and have no regrets.
Love is screaming, and yelling, and fighting, and misery, but in the end it doesn't matter, because you can't live without that person.
Love is walking when you can't run, crawling when you can't do that, and when you can't do that... the people you love will carry you.
Love is Falling, and Trusting those you Love to catch you.
Love is placing your heart in somone's hand, and trusting, no, knowing, they won't squeeze.
Love is Cruel.
Love is Kind.
Love is...
Undescribable. Beautiful and terrible at the same time. A terrifying glory, a white light that somehow heals and destorys at the same moment. Joy so great it feels as though it might shatter your soul, and despair so wonderful that even in darkness your light shines through.
Dear Reader, if you are in Love, really in love, hold onto it, because this world has a way of taking good things away from people, and no one should just let that happen.
Fight for what you Love, fight until you can't, and then fight some more, because, if you can't do that, you're not really in Love.
-Doug
"Love is a many splendored thing!
Love lifts us up where we belong!
All you need is love!"
-Ewan Mcgregor, Moulin Rouge
"Please don't start that again."
-Nicole Kidman, Moulin Rouge
First off, congrats to Sarah on the Miss New Mexico thing, that's too cool for school. Meaning you should drop out of college and become a model. Cause that would be cool, and probably more profitable than helping starving refugees in bora bora.
Now, on to today's topic. Love.
We've all seen people on TV "In Love". These great little packaged romances always start off with the two lovebirds at odds with each other, and in the end they're all over each other. This is TV love. TV Love is fun, easy, simple, and most of all, it always works out in the end.
Everyone wants TV Love.
Well. News flash, that doesn't happen.
Next, We've all seen friends and family in love. I know a couple that has been together for more than five years now. I'm absolutely sure they're in Love. For some people it's like that, they just know, and have always known. But it's not like that for most of us. Another example is your parents. I'm not necessarily talking about your biological parents necessary, but your parental role models. Those people you look up to for advice and comfort.
My folks are happily married, and have been for like, twenty years now. That's kind of cool. My grandparents, Grandma Jeannie and Grandpa Stan, were happily married for well over fifty years, since Grandma Jeannie was 18 and Grandpa Stan just a few years older. My Aunt and Uncle dated in high school, sepeated for college, and then got back together and got married after. They have two kids and are the most successful family I've ever seen. They're locked on. All three of these groups are in Love.
Now here's the kicker. I don't know how they've done it.
As you all may or may not know, I've been in a few serious relationships. I've said, "I love you" to people, and they've said it back. And most importantly, I've believed it. Well, I believed it on one, and was just saying it for the other. I wanted to believe it for the other. Want and do are two different things.
But I wasn't. Or if I was it somehow turned off.
So I'm a little leery of the words. And of relationships in general.
But I'm not here to talk about relationships. I'm here to talk about love. A lot of my friends, people I consider family, are all tied up in this thing right now. Love is either sending them to heights of unimaginable joy, or choking them to death on their own words. This is just how it is. I've decided that to be in Love, is to be in a Hell of your own creation, but to be so thouroughly pleased with your creation that you don't realize it, and you stay in love as long as you are enthralled with the monster you've spawned.
That sounds pretty negative. It is pretty negative, I'll try and define it positively this time:
Love is giving all of yourself, and expecting nothing in return.
Love is the willingness to die, to cease to exist, for those you love, and have no regrets.
Love is screaming, and yelling, and fighting, and misery, but in the end it doesn't matter, because you can't live without that person.
Love is walking when you can't run, crawling when you can't do that, and when you can't do that... the people you love will carry you.
Love is Falling, and Trusting those you Love to catch you.
Love is placing your heart in somone's hand, and trusting, no, knowing, they won't squeeze.
Love is Cruel.
Love is Kind.
Love is...
Undescribable. Beautiful and terrible at the same time. A terrifying glory, a white light that somehow heals and destorys at the same moment. Joy so great it feels as though it might shatter your soul, and despair so wonderful that even in darkness your light shines through.
Dear Reader, if you are in Love, really in love, hold onto it, because this world has a way of taking good things away from people, and no one should just let that happen.
Fight for what you Love, fight until you can't, and then fight some more, because, if you can't do that, you're not really in Love.
-Doug
"Love is a many splendored thing!
Love lifts us up where we belong!
All you need is love!"
-Ewan Mcgregor, Moulin Rouge
"Please don't start that again."
-Nicole Kidman, Moulin Rouge
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Meghan: Lovely interpretations
I don’t like it.
I wish I could start a blog with rainbows and unicorns and other such happy things, but, well…sorry, that’s just not how I roll.
What don’t I like?
It all started when a group of friends from Taekwondo and I went to dairy queen a few hours ago, and for some stupid reason we decided to partake in friendly debate (haha friendly debate among opinionated college students, that’s funny)
We argued about McDonalds v Burger King, Led Zeppelin v Iron Maiden, karate v taekwondo, embryonic stem cell research v adult stem cell research, etc.
Eventually (I don’t know how) we started on the topic of love. The preacher in our group (it’s north Carolina, they’re everywhere don’t worry about it) asked us if any of us could define love.
Oh God, how in all hells do you answer that one? Well he gave us his answer (somehow delivered using spoons for diagrams):
“Love is when you tolerate someone else no matter what.”
I looked at him, staring, unbelieving that he could make something so wonderful sound so boring and mundane. Love=toleration? That’s it? That was so…the very thought was rejected by my mind as soon as I heard it. Maybe the definition made sense in some corner of my thoughts but the shining swirl of light that was love wasn’t toleration. Toleration was the thing that I did with people I didn’t like but couldn’t kill; so I just had to live with them. I don’t even ‘tolerate’ people I like.
I tried to beat Mark over the head with my ideas but he was so utterly convinced with his ideal love that I couldn’t convince him of anything. The closest I got was when I said in a frustrated voice, “There’s no possible way you can describe love, it’s just love.” He looked at me and said, “You’re close.” Thank you, I feel so much better. I will keep my interpretations and you can keep yours, and may you find love with them.
"Not a shred of evidence exists in favor of the idea that life is serious."
Brendan Gill
-Meghan
That guy: Observations
Of a sort. More like complaints.
#1. Pickles smell bad.
#2. A room with pickles stagnating for a whole day in room temperature smells worse.
#3. Walking down the street with lots of beer leads to bums asking for one.
#4. Saying no is really funny.
#5. People from Tuscon blow. Like, fucking hardcore. They are terrible people.
#6. I understand El Paso is a border town, but it's on the American side. The least you could do when you call me is have the ability to speak English or someone who can. My spanish isn't good enough to hold a conversation with you about making copies of stupid mexican things.
#7. People from Tuscon suck. Like a $10 prostitute.
#8. I had no idea I would be meeting the CEO when I woke up this morning. Boy was I wrong.
#9. People don't take you seriously unless you're over 22.
And I'm gonna limit myself to 10.
#10. People from Tuscon need to die.
Hugs and drugs to the homies!
#1. Pickles smell bad.
#2. A room with pickles stagnating for a whole day in room temperature smells worse.
#3. Walking down the street with lots of beer leads to bums asking for one.
#4. Saying no is really funny.
#5. People from Tuscon blow. Like, fucking hardcore. They are terrible people.
#6. I understand El Paso is a border town, but it's on the American side. The least you could do when you call me is have the ability to speak English or someone who can. My spanish isn't good enough to hold a conversation with you about making copies of stupid mexican things.
#7. People from Tuscon suck. Like a $10 prostitute.
#8. I had no idea I would be meeting the CEO when I woke up this morning. Boy was I wrong.
#9. People don't take you seriously unless you're over 22.
And I'm gonna limit myself to 10.
#10. People from Tuscon need to die.
Hugs and drugs to the homies!
Doug: A Storm of Swords
Dear Reader,
This morning I woke up late for drill. Under normal circumstances, this would result in me earning a new asshole, courtesy of one of the Marine Seargents but today the patented Doug Wood luck won through again. Now I'm having breakfast in the resturaunt below my dorm, five floors above me a sword sits in my room, and I've just been promoted to Commander of the Sword Arch.
I don't know how I do it. Maybe it's just because I'm too awesome for words.
Several weeks ago I was selected to be in the sword arch for the Navy Birthday ball. This is no real problem to me, because I've done something similar for four years in the Marine Corps ball in JROTC. This morning was the first practice. I showed up late, but they were doing sword drills that I already knew. So I just grabbed one an jumped in line.
A few snappy movements has the Seargent's attention in no time. "You! You've done this before!"
"Four years in JROTC Seargent." Normally even mentioning JROTC will get you in trouble, JROTC is considered in the same way Cub Scouts is considered to Boy Scouts. A joke. Today it was an asset.
"Excellent! Johnson, you're off command, Wood, you're on it."
Great. Just Great. You had to open your mouth. You had to show off. Idiot.
So now I'm in command of the Sword Arch.
Fantastic.
-Doug
"Dammit Wood, why'd you have to show up? I was in command."
-Johnson
"You want to be the one they yell at when something goes wrong?"
-Me
"Point."
This morning I woke up late for drill. Under normal circumstances, this would result in me earning a new asshole, courtesy of one of the Marine Seargents but today the patented Doug Wood luck won through again. Now I'm having breakfast in the resturaunt below my dorm, five floors above me a sword sits in my room, and I've just been promoted to Commander of the Sword Arch.
I don't know how I do it. Maybe it's just because I'm too awesome for words.
Several weeks ago I was selected to be in the sword arch for the Navy Birthday ball. This is no real problem to me, because I've done something similar for four years in the Marine Corps ball in JROTC. This morning was the first practice. I showed up late, but they were doing sword drills that I already knew. So I just grabbed one an jumped in line.
A few snappy movements has the Seargent's attention in no time. "You! You've done this before!"
"Four years in JROTC Seargent." Normally even mentioning JROTC will get you in trouble, JROTC is considered in the same way Cub Scouts is considered to Boy Scouts. A joke. Today it was an asset.
"Excellent! Johnson, you're off command, Wood, you're on it."
Great. Just Great. You had to open your mouth. You had to show off. Idiot.
So now I'm in command of the Sword Arch.
Fantastic.
-Doug
"Dammit Wood, why'd you have to show up? I was in command."
-Johnson
"You want to be the one they yell at when something goes wrong?"
-Me
"Point."
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
That guy: has an idea
Ladies and gentlemen.
I am giving up guitar. I am giving up exercise. I am giving up all that I can. I believe that this will give me enough time to work on my new project.
I'm going to go back in time! It's gonna rock.
I am giving up guitar. I am giving up exercise. I am giving up all that I can. I believe that this will give me enough time to work on my new project.
I'm going to go back in time! It's gonna rock.
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