My greatest fear is that I'll die some time in the near future. Not because I'm afraid of death; I'm not one of those. I know it's going to happen, and as far as I'm concerned, afterlife, smafterlife (again, sorry Mom). What terrifies me, though, is that I'll die before I get the opportunity to really do anything with my life.
Now, of course, I have (nearly) raised four beautiful, intelligent, amazing children. Obviously, to say this is an important accomplishment would be an understatement. But, really, that isn't what I'm talking about here.
I want to do something for myself. It sounds selfish, I know, but it isn't. Trust me, it's all about perspective. My 38-year-old perspective is vastly different, and continues to change from day to day. To start, I want to give my inner voice free rein and acknowledge all the things I never realized I'm feeling. I want to renew connections with lost friends, reminisce and revisit past discussions about being young, growing old, love and the meaning of life. I want to spend more time with my family. My children are nearly grown, nearly lost to me. There are many things I still want to do before that time comes. And I have extended family I haven't seen in years. I need their stories, too.
Of course, I want to write. I haven't been writing as of late, and no, this blog doesn't count. I want to write and self-publish my stories. I want to start and grow my own company. I want to travel with my loved ones and collect new experiences. These are things that are important to me. What I'm saying is that what is important to me is now important to me. For the first time in a very long time.
YOLO, then. I fucking hate that expression. It's annoying, and I feel most people use it as an excuse to act like idiots. But still.
Love this, though. Classic The Lonely Island.
YOLO
Since I'm saying all this, I better get my ass busy. Enough with the resistance.
J. L. Dodd
"Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable." -Sydney J. Harris
"Many people die with their music still in them. Why is this so? Too often it is because they are always getting ready to live. Before they know it, time runs out". -Oliver Wendell Holmes
"Begin doing what you want to do now. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand, and melting like a snowflake." -Marie Ray
"Why be saddled with this thing called life expectancy? Of what relevance to an individual is such a statistic? Am I to concern myself with an allotment of days I never had and was never promised? Must I check off each day of my life as if I am subtracting from this imaginary hoard? No, on the contrary, I will add each day of my life to my treasure of days lived. And with each day, my treasure will grow, not diminish." -Robert Brault
Links:
https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/high-octane-women/201205/50-quotes-help-you-live-you-were-dying
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Monday, October 10, 2016
Free Fall Focus
So, fuck this ineffective shit.
It's fall. Autumn. Whatever. The mornings are cool. The air is crispy. Halloween is coming. Dia de los Muertos is coming. Thanksgiving is coming. Screw Christmas, for now. This is my most favoritest time to fully engage my creativity. To read and write. To think. To reflect. To plan. I don't usually read poetry (maybe my next new hobby), but I'll make an exception for this season (see below).
First, I realized I cannot continue to divide my attention between books. I'm going back to the first book I started two months ago and finishing it. Today. Barring any sudden and sweeping inspiration, I'll focus on that. I don't like to feel divided. It makes me feel unproductive, and even though I'm undoubtedly moving forward intellectually and emotionally, when my focus is lost, it's more of a struggle.
Second, if I can't continue my revision, and by the painful, slow pace I'm keeping, it's becoming more and more apparent that I can't, I'll do what I did in the past: move on, at least for a time. Pick up where I left off in the next story. It also must come out, in time. And as long as I'm working, I feel at peace.
Another thing about fall, it's fruitcake season. I'm most certainly feeling fruitcakeish, especially today. Stripes, polka-dots, plaid, argyle. The sky's the limit. My scientific mind uses this phenomena as evidence that I'm in the right state of mind to create. My philosophical mind wonders WTF does this have to do with anything, but recognizes with this a priori, my consciousness has come full circle.
I'll hibernate in the safety and security of my home, drinking coffee long into the afternoon, cuddling with my dog, and allowing myself to become distracted by SNL, Fairy Tail, and The Somnambulist. This is how I work best. Why fuck with the process?
Apologies. Today's blog only makes sense to me. Apparently, I needed to talk to myself.
Don't knock on my door, people. I'm not home.
Jess
"October"
Robert Frost (from A Boy’s Will, 1915)
O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.
"My November Guest"
Robert Frost (from A Boy’s Will, 1915)
My sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She’s glad the birds are gone away,
She’s glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.
Links:
http://poetry.about.com/od/ourpoemcollections/a/autumnpoems.htm
It's fall. Autumn. Whatever. The mornings are cool. The air is crispy. Halloween is coming. Dia de los Muertos is coming. Thanksgiving is coming. Screw Christmas, for now. This is my most favoritest time to fully engage my creativity. To read and write. To think. To reflect. To plan. I don't usually read poetry (maybe my next new hobby), but I'll make an exception for this season (see below).
First, I realized I cannot continue to divide my attention between books. I'm going back to the first book I started two months ago and finishing it. Today. Barring any sudden and sweeping inspiration, I'll focus on that. I don't like to feel divided. It makes me feel unproductive, and even though I'm undoubtedly moving forward intellectually and emotionally, when my focus is lost, it's more of a struggle.
Second, if I can't continue my revision, and by the painful, slow pace I'm keeping, it's becoming more and more apparent that I can't, I'll do what I did in the past: move on, at least for a time. Pick up where I left off in the next story. It also must come out, in time. And as long as I'm working, I feel at peace.
Another thing about fall, it's fruitcake season. I'm most certainly feeling fruitcakeish, especially today. Stripes, polka-dots, plaid, argyle. The sky's the limit. My scientific mind uses this phenomena as evidence that I'm in the right state of mind to create. My philosophical mind wonders WTF does this have to do with anything, but recognizes with this a priori, my consciousness has come full circle.
I'll hibernate in the safety and security of my home, drinking coffee long into the afternoon, cuddling with my dog, and allowing myself to become distracted by SNL, Fairy Tail, and The Somnambulist. This is how I work best. Why fuck with the process?
Apologies. Today's blog only makes sense to me. Apparently, I needed to talk to myself.
Don't knock on my door, people. I'm not home.
Jess
"October"
Robert Frost (from A Boy’s Will, 1915)
O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.
"My November Guest"
Robert Frost (from A Boy’s Will, 1915)
My sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She’s glad the birds are gone away,
She’s glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.
Links:
http://poetry.about.com/od/ourpoemcollections/a/autumnpoems.htm
Sunday, October 2, 2016
Arthur Schopenhauer and the Malignant, Metaphysical Will
Further research on Jung has lead me down a veritable rabbit hole (yes, friend, a rabbit hole) of philosophical and psychological thinkers of the past, from Schopenhauer to Einstein, to Hegel, Kant and Nietzsche, and all the way back to Plato. These are names I'm more or less familiar with, but here I'll focus on Schopenhauer.
I should preface this by saying I've only begun to delve into these matters, perhaps in response to my own, newly-christened search for individual truth.
German-born Arthur Schopenhauer (1788 - 1860) was an olde-school "Debbie Downer." A more proper (but no less correct) description would be a philosophical pessimist. He believed that the phenomenal world (that which can be observed by humans) was the product of a "blind, insatiable, malignant, metaphysical will." For me, malignant is the word that stands out. Why? What tragedy happened in this dude's life to make him believe such a thing? But wait, there's more good news. From Wikipedia: "Human desire is futile, illogical, directionless, and by extension, so is all human action in the world." Not only does good 'ol Arthur consider his cup half empty, I'd wager whatever it's full of is something yucky.
He further built upon Hegel's Zeitgeist, the idea that society is directed by a collective consciousness. However, in Schopenhauer's version of the truth, this collective consciousness was controlled by the all-encompassing Will. But wait, seriously, there's more. The only way to overcome this evil is to embrace mankind's duties of asceticism and chastity. It's no wonder most of his influence and fame came posthumously.
Schopenhauer's idea of the Will is intriguing to me because I think it nonsense. That aside, I feel I have much to learn from him (despite his misogynistic views on women). To build upon his predecessors and further develop his own unique school of thought is no small accomplishment. As I continue to do with Jung, I will sift through Schopenhauer's work to find those bits and pieces that resonate with my thoughts and further me on my own path.
Always helpful, my husband readily supplied me with Schopenhauer: Essays and Aphorisms as soon as I mentioned his name, so add that to the growing list of books I'm reading. I really need to update my Goodreads profile, people.
If nothing else, think of the possibilities for literary inspiration. This insatiable, malignant Will has a very Lovecraftian appeal to it. Perhaps when I'm done reading (which will likely be never), I'll start writing about it.
I'm feeling decidedly more optimistic in October. Peace out.
J. L. Dodd
Links:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Schopenhauer
I should preface this by saying I've only begun to delve into these matters, perhaps in response to my own, newly-christened search for individual truth.
German-born Arthur Schopenhauer (1788 - 1860) was an olde-school "Debbie Downer." A more proper (but no less correct) description would be a philosophical pessimist. He believed that the phenomenal world (that which can be observed by humans) was the product of a "blind, insatiable, malignant, metaphysical will." For me, malignant is the word that stands out. Why? What tragedy happened in this dude's life to make him believe such a thing? But wait, there's more good news. From Wikipedia: "Human desire is futile, illogical, directionless, and by extension, so is all human action in the world." Not only does good 'ol Arthur consider his cup half empty, I'd wager whatever it's full of is something yucky.
He further built upon Hegel's Zeitgeist, the idea that society is directed by a collective consciousness. However, in Schopenhauer's version of the truth, this collective consciousness was controlled by the all-encompassing Will. But wait, seriously, there's more. The only way to overcome this evil is to embrace mankind's duties of asceticism and chastity. It's no wonder most of his influence and fame came posthumously.
Schopenhauer's idea of the Will is intriguing to me because I think it nonsense. That aside, I feel I have much to learn from him (despite his misogynistic views on women). To build upon his predecessors and further develop his own unique school of thought is no small accomplishment. As I continue to do with Jung, I will sift through Schopenhauer's work to find those bits and pieces that resonate with my thoughts and further me on my own path.
Always helpful, my husband readily supplied me with Schopenhauer: Essays and Aphorisms as soon as I mentioned his name, so add that to the growing list of books I'm reading. I really need to update my Goodreads profile, people.
If nothing else, think of the possibilities for literary inspiration. This insatiable, malignant Will has a very Lovecraftian appeal to it. Perhaps when I'm done reading (which will likely be never), I'll start writing about it.
I'm feeling decidedly more optimistic in October. Peace out.
J. L. Dodd
Links:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Schopenhauer
Sunday, September 18, 2016
WTF Die Antwoord
Want to take an acid trip minus the acid? That's what this South African trio is all about. Die Antwoord (Afrikaans for "The Answer") members Ninja, Yolandi Visser and "God" AKA DJ Hi-Tek were formed in 2008. How can I describe them? Combine insane, colorful style, "zef" culture, prolific profanity, unique and disturbing imagery and a gleeful rejection of mainstream musical norms. Believe me when I tell you, you've never seen or heard anything like them.
Their music is categorized as "rap rave." Give it a listen.
"Fatty Boom Boom" (Theatrical)
"Fatty Boom Boom" (Lyrics only)
"Ugly Boy" (Lyrics only)
"Fok Julle Naaiers" (Lyrics only) (A warning: this one's a bit much.)
And just what is "zef"?
From Wikipedia:
"Die Antwoord's musical and visual style incorporates elements of a 'zef' culture, described as modern and trashy, appropriating out-of-date, discarded cultural elements.Yo-Landi said, 'It's associated with people who soup their cars up and rock gold and shit. Zef is, you're poor but you're fancy. You're poor but you're sexy, you've got style.'"
Critics have undervalued their work as capitalizing on shock value. Shock, they do, and well, but there is real talent underneath all that craziness. I was introduced to them when they appeared in the film Chappie in 2015. Lyrics are somewhat typical if not often crude, centering on sex, drugs, and general egomania. I like Ninja, but for me, Yolandi makes them. She just does it for me: her accent, her raps, her "fuck-it" sensibility, and her proclivity toward horror make her unforgettable.
I'll admit, they may be an acquired taste. But bottom line: raps are brilliant and weird. Weirdly brilliant. Beats are bad-ass and catchy. My only complaint is there are simply too many penises: lyrically, figuratively, and in reality. If you watch the video for "Evil Boy," you'll agree.
Imma start saying "fok" instead of fuck.
J. L. Dodd
"We are the underbelly. No one has ever presented that. It was something people were shy or scared of - they swept it under the carpet. We made it our thing." - Ninja
"Music used to be about people not giving a fuck. We're taking it back there." - Yo-Landi
On their March 2015 show in Sydney:
"It's the kind of show that would be used as a torture device on most normal, sane people. Ear-splitting, rude, self-indulgent and manic. One man's hell is this reviewer's heaven."-Rachel Olding, The Sydney Morning Herald
Links:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Die_Antwoord
http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/music/die-antwoord-review-earsplitting-rude-monstrous--and-heavenly-20150306-13wuci.html
Their music is categorized as "rap rave." Give it a listen.
"Fatty Boom Boom" (Theatrical)
"Fatty Boom Boom" (Lyrics only)
"Ugly Boy" (Lyrics only)
"Fok Julle Naaiers" (Lyrics only) (A warning: this one's a bit much.)
And just what is "zef"?
From Wikipedia:
"Die Antwoord's musical and visual style incorporates elements of a 'zef' culture, described as modern and trashy, appropriating out-of-date, discarded cultural elements.Yo-Landi said, 'It's associated with people who soup their cars up and rock gold and shit. Zef is, you're poor but you're fancy. You're poor but you're sexy, you've got style.'"
Critics have undervalued their work as capitalizing on shock value. Shock, they do, and well, but there is real talent underneath all that craziness. I was introduced to them when they appeared in the film Chappie in 2015. Lyrics are somewhat typical if not often crude, centering on sex, drugs, and general egomania. I like Ninja, but for me, Yolandi makes them. She just does it for me: her accent, her raps, her "fuck-it" sensibility, and her proclivity toward horror make her unforgettable.
I'll admit, they may be an acquired taste. But bottom line: raps are brilliant and weird. Weirdly brilliant. Beats are bad-ass and catchy. My only complaint is there are simply too many penises: lyrically, figuratively, and in reality. If you watch the video for "Evil Boy," you'll agree.
Imma start saying "fok" instead of fuck.
J. L. Dodd
"We are the underbelly. No one has ever presented that. It was something people were shy or scared of - they swept it under the carpet. We made it our thing." - Ninja
"Music used to be about people not giving a fuck. We're taking it back there." - Yo-Landi
On their March 2015 show in Sydney:
"It's the kind of show that would be used as a torture device on most normal, sane people. Ear-splitting, rude, self-indulgent and manic. One man's hell is this reviewer's heaven."-Rachel Olding, The Sydney Morning Herald
Links:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Die_Antwoord
http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/music/die-antwoord-review-earsplitting-rude-monstrous--and-heavenly-20150306-13wuci.html
Saturday, September 3, 2016
And the crazy continues ...
Something has awakened in me a thirst for knowledge unlike that which I have ever known. Even when I was in college it wasn't like this. Back then, I had a very good reason to bury myself in textbooks, i.e., I was paying for it, not to mention the eternally-motivating concept of grades. Now, I'm not sure what is driving me. But I'm being driven, of that, there is no doubt. Is this an intellectual awakening? A search for enlightenment? Purpose? A cry for help? A mid-life crisis? A normal part of adulting? Am I descending (or ascending, depending on how you look at it) into madness? Or, most likely, all of the above?
The effects of this are most evident in the books I'm reading. Books. Rarely in my life have I read more than one book at a time. I know some people do this often, but in the past, I couldn't comprehend why a person would divert their focus from a literary work, especially one he or she found worthwhile. (In truth, I probably thought these people slackers. Apologies.) The only time I remember doing this was when I was deep in my Lovecraft/Poe phase. I would read one story or work, then take a break by reading something lighter. (This see-sawing is also necessary when reading non-fiction, not that I do that often. I need fiction in my life. I need to go somewhere else for a little while.) But lately, I keep finding myself thinking, "Ooh, I want to read that." For instance, my husband told me about Ursula Le Guin (The New York Times described her as "America's greatest living science fiction writer."). I want to read her work. My friend wants to start reading books by "crazy Russians," like Dostoevsky. I want to read those, too. A friend of a friend recommends Hot Pterodactyl Boyfriend. Sure, why the fuck not?
The bad part is, I have never been especially good at multi-tasking, and now I find myself at an unfortunate literary crossroad. I'm currently reading The Somnambulist by Jonathan Barnes, Wizard and Glass by Stephen King, V. by Thomas Pynchon, as well as Selected Writings from Carl Jung. I'm also dabbling in a short history of the Necronomicon that is accompanied by some scary-ass artwork. We're talking nightmare shit. I told my sister about it and she said, "Why? Why would you read that?" to which I answered, in so many words, "Because." Anyway, I've been able to stave off starting Hyperion by Dan Simmons and but only just. Long story short, I'm lacking focus (you already know this, people).
Another effect of transient thinking: my blog entries have increased, while the work on my novel has decreased. Okay, stopped. Until today that is. I'm so going to work on it today, damn it. Still, I see it as not necessarily a bad thing (rose-colored glasses and all). I'm accepting of my new found chaotic thinking. I'm so very "roll with it" right now.
Another theory is that all this is being caused by my uptake in caffeine. I'm a caffeine fiend these days. In my mind, caffeine equals productivity, be it reading, writing, house-cleaning or just being awake late at night. My excuse? I'm being enabled. The intricacies of my relationship with coffee intrigue me, though, since in the past, I've used alcohol to inspire me, though I haven't gone that route for some time. For now, I'll continue to abstain. I want to see where this is going.
All aboard, people. Blaine the pain is taking us to crazy town. Benny's coming, Mr. Moon, Cthulhu and the shadow archetype. It's gonna be fun.
J.L. Dodd
The effects of this are most evident in the books I'm reading. Books. Rarely in my life have I read more than one book at a time. I know some people do this often, but in the past, I couldn't comprehend why a person would divert their focus from a literary work, especially one he or she found worthwhile. (In truth, I probably thought these people slackers. Apologies.) The only time I remember doing this was when I was deep in my Lovecraft/Poe phase. I would read one story or work, then take a break by reading something lighter. (This see-sawing is also necessary when reading non-fiction, not that I do that often. I need fiction in my life. I need to go somewhere else for a little while.) But lately, I keep finding myself thinking, "Ooh, I want to read that." For instance, my husband told me about Ursula Le Guin (The New York Times described her as "America's greatest living science fiction writer."). I want to read her work. My friend wants to start reading books by "crazy Russians," like Dostoevsky. I want to read those, too. A friend of a friend recommends Hot Pterodactyl Boyfriend. Sure, why the fuck not?
The bad part is, I have never been especially good at multi-tasking, and now I find myself at an unfortunate literary crossroad. I'm currently reading The Somnambulist by Jonathan Barnes, Wizard and Glass by Stephen King, V. by Thomas Pynchon, as well as Selected Writings from Carl Jung. I'm also dabbling in a short history of the Necronomicon that is accompanied by some scary-ass artwork. We're talking nightmare shit. I told my sister about it and she said, "Why? Why would you read that?" to which I answered, in so many words, "Because." Anyway, I've been able to stave off starting Hyperion by Dan Simmons and but only just. Long story short, I'm lacking focus (you already know this, people).
Another effect of transient thinking: my blog entries have increased, while the work on my novel has decreased. Okay, stopped. Until today that is. I'm so going to work on it today, damn it. Still, I see it as not necessarily a bad thing (rose-colored glasses and all). I'm accepting of my new found chaotic thinking. I'm so very "roll with it" right now.
Another theory is that all this is being caused by my uptake in caffeine. I'm a caffeine fiend these days. In my mind, caffeine equals productivity, be it reading, writing, house-cleaning or just being awake late at night. My excuse? I'm being enabled. The intricacies of my relationship with coffee intrigue me, though, since in the past, I've used alcohol to inspire me, though I haven't gone that route for some time. For now, I'll continue to abstain. I want to see where this is going.
All aboard, people. Blaine the pain is taking us to crazy town. Benny's coming, Mr. Moon, Cthulhu and the shadow archetype. It's gonna be fun.
J.L. Dodd
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Happiness and coming home
Consider this.
I have a couple of friends (okay, one is more an acquaintance) that I went to high school with that recently moved back to our small town. The very same small town that when we were younger, we complained about non-stop. The very same small town that we all said we were done with when we graduated.
First the acquaintance. I want to say he was living in Ohio. Someplace cold. He has a wife, and kids, and a good job. But his family is here (and the weather is miserable). So he moves his family back. He takes a job at Circle K that he enjoys. He is close to his parents, the weather doesn't suck ass, and he is happy.
Now the friend. My age, single, no children. Attended Duke University. Got a job after graduation, teaching at Duke University. But ... her family is here. She goes back and forth for a bit. Eventually resigns. Moves back permanently, gets a job making custom hats, and loves working with her hands instead of her head (her words). And she gets to spend time with her parents. She is happy.
I realize I'm using the word "happy" as a sweeping generalization, but still. What conclusions can be drawn?
I'm getting older. I feel, maybe, just maybe, I'm getting wiser. My mental musings continue to chip away at the illusion of unlimited time, and my perspective on life, happiness and enlightenment has evolved to something I never thought possible. I think I've figured out what is important to me, at least, and what isn't. In a nutshell: Money isn't. Power isn't. Career isn't. Sex isn't. Possessions (even manga collections) ... no. It's the people in your life that are important. I think happiness comes from sharing something with another person, be it a smile with a stranger, a conversation with a friend, or an embrace with a loved one. Those connections remind us we are not alone, and make our struggle less so.
I'm sounding like a fucking Hallmark made-for-TV movie. It might all be bullshit. But I'm starting to believe that I believe it. So either way, it's a win-win.
J.L. Dodd
“Man is fond of counting his troubles, but he does not count his joys. If he counted them up as he ought to, he would see that every lot has enough happiness provided for it.”
– Fyodor Dostoevsky
"Happiness is inward, and not outward; and so, it does not depend on what we have, but on what we are." --Henry Van Dyke
"Happiness is spiritual, born of truth and love. It is unselfish; therefore it cannot exist alone, but requires all mankind to share it." --Mary Baker Eddy
Links:
http://www.keepinspiring.me/quotes-about-being-happy/#ixzz4IyNCQf7c
http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_happiness6.html
I have a couple of friends (okay, one is more an acquaintance) that I went to high school with that recently moved back to our small town. The very same small town that when we were younger, we complained about non-stop. The very same small town that we all said we were done with when we graduated.
First the acquaintance. I want to say he was living in Ohio. Someplace cold. He has a wife, and kids, and a good job. But his family is here (and the weather is miserable). So he moves his family back. He takes a job at Circle K that he enjoys. He is close to his parents, the weather doesn't suck ass, and he is happy.
Now the friend. My age, single, no children. Attended Duke University. Got a job after graduation, teaching at Duke University. But ... her family is here. She goes back and forth for a bit. Eventually resigns. Moves back permanently, gets a job making custom hats, and loves working with her hands instead of her head (her words). And she gets to spend time with her parents. She is happy.
I realize I'm using the word "happy" as a sweeping generalization, but still. What conclusions can be drawn?
I'm getting older. I feel, maybe, just maybe, I'm getting wiser. My mental musings continue to chip away at the illusion of unlimited time, and my perspective on life, happiness and enlightenment has evolved to something I never thought possible. I think I've figured out what is important to me, at least, and what isn't. In a nutshell: Money isn't. Power isn't. Career isn't. Sex isn't. Possessions (even manga collections) ... no. It's the people in your life that are important. I think happiness comes from sharing something with another person, be it a smile with a stranger, a conversation with a friend, or an embrace with a loved one. Those connections remind us we are not alone, and make our struggle less so.
I'm sounding like a fucking Hallmark made-for-TV movie. It might all be bullshit. But I'm starting to believe that I believe it. So either way, it's a win-win.
J.L. Dodd
“Man is fond of counting his troubles, but he does not count his joys. If he counted them up as he ought to, he would see that every lot has enough happiness provided for it.”
– Fyodor Dostoevsky
"Happiness is inward, and not outward; and so, it does not depend on what we have, but on what we are." --Henry Van Dyke
"Happiness is spiritual, born of truth and love. It is unselfish; therefore it cannot exist alone, but requires all mankind to share it." --Mary Baker Eddy
Links:
http://www.keepinspiring.me/quotes-about-being-happy/#ixzz4IyNCQf7c
http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_happiness6.html
Sunday, August 14, 2016
Review XP Twenty One Pilots
I hate to jump on the bandwagon (Why, though? Do I think I'm too cool to jump on the bandwagon? Maybe. What is cooler than a bandwagon that I can jump on? Imma have to think about this.). In this case, I'll make an exception because it's warranted. I have a new favorite band: Twenty One Pilots. To clarify, they won't be superseding Linkin Park or anything, but the duo and their musical musings are pretty bad-ass.
When I first heard "Stressed Out" on the radio, I immediately liked it, although I didn't look to see who the band was because it was on the today's hits radio station (see aforementioned dislike of bandwagons). But when "Ride" was released, I decided I had to find out more, which of course, prompted a YouTube search. And the rest is history.
The name, it seems, has a rather unique origin. From Wikipedia: "Tyler came up with the band's name while studying All My Sons by Arthur Miller, a play about a man who must decide what is best for his family after causing the death of twenty-one pilots during World War II because he knowingly sent them faulty parts for the good of his business. Tyler explains that this story of moral dilemma was the inspiration for the name of the band."
Interesting.
Twenty One Pilots fans insist there is no way to classify what genre they belong to, and I'll agree, it is difficult. There is certainly rap, though not in the traditional sense. There is also rock. You may know I'm a fan of the combination of the two. But what makes them stand out for me are the lyrics. Most times I don't give a shit about lyrics of a song I like, instead relying on the melody to affect me. But these lyrics are different. Unusual. Intriguing. Full of genuine human sentiment about uncertainty and conflict. I mean, how often do you hear a rap song about insecurity? I haven't yet found a song by them I don't like, but my favorite is "Car Radio." It alludes to the voices in one's head, something I've been battling as of late.
Here we go again. Forgive me. From Wikipedia:
"The bandwagon effect is a phenomenon whereby the rate of uptake of beliefs, ideas, fads and trends increases the more that they have already been adopted by others. In other words, the bandwagon effect is characterized by the probability of individual adoption increasing with respect to the proportion who have already done so.
"...The tendency to follow the actions or beliefs of others can occur because individuals directly prefer to conform, or because individuals derive information from others.
"...When individuals make rational choices based on the information they receive from others, economists have proposed that information cascades can quickly form in which people decide to ignore their personal information signals and follow the behavior of others."
See? We just can't help it. It's what we humans do. But I want to believe this is genuinely my own belief and behavior. So come on, people. Jump on my bandwagon, it's the coolest.
J. L. Dodd
P.S. I made a Twenty One Pilots Pandora station, It has played Arctic Monkeys, Jack White, Cage the Elephant, The Black Keyes, and Panic! At the Disco. All alt, apparently. I guess that makes sense, alternative, by definition, being the catch-all for anything different.
(Partial) Lyrics for "Lane Boy"
They say, "Stay in your lane, boy, lane boy,"
But we go where we want to
They think this thing is a highway, highway,
But will they be alive tomorrow?
They think this thing is a highway
If it was our way
We'd have a tempo change every other time change
'Cause our minds change on what we think is good
I wasn't raised in the hood,
But I know a thing or two about pain and darkness
If it wasn't for this music, I don't know how I would've fought this
Regardless,
All these songs I'm hearing are so heartless
Don't trust a perfect person and don't trust a song that's flawless
Honest,
There's a few songs on this record that feel common
I'm in constant confrontation with what I want and what is poppin'
In the industry
It seems to me
That singles on the radio are currency
My creativity's only free when I'm playin' shows
They say, "Stay in your lane, boy, lane boy,"
But we go where we want to
They think this thing is a highway, highway,
But will they be alive tomorrow?
Will they be alive tomorrow?
I'm sorry if that question I asked last
Scared you a bit like a hazmat
In a gas mask
If you ask Zack
He's my brother, he likes when I rap fast
But let's back track,
Back to this
Who would you live and die for on that list?
But the problem is
There's another list that exists and no one really wants to think about this
Forget sanity,
Forget salary,
Forget vanity,
My morality
If you get in between someone I love and me
You're gonna feel the heat of my cavalry
All these songs I'm hearing are so heartless
Don't trust a perfect person and don't trust a song that's flawless
Links:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twenty_One_Pilots
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bandwagon_effect
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/twentyonepilots/laneboy.html
When I first heard "Stressed Out" on the radio, I immediately liked it, although I didn't look to see who the band was because it was on the today's hits radio station (see aforementioned dislike of bandwagons). But when "Ride" was released, I decided I had to find out more, which of course, prompted a YouTube search. And the rest is history.
The name, it seems, has a rather unique origin. From Wikipedia: "Tyler came up with the band's name while studying All My Sons by Arthur Miller, a play about a man who must decide what is best for his family after causing the death of twenty-one pilots during World War II because he knowingly sent them faulty parts for the good of his business. Tyler explains that this story of moral dilemma was the inspiration for the name of the band."
Interesting.
Twenty One Pilots fans insist there is no way to classify what genre they belong to, and I'll agree, it is difficult. There is certainly rap, though not in the traditional sense. There is also rock. You may know I'm a fan of the combination of the two. But what makes them stand out for me are the lyrics. Most times I don't give a shit about lyrics of a song I like, instead relying on the melody to affect me. But these lyrics are different. Unusual. Intriguing. Full of genuine human sentiment about uncertainty and conflict. I mean, how often do you hear a rap song about insecurity? I haven't yet found a song by them I don't like, but my favorite is "Car Radio." It alludes to the voices in one's head, something I've been battling as of late.
Here we go again. Forgive me. From Wikipedia:
"The bandwagon effect is a phenomenon whereby the rate of uptake of beliefs, ideas, fads and trends increases the more that they have already been adopted by others. In other words, the bandwagon effect is characterized by the probability of individual adoption increasing with respect to the proportion who have already done so.
"...The tendency to follow the actions or beliefs of others can occur because individuals directly prefer to conform, or because individuals derive information from others.
"...When individuals make rational choices based on the information they receive from others, economists have proposed that information cascades can quickly form in which people decide to ignore their personal information signals and follow the behavior of others."
See? We just can't help it. It's what we humans do. But I want to believe this is genuinely my own belief and behavior. So come on, people. Jump on my bandwagon, it's the coolest.
J. L. Dodd
P.S. I made a Twenty One Pilots Pandora station, It has played Arctic Monkeys, Jack White, Cage the Elephant, The Black Keyes, and Panic! At the Disco. All alt, apparently. I guess that makes sense, alternative, by definition, being the catch-all for anything different.
(Partial) Lyrics for "Lane Boy"
They say, "Stay in your lane, boy, lane boy,"
But we go where we want to
They think this thing is a highway, highway,
But will they be alive tomorrow?
They think this thing is a highway
If it was our way
We'd have a tempo change every other time change
'Cause our minds change on what we think is good
I wasn't raised in the hood,
But I know a thing or two about pain and darkness
If it wasn't for this music, I don't know how I would've fought this
Regardless,
All these songs I'm hearing are so heartless
Don't trust a perfect person and don't trust a song that's flawless
Honest,
There's a few songs on this record that feel common
I'm in constant confrontation with what I want and what is poppin'
In the industry
It seems to me
That singles on the radio are currency
My creativity's only free when I'm playin' shows
They say, "Stay in your lane, boy, lane boy,"
But we go where we want to
They think this thing is a highway, highway,
But will they be alive tomorrow?
Will they be alive tomorrow?
I'm sorry if that question I asked last
Scared you a bit like a hazmat
In a gas mask
If you ask Zack
He's my brother, he likes when I rap fast
But let's back track,
Back to this
Who would you live and die for on that list?
But the problem is
There's another list that exists and no one really wants to think about this
Forget sanity,
Forget salary,
Forget vanity,
My morality
If you get in between someone I love and me
You're gonna feel the heat of my cavalry
All these songs I'm hearing are so heartless
Don't trust a perfect person and don't trust a song that's flawless
Links:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twenty_One_Pilots
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bandwagon_effect
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/twentyonepilots/laneboy.html
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