WWII in HD

I've been watching some of the new series "World War II in High Definition." It's beautifully done. Not the pictures, the videos, or the fact that war is beautiful, because it isn't, but the respect with which the creators of the program have dealt with the subject. It shows what happened to the soldiers, it takes no pride in victories, urges no revenge for loses. War is not glorified, but it is not condemned. It is seen as a sad necessity that sometimes occurs. I know many people that believe war is wrong, under any circumstance, but I find it hard to believe that those people will not fight for their lives if the situation happens to them. It's a terrible thing, to fight and kill a fellow human, but backing down from the threat of war is a form of slavery, and it makes everything worse in the long run; it is harder to put things to right later. After WWI, Europe lost an entire generation of men, no one wanted to fight anymore, and they, the countries of Europe, let Hitler do whatever he wanted. Appeasement is what they called it. Their inaction nearly sold the world into slavery under the Nazi Regime. This is what is called "The Indifference of Good Men." Being a good man, a good person, is meaningless if you allow the commiter of atrocities to continue.

There was a video clip of Nazis hanging Serbians in a small town. Some Serbians had fired on the German camp in the night, and in the morning 39 men were picked to be hanged. The men stood there, on their little steps, calmly waiting for the noose to be put round their necks; business men, farmers... men from Serbia, rich and poor alike. It looked ridiculous. Like a movie with bad actors. The men being hung were not afraid, the Nazis didn't look happy, or sad; merely indifferent. The clip showed all of them hanging, together, dead. They looked like birds hung after slaughter, except they weren't birds, they were men who had lived but a few minutes before. One soldier pulled on the men's legs as they hung, to make sure the noose was tight enough to cut off all air from the Serbians' lungs. I waited for them to get down, for the director to say, "cut, reshoot" to make it look more real, less absurd. It never happened, they hung there still; human chickens. No tears came to my eyes as I saw this, no anger, no incredulous laughter; I only watched, thinking the picture was wrong, absurd, ridiculous, like seeing a turtle balanced on a fencepost, swimming in the air. The turtle would never get up there without human hands, and he would never get down; his life is no longer his own.

The Carried Haversack

I performed an interview today, I had a class on poetry, and I've done many other things and thought many thoughts today besides, but they all somehow keep pointing a single question, "How do we come to know a person?"

Asking a person questions about themselves is one way, in this way we come to understand what a person thinks of him/her-self; in this way we come to know who a person believes him/her-self to be. I'm reminded of the adage, "Beware the actions and not only the words of a man, for deeds will betray a lie." I don't think we all lie about ourselves, but I think self-description is inaccurate, false. We learn best from self-description what a person wishes to be, to think, to do; but this doesn’t tell us how true these things are.

There was a noblewoman during the Renaissance, whose name escapes me now, who liked to throw gold coins to the starving peasants in the city. She would watch them scamper and fight for the gold; the strongest eventually got the gold by injuring the weaker. When asked why she threw the gold, she answered that she liked to be charitable and give help to the less fortunate.

This shows how self-image can be wrong, though I think this is an extreme example of how wrong self-image can be.

On the other hand, ready poetry, or any writing from a person, tells us much about the person. The more read, the more the reader knows about the writer, but caution is needed, because to only read part of what the writer has written gives a false impression. The meaning from half a sentence is incomplete, the other half of the sentence can change the meaning entirely. The same is true of half a paragraph, a chapter, a book. The book of a person’s life finishes only at death, but themes and ideas are learned and reoccur.

I’m always suspicious of self-exposition too. I wrote recently about my feelings, but instead of simply writing about them and expressing them, I analyzed them, writing about why I did things, why I felt a certain way. Surely a little is ok to clarify and express exactly what was happening, but writing too much about why something happened, or why a person feels a certain way about a certain thing always makes me ask the question, “Who are you (the writer) trying to convince? Me (the reader), or yourself?” Perhaps when we explain too much we lose track of what is really happening; looking too closely at the beauty of the cup makes one forget the purpose of the cup is to hold a drink, looking too closely at the ornate handle may makes one argue the handle is there to make the cup complete, to look better, instead of realizing the handle is there to help lift the cup. Analyzing emotions has the same pitfalls; we convince ourselves the emotion is there for one reason, when it is actually there for another. Maybe this doesn’t make sense, though, and my rambling and incoherence are showing.

The important thing is the image I have of learning about someone. I imagine a person walking; this is the person that other people see. A person carries a haversack; the haversack holds our world, our universe. It contains everything the person knows, it shows the universe and the reality this person has constructed since birth, this person’s life is held in this haversack, shaped by the individual’s perspective, carried with forever. We spend time with a person, we ask them questions, and when they truly answer, they take the haversack off of the shoulder, open it, rummage around in it a bit until they find the answer, and then show the answer to us. What is most intriguing about a person are the glimpses we get inside this sack as the person opens it. All of the other things inside, bundled together like an art expose’, but hidden. If we like what we see we ask more questions, always trying to get a better look in the bag; if we’re lucky we will eventually be allowed to see most of the bag, we will be allowed to look inside, but if we’re very, very lucky, when we look in the bag the things we see will be more wonderful than what we imagined.

Boundin'

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=1162902076795

I was sharing funny videos with a good friend of mine. This is one of the videos I wanted to show him.

I've always loved this video, but this week it means more to me. With the moods I had, it's good to remember to have the right mind-set, and everything else falls into place and becomes organized and right. =)

For some reason the only video of it I could find was on facebook, and it has Turkish (pretty sure) subtitles. Komisch. =P

Not yet Satisfied, but at Peace =)

I stopped to talk with my dad a few days ago. I wanted to ask him what he thought about me spending so much money to go to Europe for a month and a half early in summer. He told me what I thought he'd tell me, but the way he said it he made me feel better about what I wanted to do. He said, "If you don't go, you'll spend the money here, and what will you have accomplished by staying? Will you be happier staying here? No! If you have the chance to travel, it's always worth it. Go!" =)))

My relationship with my dad has changed. I'm now 27 and he's 78. I'm no longer the little boy who asks his dad what to do because dad is older and knows better. Now I ask him what he thinks, and I'm allowed to disagree with him; I listen to what he says because he says intelligent things and gives good advice, not only because he's my dad.

I'm at peace again too. I don't feel the anger, or the low mood I felt several days ago. I remembered a few things I learned while in Germany. I need to remember who I am, and I shouldn't feel ashamed of what I feel. I don't need to justify how I feel, or explain why I feel it to anyone else. I've grown up with many expectations about me, from my family, mainly my mother, and my teachers. I realized I felt like a 27 year old boy because I was still reacting to other people's expectations of me. I didn't want to disappoint anyone, and I did certain things, and didn't do other certain things, because of what I believed people would think of me. Their opinion controlled my actions. It's nice to want to please others, but to have your decisions decided for you, or to feel guilty every time you make your own decision, is a type of slavery. In Germany no one who had expectations was around, I felt freer than I had at any time in my life, but that free feeling went away as I lived back home in the USA. I remember thinking as I was in Germany my last weeks, "I finally feel like I'm becoming a man. Really feel it, like I'm a man and not just someone who is older than 'boys.'" And maybe this sounds extremely silly, but it's the truth. Maybe if I thought about what words to use, it would sound better, but I think it doesn't matter.

I realize, too, that I keep bringing up my age. Hmmm, I think it's because I'm surprised at my age. 27 was always so old to me, and now that I'm this age, I don't really feel different. I don't feel 27. I don't look 27 either. My dad is the same way with his age. Haha, actually he told me a few days ago he was reading something and read that the average life expectancy is 75 for men. And he thought, well, that's good, that's pretty old; then he remembered that he is 78. =) He looks almost 20 years younger though. I'd say I look and act at least 5 years younger, and my little brother, well when he doesn't have a beard he looks like he's 12. =P He's 21 though.

So, I bought the tickets to Germany, and I will travel Europe and visit friends. =) It should be wonderful. I'm really looking forward to it, and I'm at peace. I have been for a few days before I bought the tickets, but more so now.

Maybe I'm not the angry person I thought I was, but I think I am. Only when I ignore what I should do with my life though. The anger is there as a tool when I need it, but I think anger feeds itself, and soon poisons all you do with your life. I'm not afraid of it anymore, and I won't pretend it's not there, or feel ashamed of being angry. You should never be ashamed of how you feel, only seek to understand why you feel such a way. Maybe it's a poor reason why you feel some way, and you can be ashamed of that reason and change the reason, but what you feel is not the thing to blame.

... my mind is clear now and I can't think of any other thing to say. =)

Renovatio

My mind urges me to delete my two previous posts. They were outbursts, negative reactions to feelings I didn't control. I'm going to resist the urge though, there must be something to be understood from them.

It takes a lot of energy to be upset, after two days of being upset, I'm drained of energy. I'm so tired. It seems like such a waste, but it's something I have to work though. I could pretend I don't get upset, but I don't see how lying, especially to myself, would help. Ranting and pouring my feelings into silent text doesn't make a lot of sense to me either, but I decided to try this thing called a "Blog," and I'll stick with it.

Opinion-wise, I do think it's ridiculous to gush in writing publicly online. If I were a reader I would wonder why this child is writing instead of crying to his mother. Or maybe not, maybe it would seem legitimate. I'm finally understanding that I don't actually understand the things I do, not until much, much later. I feel a certain way about things, and then I try to figure out why I feel such a way. In the end, I could be completely wrong about why I feel the way I feel. I could have labeled everything, the reasons and the conclusion, wrongly.

I said I've been breaking my own rules, and I have been. I realized even though I figured out that I need to forget people and places, that I can't live in the past, I never actually stepped through the door of this idea, I was standing on one side of the door and looking through it, but never making the steps. There are places I need to forget, places in time, places I can't recreate. Time is not a loop, one does not get to relive past moments. We have memory, we remember what came before and use that to point ourselves into the future. People are not who they were, people are dynamic, they are who they are; to confine them to their past is to hold them in chains, a prisoner in the mind of another person. The Mirror of Erised in the Harry Potter books shows people what they want most in the world, in fact Erised is desirE spelled backward. Facebook and the pictures therein are my Mirror of Erised, it contains everything I want and miss, all of Europe I visited, the people I met, the friends I gained. Staring at them for any amount of time instead of remembering to live my life is my biggest mistake. So, I've deactivated my account, I won't go back online on the website until the desire to look at Facebook all the time has passed.

As for my feelings, I've felt very low and unhappy for several days. I'm not entirely sure of my belief system, I believe in science, reason, and learning, and I want to believe in God, but the two ideas often compete in my mind. Some days I believe more in one, other days I believe more in the other. (Raised Christian, how can I say that mine is the correct religion? I've never been raised with the other religions, so being raised in a religion doesn't make it the correct one. Honestly though, with all I've learned about God and the world, I think it would be funny if all three of the major world religions are correct. As Christians we believe that Baptists, Methodists, Lutherans and all the other "Christian" religions have enough of the correct things in common for people of all of them to go to Heaven. I think it likely that Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all share enough of the correct beliefs to send good people to Heaven. The holy books of the religions build on each other, more or less. The Torah is basically the Old Testament of the Bible, the Qu'ran is like the New New Testament. We're supposed to love our neighbors and enemies, to do to others as we would have them do to us. If we're all going to Heaven, doesn't it make sense to do these things and not fight?) Sometimes I remember "The Screwtape Letters" by C.S. Lewis. In it, a Demon writes to his uncle in Hell and asks for advice, because it is the Demons that make humans do evil things. The Demons urge and make a human desire to do bad things, but can't actually force a human to do the things; in this way the guilt and blame, the fault, of bad things is the responsibility of the person who did them. On days I feel very low and depressed, I wonder if the Demon sent to influence me is doing a better job. I don't feel like myself during these days, I feel like a puppet watching himself being moved by a giant above him. If I keep my mind in the right place, after a few days I feel like myself again, but I always fear one day, one time, I won't have the strength to stay in the right place, that I will fall into a terrible hole in my life.

So, here I am, attempting Renovatio -- "a total rebirth." I will try to be the person I am, not the person I was.

Post-VD slump

The anger I felt so sharply yesterday has ebbed some. I was angry for being foolish and breaking my own rules. I have rules, principles actually, to keep my life simple so that I can understand living without getting lost in too many little details. It's my way of letting go and living without overthinking everything.

Valentine's Day was difficult too. At my age and in my region I should be married with 2 kids by now. I'm not. Almost all of my friends are. I felt like doing something yesterday, hanging with some friends, having fun, but everyone I talked to was busy with their boyfriend/girlfriend/wife/husband or something. I realized I'm almost the only single person I know. Normally this doesn't bother me, it's better to be single than with the wrong person, but yesterday, it just sucked balls.

Dear Diary: ... Fuck You

I'm not sure if I'm using this as a journal, a diary, a blog, or what. I don't even know if I'm writing it for myself or for it to be read. I do know this, no matter what I say here, I and I alone have to solve my problems, figure the things out in my life, and come up with the answers to my own questions. The notion that I'm going to whisper secrets in your ear, and that you're going to listen attentively and offer brilliant suggestions to help me is ludicrous. Basically this is a way for my mind to speak to itself, by putting things into words I can look at the situation from another perspective, take emotion and feeling out of the equation. Either that, or it's an insidious and ingenious way to persuade a lone reader to like me for my mind, to build the trust of someone in me through reading what my mind says. I'm not that clever, and I don't desire to be that deceitful. Beautiful thoughts are one thing, noble intentions and feelings are wonderful, but they mean nothing if they are not acted on. "The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions." Talk less, do more. I've had plenty of time to think, to have wonderful thoughts, 27 years I've done this. It doesn't mean anything, it's fake currency, because the truth, no matter how many times I think, feel, believe that the person in the mirror is not me... the truth is it is me. If the me I see myself as, and the me I see in the mirror are different, then it's my failing as a human, as a man, as a person. Seduced by inaction, I am someone other than my mind and ideas.

The truth is, I have ideals, ways I want the world and myself to act and be. I want to be kind, intelligent, and caring enough to have answers for peoples' problems. I like to be the one that helped, because it means the things I've done and learned are worthy of existing, they're worthy of my doing them. Money is meant to be spent, if it is not, then its function is moot.

The real truth? I'm a 27 year old boy. I keep waiting to grow up, but I'm a child, trying vainly to put all the pointy pieces of the world together in a smooth ball that everyone can share. I try to be kind, patient, thoughtful, and a "good person," but I'm not really. I try to act like I am, and sometimes I believe it, but never for very long. I'm emotional. I feel first and foremost, there's a great wash of feelings anytime anything happens to me. They're very nearly overpowering. I have highs and lows, when I'm truly happy I disturb people because they don't understand my emotion and can't feel it with me, and when I'm disappointed I upset people, it sucks all of the light out of the room. I don't have to do anything to do this, just feel. People say I have a contagious laugh, but it's not just the laugh, all of my emotions do this. My defense is to be cerebral. Apathetic. To cut myself entirely off from my emotions. I'm laid back, I don't get excited in happy situations, I don't lose control in emergencies, but I'm a constant buzzkill, and only with a few people do I truly come out, and usually I'm not even aware of it.

The real truth is I'm a very angry person. It's there constantly, usually controlled, normally beneath the surface. I'm not always angry, but it's like a flood just behind a dam, my first reaction to most things is anger. I'm told this isn't normal. I don't know, it's something that's always been with me. I think it's genetic. Aryans are known as an angry race, and my blonde hair, blue eyed family is no exception. Both sides of my family have an intense anger that is frightening when it comes out, controlling it is a battle. My brothers control it poorly, there are trails of broken things behind them to prove it. I must surely have it as much as them, to have anger constantly burning silently somewhere. It's why I hate to lose, and I handle disappointment poorly, because it's the same as losing. My solution is to not fuel the flames; I don't compete, I don't get involved, I don't get excited or put my emotions into activities. I've seen anger control people's lives, and being controlled by my anger would be losing the battle, and I refuse to lose. But, there comes a time, and I think that time is now, when holding my anger in check no longer works. I hold it back so much that I'm different on the outside than from the inside. My father has suppressed his anger for years, he's a very kind and caring person, but the anger part of him he never lets out, he never shows. It comes out when he sleeps. He fights in his sleep, he yells, he throws things without ever waking up. He taught me to never be angry, to always think and understand why I'm angry in order to control it... but he's held his anger inside too long and it poisons his dreams. My anger is a great source of strength for me, but it's also destructive. I've been afraid of letting it out too much all of my life, but I'm constantly seduced by violence. I think my anger is always at the fore because I'm not satisfied with my life, and holding it in and trying to pretend that it's the right way to be is actually wrong. I'm angry because I don't like my life, I like only parts of it, and anger is the tool I have to change it, to win.

Ultimately it's better to be honest and hated for what I am than pitied for being an incomplete person, a person uncomfortable around others, a shy person, always holding something back, always waiting and looking for the people I don't have to wear a polite mask in front of. And maybe if I stop suppressing my ire it will dissipate, it will have a vent and I can be me without thinking about it. Until then, I'm going to be angry until it's done. I'm not going to hold it back or feel guilty about it any longer.