Extreme Sporks!

Dear Internauts,

So I was chillin’ in traffic earlier, thinking bout how in certain weather conditions, even driving carefully can be a bit of a thrill ride. Also, I was thinking about my current read, Tarkin by David Luceno, and listening to the audiobook of Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. The traffic snailed along till the word extremist popped into my head. 

Assume whatever psychological maladies you may like from all of that association.

Extremists are like celebrities. Whether or not they actually are celebrities by a stricter definition isn’t as important as the paradigm of segmenting humanity into these moral categories. There’s more than a little screwiness going on there.

Because, you see the thing with extremists is they’re people too.

Our deeply or even casually held beliefs act as a fluid, spreading into whatever vacuums we inhabit—contexts, basically. Circumstances which affirm or disaffirm our beliefs are both attractive in their own ways. Combine that with the attraction of a sense of belonging from a community of the like-minded, and the echo chamber spreads out these containers of belief. Soon you’ve got space for growth, or space enough at least to take from other containers.

Okay, I’m confusing my metaphors.

Point is, ideas solidify and get sharp edges in these small pockets of discourse. While we’re benefiting from a communal experience, we can lose touch with the world outside that room. Often the acceptance doesn’t come as cheap as the price that got us in the door. Like a 30-Day free trial, it’s a steep funnel. It’s the cost of continuing to receive acceptance within a group defined by an ever-narrowing definition of what qualifies as acceptable. For those who end up on the outside of that, we’re too busy trading values for membership to see them as people in the same way that we are people.

Maybe we’re not better because of our perspective. Maybe we’re standing in a different place. Though I can’t completely dismiss the idea that some belief systems have proved more beneficial more often, if the agreed upon reasons behind those standards are held so loosely or even given up entirely for the sake of loyalty to the system which contains them, then there’s no longer any worth to that system.

If there are inalienable rights belonging to all people, we cannot then deny those rights to any person. If anyone can do anything to deserve those rights any more or less than anyone else, then those are no longer rights but privileges.

But they are rights, not privileges. To deny them does not change the nature of the rights which by definition belong to all people. Instead, it changes the status of the person.

If there exists a system of control by which one can discount the personhood of an individual or group of individuals in order to bolster and maintain the power of the system, then that system cannot be entrusted with the defense of the rights of those it still considers persons.

It seems to me that one of the best ways to maintain such an imbalanced and untrustworthy system would be to treat all people as without basic rights (aka less than people) but with privileged access to controlled servings of rights measured out based on usefulness to the controllers.

Most of us go along with this commodification of our personhood willingly as long as we can be convinced that the marketable veneer of morally appealing ideas is simple and loud enough to dismiss suspicion of conspiracy. The times when we can’t be so easily swayed are dealt with by pitting us and our familiars against other similarly misled groups.

Sure we can’t just let our friends and family get sick and die, but then again treatment is so damn expensive. Conversely, everything is so damn expensive, so why should we be responsible to pay for someone else’s problems when we’ve got so many of our own.

Isn’t scarcity a tidy explanation for inequality? It does such a nice job of deflecting any suspicion from the mechanisms of the structure in which inequality exists, placing it instead on the effects of those mechanisms. It’s blaming four for two plus two. It’s blaming the shape of the hole for the very existence of the hole while the gravedigger’s busy with the shovel three rows down. But at least there’s job security in the death business.

Ever wonder why funerals cost so much?

So anyway, the thing with extremists is they’re people too.

While it may be soothing to gather in our cliques, circle up our folding chairs, and discuss extremism, under each seat are these index cards with a horizontal line drawn on them. On one end of the line you’ve got spoons and on the other you’ve got forks. And while we can all probably name a few distant outliers, I at least feel that—when I’m one hundred percent honest with myself—I’m somewhere in between the extremes. I’d guess that you might just maybe say the same.

We were one way and then something happened or we learned something new or we grew up in whatever way and now we’re different. Sometimes it’s a jarring change, but most of the time it’s a journey. It’s far too simplistic to say we encompass every possible rigid facet of the extremes of almost anything, at least when it comes to our thoughts and feelings about this ever changing world and the society in which we find ourselves playing a part in it. 



People, it would appear, are more like sporks.

The extents and percentages and shades are in flux and it’s rarely if ever some sort of binary, but being on this people journey means being somewhere on the often mercurial   spectrum of shifting perspectives. Certainly we may edge toward the extremes. We may trek as far toward one end of a multifaceted idea as we can find even the slipperiest of ground on which to steadfastly plant our flag, but even on those extremes, we are still a part of something which connects all the way to the other distant horizon.

The thing with extremists is they’re people too.

That means something even more extreme than the most extreme of extremist ideas. It means that they too are part of the line or the web or the net or the confluence or the knot or the big, messy wonder or that thing called humanity. Somewhere along that spectrum, they two found their reasons.

They too were heartened by acceptance.

They too were hardened by rejection.

They too stand in whatever spot they can find solid enough to stand on and look out across the landscape of their life through eyes honed by experience.

They too have just as much right to stand and to live and to look out as anyone else.

So here’s the problem with extremists.

They’re people too.

This means that when we say that this person or this group of people is anything but a part of our whole human tapestry, we cut a big hole in it around them and place that piece of majestically woven fabric somewhere outside the frame. We can cut that tapestry up any way we need to so it fits inside our most comfortable frame. We can chop it all up and put the pieces in a box to scrutinize one at a time whenever we feel like it. We can burn the threads that attached one piece to another. We can make all these separate pieces from this one big work. We can make it so small or pretend its so big but with all these bits ripped out.

And it was imperfect. And it was ugly. And it was confusing. And it was lumpy. And it wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t all good. But mostly, once upon a time it was one big work of art.

All this trouble to put people in their place, to segregate and discriminate and other-ize...

All it means is that we miss out on the big picture. 

Instead of dealing with the discord of our shared humanity, we create boxes and podiums and weapons for those its easier to see as less than human. We don’t take the time to think why someone else did something but only to declare that the way we feel about that something is the whole embodiment of who they are.

Good and evil, right and wrong, legal and illegal, proper and improper, fork and spoon all no longer have anything to do with what they mean for people with certain inalienable rights. These terms become hollow catchphrases by which we evaluate the worth of our personhood.

And if someone is less than a person, then how can they have a person’s rights? If we can be convinced that our very personhood and the rights therein can somehow be threatened by this being that is less than a person, what would we do to hold on tight to our belonging, our acceptance, our wholeness, our humanity, our personhood?

Would we deny the rights of another to maintain a system which has already been denying us our rights? If we are people then how can anyone say we could have our rights as people denied to us unless they saying it already saw us as less than people?

If our very personhood is dependent on the denying of another’s personhood, then how are we people at all?

If our access to our rights, our personhood, is contingent upon their protection via the dismissal of another’s rights, then how have we rights at all?

This is artificial imbalance. This is a manufactured scarcity of resources. This is the lie which says there is only so much basic human value to go around and it’s us or them.

Or perhaps it is better to listen to the pandering suits who are so convinced that only if the right people were killed then more people could live. Perhaps it is better to buy from a market which attaches the worth of a life to the contribution it makes toward keeping the rich rich, the poor poor, and those in the middle claiming their not being rich is because of the poor.

Perhaps it would be a better world if we would all just keep our heads down and do our duty. Life’s hard enough as is, right?

Why rock the boat (even if we’ve run aground)?

Perhaps it’s best just to leave it.

Or perhaps we’re sporks?

See ya later, 

O. A. 



Neural Change, Climate Change, and a bit of Music (for a Change)

Dear Internauts,

It's finally snowing and thus the birds are finally coming to the porch for seed. I like to fill the feeder but also toss seed out all over the porch for even the birds who can't fight for it. Because I'm a dirty commie. And because birds. 

Anyways, whilst engaged in some sisyphean snow-shoveling, I listened to one of my favorite albums, CITIES by ANBERLIN. Other than that being an amazing work of artistic wonder, I thought I should mention music once in a while, this being a music blog or whatever. 

The distraction of music made the work of shoving crystalized water that much more bearable. I'm out of shape. Despite random bursts of energy/motivation that only make the rest of the time more strange, I've spent most of my time with PTSD struggling to find the motivation or energy to do much of anything.  

When faced with trauma, the brain goes through physical change. I've heard stories of folks who've experienced cranial damage and in the process of recovering lost the use of senses or even expressed aspects of their personalities in vastly new ways. Supposedly, we find jokes pleasurable because of the endorphins released through the sudden development of new neural pathways; the setup is something relatable to hook the audience, but then the punch-line throws something new at your consciousness. I would guess something similar happens during extreme sports, specifically those with the potential of fatality. Forcing yourself into a survival-instinct situation, running to that edge then bouncing back, well, has to be quite a trip for your brain juices.

Note: "brain juices" is a technical term. I know this because I'm a drop-out former psych major. 

On this topic, I recently dropped another ramble of an answer on Quora on this topic.

The Question:

How do other people function with PTSD?

Mine has been the worse it's ever been in my life.
My Answer:

With therapy and medication, I'm still not sure what "getting better" would actually entail, but looking back over the years I know I'm not the same person I was right after the trauma or when it got really horrible months later. 

There are days when I can hardly move and days when I feel like I could do anything.

There are days I can make plans and others where I have to cancel everything for a week.

There are days when I feel healthy and others where I'm definitely not.

I still haven't been able to get a job, and it's still terrifying when I try.

It's hard not to beat myself up about not being as healthy or productive or social as I think I should, and it frustrates me when my doctor says I'm doing so well. I can't explain how bad I feel most of the time, and the only one who still listens is my therapist anyway.

Even with nightmares every single time I can actually sleep, I still have to try and get some sleep. There's a lot of forcing myself to get out of bed, get dressed, get showered, eat something, even breathe. I've found so many times that I'm panicking I've just spent a minute or more holding my breath. There are not a whole lot of people who can understand how hard it is to do even the most basic of tasks, and I've lost most of my friends as it was all a bit much for folks to handle.

Maybe all this doesn't seem like truly functioning, but it does come down to taking medication and talking to a therapist.

It's important to remember that this is a medical problem. Without being disrespectful to those dealing with physical diseases and/or disorders, it has helped me to remember the times I've broken bones or had surgeries in that it takes time to heal. Beating myself up for not being where I want to be by now is a regular struggle, but I'm allowed to take the time I need. I'm really lucky to have family support and limited responsibilities, but having talked to folks who still have to force themselves to work every day or take care of their family, it is still important to allow yourself to take the time you need to heal. Whether that's just the free moments you can find to focus on self care or a break from your schedule for a while, it is perfectly okay and reasonable and allowed for you to take your time.

Most of any kind of functioning is based in acknowledging what I'm good with and what I'm not. We put up with a lot of pressure from others or ourselves that we don't have to, so adding that onto the anxiety of living with PTSD only makes it harder. If you gotta leave the room and take a walk, it's okay. If you gotta cancel plans, it's okay. If you gotta allow some others to take on tasks you'd normally handle all by yourself, it's okay.

And no matter how much it feels like it, I just try to breathe and remind myself that the past is over.

_______________

See ya later,
O.A.

Closure?

Dear Internauts,

Last year, I determined not to turn 25 in Pennsylvania. Though I got a lot better, by the time my birthday rolled over, I still wasn't in any place to move. I'd really like to find that place this year.

Anyways...

On Law and Order or other similar shows, there's this running theme that victims and/or their families will benefit from the capture and punishment of the guilty. Often the word used in such a case is closure. For these sorts of stories, this is convenient in that the emotional arc of an episode fits nicely within the formulaic time frame. The end is the end is the end.

I have a hard time believing in the reality of that kind of closure. IRL, beginnings and (perhaps especially) endings aren't so tidy. Wounds don't heal the moment you pull the knife out. Scars don't fade the instant the weapon is destroyed. Breaks don't mend when the breaker is found out or locked away or executed.

It's never a clean cut.

I think I want the answers. I think I want to know why while the knife is still in my back. I think if only this could all be presented in an open, reasoned, clear manner then the hurt would go away.

More often than not we never find those perfect reasons.

More often than not life doesn't make any sense in the way we want it to.

More often than not even the answers we may get are nowhere near enough to satisfy our craving for resolution.

Maybe there's no such thing as resolution. Or closure. Or beginnings. Or endings. Maybe the only constant is change. Maybe the only thing I can ever know is that I don't know. Maybe it would be better if I stopped trying to make sense of the senseless. Maybe the disappointment we find in the harsh realities of life isn't because life is disappointing, but because we expected something—not necessarily a better something, but something—DIFFERENT. Often, we expected something less.

It's that old saying about the perfect being the enemy of the good.

Do we really have any clue what the perfect situation would actually be like?

Do we spend so much time thinking of all the ways the past could have gone differently that we miss all the opportunities we have for shaping the future?

My job wasn't all I hoped it would be, because I hoped it would give my life fulfillment beyond the actual tasks required. I wanted it to equal something more than the sum of its parts. Perhaps I wasn't wrong in thinking that whatever I spend the majority of my time doing should be something that doesn't make me miserable, but would I have been less miserable if I worried less about the apparent meaninglessness of the tasks and focused more on the positive parts of my life outside the menial drudgery?

Optimism as some form of blindfold or filter is hideous. Still, if I have to live a life with both good and bad, easy and hard, sensible and senseless, than I might as well not give either side any more than its due.

To bring it back around, I would like to believe that in as much as I am shaped by the outside forces acting upon me, so I influence that outside myself. The rock which splits the river is smoother than the one which stays dry. Maybe that's cheesy.

But then again, there are no perfect endings.

See ya,
O.A.

Day ?/365 - exhaustion

Dear Internauts,

I really wish I could be better. Post-depression. Post-post traumatic. Post-feeling too tired all the time. 

Sometimes I'm so hype I can hardly stand still. 

Other times are more like today when I'm so tired all day I can barely move. 

No more blog a day. I'd rather quality over quantity anyway, and to be honest this is my quality most days. 

I'll keep trying, pushing forward and doin what I can, but to anyone out there who can relate...well, you already know. 

Keep it real, 

O. A.

Day 1/365 - Beginning

Dear Internauts,

Resolving to blog every single day of this freshly squeezed year is a test unto itself. The every day of it will be a test but as is the resolution. Perhaps you too have resolved to do something new or different this year. Perhaps, like me, an history of poorly maintained wish gardens has knotted your resolve for resolutions into a choking, pringly mess. Perhaps the very idea of doing something daily other than self-loathing and vague pining seems comical in the least and often with the joke on us.

No matter.

The goal--I theorize--shall best be achieved not by a mind set out to write 365 entries but simply to write 1 entry a day.

Semantics.

But how often is the wording of a task the foundation for its achievement.

I believe I wrote to you at some point mentioning the virtue I perceive in valuing preparation over planning. Again, more a matter of wording than weight, but where I find disappointment in failed plans, I can more fully parse the inadequate moments within unpreparedness. Expectations, really, are the noose of flexibility.

So here I go with hopes which may stray too close to both wishes and almost plans.

Can I ever get or do or be what I want it I don't know what that is?

How about....

Writing everyday to move both plot and characters forward in stories and to process your journey each day. Don't be worried about sucky first drafts. First drafts are supposed to suck. Write for and submit to at least one short story contest/publisher a month.

Finding then getting then working at a job which doesn't counteract your growth toward mental and physical well-being.

Save money. Not sure right now how much you'll be getting in or what your needs will be all year, but be purposeful about saving some from any income.

Start saving, researching, and working toward moving out to a place of your own, preferably in a big city, preferably in New England.

Stop using snacks between meals like a security blanket. Stick to fruits, veggies, beans, nuts, and grains. Don't go a whole day without eating.

Drum, walk, run, bike, or find some other way to get your heart racing in a positive way at least four times a week. Build back the strength in your limbs and core so you can play music again.

Sing, play, practice, and/or write music every day. You feel better when you do.

Be kind to your body. Don't punish yourself with eating or not eating. Find something constructive to do--like blogging perhaps--instead of insulting, cutting, beating, or otherwise hurting yourself.

When you wake up, get out of bed and don't go back to bed until bedtime. The exceptions are in cases of illness and being kind to yourself. Still, even reading, playing games, and watching movies/shows/YouTube can be done sitting instead of lying down.

Spend more hours reading than you do watching.

Draw at least three times a week, including making cards for family and friends.

Spend more time on loving yourself and connecting with those who care about you than on those who  don't give you the time of day. Just because they don't love you anymore doesn't mean you're unlovable.

Go to therapy at least twice a month. Take your medication. Don't forget how far you've come no matter how small it may seem at times.

Go to at least one open mic a week as much as possible. Try out new material. Be bold. Be honest. Have fun. Focus nervous energy into excitement.

Look online for shows. Email venues. Build experiences playing live as much as you can.

Whenever the easiest thought is to hate on or berate yourself, consider something positive you've done that week and something you want to do. Think of and thank those who care about you. Be mindful of negativity. Show love and caring to family and friends whenever you feel too alone to function. Love yourself.

Check the news everyday. Stay informed.

Breathe. Stretch. Breathe some more.

You can do this. Believe it. Trust yourself.

Forgive yourself.

........

And that's plenty for now. I'll prob think of more and sand these down as we go along. The goal is to work toward good not to beat myself up for bad.

So I guess I'll be back here tomorrow. Thanks for reading and for being you. Remember all those times last year you thought you couldn't make it? Well guess what? You did it!

I'd love to hear or read about any of your hopes or goals for the futuristic sounding 2016.

Keep it real folks,

O. A.