I Guess This Is Goodbye?

Dearest Blog Buddies,
I'm moving to a new location: My New Blog
Yes, I know what you're thinking and I'm sorry...I had to.

See you 'round?


abs out.

A Moment To Relish

THE BIRD BOY
Written and Directed by Andrew Stam
Performing April 29 and 30, 2011

“I was impressed with the complexity and richness of the characters in this piece, and the honesty of the writing. The conflict was constantly palpable and I was consistently engaged in the characters' struggles. It's a piece I'd love to see on its feet.”

Colette Mazunik on The Bird Boy

"I have a list inside my head of all the best moments in life...

One—this is number one...

It might change. I can always change it...but right now this is perfect. I know this moment isn’t very special, or exciting, or crazy...but it’s real, you know? This is the first time I feel anything close to real. I’m not crying and I’m not laughing, but I’m here...with you. And you’re not lying to me or telling me I can’t do something or can’t wear something. I’m not Germ, or Little Dude, or Puppy. I’m just Jeremiah, and you’re just Evelyn. And you’re talking to me...like I’m a real boy."

Jeremiah from The Bird Boy

abs.

Chicagoness

I could die right now, Clem. I'm just...happy.
I've never felt that before. I'm just exactly where I want to be.

Para Usted, Mi Alma Gemela

Homeward Bound / Simon and Garfunkel

The Air We Breathe / Figurines
Grace Cathedral Hill / The Decemberists
Bridges and Balloons / Joanna Newsom
We Did It When We Were Young / The Gaslight Anthem
Keep Yourself Warm / Frightened Rabbit
The Cave / Mumford and Sons
International Small Arms Traffic Blues / The Mountain Goats
The Sound of Silence / Simon and Garfunkel
Skinny Love / Bon Iver
Mockingbird / Regina Spektor
What Have They Done to the Rain? / Malvina Reynolds
Bridges and Balloons / The Decemberists
Awake My Soul / Mumford and Sons
Ragged Wood / Fleet Foxes
The World's Gone Beautiful / Malvina Reynolds
If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out / Cat Stevens
We've Come a Long Way / Good Old War
Home / Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

Finally, forever and ever.

I'm here. I'm typing--typing in a radical passionate outrage of some kind. In the next few minutes I may say things I regret, but right now-this fraction of a moment-I feel as though the secrets of the world are bottled up inside of me. They're deep inside my core and any minute now they might disappear forever. If I don't expel them now, I may die. We might all die.

I cried. Yes, I cried today. I don't know what it was and I don't know if I will ever feel this way again. Perhaps it's the Luminous Sleep Spirit. He's angry that I've ignored his wishes for two consecutive nights and has come to claim my sanity. I'm merely saying it's a possibility. Anything is possible at this point...anything is possible.

I'm awake! Finally, forever and ever.

My mind is full. They say they can't contain anything more, the boxes are stacked to the ceiling. It keeps coming--boxes of academic bullshit about anti-Semitism and clusterfuck bags of Historical Revisionism theories and quandaries pertaining to sexually questionable Shakespearean characters. Thankfully, I've given up on my mind long ago. It will empty out and reorganize in time. It always does.

But my heart, err soul... Yes, the cliche and disgustingly empathetic vision of my spirit. Yes, that--it hurts. Have I been ignorant for so long?

I'm awake! Finally, forever and ever.

I can't articulate anything at this point. Everything is a mixy-matchy of words and metaphors and feelings and unanswerable questions. I can't spit them out individually. So either I puke them out all at once or say nothing. Screaming out and tearing up are the only ways I can communicate. All I know is that I'm awake...awake. I can no longer fuck around ignoring my innate responsibility.

Perhaps it's my recent theatrical purgation. Perhaps it's because I've reached the conclusion of my Sociology class. Perhaps it's the fact that Awake my Soul is playing on my stereo and the volume level is at 35. Perhaps Mr. Mumford and his sons are trying to tell me something. Perhaps it's that asshole of a God I refuse to acknowledge? Perhaps he's finally grabbing me by the bow-tie and shouting in my face, Wake up you fucker! Wake up and help!

I'm stuck in this kind of fucking strange fucktrap. Yes, a fucktrap. This fucktrap keeps me from making a change, but this fucktrap also keeps me safe. I'm surrounded by seven billion idiots who don't know left from right. I don't know up from down. I'm surrounded, yet I can't seem to find anybody. These idiots walk around searching for a sign, something that will never come. Then they die. I don't want to be an idiot. I don't want to die. I don't want to be alone...more than I already am.

We are all born and someday we'll all die. Most likely to some degree alone. What if our aloneness isn't a tragedy? What if our aloneness is what allows us to speak the truth without being afraid? What if our aloneness is what allows us to adventure - to experience the world as a dynamic presence - as a changeable interactive theory?

I want to be alone, but I'm afraid. Can I ostracized myself from Olympia? Can I leave the ignorant realm of the gods and bring others an equivalent sensation of happiness?

They are us. We are them.

Fuck.

WWNPHD?

What Would Neal Patrick Harris Do?


abs.

Damn Pons Asinorum

A John Doe Preamble

What a bridge of asses C.S. Lewis has created (or rather unearthed). Granted, a quick once over of any chapter in the Problem of Pain is clearly a foolish waste of time. However--and to my disdain--after:

• Reading the chapter "Human Wickedness" thrice.
• Placing the class study-guide within effortless arms reach.
• Google searching every Lewis-ism my pathetic vocabulary lacks.
• Jotting down extensive notes and outlines into simple people vernacular.

this chapter continues to twist my brain fibers into a well woven braid of clusterfucktivity. Thankfully according to Lewis my brain braid is proof of my progression toward enlightenment, and constant doubt and frustration over this damn Pons Asinorum is the only way I can begin to escape the fools paradise where so many have settled into stagnant, lukewarm existence.

A Brief Recapitulation

Unfortunately the limited conditions encasing this blog require a chain of assumed notions, and before delving into questions and musings concerning human wickedness these notions must be established and understood (at least to some degree).

Assumption number 1: Humanity is dependent on God.
Assumption number 2: God requires perfection.
Assumption number 3: Humanity is not perfect.

A deductible conclusion: Humanity needs to change. Somehow...
A reasonable question: But why?

Good, we're all caught up. Now that the foundation is set, the dissection can begin.

A Mild Dissection

Alright...uh...

This is more difficult than I anticipated.

I guess I can reiterate the question: Why does humanity need to change?

Lewis answers this with what he believes to be an obvious, Christian-like response. "[Because] we have used our free will to become very bad." However, humanity (being rather stupid) has somehow contrived an ideology of denial. In other words: morality has become relative. In other-other words: Bad doesn't exist.

A reasonable question: But why doesn't humanity acknowledge their innate "badness"?

Lewis dishes out two primary reasons.

(Notice: As a reminder for personal application, I will now switch to a first person perspective.)

Reason number 1: I have developed a warped understanding of kindness.

I have constructed polarized views on kindness and cruelty. In other words, I have convinced myself that kindness is only really good and cruelty is only really bad. With this mindset, I am quick to categorize myself. Of course, I sleep easier knowing that I am kind. Therefore, I must be kind, right? According to Lewis, this generalization isn't quite kosher and my grounds of reasoning are faulty. Ignorantly, I console myself in the fallacy that benevolence is easy. I ostracize cruelty from myself and construct a universe of pure kindness. I think to myself, "I haven't hurt anybody, so I must be kind!" I immediately feel better about myself. At this point, Lewis would point out that my thought process is warped. Instead I must think, "I haven't hurt anybody, but I also haven't helped anybody." I have not sacrificed anything. I've only removed myself from the problem. Therefore, I am not kind.

A deductible conclusion: I must establish a new understanding of kindness.

Reason number 2: I have developed a warped understanding of morality.

I have linked the negative feeling of shame with the act of doing something immoral. In other words, I have convinced myself that the demise of shame will bring about the extinction of morality. With this mindset, I gradually reduce my innate moral discernment. I fudge the lines between what is right and what is wrong. Of course, I sleep easier knowing that I am doing more good than bad. Therefore, I must be good, right? Lewis again reiterates that this generalization is faulty. Ignorantly, I remove my inhibitions and comfortably share my shame with others. Soon I console myself with the realization that my friends also feel a similar shame. I eliminate my individual shame and construct a universe of corporate guilt. I think to myself, "If everyone is shameful, no one is shameful!" I immediately feel at ease. Lewis, again the voice of reason, would remind me that I've twisted reality. Instead I must think, "Everyone is shameful, then everyone is innately bad." I have not become more good. I've only ignored immorality through my comfort in numbers. Therefore, I am immoral. Therefore, I am not good.

A deductible conclusion: I must establish a new understanding of morality.

Granted, admitting my wickedness as a part of fallen humanity doesn't give me the necessary change I expressed above (which leads to my perfection, which God requires, on whom I am dependent). However, this new understanding readjusts my focus. I comprehend the bad. My next step is to comprehend the good (This is apparently the gospel--I'm not sure If I'm convinced just yet).

An Expired Mind

I'm going to be honest, this Pons Asinorum is a bitch. Four hours of writing later and my brain is once again braided (perhaps a little too tightly). All this thinking, and yet I've merely rephrased the words of C.S. Lewis. These baby steps don't show me much enlightenment and I'm still not convinced of my innate badness. At this point, Agnosticism seemed pretty alluring. Then again, it always has.

abs.

What is this, a Hiatus?

Well, I'm back (momentarily). So many things have been bubbling up lately, and I have so much to say concerning these past few weeks. However, at the moment I don't have the time to cohesively organize the trillions of inklings swarming about my head. I'll share a few with you, my dear blog buddies.

• A circle of trust should be reserved for the very elite of friends.
• Following instinct has only two outcomes, but even bold failure is applauded.
• Reading irony is different than seeing irony.
• Sierra Mist and Pickle Chips prove Divine Providence.
• Everything is the outcome of The Great Depression.
• Even Stanislavski was wrong once.
• Criticism is key to improvement.
• Velcro is for stupid people.
• My friends are prettier than yours.

abs.

p.s. Why has no one pointed out the typo in my banner?

Divine Goodness

I'm currently writing a philosophy paper over some of the issues discussed in The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis. I've limited my topic to chapter three: "Divine Goodness." Mainly, I want to delve into the comparison of a good God versus a selfish God. But first I need to understand the root of Goodness. I'm merely blogging this to sort and understand Lewis' ideology in order to construct my own.

First a question:

Who is God?

Humanity has many ideas when answering this question. Many of them mistaken and fucked up. I must step outside of myself and my innate humanity to understand that God is the ultimate essence of goodness--perfection. The answer: The originator of Good.

Goodness. Happiness. Lovingness. Although these words have slightly different derivatives, I should think it would be acceptable to categorize them as ultimately meaning Godlike, yes? God is love. God is good. God is happy. God is the epitome and essence of all three. God is also the creator of man--me.

What is my purpose?

God's calling for my life is to become like Him. I am bidden to 'put on Christ' and reflect his truth, his reality. I am made in God's image. The answer: Be God.

Through these questions and answers I can understand that:

God is the ultimate goodness.
God created me in goodness.
I am a reflection his goodness.
I am created to be good.
I am only good if I am God.

...but I'm not God. I'm merely a reflection. So...

Is my perception of goodness and truth different from God's?

Probably. I mean there's no way to really know unless I'm God, and I think we've decided I'm not. However, Christ calls men to repent--wouldn't this be pointless if God's standard of goodness wasn't similar to our own? Following in the ideas of Plato, we can compare our perception to that of a shadow and God's to the actual object from which the shadow is cast. Our goodness imitates God's.

As the creation, I will ALWAYS be the reflection of the creator. My happiness and goodness is merely a reflection of God. In the same way I can not initiate love, but only recreate it. However, because my love is an imitation, my human perceptions of love need to be tweaked slightly.

Perhaps a metaphor might help.?

A man with an empty stomach is hungry. He sees another man's food and desires to be full and satisfied by the food. In the same way, I am empty. I see the goodness in other people and desire to be full and satisfied by it. Love is the result of this desire.

God, on the other hand, doesn't need to be full. He already is full. God doesn't see the goodness in others. God created the goodness in others..

God doesn't want to love. God doesn't need to love. God is love. Therefore His love is a Pure gift.

God has no needs.
I have all needs...according the reality of God (which is truth).

Can I refuse God's love?

Within my humanity I can refuse God's love. But in the same way a man can't put out the sun by scribbling the word "darkness" on his walls, I can't diminish God's glory by refusing to acknowledge him. So...God will remain God even if I don't believe in him (That's promising).

I guess I'm left with three choices then.

1) Become God (this is currently impossible.)

2) Be like God (this means to reflect his truth)

3) Disregard and be separated from God (but ultimately this is considered misery.)

My. Head. Hurts.

A Deliberate Act

I've opened a new post tab probably 20 time this past week, yet I haven't been convinced any of them are worthy of the publish button. I suppose for now they'll reside in my drafts folder until I'm struck by further inspiration. However, I've sworn that I will publish this entry no matter what musings I pursue.

Lists. I like lists. Lists are good, yes? A deliberate act of organizing segments of life. For me, merely the act of making a TO DO list is more of an accomplishment then actually accomplishing the TO DOs on said list. Lists enable a sense of peace...stability. You know? The world is collapsing, people are dying, and God has left us, but I have my DO TO list ready so everything will be okay. Maybe that example is a little morbid. For the record I am in no way comparing the errands of my life to third world hunger and natural disasters, but sometimes a little hyperbole is necessary, right? Currently, my Ical is flooding with color coded lists pertaining to academia, theatre, and other silly temperamental endeavors. Oh, but don't worry gentle readers, I won't bore you with such things. I'd prefer to focus this entry on a different type of list--reflection. Ah, reflection. We know my feelings on reflection, yes? Reflection is a pursued state of mind. Reflection isn't a result of natural assimilation, but must be employed. I've found setting aside time for reflection is difficult, but when I do...life somehow seems easier, more bearable.

A few employed reflections...

• On rare occasion do video games offer comfort.
• This week was that occasion.
• Physical health and domestic health (although not interchangeable) have some correlation.
• There is a strange power that festers when wearing a suit.
• Charm can often create the illusion of talent.
• Friendships can rekindle over the culinary arts, even the most amateur attempt.
• Putting forth the minimal amount of effort only produces a minimal product.
• Some people are satisfied by the minimal.
• Cuddling is a perfectly acceptable activity for a Friday night.
• Love isn't just an occasional wrestle in the park.

These are just a few discoveries from this week. I may add more as my mind continues to wander.

abs.

Rabbit Hole

Love. This. Play.



abs.

Warning: F-bombs ahead

I stumbled on this video. It made me giggle.



abs.

I'm the seagull. No, that's not right.

I thought you might enjoy seeing a sneak peak of the publicity designs for Northwestern's upcoming main stage show The Seagull.

Comments. Criticisms. Please.

abs.

employed reflection

New look? Oh yes, thank you. I knew you would notice. Subtle changes are often necessary to revitalize life.

This week has bogged me down considerably. In result, there hasn't had much time to reflect, only react. Hopefully midterm break will share a few hours for reflection and recovery.

Reminders and apprehensions from this week:

sleepovers are healthy.
procrastination isn't.
humanity links apologies to personal gain.
twitter is often abused.
mindless exposition and emotional blackmail are not interchangeable.
masturbation has a double standard between genders.
it shouldn't.
sometimes solitude is a form of serenity.
other times it is unwanted isolation.
florescent lighting doesn't flatter anybody.
the portrayal of introverts is a difficult task.
in memory everything seems to happen to music.
candy bars are short lived wonder.
autumn is extremity taking holiday.

abs.

The Mayhem in Project Fascism

I spent an overt amount of time perfecting a short paper, worth very few points. I thought I'd share it with my blog buddies to make it seem worthy of the time I spent on it. Just keep in mind, I don't claim to write well, mkay?

Fight Club. You’ve heard of it. The 1999 film, box office flop that encouraged men and boys across the nation to rediscover their innate primitive desire to fuck shit up. Yes, from the perspective of a naive boy with paternal abandonment issues, this film seems to endorse ideas of Nihilism and Fascism. However, I’d like to develop the possibility that although Fight Club vividly portrays these “isms,” it also represents an accurate illustration of the depravity within their foundation. Furthermore, this idea can be projected into the lives of the Lost Generation and their establishment of Fascism. In result, this comparison can dissect and examine the Fascist ideology.

Modern society: the public zoo of humanity. Technological advancements and cultural diversity are the building blocks of the social world. Innovated composition of these blocks enables the human race to advance and improve the quality of life. However, what liberates humanity also restrains humanity. The modern world has tamed the raw, primitive nature of man. It has encased him in a glass box of consumerism. The origin of man has been reduced to nothing, and he is helpless; only permitted to feebly admire his own severed testicles dangling out of reach, like wind chimes. This concept is not just a derivative of my imagination, but a reoccurring theme throughout Fight Club. The importance of masculinity is a highly prevalent motif and is reiterated in various insignia throughout the film: the representation of testicular cancer support groups; the maltreatment of the only substantial female character, Marla; the narrator figuratively castrated by society through his personal consumerism. In the film, Tyler Durden claims, “The things you own end up owning you.” This is his call to cut the ties of femininity and to embrace the masculine primitive struggle for survival. “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.” The question is then raised: without the risk of death, what is the purpose of life—or as Tyler puts it, “How much can you know about yourself if you've never been in a fight?”

Trench soldiers of WWI experienced a similar calling. After the excitement of war, returning home to society was a rough transition. The men of the Lost Generation experienced a struggle for survival during WWI, which in turn, shaped their ideology on life. At war these men served a purpose with high stakes, understood the result of loss, and valued the significance of survival. Certainly returning to modern society was a bland interchange from their once primitive fight for existence. Trench soldiers like Adolf Hitler desired to not only ease this transition, but to maintain his previous lifestyle and share his experiences with the rest of society. This eventually birthed the creation of a national community: Fascism.

Project Mayhem: A single organism composed of unidentifiable humans, striving toward a common goal. Members are “the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression.” And what is man without a great turbulence to confront? To Tyler Durden—nothing. Instead, he and Project Mayhem simulate turbulence and rediscover their lost masculinity through nightly fights. In this developing community me is overturned into we. Within the film, this principle is vivid and portrayed in wide variety—in the script, for example the line, “In Project Mayhem we have no name,” but also through imagery, which creates a more poignant portrayal. In one scene, the inside of Tyler’s bedroom door is revealed. Pinned to the door are the identification cards of each Project Mayhem member. Above the cards a sign reads: human sacrifices. This wordless two-second shot straightforwardly asserts the idea that the forfeit of personal identity is an immediate initiation of Project Mayhem.

The connections between Fascism and Project Mayhem quickly become quite clear. Nihilistic violence becomes a commonplace tactic in bringing about order. Cultural diversity is stifled and believed to root individuality, an adversary of Fascism. In the same way Project Mayhem works to erase the world’s credit debt, Fascists strive to level the playing field in society by creating a universal working class. Conversely, with everyone achieving and succeeding at the same standard, there is little availability to exceptional existence and life eventually becomes stagnant. Ultimately, this repressed condition limits advancement in the working class.

Now the image has been overturned. Fascism becomes the public zoo of humanity. Although nihilistic violence and radical assimilation are the building blocks of the totalitarian world, their masculine liberation is limited. This mind set has encased humanity in a glass box of irrationality. The refined philosophic nature of man has been reduced to nothing, and he has become ignorant; negligent to retrieve his extracted brain dangling within reach, like wind chimes.

In Fight Club, the narrator eventually becomes cognizant of his obsessive, belligerent behavior and the flawed society he’s constructed. Cutting off the source, the illusion of Tyler, he is able to recognize the repercussions of his new society. Although his previous actions are irreversible, the vital concluding moment is remarkably portrayed in his subtle reacceptance of femininity. Hand in hand with Marla, he begins anew—reset to zero.

Just for Funsies

Sometimes I dink around on the piano--Ha!



I wish I played piano for real.

Purple Autumn

When you leave on the light,
Not the bright lamp, but the
Purple Christmas Lights
For me,
I know.
Drunkenly taking off your socks
In a dark dorm room
Is a clusterfuck of difficulty.
You understand this.
I did not realize this until the breaker blew.
You knew.
You peered up and watched.
I tumbled into my closet
I caught your half-ass grin.
Asshole.
Thank you for the light.
The Dim Purple Light
That says a wrestler-boy can love a fem-boy.

I like that.
It's new.
New says you're familiar.
New says I'm not an oddball.
I'm not an oddball.
You remind me I'm not.
Sometimes I make your bed
And adorn it with throw pillows.
Okay, maybe I
Am.
But you spoon my Little Orange Pillow
Every night.
You compress it against your build.
I can catch the appreciation.
You're a sensitive wrestler-boy.
Maybe you're the fem-boy.
Then who am I?
...the oddball.

I stuck some Burnt Orange Thistle Globe
In a Perrier Bottle on the
Window sill.
They absorb the fallen crisp leaves
And the brisk Autumn nights.
Their heads sway like little spiky men
Under the Dim Purple Light.
You can't seem them from your bed,
But I can.
They dance their nightly gala
And whisper their spirited lullabies.
Goodnight.
Give me one more cigarette,
Then I'll join.
Each night the pile of Throw Pillows
On the floor,
Grows.
I love this extended Autumn.

Practice Makes Perfe--Slightly Better?

Oh goodness...It has been far too long since last I've been here. I apologize for my hiatus, although I doubt you were disappointed or anything. Anyway, blog buddies, I've been working hard on this silly little musical know as The Last Five Years. Here's a little snippet of what you might see if you show up (October 22 & 23).

Hokay, no making funsies.



Abs out.

Just to Share.

I want to see this movie.



Don't you just love Aaron Tveit?



mmmm.

abs.

Weekend Premiere

This weekend the Northwestern Children's Show opens.

As I previously promised, below are the final designs for the Asian Folk Tale playbills. Throughout the program you'll notice beautiful renderings from the production designers.

Comments? Criticism? Please.

A longing for रस

I'm missing the rasa, the flavor.
I'm in need of that ephemeral taste in my soul.
Like the instant grin on your face that appears after eating a cheeseburger and smoking a cigarette.
Flavor that comes, not only from the tingle on your taste buds, but from deep within your core.
Like the unexpected convulsion of whimpers and sniffles you can no longer repress

(And only afterward realize that you don't remember why you were even crying in the first place).
The feeling that proliferates after seeing something cathartic.
I long for this rasa, this flavor.
Call me Henri-Marie Beyle.
Call me Graziella Magherini.
But when you feel it, you know it.
That feeling that overcomes you and thrusts you into a state of shock.
Bharata knows what I'm talking about
Aristotle and Horace get the idea.
They understand that when this Stendhal-ic sensation latches onto my mind,
Nothing can compare.
Nothing.
Because when Hamlet cries out,
O, I die, Horatio.
The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit.
I will be there.
I will be hunched over in my seat, convulsing and grinning and tingling,
Soaking up every last piece of special and general revelation.
Because I know this feeling lasts only as long as the length of the curtain.
And when the lights go down, I'll remember the fugacity.
I will sit in my chair remember the taste of catharsis on my lips.
Because this feeling,
This sensation,
is euphoria.

Masking the Void

Last night, I pulled my first all-nighter of the school year. With 18 credits, a student initiated musical, a workstudy position, and design deadlines stacked up neatly on my table of responsibilities, doing homework at the Dutch Bakery until 6:00am was completely inevitable.

I over commit myself, I think most people do. In today's society, sleeping has become not so much an act of necessary rejuvenation for our bodies, but an optional quick recovery period, that only reboots our batteries with just enough juice to finish our latest project.

After thinking though all of this, I find myself asking the basic question. Why do I over commit myself to endless responsibilities? Unfortunately, I actually don't have an answer for this.

A few days ago I found myself in a situation that helped me understand a little further. A friend of mine asked me to assist him with a big project he was working on. I clearly didn't have the time to commit, but I said yes.

In the moment, I didn't think about all the rescheduling I would have to do, or all the nights I would spend catching up on homework assignments, or all the hours of sleep I would have to forfeit.

In the moment, I could think of nothing other than how this project would add a little speck of purpose to my life.

Perhaps that's the answer. I'm afraid of what would happen without the hustle and bustle. The eerie silence that drifts over a meaningless life is a frightening apprehension. Because when all the plays, classes, dates, parties, and smoke breaks are over, what is there left to do? Filling my ical with events and rehearsals is the only thing that masks the void. Does the illusion of purpose protect us from the reality of being unimportant?

In the meantime, I've added yet another responsibility.

abs.

Love. Forwards & Backwards

They're finally here. Yes, the poster designs for my upcoming student initiated musical. The Last Five Years. Enjoy. Leave comments and criticism, please.



abs out.

Fuck the Neevil

I wrote this blog in order to fulfill an assignment for my philosophy class. I hope I'm not shooting myself in the foot by posting it here. This is only a glimpse of the ideas I'm wrestling with lately.

* * * * *

"What did he [Aslan] say had entered the world--A Neevil--What's a Neevil?"

Aslan wasn't talking about a Neevil nor a Weevil. Aslan was informing the 1st council of Narnia that an Evil had entered into the country.

In The Magician's Nephew we learn that Evil entered into the world from an outside force. An intruder had invaded into a new territory, even though Narnia was intended to be pure and untainted.

However, in our world we are taught that evil came from within. An inside force had fallen from its place in perfection and became the source of evil in our universe.


I've often wondered where this idea of Evil falling from heaven came from. I did a little Bible and Wikipedia work and discovered some interesting ideas. Within the Bible, I found this passage:

How you have fallen from heaven,
O morning star, son of the dawn!
You have been cast down to the earth,
you who once laid low the nations!
-Isaiah 14:12

After a quick Wikipedia search I discovered many other stories. The Hebrew Apocrypha is a fascinating little book! In the book of Enoch we find that Satanael is the prince of the Grigori, who was cast out of heaven. The Grigori was a tribe of fallen angels who mated with humans and bore creatures known as Nephilim! These creatures are actually mentioned in the Bible, Genesis 6:4 and Numbers 13:33.

Where does all this come from?! How are these people able to interpret a history that came into existence before themselves? Did God teach the authors in history class, right after he explained the happenings of the Job story?

I sometimes wonder if we look too much into these stories. Maybe we shouldn't try so hard to put a face with the Neevil, I mean Evil. What if Evil is just some negative force that really doesn't derive from anything? It just exists.

Sometimes I find myself questioning the Bible's fallibility. How are the stories in the "certified" Bible any more legitimate than other stories, such as the Apocrypha?

For the Love of Photoshop

As the Northwestern Theatre Department Publicist, I've been given the opportunity to sit at my laptop for hours fiddling around on expensive photo editing programs. Oh, did I mention these hours go toward my theatre scholarship? I know, right? totes legendary.

My first project has been the poster for the upcoming children's show Asian Folk Tales.


The majority of the design is a watercolor. I added a few layers of different textures to add depth.

What do we think?

Program design to come later.

abs.

An Act of Desperation

We all try to avoid confrontation (at least to some degree). For me, the vexatious realization of coming face to face with my overdue homework assignments causes just enough trepidation to evade them for another week. This simply cannot happen. Tonight has been a rather unsuccessful attempt. It seems I've done everything possible to avoid the inevitable. However, I've finally reach the point of desperation. I've exhausted all possible outlets. I've no other option, but to blog.

I'm blogging to avoid my Principals of Sociology Journal.

Pathetic, right?

Thankfully I'm not alone. Confrontation is horrifying to everyone, no matter what the subject matter (matter matter matter!). The thought of accosting any form of negative energy can make even the staunchest man go the extra mile just to avoid it. Even if it means smoking a pack of cigarettes and consuming overt amounts of donuts from the local bakery at 3 in the morning.

Eventually, we all need to face our fears. Perhaps we need to initiate a long overdue conversation with our parents, patch things up with a friend, or even just write a simple 1 page journal entry that was due 2 fucking weeks ago (no resentment, I swear). I like to think that fears exist only for the sole purpose of being conquered. They are put on earth only to make us stronger human beings.

I'm beginning to feel the repercussions of staying up this late. The more I write, the less sense I seem to make. I must be sleep drunk. A perfect opportunity to begin my homework, wouldn't you say?

I am such a hypocrite.

Anyway, in the words of Ted Mosby's mother,

Nothing good happens after 2 am

Flourishing Friendships

As I sit on the floor of my room, nibbling on snow peas and sipping Perrier Lime, I can't help but notice something beautiful flourishing before my eyes. Two beautiful human beings sitting on the couch, clutching matching macbooks, sipping matte, and carrying on in pleasant conversation. It's truly a remarkable sight. No unnecessary tension, no awkward displays of affection, and no heated discussions over pointless matters.

A pure relationship at it's finest.

As the school year progresses further into the semester, friendships sometimes begin to unravel. New relationships progress too quickly or perhaps old ones are found to be stuck in some unhealthy rut. Jealousy, overt competition, and gossip are only a few negative idiosyncrasies I've seen come between friends this year.

When the ties you have created with others are fraying into thin twine and the relationship doesn't seem to serve the same purpose as it once did, perhaps it's time to reevaluate the roots. Everything starts for a reason. And when you think back to the basics I hope you'll remember all those positive idiosyncrasies that made everything worthwhile.

As for the couple sitting on my couch? Well, that would be my roommate and his girlfriend. And after spending only a few moments with them, it is clear their relationship is founded on strong roots.

Morning Peace

In my tangible pursuit of being a more positive and encouraging human being this year, I've found the journey to be less of a challenge when I put myself in situations where I don't feel the need to voice my built up negativity. To do this, I surround myself with good things. Good friends. Good events. Good foods.

My favorite of these is a simple morning ritual. It's nothing extravagant, yet it gives me the positive boost I need to carry out the rest of my day.

On most mornings, you can find me sipping coffee, at my favorite place, with my favorite person.

I guarantee, if you talk to me then, I will be happier than any other point in a given day.

abs.

[conformed]

Yes, blog buddies, what you read is true.

I conformed.
I can see that look in your eyes already; confronting me with scowls of shame and disappointment. Of course, you're probably wondering what it is I conformed to. My dearest gentle readers, I stand before you today admitting my serious felony:

I am--a hipster.

We all saw it coming, and it's best to get this out into the open before I fall back into denial.

I sport the cardigans, skinny ties, and outdated fake glasses. My possessions boast a variety of collectibles from Goodwill and Urban. My vintage afghans are stacked loominously or luminously next to my record collection (get it?), and my unique figurines have occupied the space where my books once resided.

My lifestyle is festering with the movement known as the Hipster era.

However, my greatest transgression has yet to be disclosed.

I have purchased--a pair of toms.

Gentle readers, please keep a tight grasp on your rotten tomatoes for one moment and let me explain. Alright?

They are so cute! Seriously, have you seen them? After taking one look at these over priced foot-wraps, how can you not (for a moment) understand my selfish desire?

Okay, okay. aight!? I admit. I have taken this identity crisis too far. Thankfully, it's time for the resolution and denouement part of this blog.

As a human being attempting to survive in this messed up society, I will continue remember the important things. But when this world passes away, what is really all that important? My vintage Hair poster? Or the memory of driving into the country with my best friend at 3am just to see the stars?

Hipster, hick, or human. We all need to converge our attention to the truly beautiful valuables. Those moments in life when honesty is the only thing hovering between two beautiful persons.

Find those moments. Accentuate them. Live honestly. Go barefoot.

I will do the same.

abs.

Just another day.

Monday sucks. It's fact of life. There is no logical explanation for this unnatural phenomenon, and questioning this weekly epoch is futile. Sometimes it's best to blindly follow the church of Garfield.

Although today was certainly no reason to jump off of a bridge, it was enough for me to spend my whole day cooped up in my room watching endless episodes of Weeds, smoking endless packs of cigarettes, and putting copious amounts of ice on my slightly bruised head. bruised?

Today, for whatever reason, I fainted. I was alone, in my room.

You know that feeling you get when you stand up too quickly? It's a strange sensation; like someone hit the dimmer switch on my brain. I stood up from my couch (to go to class) and suddenly felt the repercussions of my seemingly impeccant actions. My knees gave out and I instinctively reached for the nearest station of stability. Unfortunately, my loose bed sheets weren't enough of a stronghold to support my balance. Needless to say, I came to, on the floor, with a pile of pillows and blankets on top of my languished body.

Perhaps I am overreacting, but the lump on my head says otherwise. Yet, I can't help but think of a quote by Shane Botwin (A character from Weeds).

"Something happens today, something else will happen tomorrow"

Shit happens. Everyday. A silly fall is nothing to get worked up over. Not getting cast in a show is nothing to cry about. Yet, we do. And it's okay that we do, but we mustn't dwell. It's unhealthy.

We just need to pick ourselves up and understand Mondays don't last forever. It's just another day. There is always tomorrow.

My lips, Two Blushing Pilgrims, Ready Stand.

If I wish to function properly and healthily in a new society, I need my space; my sanctuary. In previous years of living in an all male dorm hall, this sanctuary has been difficult to come by. However, this year, amongst the hustle and bustle of many poorly hygienic fellow college hall mates, I have been able to dwell and exist in a space that I can truly call a sanctuary. Yes, of course, I have a roommate sharing the same small space as myself. But for whatever reason, this year, our differences have somehow melted together into the perfect equation for living in harmony while still abiding to our own private needs (I hope he feels the same).

Tonight, while my roommate is at the library (his own sanctuary) working on some homework (that I should also be doing), I am sitting my warmly lit dorm room, watching Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet and eating pistachios and dill pickle potato chips (a taste few people can truly appreciate). It is moments like these that help me truly appreciate the tranquil beauty of the Sabbath, whether it is religiously focused or not.

It seems my Kim Possible ringtone is the only thing holding me back from true peace. Perhaps I will do the impossible and turn my phone off for the evening.

ABS out.

Do the vibrations of the cyber world and the physical world collide?

As I sit here, waiting for someone to text me back, I realize I'm sitting here on this couch waiting for something much more than a response. This something is undefinable. Nothing can describe this urgent gut feeling of waiting for this unknown force. As I continue to sit here, on this couch, I realize this is couch not the entire base of where I sit. I also sit on the rug, the floor, the next 2 floors down , the basement, the cement, the dirt, the entire earth, the stars south of us (Whichever way is south now, I surely don't know), more dead space, and then finally infinity. Everything is spinning, orbiting the other universes. And all these universes are all held, in the protection and care of something! Everything belongs to somebody, right? Right. So we are ALL waiting on this something to tell us WHAT it is exactly we are waiting for! What if this something is actually a somebody? So I not waiting for something but instead, somebody. Who am I waiting for? What does he need me for? Is he even a he? she? it.

If you're out there...

Undefinable creature. Why am I waiting for you? Meet me soon.

[welcome h*ome]

Moving back into the school scene is always a little rough, but so far this year has gone fairly smoothly. Of course, nothing is absent of setbacks. It's either a) discovering you are two credits short of being a junior, b) not getting cast in the favored show of the season, c) paying 500 dollars out of pocket for assorted charges and fines, or d) all of the above. I won't say the answer, but just know it's a Dog eat Dog world out there, Dammit.

However, there is always a handful of small blessings that keeps us peddling along throughout the week. For starters, I moved in into Colenbrander 315 with the ever lovely Rascal (Granted it's no Heemstra, but at least there won't be any staph infection breakouts this year). Our room has become quite eclectic with assortments of different blankets, pillows, mirrors, lamps, and strange oddities (located from several different thrift stores). We're calling our room Grandma's Attic. Lovely, isn't it? I think it will catch on.

I have also been faithfully attending design meetings for the upcoming children's show, a collection of Asian folk tales. At first the collaborative process was a little frustrating, but lately things have been going much more smoothly.

Oh, oh! I shouldn't forget to mention that my friend, Sarah Fisher, and I will be putting together a student initiated production of Jason Robert Brown's musical "The Last Five Years". We have begun rehearsals and plan to perform sometime mid October.

Overall I would say I am enjoying my time back in the great OC. Although I'm taking 18 credits, I enjoy all my classes, and look forward to other positive things to come my way this semester.

But what am I doing online on a gorgeous Friday evening? In the words of Charlie Brown, "I should be outside playing, getting fresh air and sunshine" Did I hear somewhere that Pumpkin Land is finally open?



ABS.

(PS: This whale mug is at a Belmont Army in Chicago. Someone please buy it for me)