Category: personal philosophy


It’s those little things…

…those itty bitty things. It’s those little things that piss me off.

I don’t typically get very angry about things. Whenever I do, it rarely lasts very long. I can’t say that I’m really “over it” per se, but I have gotten past the initial knee-jerk reaction of the thing. Here, let me ruin a movie for you.

Seven Pounds is about a man who is out to help several people turn their disease-ridden lives around. His plan is to find people to whom he is a donor match, then he’s going to kill himself so those people can have his parts. What a hero! A man’s going to commit suicide, which is bad, terrible, no good. But wait! There’s more! He’s going to donate his parts to other people, so that’s okay. That’s right. Because none of us could find them before, Seven Pounds points out to us all the redemptive qualities of suicide.

Now, I realize that murder, violence, etc have been glorified in movies for years, but there just seems something different about treating suicide the same way. I mean, when do we get to see the redemptive qualities of child molestation or rape or elder abuse? I mean, those are all taboo, so they’re bound to be packed with oh so subtle redemptive qualities, right? Right?

Maybe suicide just hits me a little too close to home. I’ve been close. Too close. And whenever I see it being portrayed as something to strive for, something heroic, I guess I just get a little up in arms. I just fail to see how that message could be portrayed as heroic. Again: I understand my hypocrisy in my having no problems with the murder and violence being glorified, but there just seems to be something so different with suicide.

Thoughts?

Book Buyers

I was catching up on Twitter this evening, and I ran across a particular tweet from @grammargirl. (You can find her over at Quick and Dirty Tips) She said this:

Wow. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt has temporarily stopped acquiring manuscripts. Their editors aren’t buying books.

She linked to this article over at Publisher’s Weekly. If you don’t want to read the article (Come on. It’s short.), the key line is “PW has learned that Houghton Mifflin Harcourt has asked its editors to stop buying books.”

I’m a big fan of books. I read a lot of them. I buy a lot more of them. Some day, I would like to write one or two. I’ve been watching the publication industry for a while, because I would like to get into it in some capacity, and I have never heard of a publisher putting an entire hold on buying books. Spokespeople at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt are saying that the move isn’t indicative of anything too sinister, but how can it not? While I’m sure the publisher has a vast store of manuscripts it has purchased not (yet) published, but if a publisher stops buying books, it creates a stagnation in thought.

Think about it: no new books are coming in, so new books will stop going out, and while there are tons of books out there, and no one could ever read them all, publication of new and ever-improving ideas is a must for the development of culture, philosophy, or really any other facet of life. This move by Houghton Mifflin really has me concerned, even if it is being called a “temporary” situation. This is a dangerous precedent for them to have set.

In Which He Alienates His Readership

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m a pretty big fan of anime. I know, I know, I’m an incredibly far-gone loser for admitting that, but hey, I find them entertaining. I mean, I do have a superhero tattoo, so I figure I can’t really get that much nerdier, right?

Well, I’ve watched several series all the way through, and I’ve found several that I really like. Probably the best of them all has been Fullmetal Alchemist, but I’ve been watching through Deathnote recently, and I’ve got to say, It’s giving Fullmetal a run for its money.

I’ve watched all sorts of series, and something that I like about anime (and cartoons in general) is that the protagonists are typically young adults. They’re usually extremely smart (when you watch anything other than Dragon Ball or the like), talented, and respected. That last bit is what I like the most; the young adults are respected. Here in the states, most shows targeted at the 20-something’s crowd focus on the constant generational battles waged between the younger people and the older ones. In anime (the ones I’m fond of, anyways) aren’t focused on the difficulties, rather the things that each side can learn from the other. I think the latter is a far more useful point of view.

How about you all? What sorts of entertainment do you like, and why?

Grey

A new poem for you all. I hope you like it.

Grey

Monochromatic amidst the chiaroscuro haze of time
Memories lost, found, forgotten, repressed, fade into
The background—grey.

Standing wondering staring into nothing,
Stumbling on memories, looking from afar;
The colors faded—grey.

A lifetime of struggle and heartache she’s faced—
Disappointment, pain, sadness, fear—
But none of it mattering now—grey.

Emptiness and loneliness leaving her feeling
Small, helpless, forgotten.
Wanting to fill the void—grey.

Slashing violently through the grey,
Glowing green and growing,
A swathe of color begins to shine

The heartache of the past further obscured,
Further separated, further healed.
Light breaks, contrasts sharpen

She sees herself mirrored,
Magnified, reflected back. All the memories,
All the history, all the haziness of time torn away

The void takes shape; the shape begins to fill,
As her heart is mended, slowly, and as the scabs
Fall away, she looks again—grey.

Grey changing, bubbling, mottled now with
Points of light, bright and clear
Her background begins to disentwine,

And the colors become clear,
Darks and lights, neons and mutes,
What’s clear is it’s no longer—grey.

She is who she is, her past
The palate from which her canvas
Is carefully colored

The streak of green keeps growing,
Glowing verdant against the colors
eschewing from the grey beyond.

Her heart thaws, warms, beats,
A fire, viridescent flame, emerald passion
Envelops her, born for the growing green form

Her prayers answered, no longer alone,
She begins to take heart, she embraces
The virid figure taking shape,

Turning the girl from grey to white—
All color encompassing, infinite possibility—
And the void is filled,

The background vivid and colorful,
Imprinting their hues on the girl,
But she’s encompassed them all,

Not despairing, but sublimating,
Taking advantage of the lessons learned
Looking forward, entwining fingers

With her emerald companion,
The world takes form and color,
And washed away is the—grey.

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