My Solipsistic Nightmare

"Am I stranded on an island?
Or have I landed in paradise?"
- Paradise by Miley Cyrus

The list of social media sites I've voluntarily left keeps growing (who knew mainstream platforms like Reddit and Twitter were no less cesspools of immaturity than 4chan?), and the list of places that are left, for me to interact with people and express my ideas in a way that helps me feel like I'm not living in a solipsistic nightmare, continue to dwindle. Under normal circumstances, this would be the point where I would question whether the problem is me. Am I a toxic human being? But isn't that an overly harsh assessment? I know I have some pretty serious personality flaws, but I've spent my whole life working on them. And while I can be very judgmental of people (I believe this is a symptom of my OCD and perfectionism - I hold myself to impossibly high standards, and it bothers me when other people fail to do the same), above all I want to be liked, and I strive very hard to be diplomatic in terms of seeing different sides of an argument.

It's kind of funny, the phrase I used above - 'solipsistic nightmare'. In philosophy, solipsism refers to the belief that you are essentially the only conscious being in the world, and everyone else is a figment of your imagination. It's a fascinating concept, but a potentially dangerous belief. I more commonly like to use it symbolically, to refer to a world where you're effectively alone - there just isn't anybody else around. Like a post-apocalypse where you're the only survivor. Obviously, this isn't a technically accurate description of reality - all you have to do to disabuse yourself of that notion is look at the people all around you. But emotionally, there are times in a person's life where they really do feel alone, even if they're surrounded by people. Like how you can sometimes feel "alone in a crowd". This is especially true in the internet world of broadcast platforms and the interminable quest for likes, and exponentially moreso if you've ever had the subtly traumatic experience of being shadow-banned.

The reason I think it's funny that I've described solipsism as a nightmare, is that as a sufferer of crippling social anxiety, I can empathize to a certain extent with Sartre's claim that "hell is other people". I usually consider being alone to be my own personal form of paradise. It's not that I hate people, it's just that social interactions cause me existential pain. And the most direct escape from that pain is to be detached from other people. (Not exactly the Hedgehog's Dilemma - where you avoid opening up to people in order to prevent getting hurt - but very similar). I learned long ago that whenever I talk to people, I tend to frame my responses in a way that's optimized toward ending the conversation. In the back of my mind, I'm thinking "this is a stressful experience and I want to end it quickly." It's instinctual; I don't do it consciously. It happens even when I don't WANT it to happen.

"I've been one poor correspondent;
I've been too, too hard to find;
but it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind."
- Sister Golden hair by America

So I have a complex whereby I've convinced myself that I don't deserve to have other people in my life. Because I'm not a good friend. I don't correspond, I don't stay in touch - honestly, I dread doing those things because they legitimately terrify me. And if that's the cost of not being alone, I'm not even sure it's worth it. The problem is - and this is something I've learned over the years - I can never be truly happy alone. It's stupidly obvious when other people say it, but in my case, it's no less true than it sounds counterintuitive to me. Although living alone in a post-apocalyptic wasteland sounds like heaven in my head, I know I would hate it. Because even sitting in my room by myself, I find that I crave interaction with other conscious minds. I just mostly can't stand getting it...

So I'm in a bind. I can either be lonely and comfortable, or I can be stimulated and stressed. And I know social media isn't the greatest place to be social - but you have to also consider my handicap. I can't talk to people. Maybe I could learn, if I had the right training - but I haven't a clue how to go about getting that. I talked to a therapist once and we both agreed that I would benefit from in situ therapy, but it simply wasn't a service he was able to offer. You have to realize, the only reason I can express myself to the extent that I do now, is because I've trained myself through relatively low-risk online interactions. Being face-to-face with someone, hearing the sound of their voice - these are triggers that turn me into jelly. It's not even a reaction I choose out of fear; my brain literally functions differently in the presence of other people (I mean, I don't have scientific proof of this, but I'm confident that I could get it if the right experiments were performed). I used to be scared even to post a text reply on a crowded message board, but I've gotten over that, through years of experience.

One thing that's stuck with me, though, is that I am incredibly sensitive. I'm not proud of it - although it does, ironically, help me to empathize with other people. I know how much it hurts to be in emotional pain, therefore it's something I hate to think of causing other people, and when I see it being inflicted on someone by a third party, I feel sympathetic, even sometimes when the assault is justified and the victim "deserves" it. For example, #cancelculture and toxic Twitter. Yes, people should be held accountable for their behaviors as well as their opinions (just because you're entitled to have one doesn't mean I have to respect what it is). But there are a LOT of people being bullied online without justification (not any real one, anyway). But even the people who DO deserve it, I feel like the punishment is often cruel and unusual. And it just creates this "shoot first" culture that glorifies abuse and harassment and creates far too much collateral damage, where words are habitually taken out of context, and innocent people are tarred and feathered merely by guilt of assocation (or for committing the crime of "non-condemnation" - which is the rational approach to a situation you don't possess sufficient knowledge of).

"The time is gone, the song is over;
thought I'd something more to say."
- Time by Pink Floyd

You know what? This is getting a bit long, and I don't feel like talking about how much it hurts when rude people say mean things on the internet right now, so I'm just gonna end it here. I may or may not continue it later. And if you couldn't be bothered to read even this much because there are more than three sentences to a paragraph, and the paragraphs all exceed Twitter's 288 character limit, well then... I have no words for you.

Chains and Things

I'm not superstitious as you know, but in a lifetime, your mind is bound to wander. I'd just as soon curse God for the handicap I was born with, than view it as if it serves some greater purpose. The important point there is that it's a matter of perspective. Whether I'd be happier believing in a divine purpose isn't evidence for God, it's just psychology. And what if I simply don't have enough of an impaired conscience for that kind of self-deception? Do I then deserve to suffer?

Even if there WERE a God and hardship served a valuable purpose, more good could be accomplished in a two-way relationship with this all-powerful being, instead of one-way devotion to a negligent and absentee guardian, whose divine bounty depends on the uncharacteristically petty demand for blind faith without acknowledgement.

I don't pray, and I don't go to church, but if you don't think I've spent most of my life aching for a God-like being (that doesn't exist - because I would know if He did) to guide me and console me, then you're being offensively ignorant of my circumstances (but no surprise there). It's not *really* God I have a quarrel with, because God is just a fictional character invented by man. It's the men who follow God that I truly can't stand.

Anyway, that was a bit of a digression. I've considered many times whether my handicap is an obstacle I was meant to overcome - one that's supposed to make me stronger, or perhaps more sensitive - or if it's a kind of restraint holding me back from going on a rampage through this life. I often wonder what I might have accomplished if my situation had been different.

Maybe it's egotistical to think things would be significantly different. Maybe I'd just be a little bit happier, living a normal life, raising a family, working a decent job. But I am ambitious. I'm not ruthless, but I'm not lazy, either. I want. When Kramer asks George, "do you ever yearn?" - that's me. I just wish I wasn't held back by forces that - and I hate to admit this, but it is demonstrably true - are even stronger than the limitless reach of my desires. What's the point? Why was I born into these psychic chains?

But in reality, there is no meaning. No purpose. Other than what we invent for ourselves. The universe doesn't care if we live or die. All that we have and ever will accomplish will one day be dust in the wind. And a few millenia after that there won't even be dust or wind because the planet will be gone. All life will be gone. There may be other life at some point. In the vast expanse of time and space, there might even be separate sources of life that meet.

Or there might not. Regardless, nothing is eternal. The only thing that matters is the here and now - which, in a cosmic sense, extends beyond any one person's lifetime. There's no sense in squandering the limited resources we have, and accelerating ourselves toward our inevitable end. Our existence may be a tiny blip on the scale of time, but it's all we have.

The universe is a harsh and apathetic arena. Pain is inescapable. We should bless the fact that we are able to experience joy and pleasure - and we should not overextend ourselves to create further suffering over that fact. The void of space doesn't care which dog eats which dog, because all dogs will be consumed by it in the end. Why should we not, then, strive to create a puppy paradise in the interim?

If killing you would make me happier, and I had the power to do it, who's to say what would happen? The disadvantaged stand intrinsically upon higher moral ground, simply because they have not been exposed to the corrupting influence of power. We would all like to believe that we'd have the restraint to put the One Ring down, but I think it's better for our conscience if none of us were ever confronted by that choice.

Democracy is ideologically equivalent to socialism. There is no such thing as equality so long as power imbalances persist. The only good ruler is the one who doesn't want the crown - and such a ruler would hand the crown off at the first chance, likely to one of the many clamoring to wield the power it represents. I think about all of these things when I think about my chains. But it doesn't get me any closer to a resolution.

Pretty & Sexy

There are a lot of things in my mind that I'd love to discuss but I refrain from on account of avoiding controversy. Like, for example, the feminist implications of The Runaways' short career (specifically, the politics of sexuality as it relates to the different approaches to feminism). And I love controversy. But while I love to revel in it when it's produced by others, I'm more hesitant to produce it myself, because of the risk of attracting negative attention from others (something I'm not too fond of). And yet, a lot of what I do is already pretty controversial. You'd think I'd be immune to those fears by now.

The dilemma I face at this moment involves the potential (imagined?) conflict between my admiration of pretty girls, and my interest in the sensual, erotic side of life. And this has implications that go beyond me being afraid to add a pretty girl as a contact on flickr, for fear of scaring her away when (if) she finds out I am an erotic/nude photographer. This is the curse of every softcore pornographer - too tainted to charm the more sophisticated elements of society, yet too pure to be satisfied consorting with only the perverted bottomfeeders (I refer to this dilemma more generally as "The Unhappy Medium", which haunts my life). Here the impact of sex negativism can be felt clearly. If we had a healthy, positive attitude towards sex, then sensual individuals would more readily be judged based on their character, rather than on the simple fact that they embrace sensuality (as opposed to shunning and shaming it, as any decent person would do).

Maybe I am, once again, overreacting. My approach to sensuality is very clearly unique, and distinct from (and more sophisticated than) the usual, basic one that is most often assumed (that is, insensitive animal lust). And yet, from a glance or two - a first impression - how easy is that to glean? In fact, the "purest" and most "innocent" elements of society don't even make the distinction between tasteful sensuality and perverted filth - it's one and the same. Are these, then, people that I have no business associating with, in the first place? Ah yes, that's the easy answer. But what if they're pretty? What if they're beautiful? As an aesthetic artist, I cannot simply ignore such a thing. And the rarer and prettier the pearl, the stronger the desire to shine it. How does a nude photographer approach a pretty girl and ask her to pose for him (not necessarily nude)? While I'd enjoy taking sexy photographs of sexy girls, and pretty photographs of pretty girls, I want more than anything else to take sexy photographs of pretty girls.

On a related topic, I've been very interested in Lolita fashion lately (ever since the con). And I say "related" because any self-respecting Lolita would be appalled to find their fashion mentioned in the context of a post containing the word "sexy" in its title (barring the all-too-common ironic exceptions in the form of public denial). And no, I'm not backing out on my support of the tenet that Lolita fashion is nonsexual. In fact, it's the modesty that, perhaps in some twisted way, attracts me to it. (Not like that, jeez). But the issue comes up that some people might be offended by my interest in Lolita fashion, on account of the fact that I actually thought Nabokov's Lolita (in no way affiliated with the fashion, except in name only) was a brilliant - and even partly sexy - novel. And the fact that, while I don't exactly broadcast it (at least not in direct terms), I'm not actually offended by animated lolicon. (And if you don't know what that means, you probably don't want to). Or even just the simple fact that I am a man, and thus my interest in women's fashion is suspect (of perverted motives), by default (because if a man has an interest in girly things, it must be because he gets a sick sexual thrill out of it (by the way, are there any healthy sexual thrills?), and not because he might actually identify with girly things (then again, a man who identifies with girly things is abnormal anyway)). Yes, I am a pervert, and I am not ashamed to admit it, but not everything I do is perverted. I'm capable of keeping separate things separate, I'm just not so certain that others are capable of seeing it that way.

Even so, the question of attraction comes up. Are [heterosexual] males normally attracted to prettiness in girls? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think so. Are they sexually attracted to prettiness, or is that a different aspect of the attraction? Regardless, it is an aspect of the overall attraction. So why should pretty things not be sexual? Not to say that we should eliminate the line between them - pretty is pretty and sexy is sexy and they each have a distinct appeal. But can they not be combined favorably in some instances? I would say certainly! Observe:


Meet sexy (Yoko), and pretty (Nia). Now certainly, pretty girls can be sexy, and sexy girls can be pretty, but the best girls are the ones who are sexy & pretty, simultaneously:


Chii is, in my opinion, the epitome of the pretty + sexy girl. Of course, some may argue that Chii is simply pretty + lots of exposed skin, and not the sexy archetype - which might well be true. But "sexy" means different things to different people, and exposed skin is sexy to me (very sexy), provided the skin being exposed belongs to a pretty girl. :3 I don't hate T&A, but the stereotypical way they are presented almost seems to me a "masculine" presentation of sexuality. I'm turned on by a more delicate, feminine presentation of sexuality. Which is why Chii's pretty face, beautiful hair, soft skin, and long legs (frequently bared), attract me more than the lumps on the front or back of her body (not that I don't like them, mind you). And her gentle personality completes the package, turning her into an object of love, not simply lust, for me.

We've been skirting around the very similar issue of cute vs. sexy, here, and I know someone who will certainly say that cute = sexy. There is truth to that statement. I think, much like the feminine vs. "masculine" presentation of sexuality discussed above, it's a matter of taste. I've always been more attracted to cute features than outright "sexy" features. And, as it turns out, cuteness is more often associated with youthfulness, while sexiness is considered an "adult" trait. I believe that a lot of this has to do with social constructs - the fact that sex is an "adult" activity, and thus only adults are allowed to be sexy, and saying that a non-adult is sexy is politically incorrect - but it's also true that there is a physical quality to youthfulness that has a specific appeal, unrivaled by the appeals of age (subjectively speaking, at least).

The problem with saying that youthfulness is sexy, is that people will start asking, well, how young is too young? There is a too young, right? Right? All I can say about that is, different people have different preferences. And as long as we are talking about appreciating beauty (whether it's cuteness, prettiness, or sexiness), there's no logic behind labeling what sort of objects (I'm sorry, subjects) are allowed (or ought) to be appreciated, and which aren't. Aesthetic admiration is an involuntary emotional reaction, and policing it means putting restriction on thought - especially spontaneous thought that can't really be controlled. Not only is this a gross miscarriage of justice and basic liberty, but, thankfully, it's impossible to enforce (at least for the time being).

Where I'm going with this is, I don't see any point in punishing somebody for admiring beauty in another person. When I look at a pretty girl on flickr who places a clear statement against "perverts" in her profile, it makes me feel bad for being a sensual being that happens to find her to be attractive. Again, maybe I don't fit that profile of the run-of-the-mill "pervert", but I'm not exactly Mother Mary, either. This is exactly like the old pseudo-feminist ploy of trying to convince the world that when a man finds a woman attractive, it's a form of rape. Hopefully, anyone with reason will agree that this is ridiculous, but it doesn't eliminate the conflict between the sexually "tainted" and the attractively "pure". And when I say that, I don't mean that these girls are attractive because they're "pure" (I don't define real purity based on sexual experience), but that they happen to be attractive and "pure", thus making that attraction some kind of assault against their "purity".

So I'm probably making a big deal about this, but the bottom line is that I don't want to feel guilty for thinking a girl is pretty. There are sexy things in life that I enjoy, and there are pretty things in life that I enjoy, and I don't want to feel like I can't enjoy them both, whether combined or separate (as the individual occasion merits). Yet I don't want to offend the sensibilities of one or the other. Of course, if I was not suffering from social anxiety, I could just send this girl (who is old enough to drink, and is married, by the way) a friendly flickr mail, proving that I am a gentleman and not just another of the countless creepy perverts that are allegedly out there, and then wait for a response instead of agonizing over how I might be judged, and assuming the worst case scenario. But then, you wouldn't have gotten the chance to read this post about my winding thoughts regarding aesthetics and sexual politics. You see, I suffer for you!

(On the other hand, I like talking about pretty girls, because it makes me feel good inside. Almost as good as when I get to look at them. Have another picture of Chii:)

Work vs. Play

I glanced at the stack of unread books on my desk (which is, mercifully, not as large as it has been in the past) and thought about the difference in approach to reading between myself and my friend who is something of a bookworm, and an idea came to me. See, for me, reading is work. I enjoy it, but I have to commit myself to doing it or it never gets done. On the contrary, my friend reads all the time, and while I can only speculate, I presume that to him, reading is something he is quite naturally inclined to do, and to him it probably feels more like play.

Regardless of the accuracy of that last part, the idea is this: that work is things you have to force yourself to do, whereas play is things you do enthusiastically without the slightest need for coercion (whether from yourself or anyone else). Now, I'm not talking about work as in work for pay, and it's true that what is work by this definition can be something you actually enjoy doing. For example, I enjoy playing guitar. But I still have to push myself to pick it up and start practicing, or else it will never happen (I know from personal experience). I enjoy doing it, but it's still work to me.

Play, on the other hand, occurs spontaneously. It's probably what you do when you're supposed to be doing the things that are work. You don't necessarily have to enjoy it, either, although I think in most cases you do, at least on some level, or else you wouldn't be so inclined to do it. I think that, for me, grabbing my camera and taking photographs is often play, even though it is at times strenuous, and even frustrating. But it comes naturally, and I have fun doing it. Processing those photos later, though, is work.

Now, by this construction, a thing could change from being work to being play (or vice versa), depending on a number of factors, including conditionals, and something as unpredictable as one's mood. Writing up a blog entry like this one is play for me, because all I have to do is follow my inspiration, and it feels good to get these thoughts down, which, while still in my head, are and have been practically screaming at me to get them out. (I also feel compelled to mention that I'm so moved by these thoughts' desires to be written down that I had to interrupt my work - practicing guitar - just to tend to them). But, remove the inspiration, or apply certain guidelines such as forcing me to write about something I'm not interested in, and this activity would quickly become work (again, personal experience :p).

Here are a couple more examples. Take eating: having a pizza dinner when I'm starving would be play, whereas consuming meatloaf [especially] when I'm not really hungry would be work. Sleep could be play at the end of an exhausting day, or work if you're not tired and only have to go to bed because you know you need to get up early in the morning.

If you think about it, a person who is more prone to consider things as play would likely have a more enjoyable, less grueling life, whereas a person more prone to think of things as work would have a rather hard time of it. Apply that thought to specific activities: obviously, a person who considers playing guitar to be play is gonna have a huge advantage over a person like me, who has to constantly struggle with it. Learning things on guitar takes an exorbitant amount of effort for me. The payoff is huge, but it's still a lot of effort. Learning other things, however - like reading up on a topic of interest on the internet - can very often be play to me. I imagine to someone else the same thing would be work.

In these terms, being "bored" is simply a matter of being in a state in which everything is work!

Grades (or Brains R 4 Zombies)

Well, damn, I was gonna go to bed at a decent time, but then I got a little distracted. I was thinking about how mercilessly ironic it is that, in school, I always got good grades with little effort, where my older brother had some trouble - and yet, now that we've both graduated from college, he's the one with the respectable job and the steady income, and I'm the one holed away from society, living off of my savings. I'll tell you this, grades may have *some* pull in this society, but they sure as hell don't tell you a damn thing about how well a person's gonna do in life. Intelligence is one thing, but there are so many other important factors that the education system (at least the one I went through) doesn't test or gauge - like charisma, work ethic, motivation, innovation, perseverity, etc.

Well, I've always been interested in math, and furthermore, I love organizing things, so I've worked out some basic statistics on the grades I received in college. I had/have plans to integrate them into a future [retrospective] version of the college page on my website (zharth.tenjou.net), but since I'm looking at them, and thinking about them, now, why not pull them out here?

Of course, there's a couple issues to confront when it comes to revealing grades. First of all, grades seem to be this highly secretive thing. And I can understand that. It's nobody's business how well you do in class unless you choose to let it be their business. Well, I don't have any particular problems at this point with letting people know how I performed in the classes I took. I mean, what difference does it make? Anyone who judges me significantly differently just because I got this or that a grade in school is probably not worth my time anyway. And besides, remember that whole truth thing I happen to value highly? Well, talking about this reveals truth, which makes me feel good, and I really can't see any significant benefits to keeping such things a secret.

Now, I have already told you that I've been able to get good grades fairly easily throughout my schooling experiences, so you might think I'm just out to brag about my high scores or something. Well, it may be true that I'd be less willing if I had worse grades (honestly, I dunno), but I can only assure you that my purpose here is merely to explore trends, show another piece of who I am, and give me something to talk about. So keep that in mind, and if ever you start to feel envious about my intellectual capabilities, just remind yourself that you are almost certainly making a much better life for yourself than I am right now. Besides, not all the grades I got in college are what I'd consider 'good'. If it was a line of straight A's, there wouldn't really be much to talk about it, would there?

The key thing I want to talk about is this quick graph I just worked out. There's also a more complete grade sheet which you can look at if you're inclined. Basically, if you wanted to know what grade I got in a class you know I took, or wanted to get an idea of what kind of classes I generally did better/worse in, or if you just want some specific data to make sense of the graph, you can find that info on the grade sheet. You can also see how many credits I took each semester, as well as the names of the instructors for the classes I took.

So take a look at the graph. Time for analysis. As you can see, I was off to a great start, with my GPA consistently increasing through the first three semesters. That trend died in the fourth semester - spring of my sophomore year. Looking at my specific grades, you can see that that may partly be attributed to increasingly difficult physics courses. Still, the drop wasn't too significant...yet.

Then came the Fall of '04 (Semester 5). Everything turned sour at that point. Two major culprits are Quantum and E+M, two classes I struggled with (and Quantum I absolutely downright despised!). But we don't want to make the mistake of assuming that the classes themselves were the only determinant for my performance. We must consider psychological factors as well. Having made my move over the previous summer, while staying on campus to work, only to be completely rejected (if subtly so) by the girl that turned my world upside down, I entered that fall into a deep depression, the darkest period of my life so far. That was when I turned my back on physics, and from then on it was an uphill battle to follow through on the promise I had already made (to myself or the administration or my parents or who, I don't know) to earn that physics degree. And it was a struggle.

As you can see, the following spring semester (Semester 6) was a remarkable rebound, considering the weight of the previous semester. But, as much as I wanted to keep my final GPA above 3.5, the next fall semester (Semester 7) pretty much made that impossible, thanks in large part to Thermo, a class that I despised almost as much as Quantum. I think it's utterly remarkable that my GPA for that term alone was even lower than that of the Fall of '04, and I'm trying to justify it in my mind. I had 4.5 credits in the earlier semester (Semester 5), and 3.5 in this one (Semester 7), which I feel has a likely connection (unfortunately, I don't have the formula on hand - wow, I just did my first math problem in probably two years, trying to figure it out...). On the other hand, that C- in Thermo doesn't help matters. The material wasn't particularly interesting to me, and it's likely I didn't put in as much effort as I maybe could have, because at that point, it wouldn't be surprising if I was starting to get tired of the whole charade.

You can see my final semester was a lot better, though still below average. I only had three credits (I could easily afford to do that), so it was laidback, but it was also my last semester, so I felt like working less than ever. I even quit whatever jobs I had had on campus so I could just take it easy. I would have done much better if I didn't have to take that capstone. On the one hand, it's the one I wanted, and it was fairly interesting. But I had long given up on doing any homework by that point...

(If you're looking at the grade sheet, you might notice that the upper level physics courses I did best in were the ones related to astronomy and relativity. Also of interest is the fact that, in my final semester, I did significantly better in metaphysics than I did in astrophysics - proof that I chose the wrong major? Just may be.)

In hindsight, it's really a sad state of affairs. You could scold me for giving up on physics, but it's not like I decided I didn't want to do physics anymore and just gave it up. I actually couldn't do it anymore, and so I had to say to myself, "this isn't working". Unfortunately, I haven't found anything else that works so far. I am proud of myself for sticking it out, though, as tough as it was. Even if my diploma means absolutely nothing to me now. Dropping (or failing) out of college just isn't my style, and I'm not so sure it would have been something I could have lived with. Still, what the hell do I do now? "But the training that he learned will get him nowhere fast." Aim my sights high, aim my sights low, the problem's still the same - I just can't seem to fire the gun.

Real and Ideal

When I look at the world, I judge it from the perspective of the ideal. And the thing that depresses me most, is that wide gap that exists between the real and the ideal. Maybe it's not unusual, but I feel like it must be some kind of deficiency. Why should I judge the world from the ideal? Why can't I see it for what it is, and simply accept it as that? But I'm a perfectionist.

One thing I don't understand, is how a right can be "inalienable" if there are situations where it can be revoked. A prisoner has been alienated from his right to liberty, while a man condemned to death has been alienated from his right to life itself. And, well, the pursuit of happiness is a rather complicated issue.

Furthermore, not every man is created equal. Is this not obvious? I think the true point of the notion is that a person should not be judged on factors over which he has no control - such as the color of his skin, or even his (or her) gender. But then, depending on your personal philosophy, you could argue that even a person's behavior is not under their control (well, I'd be inclined to, at least). But if we are not to judge a person by their behavior, then what good does judgement serve? Certainly, what matters more to a society is what a person does, rather than what a person professes to believe.

Physics is the study of natural law. While political law is based on moral action, natural law is based on possible action. Political law tells us what is and is not moral to do (remembering that morality is subjective), while natural law tells us what is and is not possible to do. From my perspective, the study of physics is the study of constraints. The more I learned about physics, the more I learned about the limits of reality that constrict the ideas that form within the imagination. Why is the human mind capable of imagining things that are not possible? Or, more importantly, what purpose does such facility hold?

Surely, dreams and fantasy can lift us out of the mundanity of our world-weary existence. But if we could imagine no better than what is possible in reality, then would we even understand the idea of anything better than what already is? Would existence not already be the pinnacle of imagination? Does a relative scale work in this instance?

Some would say that philosophy is largely the study of irrelevant questions. Of course, that's a pessimistic view. Society to me is the sum total of mankind's attempt to compromise dreams with reality. And maybe that is good enough, after all, but for a person like me, who sees in ideals, it seems incredibly insufficient to me. What I imagine is probably impossible, but what difference does that make? It doesn't make it any less desirable for me, and it doesn't make reality any more acceptable.

I feel like I'm in an undesirable position. Is that hard to believe? I don't have a job, and yet I don't currently have any bills to pay. I get food and shelter for free, and I can spend my days as I please. But those are only the outside conditions. Inside, I am not content. And my problem isn't my outside world, but my inside world. Something within me prevents me from living a life I can fully enjoy.

What is the nature of this beast? Fear, probably. A form of shadow. A darkness on my soul. When something comes to mind, my instinct is to hold back. This is troublesome, because it prevents me from doing things. But here's the question. Would doing those things be more harmful than avoiding them? Ah. The very question that plagues my every thought. It's quite ridiculous, really. But it's the way I'm wired.

I'm not a people person, and I can't decide whether I'd be better off *becoming* a people person, or by actually avoiding people. But how in fuck can I live a life simply avoiding people? There's way too many people in this world, and they all want my attention for some reason or another. This is the notion of being part of a community. If you're a part of this community, you have to give something back. You are subject to their laws. You are subject to their taxes. You have to be a part of this machine.

But I don't want to be a part of the machine. But I don't feel like there's any real existence outside of the machine, either. Not one that I've found. I've been hiding in the corner, because it's the best I can do, but it's not good enough. So do I have to give in? Do I have to get used to the machine? I desperately do not want to. And even if I convince myself that it's the only way... well, what does that really change? I'm still hiding in this corner.

They say knowledge is half the battle. But it's not. Knowledge is useless in this instance. All the knowledge in the world can't move a single feeling, if its roots are thick enough. I feel like society owes me some kind of assistance. 16 years of formal education couldn't prepare me for the real world. So what, am I just to be tossed aside? Independence. In a world so interconnected, how can anyone utter that word with a straight face? What happens to the people that can't help themselves?

I've long believed my fate to be extermination. If it's survival of the fittest, then I should be dead. But this society doesn't quite work that way. This isn't the jungle. It's a sort of jungle, but it's not the same jungle we evolved from. I envy other people's abilities to adapt. I wouldn't want to be anybody else but me, but there are qualities other people possess, that I would take in a heartbeat if I could.

In a parallel universe, I bet I was a lot more practical. I focused on studying computer programming, and ended up getting a cushy work-at-home job for great money. Some lucky break early on in my childhood resulted in early treatment for whatever personality disorders I may have had. I also ended up becoming a pretty good guitarist on the side, since I didn't constantly avoid practicing. Nothing major, just a local band to play some bars on the weekends - for great fun. I also didn't let my aversion to company spoil my chance at meeting a girl who understands me. My happiness is fueled by my carefully constructed initiative to go out and do the things that I take interest in, rather than sitting around thinking and reading about them. In this life, I lead my shadow, and not the other way around.

Ah, but that's the ideal. Welcome to the real.

My Favorite Movies

I love watching movies. Maybe it's not as intellectual or high-brow as reading a book, but it's easier because you can put in a two-hour commitment and then you know you'll be finished. Plus, it's just less effort. Anyhow, my favorite genre is horror, but I enjoy drama, fantasy, and sci-fi flicks quite a bit as well. For those that know me, there may or may not be any surprises in this list, but here is generally what I consider to be my top ten favorite movies, of all time (not necessarily in any particular order):

Jacob's Ladder (1990)

Strangely, it seems that most of my favorite movies are ones that I inadvertently caught on TV unexpectedly once or more times, and slowly grew on me over time. The first time I saw Jacob's Ladder was in the month of October, during one of the major channels' horror showcases. I don't remember what year it was, but it can't have been later than 2000, and it wasn't more than a couple years earlier than that. I only caught part of the movie, so I had even less of an idea what was actually going on, but that didn't dull its effect on me. I specifically remember the dance-party scene, with the bloody snapping dog skull and the grind-beast. Boy, that totally blew my mind, that a movie could have such horrifying and yet realistic depictions of demonic beings, in a sophisticated manner, where the filming style and pacing of the story add a very disjointed and psychological aspect to the imagery. And then the story itself was so sublimely emotional, and the film was shot in a very careful manner, that you could jump between a confusing scene where you don't quite know what's going on as horrific images pass by left and right, and then enter a serenely peaceful scene that's relaxing yet carries a sad sense that things are not going so well and that hell could break loose again at any time. I'm not absolutely certain, but I believe this may have been the movie that ignited my deep fascination with the theme of "the journey to the afterlife".

Dead Man (1995)

I was attracted to this movie for Neil Young's score alone, but the film managed to win me over completely. The subject matter of journeying into the afterlife parallels the theme of Jacob's Ladder, but deals with it in a distinctly unique, and somewhat more abstract and symbolic, manner. In case I haven't made it clear, the soundtrack is downright spectacular. Some of Young's most haunting soundscapes, not tied down to the usual barriers of "words" and "songs". In fact, the soundtrack is almost like another character in the movie, lurking in the background, waiting to jump out and accentuate certain sections here and there. Johnny Depp plays an excellent confused accidental-outlaw, who gradually comes to accept as fact the riddles Nobody offers him (Nobody is his enigmatic Indian guide), confusing him for the poet William Blake, with which Depp's character shares the name. The story is bizarre, and moves along slowly, but the atmosphere is consuming. Though it appears to be a western on the surface, Dead Man is really far from the genre stereotype. This movie (in addition to Blow) turned me into a Johnny Depp fan. Anyone who would play the lead role in a film this obviously eccentric, and pull it off so well, deserves my respect and admiration.

Midnight Express (1978)

This is another movie I first saw on TV. My dad was watching it, and he deserves the honor of having introduced it to me. I caught the beginning of the movie over dinner, knowing nothing of what I was in for. William Hayes (the movie is based on the real life story of William Hayes) gets busted in a foreign country for trying to smuggle drugs over the border. He gets tossed into a rather frightening Turkish prison, and all his attempts to legally extricate himself from the situation get quashed by a political system that wishes to make an example of Hayes, to discourage smuggling. The sheer terror of being stuck in a foreign prison, so far from anything that is familiar, with people that don't even speak your language, and above all that, being a victim of some injustice your family and your country can do nothing about, is terrifying indeed. I was gripped by the movie and continued to watch the rest of it in my room. The physical and psychological torture that William Hayes endures, as he faces thirty years in a dirty foreign prison for a petty crime, and the painful journey he makes to try to escape from it beyond the unjust 'rules of the game' are incredibly intense and emotionally powerful. This is a story of true struggle, against the unfair odds that life sometimes throws upon us, and the ultimate lengths to which we must go if we are to have any hope for the future. An absolutely outstanding story, executed to perfection in this film adaptation. To think that it is based on a true story is terrifying, indeed.

The Passion Of Darkly Noon (1995)

Yet another movie that I caught on TV first. I saw this one a long time ago, then forgot about it for awhile, before remembering it once again and bringing it back to the forefront of my knowledge. This is truly a bizarre tale, but beautiful in so many ways. At times it seems like something that could have really happened, other times it feels like a faery tale. The underlying theme, as indicated by the title, is passion, and the power it has to consume our mortal souls. Ashley Judd plays a convincing Callie (Kali?), part lonely wood nymph, part evil seductress. Brendan Fraser ropes in a mesmerizing performance as the innocent Darkly Noon, raised strictly by his ultra-religious parents, whom he is separated from by a fire which precedes the opening of the story. Now lost and alone in the middle of an unfamiliar forest, he is befriended by the beautiful Callie, for which he begins having feelings he doesn't quite know how to handle. An old woman who lives elsewhere in the forest provides a darker characterization of Callie, leaving the viewer uncertain of her true nature or intentions. Naturally, when Callie's mute lover returns from a long voyage, Darkly's jealousy gets the most of him, and he seems to summon up the rage of the devil himself just before an incredible climax. The plot aside, it is the beautifully enchanting and surreal atmosphere of the film, juxtaposed against the all-too-normal scenes, that really gives this film a unique and engrossing flavor. The scene with the floating circus shoe is just downright brilliant. But not only because it's random. If that were the case, I'd have much less respect for it. But because it has such a normal, rational explanation, yet the coincidence of its appearance yields something very profound, just makes it so magical for me. Fantastic all around.

Lost And Delirious (2001)

Unfortunately, this film doesn't get exactly the kind of attention it deserves, being a love story set in an all-girls dormitory, but make no bone about it - this film is modern Shakespeare. It is at times endearing, watching these young girls shedding their innocence, and at times heartbreaking, watching them crack under the pressures and realities of life. Watching this film had a profound effect on me, because I was simultaneously in awe of its beauty, and depressed at its inevitable conclusion. Is there anything in life more powerful, more important, than love? Can love truly destroy all barriers? And is love even more important than life itself? How do you deal with life when it takes away from you the one thing that truly matters? Do you try to move on, and conform to the role that's been laid out for you, or are you resolved to remain free and enlightened for eternity, at the ultimate cost? "Once you're up there at the top, looking down on everyone else, you're there forever, because if you move, you fall."

School of Rock (2003)

Originally, I didn't give this film much attention, because I figured a movie about kids starting a rock band would naturally be a little low-brow for me. I was wrong. And even though Jack Black isn't really my kind of comedian (not that I'm really into comedy much, anyway), I think he was perfect in this role. The philosophy of the movie is spot on, about the power and importance of music in life, and what it means to rock out. And I have to say, the kids are adorable, and the jokes are actually damn funny. This is one of those movies that I agree with on many levels, but don't really have to think about to enjoy it. I can just sit back and watch it over and over again and love every minute of it. I'm really not that kind of a movie-watcher, but this one is good enough to be an exception! That should explain enough.

John Carpenter's The Thing (1982)

I guess this means that I can't ever say that remakes are terrible based on principle alone! But this one does it right, by going back to the source material and taking advantage of what the previous effort ignored. The result is a fantastic story with a very paranoid and claustrophobic atmosphere. Set in a research base out in the middle of Antarctica, a team of scientists becomes the target of an extraterrestrial lifeform, freed from the ice, which can disguise itself like a chameleon by assimilating the cells of its victims and morphing into an exact biological duplicate. This is an excellent premise, as the story focuses on the paranoia experienced by the scientists, who have no idea which one is the alien, hiding behind a familiar face, waiting for the right moment to strike. And before you start thinking that this is just a ploy not to have to design any complicated monster fx, the truth is that this movie has some of the most spectacular special effects in any movie I've ever seen. Not all of it is exactly believable, but it's convincing within context, and the effects themselves are very well-done and so over the top that it can't help but give you nightmares. The problem with most monster movies is that they either don't show enough of the monster, or they do and it looks terrible (either it looks fake or just not scary). But this movie doesn't have this problem. Add to that the tense atmosphere and suspenseful pacing, and you have a true winner of a horror film. Top grade.

Legend (1985)

Peter Jackson's fantastic adaptation of The Lord of The Rings aside, Legend is probably my favorite fantasy film. It paints such a picture, with the engrossing environments, and the simply out-of-this-world soundtrack by Tangerine Dream. My older brother also did his part in hyping up the movie in my younger years, remarking at how scary it was, with the depiction of Lord Darkness and all ("Black as darkness, black as pitch, blacker than the foulest witch!"). In my mind, everything about this film, from the characters to the lines, even to the character's voices and the way they say their lines, is classic. I love the dichotomy in this film, between light and darkness, and between hope and despair. You've got princesses, unicorns, elves and faeries, goblins and demons, the devil himself, enchanted forests and labyrinthine tunnels. And the best part is that it doesn't feel childish. It's all dead serious. And very artistic. I love it.

The Matrix (1999) [and sequels - Reloaded (2003) and Revolutions (2003)]

Probably my favorite sci-fi film, The Matrix is mind-blowing. And although the first movie gets the most exposure, you really can't talk about it without bringing in the continuation of the story in the two sequels. Still, the premise of the original alone is enough to get people's attention. What if the world as we know it is just an illusion, a computer program created to deceive us humans, so that we never realize that we are slaves to a race of machines out in the real world, who rely on our energy as their primary power source? Maybe the idea has been thrown around in various forms over the years, but this movie encapsulates the confusion of such a hypothesis in such a simultaneously entertaining and engaging manner. Meanwhile, it manages to ask all the myriad other philosophical brain-fuck questions that college students tend to ask when they're sitting up late, drinking some coffee after a last-minute study session before the next day's exam. This movie is cool.

Aliens (1986) [with a nod to Alien (1979) and Alien 3 (1992)]

The Alien movies had a huge impact on my youth, and of the original trilogy, it was the middle child that made the biggest impression on me. The first movie was groundbreaking, and terrifying, but the first sequel upped the ante by literally multiplying the alien threat many times over. This movie gave me nightmares. The hive, with the victims all gooed up, awaiting their inevitable and torturous death; the paranoia of the team with the aliens closing in and them not knowing how to escape or survive; and the Queen, by god, the Queen. Absolutely terrifying, and so powerful in its execution. Few movies (particularly horror and sci-fi) have ever managed to create such a believable and terrifying creature design, but H.R. Giger pulled through on the general form of the xenomorph. Well done.

Hm, I realize Jesus Christ Superstar isn't on this list, and it really has no reason not to be. I'll get around that by saying that, since it's a musical, I don't really consider it to be a "movie". Ha.

College Memories (1)

The college application process was a nightmare for me. It's not altogether unlike the whole resume scene. Tests are one thing, but what I had trouble with the most was the recommendation letters. Asking somebody to write something like that for me was a huge hurdle, especially considering that I was the kind of person who tended not to make a huge impression on or have much personal connection with my teachers. The "college essay" was also something that I antagonized over. What is it even supposed to be about? I don't remember exactly what I ended up writing, but I think I just described a few aspects of my unique personality - you know, in an attempt to stand out.

For the letters of recommendation, since I was considering studying physics, I figured it would be a good idea to ask one of my physics teachers. There was the teacher of my current AP course, and then there was the teacher of my previous honors course. I felt a little bit closer to the teacher of my previous course, so I resolved to ask her for a letter of recommendation. It was really hard for me, but I forced myself to do it, and she accepted my request. For the second required letter of recommendation, I turned to the one teacher that probably knew me best (which is still to say, not a whole lot) - my Japanese teacher, V-sensei. It helped that she openly admired my intelligence. I had no problem convincing her to write me a recommendation.

I kind of waited till the last minute to apply to colleges. (Well, my older brother waited till the last minute; I guess you could say I waited till the last hour). It was a pain in the neck for me, and although my dad had made a point to take me to some college fairs so that I had tons of brochures to look through, I had a hard time figuring out where exactly I wanted to go. I eventually picked out four places, and applied to each one. Harvard was at the top, and Penn State was at the bottom - since my dad graduated from there, and my older brother was currently enrolled, I figured I'd have no problem getting in. Harvard flat out rejected me (although some 4 or so other kids from my high school had already been accepted to Harvard that year, probably on early decision, so they probably reached some kind of quota). Of the remaning two colleges, one put me on a waiting list, and the other accepted me. Oh, and Penn State also accepted me, as expected. So, ditching the waiting list college, I had two places to choose from - Penn State, and Bucknell University.

In the spring, I took a day trip up to Bucknell with my dad, and my girlfriend tagged along (she was already primed to enroll in a college in California - if things had progressed between us a few months earlier, I might have actually considered applying to a college in CA), on admissions day. The weather was cool and gloomy, with a little bit of drizzle here and there. I remember making a point to catch the trial physics lecture. Tom Solomon was the professor, and he definitely made an impression on me, talking about Chaos Theory and related issues. I was still undecided about my major (as I figure most people are at this stage), but I was toying with the idea of studying computer science. Unfortunately, there was a complicated split between the computer science associated with the engineering college and the computer science associated with the arts and sciences college, and it became this huge issue for my dad, who wanted to make sure that I was in the right position to pursue what it was I wanted to study. Of course, the issue wasn't nearly such a big deal, but my dad was determined to clarify the details, and I got incredibly embarrassed and somewhat frustrated at all the questions he insisted on asking various people.

It actually got pretty bad, and I kind of broke down, and started saying that I didn't even really want to go to college anyway, that I was only doing it because it was expected of me. My girlfriend tried to console me, and I felt a little better, and kind of just rode the rest of the day out. It was a mixed experience.

But among the cool things that happened that day, in addition to the neat physics lecture, I got to meet the anime society at the club fair. They had a really cool Evangelion wall scroll hanging up at their booth, which is the same wall scroll I had hanging up in my room back home. I talked with them very briefly (pretty sure it was the pres and vice pres of the club at the time), and became excited at the idea of joining an anime club. Another interesting experience that day was walking between the lower dorms and hearing Black Dog from Led Zeppelin's fourth album blaring from the direction of Larison Hall. That made an impression on me.

On another day, I went up, just with my dad this time, to visit Penn State main campus. My experience was much less personal, partly because it's a much bigger place (like 10 times the size and population of Bucknell), and partly because it wasn't explicitly the day for prospectives to check out the campus. But my dad knew the place well, and he showed me around. The main impression was: huge. It was like a city. It definitely didn't have the homely feel of Bucknell, but with size comes diversity, which breeds opportunity. Still, I felt more comfortable in a smaller place with less people. Plus, having the opportunity to attend a college like Bucknell seemed like one not to be missed. I mean, so many people go to Penn State, it just seemed like it would mean more to attend Bucknell. And that's the decision I made.

While I was deciding which classes to request for my first semester, I got the idea that I definitely wanted to major in physics. My concern was that if I didn't get off to a good start, then I wouldn't be sufficiently prepared by the end of my time at Bucknell to go to grad school. Like, if I didn't start right away, I wouldn't have time to earn the right credits, or that I'd have to get an arts degree instead of a science degree, and that that would give me a disadvantage trying to advance higher in the system. So instead of letting things work themselves out naturally, I made a point of entering the university as a physics major.

Among the other classes I requested, Japanese was one. Having finally got a chance to formally study Japanese in my final year in high school, I was anxious to continue my education in that language. As fate would have it, I ended up being forced to take a year off from my studies in Japanese, only to return to the language in my sophomore year. But the good thing about that is that I ended up studying with some really cool students.

For my required "freshman seminar", I had to pick a list of favorites from the available choices. There was a physics-oriented seminar, but the one that really caught my eye was more concerned with philosophy and psychology. It was titled "Distortions of Reality", and is definitely one of the greatest courses I've ever taken. And the professor was an unendingly fascinating individual himself. I also requested a general philosophy course, since I had always been interested in philosophy, and there had never been any philosophy courses in my high school - the closest I could get was a psychology course in my senior year.

So my freshman schedule consisted of the freshman seminar mentioned above, the introductory philosophy course, and for my major, a combination of the introductory physics course, and Calculus III. I guess that last one requires a little explanation. I took AP Physics and AP Calculus (the higher of the two AP Calculus courses) my senior year in high school. I also took an AP Computer Science course (in C++). I managed to score a 5 on my AP Calculus exam, so Bucknell placed me considerably ahead in math. It was a mixed blessing. The higher I got in math in high school, the more I felt like I needed some extra time to get my bearings and really understand what I was doing. But I kept plowing ahead. And that continued into college. I was able to survive through Calculus and Differential Equations, and once I got to Logic (the mathematical, not the philosophical kind), it was a refreshing change of scenery. Instead of solving equations, which is more important to science, all of a sudden it was about proving (mathematical) statements, which was endlessly more interesting, and far easier for me. I regret not studying more and higher math in college, but on the other hand, it was a relief to finish my math requirements early, and open up spaces for some more interesting courses, like the ones that earned me minors in Japanese and philosophy.