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.

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.

Aliens

Xenomorphs aside, little green (and often times grey) men have played a large role in my formative years. Although a skeptic at heart (though not in the philosophical sense), I am a very curious individual. The unsolved mysteries of life have always intrigued me, including aliens, ghosts, and all forms of cryptozoology. Despite Steven Spielberg's capitalization on the alien theme (with Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and E.T., both of which were a little before my time), it was the harsher characterization of aliens, like that in Fire In The Sky, and all the popular TV specials about UFO's and alien abduction stories, that formed my impression of intelligent extraterrestial life. To my young mind, these were very real possibilities, that both frightened and intrigued me.

It should be no surprise that The X-Files is one of my favorite TV series of all time, with its exploration of these themes, focusing on aliens and the government conspiracies that relate to them. I remember when The X-Files first started. I didn't watch it then, but I remember seeing commercials for it - specifically the episode where Mulder arranges a bunch of papers from a fax machine along the floor, then climbs a flight of stairs and looks down on the arrangement to notice that the random binary characters form the shape of a face. At first I thought The X-Files was a movie, but when the commercials persisted, I realized it was an ongoing series. I still didn't start watching it, but my older brother did. I remember him making comments over the phone to one of his friends, as they each watched it in their respective homes.

Like with most things, I was a late bloomer in my fandom for The X-Files. Between the fourth and fifth seasons, I learned that FX had arranged to air the first four seasons of the show nightly, in their original running order. The moment was ripe, and I realized this was my chance to finally jump into The X-Files. So I started watching it on FX, and when the fifth season started up, I taped the episodes to watch them after I had caught up, which I think occurred somewhere around the middle of that season. Turns out the first four seasons was the best of it, but it was nice to catch up and be right on the ball when the movie came out. That was an exciting moment for me. Then, the series continued to decline, and when Mulder dropped out, I lost interest. One day I'll make a point to watch those last couple seasons, but I'm in no particular hurry. I'm even more interested in going back and re-watching the first four seasons, since it's been a while now. I remember trying to collect the series on VHS. Luckily I didn't get very far, as DVD is totally the way to go, and worth waiting for. I saw the X-Files DVD Boxset at Best Buy recently. That's definitely the thing for me, but considering there's like, what, nine seasons? - it's rather expensive, and would represent quite a time commitment. So again, I'm not in a major hurry.

Getting back to aliens - like ghosts, my belief is that *something* is happening to give people these genuine experiences, but it's not necessarily what it appears to them to be. Just like Scully, I try to look for a rational and scientific explanation for these things. A great example is a flyer I got in my chemistry class in high school, debunking sightings of the Loch Ness Monster as nothing more than atmospheric conditions (it was a pretty convincing read). But I don't think every situation is that easy to explain.

One question that intrigues me endlessly is the notion of government conspiracy, like that in The X-Files. Area 51. The Roswell crash. Has the US government had contact with an extraterrestrial intelligence? Have they performed alien autopsies? Do they have remnants of alien spacecraft in some secret hangar somewhere? Were some of the inventions we use today inspired by extraterrestrial technology? Naturally, my skeptical mind finds all of this rather hard to believe. A very convincing argument is the realization that many important government "secrets" don't remain secret for very long - think of Watergate, and I'm sure you can come up with many more examples. Now, if the government did know something about aliens, do you think they could have actually kept it secret this well for at least half a century, if not longer? It's rather hard to believe.

And yet, the idea of it is fascinating, and you want to believe that if it was something this huge, they would go to extreme measures to keep it secret. Still, I tend to believe that it's more a dream than a reality. The fourth season cliffhanger to The X-Files - the Believe The Lie arc - fascinated me. And it was major - it even got Mulder to doubt his own faith in the existence of extraterrestrial aliens for a time. The idea is that the government indirectly fuels the alien conspiracy myth. They'd be fools to step right up and admit (falsely) that they have had contact with aliens (not to mention that they'd be lying outright). But instead, when their denials and cover-ups fuel rumours of these things, they like to encourage it in a roundabout, untraceable fashion. The reason is that, as long as people are postulating alien possibilities, the real truth of the government's top secret programs goes unnoticed.

That's why Mulder got as far as he did. If the government really had secrets to cover up, they would have eliminated Mulder had he ever got as close as he did all those times. But instead, Mulder was very important to the conspiracy. It's a two way street. If somebody claims to know of some connection between the government and aliens, they can easily be dismissed as a loony, their story discredited. But this doesn't convince the believers - in fact it only encourages them to believe that the government is trying to hide its dealings by appealing to people's sense of what is too bizarre to be true. So carefully orchestrating situations where a person like Mulder can witness something profound, while not realizing he's been set up, gives fuel to the believers. And that propagates the lie behind which the government hides the much more mundane, but still secret, truth.

But then you have to ask yourself how deep the government will go? Is the operative that revealed this scheme to Mulder just another one of their tricks, to get him to disbelieve because he got too close? It's a spiralling argument, and you soon find yourself in the midst of a game of wits against a Sicilian, with death on the line. And perhaps that confusion is another part of the strategy. Whatever happens, there's always some room for speculation. The truth is out there, somewhere.

And then there's the topic of alien abductions. How do you explain this phenomenon? I happen to be very skeptical of hypnosis. I don't really know all the details, but what separates a dream from a memory? Still, I believe there are people that have had experiences they can recall, to some extent, without hypnosis, so you have to believe that something is going on. I have heard citations of certain conditions created by some kind of magnetic, or perhaps electromagnetic, field disturbances - this sounds like something worth further research and experimentation. If we could reproduce an alien abduction experience in the safety of a medical lab, that would be a breakthrough.

Traumatizing as it is, I can believe something like an alien abduction experience can be entirely within the head, induced by any number of physical and psychological factors, but not involving any real aliens at all, or even necessarily the victim leaving the bed. There's a phenomenon called sleep paralysis, which I've actually experienced, that goes back a long way in history, where a person partially awakens while their body is still in a state of paralysis. This experience is accompanied by the feeling of a presence in the room, visual and auditory hallucinations, and extreme terror. During my experience, I actually questioned to myself if this was an alien abduction, which is something I feared the chance of experiencing all throughout my childhood. But no, I looked at the face of the figure kneeling beside my bed, and it looked more like the faceless assassin in The X-Files than your typical grey. And there was no medical experimentation.

Whether or not this phenomenon could have something to do with alien abduction experiences is worth looking into. I believe there are probably other factors, though. I love the idea of associating the alien abduction experience with the historical 'revelation', where a religious person might experience a visit by an angel, and maybe even be taken on a tour of heaven. Although one is decidedly divine, while the other rather terrifying, can there be some connection? Again, worth exploring. I've always been fascinated with psychology and brain states and the barriers between reality and illusion. Dreams most definitely included. Fascinating stuff. Learning how the mind works is a lot more insightful than learning the laws of nature, ultimately. I mean, if more is possible by imagination than by reality, then wouldn't it be more interesting to learn the laws of that world instead? I certainly think so.

I had a somewhat interesting experience last night. I got up from my chair, and I looked back at it, and I noticed it was turning ever so slowly. If I didn't know better, I might attribute the motion to some sort of poltergeist. I stared at it amusedly for a few moments, resisting the urge to push the chair and spoil the experience. Postulating the idea of the existence of a ghost in my room was somewhat frightening, and when I moved my arm toward the chair, wondering if I would feel a "cold spot", my arm got quite tingly. Of course, this was just a side-effect of allowing my mind to accept such an idea. Like the feeling you get when you're sitting in the dark and you start thinking about the things that could be hiding, and then your blood runs cold and your skin tingles. It's not evidence of anything more than your own thoughts. But it's interesting that you can think yourself into such a vulnerable position. Most times I walk through dark rooms, and even through the yard at night, without a second thought about those kinds of things. But the moment I take a minute to think about what ungodly things might be lurking in the shadows, the entire arena changes form, and suddenly I feel scared. Maybe a lot of this hokey pokey has to do with people projecting their emotions onto their environment. Some would argue that this very thing is a legitimate method of conjuring certain types of attention, by loosing one's aura and energy into the air. But that itself is questionable, I think.

In any case, the genesis of this strain of thought was the realization that Area 51 is in Nevada. Burning Man is also in Nevada. Obviously, Area 51 isn't quite a tourist destination that you can just take a tour of, but I *have* long been intrigued by the idea of driving down the Extraterrestrial Highway, and staying at (or at least visiting) the Little A'Le'Inn. And what better chance? Honestly, when's the next time I'm gonna be in Nevada? It would be a shame to pass up the opportunity. I'm thinking that on the way to the festival, we'll be anxious to get there on time, while on the way back, we can pretty much take our time getting home, as long as we have provisions (remembering that money *can* buy food and shelter outside of Burning Man).

Wow, one thing I'm noticing is that the western states are HUGE. It's almost like the surface of the Earth expands as you move westward across the country. And there's bound to be a lot less people, out in these desert-y and mountain-y parts, compared to the urban concentrations of the east coast. I wonder what the population density is like. Sure enough - http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/90/USA-2000-population-density.gif. You'd think a little trip from Reno to Rachel, from one side of Nevada to the other, would be like a few hours drive at most. But it's like 6 hours. Still, if it means an extra day of traveling, I think it would be worth it. And a 6 hour drive the day after the festival is probably better than going for like 10 hours or something.

Drugs

(This is a continuation of the discussion started in the previous entry titled "Hippie Ideals")

Hippies used drugs to expand their consciousness. It was a vital component of the whole intellectual revolution. Drugs let people step outside themselves, and helped them to feel the oneness of the universe. It mellowed them out, and gave them spiritual awakenings. I believe that drugs were an integral part of everything the hippie movement stood for. But that was also its downfall.

As sure as drugs can lift you up, they can also bring you down. And as the hippies were lifted up, they were soon brought down, hard. Adventure and experiment and expansion became addiction. Slavery of a whole other kind. Without drugs, I believe the movement wouldn't have been nearly as successful, or nearly as widespread. But the drugs destroyed the idealism of it all, in the end. The ideas behind the revolution were solid, and they would have stood strong on their own merits, but it was drugs that put so many people in the right state of mind to support it. This is the thing. I believe in a lot of the hippies' ideas, but from a purely non drug-influenced standpoint. So to me, personally, I feel the drugs are unnecessary. Though I understand that most people need them to get to this point.

Ah, drugs. I don't do drugs. Most people are surprised by that. I have long hair, and I sometimes dress like a hippie - which usually includes ripped jeans, tie-dye shirts, and round sunglasses. I'm a musician, I play guitar, and my favorite music is classic rock. I wear contacts a lot, which often irritate my eyes, causing them to become bloodshot. To a lot of people that don't know me very well, I am the stereotypical stoner.* But I already said that I don't do drugs. Not even casually. And it's not necessarily that I'm so against them that I don't think anybody should ever do them - it's just that I don't believe they're for me.

Here's where the tired rebuttal comes in - "but how do you know if you've never tried them?" Right, I've never tried drugs. I might have had maybe a sip or two of wine in my entire life (which tasted terrible, by the way), but I've never had a can of beer. I've never smoked a cigarette (frankly, I think they're disgusting). I've never smoked a joint, either. I've never taken a hit. I've never dropped acid. I've never taken pills, and I don't even like to take medicine for health purposes, unless the pain or discomfort becomes unbearable.

Now it's time to dig deep into my psyche. Why? Why not even a little try? It couldn't hurt, right? Sure, there's the fear of getting addicted, but I have enough faith in my self-discipline that I could at least try it without falling into an addiction. So, why not try?

I was good friends with a jam band in college. Their guitarist actually borrowed my guitar for their first real gig together at a Battle of the Bands in a local frat house. I've even sat in their 'circle' on occasion, but I've always passed up the chance to 'join in'. At one of their last shows before half the band (as well as myself) were to graduate, they did a round of shots in the bar they were playing in, before starting the show. They begged me to join, in celebration of all the times we'd had, but I refused. I feel bad about refusing, but I just wasn't about to take some alcohol. Especially not for the first time, in that kind of environment. But I was totally with them, just not on a chemical level.

The main reason I don't do drugs now is because I've resolved myself to avoid them. And part of the reason for that is that I've come so far without falling into that subculture. I feel like that's something unique, something that sets me apart from the average, and something that I shouldn't just throw away. But how did I come this far? A lot of it was the result of just not being a very social person. In high school, I never went to parties where people hung out and had beer and lots of fun. I wasn't part of that scene, or any scene, really. I didn't get into cigarettes because I was never one of those cool kids, or bad kids, that would try that. Nobody even really gave me the opportunity - but that's not to say I would have taken it, if they had.

Another part of my stance is just the whole image of that scene. I don't want to be part of the druggy scene, the stoner scene, or the drinker's scene. Going to bars and clubs is not for me. Furthermore, I've had some exposure to people on the influence of various kinds of drugs, and it doesn't impress me. Maybe it's really cool to be on their side of the portal. Maybe it feels great and all that. But from my side, it doesn't look so inviting. People that are high think that everything's so funny, and that everything's so deep and meaningful. But when you're talking to a clear-headed person, it's just a pain. It's like, yeah, okay, it's the drugs talking, you're not making any sense, and you just don't realize it because your head isn't clear. And drunks? Maybe they're funny sometimes, but I generally just think they're obnoxious. Slurred speech? I don't wanna exert extra effort just to understand what you're trying to say, especially when it doesn't mean a whole lot, anyway. Some drugs might make people more social, maybe even more friendly, but I don't want people to be paying lots of attention to me. I don't want them to be telling me funny stories that I have no interest in, when I'm preoccupied with something else. And I really don't want them to be hugging me and telling me how much they love me, especially when I don't even know who they are.

The key to it is that phrase, 'clear-headed'. I have a great amount of respect in truth, and I just don't believe, like some people might believe, that drugs get you closer to that truth. I feel that they just put more layers between you and that truth. So for me, what's the point? Maybe, if it made me feel good, then there might be some reason to try it. But what's the benefit in the long run? I don't want to deal with hangovers, or withdrawal, or hugging a toilet seat puking my brains out, or hacking up a lung, or anything like that. And maybe this is just the result of the perspective mainstream society has on (illegal) drugs, but I don't particularly want to deal with the types of people that peddle drugs, either.

I've thought about it, and if there was one drug that I would ever want to try, then I might consider trying acid, just from all the things I've heard about it. My one friend, who fantasizes about taking ecstasy by the way, always counters with stories of 'bad trips'. But does that mean there are no good trips? Anyhow, just the descriptions of the kind of experiences you can have on acid have made me curious, but get this straight, I'm not exactly looking for a source. I'm not about to give up the drug-free existence I currently have just for an experience like that. Yeah, some people say it can be life-changing. But again, I don't want my life to be changed by a surreal experience that occurred when my faculties were functioning on a whole different level than they normally do. I want to be wowed by something I can understand. Something I can reason about. Something that *I* can react to, not the drugs.

I'm the one steering this ride, and I'm not about to hand the controls over to someone else.

Still, I'm a lot more open about drug use than mainstream society is, and if you choose to take drugs, I have no problem with that. All you gotta understand is that I might decide not to hang around you as much. Depending on all kinds of factors. And that's all there is to it.

* On a somewhat lighter note, here are some experiences I've had where people have mistaken me for a druggy (and in some cases, a drug-dealer - no joke):

Back in college, when my best friend was just starting to get to know me, I had him over to my dorm room once. He must have got the impression, as many do, that I was a druggy, because, as he told me later, when I offered him some of my "special homemade brownies", he declined. I had no idea what the situation looked like at the time, because for me, I was just being a good host and offering some of the brownies my Grandma had made and sent to me. But now I look back on it and smile at the humorous misunderstanding. Luckily, that experience didn't hamper our developing friendship.

I was walking with that same friend once, heading back to our dorms after either shopping or eating at some place out on the main road (probably Wal-Mart), and a fazed-out dude walked up to us. I happened to be wearing a Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt - since, as you may know, Pink Floyd is one of my favorite bands. Well, the dude asked me where he could score some drugs. I told him I didn't know, but he insisted that he could tell that I was the kind of person who would know. He didn't give up, so all I could think to do was send him off in the opposite direction. I directed him toward the Dunkin' Donuts way down the street. I told him to keep walking til he got to the main road and he'd see it. I was referring to the donuts, of course. Lucky for us, he bought the story and headed off. I was a little worried at what he might have done if I hadn't given him any kind of satisfactory answer. It's a good thing neither one of us ever saw him again.

I went to a movie by myself once, fairly recently, at the dollar cinema. The girl working at the box office looked like a high school student, total goth-type. She took one look at me and asked me if I was high. I told her no, and she was like "for real?" As she got me my ticket, she mentioned that she was gonna go smoke some pot as soon as she got off. She must have realized I was telling the truth about not being high, because as I was walking into the main part of the theatre, she quickly said, in a worried voice, "don't tell anybody, okay?" I said it was cool. I'm not gonna bust somebody on that. I'm no druggy, but I'm not a narc, either.

Not far removed in time from that experience (it may have even been the same day), I noticed some kids in the parking lot hanging out by a van playing hacky-sack, while I was walking into Border's. I happened to be wearing sandals, tight jeans, a tie-dye Led Zeppelin shirt, and my hippie sunglasses. They noticed me when I went into the store, but it was while I was walking back to my van when they decided to get my attention. They walked over nonchalantly at first. I tried to ignore them, just hoping that they didn't want anything to do with me. But they called to me, saying something about needing help getting a pickup. In my naivete, I thought they were talking about needing a ride. In my confusion, they got the impression that I wasn't who they were looking for. I don't know if they were being honest, or just trying to cover their mistake, but they said I actually looked like a guy they knew. In any case, they left me alone and I headed off. It was sort of awkward, but because they were pretty cool about it, it wasn't a big deal. But I figure it's only a matter of time before it happens again...

Update - Nude Photography

"If the pride of being able to show it off is enough for you, then go for it."

I went for it. I totally went for it. No holding back. It's one of those things in your life where it seems a little crazy, but you're so into it that you know, just know, you'll regret it if you chicken out. And that's not to say that it's a capricious decision. It's something that I've thought a lot about, and I've decided that it's absolutely something I want to do. And so, not doing it could only harm my sense of self-worth. If you can't do something you feel strongly about, then what's the point of life? We're all gonna end up in the same place eventually, so there's no reason not to take the detours that interest us, right? So there it is. I posted nude photos of myself on the internet.

God, it feels so dirty when I say it like that. But I don't feel dirty about it. Granted, I'm not exactly comfortable talking to certain people about it, since it's a topic obviously rife with countless possible misconceptions, but if I was thrown against the wall and had to defend myself, I'd feel nothing but pride and confidence in my actions. They say you should never post anything on the internet that you wouldn't feel comfortable being advertised on a billboard in your home town. But, though I'd probably have a lot of explaining to do, I think ultimately I would be proud to have any one of these photos posted for everyone I know to see. Of course, I would never force them in anyone's face, but I feel good about having them available to people who are interested.

My moral code echoes the Wiccan rede, "An it harm none, do as ye will". With an important emphasis on "none", indicating myself as well as others. Anyhow, I don't care who sees me nude or what they do with my nude photos (even if it's something lewd that I wouldn't personally condone) - as long as they don't bother me about it (key word being "bother"). Unfortunately, there are people out there that have a problem with that last part, and they make it hard for the rest of us. But I don't believe in living in constant fear (since it's something I've struggled against all my life). They say you should be the change you want to see in the world. I think that if I see a random hot girl on the street, I should be able to look at some nude pics she took of herself, because I know I'm responsible enough not to use them against her in any malicious manner. I realize that's quite a lot to ask, but in the meantime, to show that I'm sincere, if anybody decides that they want to see me nude, I say, have a ball. But don't think that you know me just because you've seen me.

They warn that you should never post compromising pictures of yourself on the internet, because 20 years from now, you might be running for Senate, and somebody will pull those pictures up, and it'll completely ruin your reputation. First of all, I have no intention of running for political office. But more importantly, these pictures are not something that I'm ashamed of, and they represent feelings and beliefs I have about life that are not independent of who I am and what I stand for. These aren't dirty sex photos; they are a celebration of youth and the human form, and the fun you can have with it. They're amateur, and you could easily argue that they were taken with the intent to arouse, but they were also framed by an artist's mind, and to me, sensuality and sexuality are aspects of life that can be just as tasteful and classy as they can be lewd and trashy - a concept that an uptight mind might have a hard time reconciling.

In 40 years from now, am I gonna regret showing myself off to "the world" as a nude 18 year old? I can't know for sure, but I can't imagine that I would. I'm really happy that I took those photos, because I think I look great, and I can already see a difference in my physique between when I was 18 and now when I'm 23. And that's a learning experience. Plus, it would have been a shame to have missed out on capturing the form of my body at that age. Additionally, posting these photos acts as a statement in and of itself. To the people that find out about them, I am saying: "look upon the nude, it is not shameful, and I am not ashamed of it. It is not a bad thing but a good thing, and it is not a sin to recognize it as such. It is not something that should be hidden by necessity from the eyes of the world, but something that should be embraced and respected, and exposed to the world." Nudity is a symbol of Truth, the act of revealing all and hiding nothing. And Truth is the one virtue I admire most. By baring my naked body to the world, I hope that I can make further steps in revealing my mind, heart, and spirit as well.

As a final note, I'm not expecting anyone I know or anyone that reads this blog to look at the photos. But I have no problem if you do. In fact, if you have constructive criticism, that would be great - but don't ruin the experience just because you don't agree with my philosophy on nudity. I made the photos public, since there was really no point not to, so it's pretty much out of my hands. They're out there, and anyone can see them. Except that there are certain limitations, since they're relatively explicit photos (relatively). They're up on my Flickr account, but they've been marked 'Restricted', to be on the safe side. You'll have to be a member and sign in in order to view them (by turning the safety filter off). That way, nobody's gonna come across them unexpectedly and be in for a rude awakening. If they make a point to see them, they'll know what they're in for, and if they happen upon them randomly, that means they've already got the safety filter off, so it's not like they're not used to viewing 'explicit' material.

So, ignore or enjoy, as you please!