Get A Haircut, You Dirty Hippie

Firstly, anyone who says that has no idea of the lengths to which I go in order to be and stay clean. But the issue I'd like to address here is my unconventionally long hair. Particularly for a guy. You rarely see a girl with hair as long as mine, and I don't think I've ever seen a guy with hair this long. So the obvious question is, why do I have such long hair?

The main reason is actually rather mundane. I've always been averse to getting a haircut. The whole situation is uncomfortable to me, having someone's attention focused exclusively on me for a period of time, that sort of thing. As a child, I would get a haircut fairly regularly simply because that's normal, and that's what my parents decided, and I had little to say over it. But I gradually managed to extend the time between haircuts, so that there would be long periods where I wouldn't get one, and my hair would grow out relatively long (in this case, meaning long enough to cover my face in the front) - this would be around high school days, I guess. Having hair that long was kind of cool, because I loved being able to hide my face behind my hair to avoid people, but it was also kind of liberating to get it cut short after a while. Ultimately, though, the act of getting a haircut just became too much of a bother to me, and somewhere around the time I got my senior picture, I gave up on it completely, and just let my hair grow out unhindered. I haven't taken or allowed a blade to be taken to it since.

So the primary reason for me is convenience. You might say that getting a haircut once a month is a lot easier than washing long hair everyday. Maybe you have a point, but for me, going out and getting a haircut is a lot harder than washing my hair everyday. I'm used to washing my hair and it really doesn't bother me. Going out and getting a haircut, on the other hand, would be traumatizing. That having been said, convenience is not the only reason I continue to have long hair to this day. Though it may have started that way, since growing my hair out, I've become very attached to it, and now there are other reasons for me to keep it.

Having long hair has a certain appeal. I like to challenge people's ideas about things, force them to think in new ways. By being a guy and having long hair, I force people to question their notions of what people can be like. I guess maybe, people who get piercings and visible tattoos, and wear weird fashions and such, might be doing it partly for that same reason. But it's also more than that. I actually like the long hair, for what it is. Part of that is because it connects me to two symbols that I hold respect for - hippies, and elves. Although a lot of the hippies I see in documentaries and rock festivals don't have hair quite as long as mine (especially the guys) - and aren't nearly as naked as I'd thought they would be - the long hair still taps into that whole social movement where the hippies wanted to challenge society's standards about how guys should wear their hair (among other things), and the image of freedom represented by letting your freak flag fly.

In addition to the hippies specifically, guys with longer hair than normal have always been a staple of certain sections of the music scene. The guy with long hair is a rocker. When Bob Seger sings, "most times you can't hear 'em talk, other times you can; the same old cliche, is that a woman or a man?", I know what that's like firsthand. And although I try to take it as a compliment, considering how I feel about girls, it's still pretty embarrassing to be mistaken for one. Even before I went super-long, when I was back in elementary school, I was at the pool with a friend once, and I remember hearing a kid scream out "mommy, that girl doesn't have a top on!" (Obviously, this would be way back at the age before girls started 'developing' significantly...). I'm happy that I can laugh about it now, but it was pretty uncomfortable at the time. But even so, my hair means too much to me to lose it for the sake of other people's expectations.

I mentioned elves above. Whereas hippies don't necessarily have hair as long as mine, especially on the guys, elves frequently have hair this long, and the guys just as often as the girls. I'm fascinated by elves. I feel a certain kinship with them. They are a natural race, living in closer communion with nature, and they are often described as being beautiful, wise, and knowing how to extract simple but profound pleasures from life - for example, in the form of song and dance. Anything that relates me to this race brings me closer to the ideal image of what I would like to be.

There's another reason that I treasure my long hair. A very important reason, that I've avoided thus far. I'll be blunt. There was a girl I [hardly] knew in college, with the longest, most beautiful golden locks, like something out of a fantasy. Her hair was probably a bit longer than mine is now, and a little more wavy, probably because she not infrequently wore it in a braid. She cut it in half or so, later on. There's a lot of troubling emotional nuances to the situation, but having my own hair as it is, partly serves as a connection to what I loved, and partly as a challenge to what I hated. If I cut it now, not only would I lose that connection, but I'd also lose the challenge...

And while we're talking about cutting, I'd like to take a moment to issue my stance on Locks of Love. I have absolutely nothing against it, and I think that what they're doing is great. However, I have been hounded by so many people, telling (not asking) me to donate my hair, that it can't help getting on my nerves. When somebody honestly compliments me on my hair, which happens a lot, I am genuinely pleased. However, when they then proceed to instruct me on getting rid of it for the sake of some charity, my enthusiasm wanes. And that's to say nothing of the people who mention it outright, before ever saying "wow, your hair is long", or "I like your hair", but rather come right up to me and say "you're donating that to Locks of Love, right?", as if it was a statement, and not a question. That really gets on my nerves. Just because it's a good thing, does everybody in the world who grows their hair out *have* to donate? I thought this was a free country, not a fascist dictatorship. Some people just *don't* have their priorities straight, and unfortunately, in my experiences, that reflects badly on Locks of Love. If you want my advice, tell the people not to be so Jehova's Witness about it. I mean, look at my hair, do you really think I've never heard of Locks of Love before? What exactly do you hope to gain by hounding and harvesting me? Certainly not my respect or friendship, I can guarantee you that. And not my patronism, either. So start thinking with your head and your heart, not with your [short] hair.

Image and Acceptance

As a person who is constantly aware of the impression I may potentially be making on the people around me, it is unsurprising that I put a lot of importance on image, and acceptance. I am terrified by the notion of disapproval. There are two sides to me - the inner me which reflects who I really am, and the outer me which is the person that everyone else sees. The inner me is far more important, but for some reason I place way too much importance on that outer shell. I am far too concerned with how other people think about me, because I want to do everything within (or without) my power to make sure that people like me (or, at least, don't dislike me). I require the approval of others, and so, many aspects of my true personality, which I keep to myself out of fear of potential negative reactions, I become ashamed of. Because I feel like I can't tell people about them, I feel like there's something wrong with me for having those aspects. And my self-esteem drops enormously. I should be able to be proud of who I am, regardless of whether other people like me or not, but that's not how my thinking works. I need people to say, "oh, you are like this or that, that's interesting, and I respect you for it." Or else I'll just assume that it's something to be ashamed of.

Example: nudism. I'm totally excited about my recent explorations into nudism. And yet, despite my own personal beliefs that it is a completely worthwhile interest to have, I still feel embarrassed to admit that doing certain things naked is fun, because I can't shake the idea in my head that mainstream society wouldn't accept me for having that interest. That most people would think I am weird, if not downright immoral. And the very idea of other people thinking like that about me is crippling. And I start to feel ashamed of something that, from a logical (as opposed to emotional) standpoint,  I understand I *should* feel nothing but pride for. I feel like I need people to say, "you're a nudist and that's great!" in order to counter the thoughts in my head about people who say, "you're a nudist? Are you serious?", with a less-than-approving look on their face.

That's the main principle that makes it hard for me to open up to people and let them know who I really am. It's ridiculous, from a purely logical standpoint. I mean, just because someone might disapprove of me, why should that have any effect on how I feel about myself? And yet it's precisely the reason I'm afraid to open up to people. I rely too much on the feedback (real or perceived) that people give me to determine my own self-worth. If you think about it, it's true that it reflects feelings of wanting to be accepted, wanting to belong, wanting to be loved, and avoiding the pain of disapproval, separation, becoming an outcast. You have to accept that some people are gonna like you for who you are, and some people won't, and that shouldn't affect how you feel about yourself. But I place way too much emphasis on the feelings of the people who don't (or won't) like me. And that's ridiculous. But it's true.

I've always been highly concerned with my image, in certain ways. That doesn't mean I'm a snazzy dresser, or anything. It just means that I'm highly concerned with the way that others perceive me. This is a natural extension of the desire to be accepted. I want people to admire me, and furthermore I want to have a certain amount of control over the way that people think about me. Ultimately, so that I can make sure their thoughts are always positive. It's a futile struggle, but I remain determined to hold myself to a certain self-standard. Perfectionism comes in here, to some extent. When I'm writing something, I want it to be free of errors, and I want it to be interesting and engaging. If I'm talking about myself, I want to present myself in an admirable light. I carefully monitor the opinions and interests that other people are aware that I have, so that I have a better way of knowing how they might characterize me. I don't like to be misunderstood, misrepresented, so I make a point to emphasize good examples of who I want other people to see me as, while brushing the bad examples under the rug, to keep people from getting confused, or from getting mixed signals. Obviously, I can never have the kind of control I'd need, so again, it's a futile struggle. I just want to be able to be me, and let everything else work out, let people figure it out for themselves. But of course, the trouble with that is that some people will mix it up and end up disapproving, while others will disapprove even after getting it right. Giving up control means accepting those possibilities, and that's hard to accept.

When I like something, I feel a strong desire to find someone who shares my opinions about it, and I also feel a strong desire to share my opinion about it, provided an interested audience. For example, I might be watching a movie I really like. Because I like it, that means it expresses certain things about my personality or simply my taste. So, sometimes I feel better if I imagine that I was showing the movie to somebody else. When the good scenes come up, I imagine people being impressed with them just as I am. It's weird, but I guess it's that feeling of wanting to be accepted, to find people who are on your wavelength, someone to instruct, that will value your lessons highly. Another example, the transmitter I put up to run the playlist on my computer onto local radio waves. Something inside of me is greatly fascinated by the idea of having somebody else listening to the music I'm listening to, enjoying it (but not criticizing it!), and most of all, learning the things I know about it. Like, if there was another me, inexperienced in music, but with the same taste (albeit undiscovered). To be able to play for that person all of this music, knowing how much they'll appreciate it (because this is me we're talking about now). I think about the other people in this house, and I want badly for them to listen to this music too, and not just listen, but to really dig it, but I have to be realistic and understand that though we might like a lot of the same music, all of our tastes are different in different ways, and the song that's really awesome to me, just might not come across so well to someone else. And that's a little depressing. I want to share my enjoyment of this music, and the other things in life that interest me, with other people who will also be interested as I am.

I hope I was able to get my point across, there. Language is one thing I've always had trouble with. Not so much the language itself, but just the process of chaining thoughts into cages of words. I don't have a lot of faith in the ability of words to capture thoughts and feelings accurately, and it's rather disheartening. It doesn't help that sometimes I myself don't even feel like the words I've conjured do a good job of imitating the thoughts or feelings I was trying to convey...

Journal 010

Unfortunately, I haven't done too much to take advantage of it, but the weather's been mild the past two days or so. Though it's also been kind of rainy/windy. The temperatures are up in the 50's though, even overnight, which is nice for drab February. Last night the garbage was out, so I made a point to finally take out those boards from the collapsed VHS tower. It was the middle of the night, of course, and I was most certainly naked, but I took them all the way out to the curb. I also took a bag out tonight, to the side of the house. In related news, I got the new wall decoration I ordered recently just the other day. It's an official-looking "Clothing Optional Beyond This Point" sign, and I think it's totally cool. There were three kinds, indicating either Florida, California, or Hawaii State Beaches at the bottom, and though I could have easily taken California, I went with Hawaii since you can't go wrong with tropical islands.

My brother convinced me to aid him in satisfying his craving for Wendy's tonight, before the drive-through closed at 1am. We ordered and ate in the parking lot (in the van, of course). They were out of frosties, surprisingly. They had chicken nuggets, but they weren't as good as the old chicken tenders they used to have... The fries weren't the best fast food fries I've ever had, either. But hey, it is what it is. I made a point to stop at Giant Eagle before going home, because I needed to restock my supply of cotton swabs. I also picked up the latest issue of Fangoria. I wonder if it's really popular or something, because sometimes I go and I just don't see it there, and today, the issue I grabbed was the last one.

I haven't read any of it yet, but flipping through, I saw an ad for The Poughkeepsie Tapes, an upcoming horror mockumentary (?) supposedly scheduled to open this Friday. However, reports on its opening date are mixed, and there's some evidence that the 2/08/08 date has been bumped. Right now I'm not exactly sure when the movie will be released, whether it will be in a couple days, or not until the end of the year - or anytime else - but I am looking forward to seeing it. Basically, from what I've seen of the trailer, it's supposed to be a faux documentary of a serial killer who left behind tons of video tapes of his crimes. Not surprising that certain people would get upset about it, but I have to admit I'm very intrigued by it. The whole dark side of mankind idea, and gazing into the abyss, and all that. I'm a horror fan, and it's probably not surprising that I have an interest in serial killers and things like that. It's not terribly easy to talk about, casually, because people have a tendency to assume that if you're interested in that stuff, then you're automatically predisposed to partake in it. Well, I hope you can guess what I think of that mindset. Watching Millenium sort of gives me the idea that it might be cool to be an investigator of violent crimes or something, since I feel like I could sympathize with these criminals, while not actually condoning their behavior. Getting into the mind of the killer in a way. Though without Frank Blank's special skill. It'd probably be completely different to be exposed to that sort of thing in real life, though. I mean, I don't mind the gore in a horror flick at all, but, ironically, when it comes to real life, I get queasy at the mere sight of blood. Just one of those things...

I've already fully accepted the fact that I belong on the lunatic fringe of society. If I do ever have a place in the mainstream, it can only be a cover. But that doesn't make me bad or evil or uncivilized or anything like that. I'm simply different. My standards and morals and values don't necessarily match up with the average. It's a shame because it makes things rather difficult for me. I'm a victim of space and time. But on the other hand, I value my uniqueness, and my unconventional opinions. It takes all kinds. I just hope I can find *some* place for myself in this world...

I finished Dying Of Embarrassment in two sittings. More of the same. Plenty of good information, but it still comes down to the question of making an active effort. And desensitization. If I felt okay about willfully entering these situations, even just enough to overcome my fear of them, then my problem would have been long gone by now. Although I'm still hoping for a miracle (read: knight in shining armor), I've already come to the conclusion that there's very little chance of me overcoming my problems on my own. Yet, getting professional help is incomprehensible to me. It doesn't help that in that section in the book, their best advice is to "ask questions". Yeah, the hardest possible thing for me to do. Even if I knew what I was getting into. Ideally, I think everyone should have a personal guardian (angel, perhaps?) that guides them through life. Of course, that would be impossible, because there are few if any people actually qualified to do a good job of that, and they'd have to be so dedicated to their case that they could only handle one person at a time (and then who would handle them?). Well, there's another piece of proof that 'God' doesn't exist. No guardian angels. Fuck you, god.

RPM Challenge is, well, *is*. I guess I'm coming up with some stuff. Still plenty of time to play around and put things together, I guess. If anything, it's been a pretty good excuse for me to pick up the guitar and play. Although it's easy to get distracted playing through all the riffs/songs I know, not that that's altogether a bad thing. I figure I should learn the songs in that Blues Guitar Bible I have, because they're great blues songs that I would kill to have in my repertoire. The only thing stopping me is the effort. Freddie King's I'm Tore Down is in there, and I started trying to play it last night. Awesome short little opening lick that totally sounds like a Freddie King lick. But golly, knowing which notes to play isn't enough. You have to know *how* to play them to make them sound good, the way Freddie does instinctively, and then you gotta practice them enough that you can nail them on the fly. Think of the effort, and that's just the first few seconds of the song! But I want more than anything to be able to play that song start to finish with all of Freddie's stingin' licks. UuuuUuuUUuuuUUuuggghhhh... Why can't I have been born with an indomitable work ethic?

Journal 009

Might as well right now get over the 'fear' of posting two Journal entries (or more?) in a row.

Today was the Superbowl. I actually feel kind of guilty mentioning it, because on the scale of football fandom (or fandom of sports of any kind), I'm located on the extreme with the people who could miss the Superbowl without realizing it - or caring. And I feel like acknowledging it automatically puts me in the group of casual fans who do care a little bit about the game. Well, there are two factors which brought the game to my attention this year. First of all, my dad's a huge football fan; he had no big Superbowl party to go to this year; and kickoff was during dinner - so there was no way I could have not been exposed. And secondly, Tom Petty was playing the half-time show, and I wanted to see that. So, since it was there, I decided to watch for the commercials, too, like any other non-fan would do. Nothing too mind-blowing, but you can tell that the stakes are higher - I know it wouldn't make sense financially and all that, but why can't advertisers be at the top of their game for regular commercials? Maybe then, people wouldn't hate commercial breaks so much...

Anyway, Petty's performance was, I'd say, par for the course. Pretty much what you'd expect from Petty playin' the Superbowl. I think I enjoyed the Stones' gig more, a couple years ago, but for a mainstream gig like this, they could do a lot worse than Petty (and truth be told, most of the years it *is* not even worth watching). The amount of sparkle throughout the stadium was pretty impressive. The songs Petty played were American Girl, I Won't Back Down, Free Fallin', and Runnin' Down A Dream. It's not surprising he'd play well-known songs - I mean, you might as well take advantage of that huge audience, and play songs they're gonna be able to sing along with. And besides, Petty doesn't seem like the type to pull out "artist's choice" on an important gig like playing at the Superbowl. I do like the spirit of adventurism in an artist, though, and I hope the rumours about Petty being looser with his setlists on the upcoming tour are true. I've seen him twice already, in 2005 and 2006, with 60% of his playlist repeated. Actually 60% sounds like a lot less than I was expecting.

It's 3 days into February, and I've already managed to slack off one day on my RPM Challenge efforts. But, having played guitar 2 out of 3 days is already a much better average than I've been pulling. I've been playing with both Meddle and Jabberwock, seeing what kind of sounds I can coax out of them - very preliminary stuff. Before a couple days ago, I actually hadn't played Jabberwock in a while, since I've been doing this madness stuff on Meddle. Picking Jabberwock up again, I was immediately reminded of - and impressed by - its bite. Meddle is still better with controlling the feedback, and for sensual tones, but Jabberwock's got the crunch. I'd have to say that Meddle is my blues guitar while Jabberwock is my rock guitar (I'd even say metal, except that I don't play metal). Still though, the bow effect only really works on Jabberwock. So it's looking like I'll definitely be using both guitars in this project. I might have to break and switch, but I think I might try to work out a system where I have both plugged in, and I can sit one down and let it humbuzz while I pick up the other one, turn the volume up, and continue on. Still lots of work to be done.

I was thinking about my project - what the idea behind it will be, what to name the pieces of the composition (because this sort of thing is a lot easier, and at least as fun as, the actual playing and composing) - and I thought that, since the name of my project is already Eight of Swords, I could break it into eight pieces, each named after a famous sword! So then I thought about what famous legendary swords I knew about, and I immediately came up with Excalibur and Masamune. But then I got stuck. What other famous, named swords are there? I thought about picking out swords from Final Fantasy games, but I definitely wanted my project to have a more 'myths and legends' than 'gamer geek' feel. Then I questioned whether I wanted to use supposed real historical swords of legend, or ones from fictional stories as well. But then, there are so many swords, and they each have their own place, how can I extract them like that, for my purposes? I'll obviously be biased toward the swords I've been exposed to.

There's something very appealing to me about the way that the Final Fantasy games have consolidated so much mythology from many different cultures and adopted it for their own purposes. It's a learning tool - a springboard for research. But something about taking those ideas and restructuring them to fit into a new framework... Okay, I'm bordering on ideas and feelings that I really can't explain in words, here. I believe I have mentioned that I've been working on devising my own RPG - dragonfaith (in my To Do List entry). Well, I think about these kinds of things. Consolidating ideas, and creating my own. And when it comes to naming things, even the coolest names from past mythologies often turn out to be pretty straightforward - oh, it's just "fire-sword" in Latin! So, if you call something Firesword now, it might sound pretty stupid, but it could be awesome in a thousand years when everybody's speaking Esperanto! Anyway, I guess the point is, I start thinking about whether there would be more worth in stealing other people's swords, or creating my own. Although, the benefit of stealing other swords is that people know them already. And that was the original point.

I searched Wikipedia for a list of swords. If you've ever surfed Wikipedia, you know how easy it is to get off on tangents. I ended up reading about lightsaber combat and Sith lords...

Yesterday was Groundhog Day. I have no idea what the groundhog did. But I watched Groundhog Day. Very profound movie. A lot more serious than the other two Bill Murray flicks I watched the day before - Stripes, and Ghostbusters. The 80's is an interesting beast. I have an inescapable connection to it, since I was born in the 80's, although I'm probably more a 90's kid, then again those early years were the formative years, weren't they? Anyhow, although the 80's is incredibly lame in almost every aspect, there's a weird appeal to it. It has nothing to do with the music - I think the music is crap. And I don't really respect the fashion, but the fashion has a lot to do with this feeling. Like, when I watch an 80's movie - for example, there were some good slashers in the 80's - there's just something about the whole aura of it that seems so innocent, and so upbeat. Even when talking about slashers. I don't know, it's really weird. There was a movie on TV months ago that I ended up seeing, starring Madonna. It was Desperately Seeking Susan. I'd be hard-pressed to call it a great movie, yet I had fun watching it. I'm tempted to say that there are some unconscious feelings going on relating to that "total 80's chick" (if you remember my Girls entry) that babysat me and my older brother during the 80's. That wouldn't surprise me.

But honestly, don't expect me to be caught dead going to an 80's themed party or going to see an 80's cover band. I think it's stupid how much people glorify the 80's. I think Satanic is definitely on to something with his philosophy about Sting, The Police, and Hip To Be Square.

Went to Wal-Mart last night. I looked through the "outdoors section", just scouting out possible camping-related items for Burning Man. I've been meaning to make up a shopping list, even just a preliminary one to start with. I also saw some bikes at the mart, but I dunno if they were kid's bikes or what. I definitely feel good about getting a bike. Even if it wasn't for Burning Man, I haven't ridden a bike in probably ten years, but everytime I think about it, I feel like it would be a lot of fun. And an excuse to get exercise, too. Like walking, but a little bit more exhilarating, and you could go a lot farther in the same amount of time, see different sights. I dunno if there's a trick to getting a bike, I just want one that's cheap, and comfortable (and that doesn't break down).

Bought myself a giant Reese's chocolate peanut butter heart from the Valentine's Day aisles. Nearly overdosed on that thing. I came to the realization that, although Valentine's Day is kind of depressing when you're alone, the major advantage is that you're free from the stress of having to impress your girlfriend. And boy is that a relief. I mean, I guess the effort is worth it if you get to reap the rewards, but from the other side of the fence, at least you can look forward to not having to make any effort at all.

Journal 008 (or The Candlelight Journal)

Feb 1, 2008 ~6:20 AM

Tonight has been very exciting. I am now writing this note by hand(!), and by candlelight. It is very romantic, indeed. There's just something appealing about the natural light of a flickering flame, that the ultra-bright coverage of an electric bulb just can't capture. It's organic, it's living, and it's a lot warmer, psychologically. Anyhow, the only time a candle can truly live up to its reputation is when the power goes out, as it did almost an hour ago, at 5:37 AM. No electric hums, no colored LED's, just quiet blackness interrupted only by a flickering flame.

I had just finished having a snack before the power went out. While I was sitting at the kitchen table, three times the light flickered - but even then, I didn't think they'd go all the way. I had just got up to my room when everything went black. It was quite chilling, as you could expect. But power outages are always so very thrilling, and I welcome them always. Lucky for me, I was standing right beside where I had my flashlight sitting - the kind with an electromagnet that never needs batteries (you just have to pump it up) - so there was a minimum of stumbling around in the dark for me.

Ironically, I had been lighting incense and candles earlier for my Imbolc rituals, so I was prepared to fire up my cinnamon candle for backup lighting. It was pretty neat taking it into the bathroom with me to brush my teeth. I grabbed my katana for defense, which I usually do in situations like this, when I get the sense something may be out of place (it's never serious, but better safe than sorry), although I was pretty confident the power outage was due to the weather conditions.

It rained steadily during the middle part of the night - though, looking out at the trees, which appear to have a coating of sleet (granted, it's hard to tell in the dark of night), it was probably more ice than rain. At 3AM, I tried to go out on the porch to commune while it was still raining. I had put on my ritual cloak, and my faerie amulet. As soon as I walked out the front door, even way under the roof of the porch, I was already stepping on wet ground. And it was cold, too. I laid down the towel and tried lighting a candle. I used the last two matches in the matchbook I brought with me, and they both died. I realized things weren't working out, so I took my ritual inside. At least it was nice to have the rain pouring soothingly onto the roof.

On an only vaguely related note, this may be a coincidence, but I discovered that keeping my door closed significantly helps to keep my room warmer than the rest of the house. I hope it's not just a coincidence.

Earlier today, I was playing with my bondage rope, and I think I finally worked out a pattern that avoids running through the crack of the ass - which, quite frankly, isn't my idea of welcome stimulation. And the rope I have is long enough to also tie off the ankles or, alternatively, the wrists (if I weren't practicing on myself) - and maybe even both if used efficiently!

Anyhow, while trying out my new pattern, I came up with an idea for a photo-op depicting a modernized version of the Eight of Swords tarot card, which I sympathize with. I would've jumped on it, but for the trouble with shooting myself. I keep finding myself wishing that I, at the very least, had a tripod to set up and steady my camera. Up until now, I've used a very ingenious, but very restricted, trick for shooting myself. It turns out that if I hang my camera sideways from the pullstring for the light, hanging in the center of my room, I can get the camera to point right at the door, perfect for a full-body shoot if I stand against that wall. As you can see, this is very restrictive. So I finally ended up buying a cheap (talkin' 5 bucks here) mini-tripod that I think will work with my digital camera, so I can see if it makes a significant difference.

(Uh-oh, police sirens!)

And I'm still pissed about the battery situation. Am I the only person who thinks the hassle of rechargeable batteries isn't worth the advantages? Alkaline batteries can only be used once, but they're ready when you need them. Maybe there are quicker chargers, but if I want to use my rechargeable batteries, I have to wait 8 hours, and by then, the inspiration/opportunity is long gone. Do I have to recharge my batteries every day, just so that they'll be ready when I need them, even if I don't use them for weeks at a time? Don't rechargeable batteries gradually wear down the more times you recharge them? Or am I mistaken, and are they immortal? I can't find anyone else who seems to have these problems, so I'm starting to feel like I'm doing something wrong.

That rant's just about killed my wrist, so I better wrap this up. I can't imagine what it was like before people replaced writing with typing - even though I was alive long enough to experience it. Writing has always been painful - physically in addition to anything else. And I just can't write as fast as I think - so I push myself to write faster and faster, and I just strain the muscles in my hand more and more...

Well, my last point is that it is now February, so the RPM Challenge is on. I start working on my project tomorrow! I'm registered under the name "Eight of Swords". For inspiration, I put on my ambient station on Pandora - which I haven't listened to in a long time. Good stuff. I'll probably listen to it a lot this month to keep my mind in the zone, and constantly hearing new stuff, getting new ideas. I hope my project turns out well.

Well, it's quiet now - very quiet. I hope the power comes on eventually, or else I won't have the distortion and feedback I need. But it could be hours. Not much left to do, so I should go to bed. For once, I'll enjoy a natural sleep with no lights at all (except the dim light that'll creep through the blankets as the daylight grows), and no sounds to disturb me (especially not the super loud fan on the computer!). I just hope I don't oversleep, without having the alarm set. If the power does come back on before I wake up, it'll probably wake me up then I can settle things before drifting back to sleep. For now, I'm not gonna worry about it. I'll just enjoy the rare electronic solitude. And so, I will now blow out the candle and crawl under the warm covers of my bed. Good night!

Social Anxiety & Avoidant Personality . . . And Bears, Oh My!

Having finished reading Living Fully With Shyness And Social Anxiety, I have learned that with a lot of constant effort at practicing relaxation, positive thinking, and desensitizing myself to the situations I fear, I can make a drastic improvement in the quality of my life. Great. Not to put down the book, which is a great and informative resource, but I don't think it gets to the heart of my problem. Namely, avoidance. Even just a second ago, I was strongly considering just aborting this discussion entirely because I wasn't sure what direction I wanted to head in. And I'm sure it'll happen a few more times before the end. Let's just hope I make it to the end, else you'll never read this...

For a time I've been a little confused about the similarities and differences between what I've seen described as Social Anxiety Disorder (or Social Phobia), and what I've seen described as Avoidant Personality Disorder. Their descriptions seem to be rather similar, and I find myself sympathizing with the symptoms of them both. I guess, on a basic level, it would make sense to consider SAD a condition which emphasizes the anxiety that a person experiences in certain situations, while APD speaks more to a person's specific type of behavioral reaction to that anxiety. In other words, a social phobic is someone who gets excessively nervous in social situations, and a person with an avoidant personality goes to excessive lengths to avoid those situations. Well, I don't have a doctorate in mental health or psychology or anything like that, but that's the impression I get. And if that distinction is accurate, then I'd say that, while I consider myself to be a sufferer of both conditions, I think the more serious one at this juncture of my life, is APD.

If I had been in a position to seek help when I was in, say, grade school, then the book I just read might have been a huge help. I'd have had plenty of time to right myself before losing the bulk of my youth to this condition, and I would have been surrounded by enough opportunities to practice more positive patterns of thought and action on a daily basis. Surely, being forced into countless uncomfortable situations, as I most certainly was back then, I would have chosen to overcome my inhibitions rather than live in fear, if I had been able to believe such a thing was possible, and if I could have understood my position in context. But I couldn't. I quickly came to the realization that I was different, but I didn't ever really believe that I could also be normal, if I really wanted to.

I dunno, I really don't know. But I feel like, a lot of the tips in this book are about how to communicate better. Now, I don't like to draw attention, but when I talk to people, though I might not be quite so anxious to participate, I feel like my abilities to listen sincerely and show concern for people and all that are perfectly fine. It's not that I don't have the skills to talk to someone. God, it's so frustrating when you say one thing about yourself, thinking very much that it's true, and then you immediately think of a counter-example. I want to connect with people, it's not that I'm anti-social. But at the same time, I don't have a lot of desire for the usual kind of conversation that people engage in. I mean, if I really wanted to, I could swallow my fears and force myself to be that confident and inspiring person. But it's not me. Even if it means not being afraid anymore, I don't *want* to be a commanding presence. And I don't want my life to be filled with constant "positive self-messages" and "relaxation exercises". I don't want to be somebody else, I don't want to mold myself to conform to society. I want to bend the world to shape around me. I don't want to learn how to call people, and ace interviews, and make lots of friends, and stand up to people. I don't want to come to accept society, either. "If you have ever loved me, don't take my anger away from me. It is the only thing I have left."

That's not even the issue I was aiming for. Avoidance. My problem is avoiding things. I've adapted. I've learned to avoid the things I don't like. In my life, as it stands right now, my problem is not getting rid of the anxiety I feel day to day. I feel relatively little anxiety. Because I've holed myself away from most of the things that cause it. What I really need, first, is not to get over the anxiety, but to get over the avoidance first. Then, it will probably be fruitful to work on the anxiety.

But if the biggest problem with social phobia is asking someone for help, then the biggest problem with having an avoidant personality is doing something to get help. Is it just me, or do I have to have the most heartbreakingly ironic conditions?

I feel like I'd be better suited learning how to get a job without talking to a single person, learning how to succeed without any motivation, learning how to get much from very little effort. Why do I have to be a certain way to get by? And why does my mind insist on me being a certain way when it's clear that I'm not that way? In a different world, in a different universe, among a different society, I would be a model citizen, exactly the way I am. Why can't I be in that world?

On a completely un-related note, while I was showering much earlier today, I thought about death in a way I haven't thought in a long time. Like, you can think about death and what it is and what it means, but how often do you actually think about it from that specific perspective where you can truly understand death? Like, when I think about the meaning of non-existence, after everything I've ever known has been existence. Even now, I can think about the words and the concepts, but I don't feel it like I felt it earlier. It's a very profound, and very unsettling feeling. I think I used to have that feeling more often when I was younger. Also when thinking about, again from a specifically deep perspective, about the very idea of a limit to space or time. I can't even force myself into that frame of mind, but it's profound. Eh, this really isn't the kind of thing that can be conveyed in words. Everybody's probably felt it one time or another, though.

Journal 007

There have been times in my life where I've considered the value of writing a diary. Having the ability to look back in detail at the things that were happening to me on any given day in the past, and the thoughts that were running through my mind, is interesting, if not all that practical. However, I never had the discipline to force myself to write about my day regularly, as it's always seemed like a redundant effort. Still, with my dedication to this blog, it seems I now have a sufficient excuse (even if it's not daily).

Friday was another Open Stage night at the den. It was relatively uncrowded - in my opinion, likely due to the bitter cold. I still get crazy nervous reactions before performing, and I don't know if it's more about going out of the house and into a crowd of people, or if it's about the performing itself, as I've gotten fairly comfortable getting up and playing at the den (although the same cannot be said about any other venues). The symptoms are more physical than psychological, I think. I have a sensitive digestive system, and my sinuses seem to want to react as well, like as if I was allergic to people or social contact or something. Even when I sit down and write for this blog, and start talking about stuff in a context where I know other people will be reading it, I start sniffing and coughing and sipping water a lot more than when I'm doing other things. It's weird. (And it is indeed happening now, as expected).

Before the Open Stage, I was thinking about my "madness" act, and I was starting to come to the conclusion that it was getting old, in my mind, and I needed to do something to make it new and interesting. I'm thinking about maybe incorporating the bow I have, but I need to practice that a bit and see if I can make it interesting. At any rate, when my time came to perform, I tried to mix my repertoire up a bit, opening it in a different way, and trying to spend more time on the quiet, ambient portions, than on the loud, erratic portions. I think it was good. At the end of it, someone in the audience asked for an explanation, and I was like (to myself) "shit, what do I say?" So I made something up about syzygy and planets lining up and cosmic energy or something, and I think they bought it.

Afterwards the Primatives & Co. had pizza again, since the Indian eatery they wanted to eat at wasn't open late enough (at least I think that's what the problem was).

Saturday, I finally watched one of the two Crossroads Guitar Festivals I got over the holidays. Some really great stuff. Joe Walsh did an awesome extended blues intro to Funk #49, which surprised and impressed me. I like his introduction to Rocky Mountain Way - "if I knew I was gonna have to play this song for the rest of my life, I would've written something else." I liked the songs that were done which had multiple guitarists, where each guitarist was given a chance to solo - which happened a lot at the festival. Like when Eric Clapton, Buddy Guy, Jimmie Vaughan, and B.B. King all took their turn on Rock Me Baby, and when each of the artists in Clapton's band soloed during a fierce and extended performance of Have You Ever Loved A Woman. Even though it's not really my scene, Steve Vai's performance was at least interesting - he's undoubtedly very talented at the instrument, but I see him more as a showman than a musician. Robert Cray's Time Makes Two was incredibly moving. I love songs that are performed like that, where the pain and sadness is palpable, and you could imagine the artist breaking down in tears just as easily as pouring out another verse or solo. Pretty much the exact opposite of Vai's act. Musically, Jonny Lang's act was alright, but the sheer effort he put into singing and playing was downright impressive. I felt like he was gonna have a stroke or something... I generally steer away from J.J. Cale's influence on Eric Clapton (Cale wrote Cocaine as well as After Midnight), because it's different from the blues material that I like to hear Eric Clapton play, but Cale's playing here was very interesting. Unique, and expressive. When James Taylor came on to do a couple songs, I was totally thinking, "this guy is such a chick musician" - like, you know how there are chick flicks? Well, James Taylor is one of the 'chick flicks' of musicians, if that makes any sense to you. Always good to see Santana play - I envy him for his wicked sustain. I don't know how he does it. It was fun to see Clapton play some Santana-esque licks in homage during the song - I think it's so interesting to hear guitarists playing in the style of other guitarists - not so much when they're stealing an artist's technique, but more as a form of musical impression. John Mayer was expectedly disappointing - I don't even know why he was involved in the festival. Even during his interview, he kept saying these weird things that made absolutely no sense at all. It's like, what? What are you talking about, and who cares? ZZ Top's closing act was pretty cool.

I started reading Living Fully With Shyness And Social Anxiety. There are different sections dedicated to different aspects of the condition. I've read the part on the body - physical symptoms. It's not as important to me as I think the part on the mind will be, since at this stage in my life, I've pretty much extracted myself from most of the situations that give me physical anxiety, and I'm more concerned with battling the psychological ideas that keep me from even going out there, into the world. It was still interesting though. Particularly the part about Shy Bladder Syndrome - the condition of being unable to 'vacate' in the presence of others, for psychological, rather than physiological, reasons. I admit it's something I have trouble with at times. Using public restrooms designed for more than one person at a time is pretty stressful for me, and I try to avoid it whenever possible, sometimes to adverse effect. Especially in college, taking a leak could at times become a rather paralyzing obstacle, when the hall restroom was anything less than empty. The real trouble of it is that you go in there, and if you could get it out right away, then that would be great. But the longer you wait for it to come out, the longer you've been in there, and the more concerned you get at people wondering what you've been doing in there, and then the anxiety kicks in at full power, and you want to hide and pretend like you're not even there - there's no chance for you to either do your business *or* leave. And then you end up waiting, sometimes quite a long time, until you have the privacy necessary to settle your affair.

I find that general situation is a problem with a lot of things - the idea of waiting until the moment's ripe, but the longer you wait, the more awkward it would be to act, and since you weren't prepared to act in the first place, you can't do it now, and then time just goes on and on and it gets worse and worse until you completely avoid what needs to be done. Like answering emails. Sometimes I'll get an email, and I'll be concerned about what to say and how it will be received, so I wait and think about it. And then the longer I postpone sending the reply, the more awkward it would be to send the reply that late. Arg. It happens with all kinds of things. Like telling someone about something. Like telling my dad about Burning Man, that's probably gonna turn out the same way. I'm afraid to tell him about it because I don't know what his reaction will be, and I'm afraid it will be less than 100% positive, which scares me - and even if it's like 90% positive, I'm still too scared about that 10%. So I wait for a good time to drop the issue, and it never comes, and the closer the event gets, the more worried I get about the added stress of mentioning it when it's so close, and the possible flak I'd get for not mentioning it earlier...and it's a vicious cycle of fear and anxiety and avoidance and it just doesn't have a positive outcome. So the best solution - and I can tell myself this, but it doesn't always mean that I can accomplish it - is to take care of these things right away. Cause none of the flak or negative reaction or any of that really matters - if it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen - and the important thing is to get the deed done. The only purpose the fear serves is to prevent the deed from getting done, and once it's done, the fear is pointless. So the best way to get rid of the fear is to just do it. Don't think and don't worry; just do. But obviously that's easier said than done. If I didn't have a problem just doing it in the first place, then I wouldn't have a problem.

In the book, the author talks about what it takes for different people to overcome their struggles. For some people, all the information in the book won't be enough, and for others, just a single point of knowledge is enough to change their whole perspective. Well, after having read that, I'm surprised that I myself have been rather blown away by one minor little detail, that has changed my perspective at least a little bit. It's probably not everything, but it could at least be something. Anyhow, the detail was as follows. Having social anxiety means being overly sensitive to one's reception by other people. You get nervous over the smallest, unimportant details, thinking that the tiniest thing will cause a person to dislike you - and that's the worst possible outcome imaginable. But if you look at the coin from the other side, you see that this sensitivity to people's reactions can be considered a positive trait. You're nervous because you *want* to please people. So why is that a bad thing? Well, it's obviously a problem, but that's because you're making it out to be a problem. But it can also be an advantage, if you look at it from a positive perspective. If I'm nervous about meeting someone for the first time, I can let my anxiety at being accepted cripple me, or I can let my knowledge that I'm only nervous because I want to be accepted allow me to make a conscious effort at being accepted. And instead of using all that energy to monitor my own actions, and to worry about how other people might perceive them, I can use that energy to determine other people's moods, and then react to them to try and make other people feel more comfortable. I almost feel like it's a superpower, which can easily become a burden dragging me down, but if I learn how to use it properly, it could become an invaluable asset allowing me to help people, as well as myself. I think that's an amazing epiphany, and while I still have a long way to go in changing my life, I think it's an important step. Even just the idea, that the book encourages, that being shy is not something to be ashamed of, is empowering. I've alway been afraid to admit to people that I'm shy, despite it being obvious, because I've always looked at it as something to be ashamed of, something that people would naturally tease you about. But it's not necessarily a bad thing. It can be just as much a good thing. It's just an aspect of my personality, of who I am, and it's only as positive or negative as I allow myself to make it. Mindless positive encouragement has never impressed me, but show me facts and reasoning that support a more positive outlook, and well, it just might work...

On Sunday, the fam went out to eat in celebration of my dad's birthday. We went to a fancy Chinese restaurant nearby. The reasoning, as I understand it, is that my dad hasn't had a good plate of General Tso's Chicken in quite a while. He, and the rest of us, I think, were pleased with our meal. I hadn't had Chinese since college, I don't think. And it inevitably reminds me of college. Ordering Chinese with my friends on the hall. Ah, good times. I had my usual - Kung Pao Chicken. It's got a kick, but it's never been too spicy for me to handle (I'd say I'm a middle-weight on the scale of spice-lovers - if light-weights can't handle spice, and heavy-weights love the extremes). The only downside to Kung Pao is that it's one of the dishes with the higher veggie content. But I guess forcing myself to eat the veggies, which aren't too bad, is good for me, and it's worth it to get to the chicken. I also had some delicious wonton soup, and even more delicious pot stickers. A good Chinese meal like that has got to go up near the top of my list of best meals ever. I wish I could find a 24 hour Chinese buffet somewhere in the area. I'm a little disappointed they didn't provide chopsticks (though nobody asked), though it seemed like they might have been a bit too fancy for chopsticks (if that makes any sense). If it wasn't easier to just grab a fork out of the kitchen drawer, I'd definitely want to eat with chopsticks more often in general, no matter what kind of meals. Chopsticks are cool.

I read an article a while back about the changing music industry, and how albums are mixed differently today than they were decades ago - particularly, that they have less dynamic range and are louder overall (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loudness_war). It's something I noticed when I got Silvertide's album Show & Tell years ago - it's mixed much louder than the average CD I have (considering that my collection consists mostly of albums from the 60's and 70's - although I've heard that some newer remasters or greatest hits collections are also victims of this 'louder is better' policy). But especially now, listening to most of my collection on a shuffled playlist, the difference between the modern and classic albums is striking. Earlier, I had to turn the volume up a bit to hear Jefferson Airplane's Comin' Back To Me - a mellow, acoustic piece - and then after the song, a track from the Stones new album A Bigger Bang came on and it was freaking loud! All the other modern albums I have are loud, too - including Aerosmith's Honkin' On Bobo, Johnny Winter's I'm A Bluesman, and American Minor, in addition to the ones listed above. It wouldn't bother me so much if the volume level was consistent, but the sudden switch from quiet to loud can be rather jarring at times.

My friend linked me to The RPM Challenge (http://www.rpmchallenge.com/) the other day. I hadn't heard of it, but apparently it's a general challenge to musicians to record an album during the shortest month of the year (February). It just so happens that February starts in a few days. I think this would be a positive experience, considering how much I avoid recording. It should be a nice kick in the pants, to force me to produce *something*, in the form of a final version. The idea is for everything to be recorded in February, although whether or not you *write* the songs in February is up to you. That having been said, I think it's truer to the challenge if you write the stuff, or at least develop most of it, within the month. So I've been partly thinking about what I'd like to do for my album, and partly avoiding thinking about it before February. Heh. But I think I wanna do a post-rock type thing. One long track that goes for 35-45 minutes, or however long it turns out to be. I want it to be a little more structured than the improvisation I do every other week at the Open Stage, because that would kind of be cheating for the challenge. So - and this is still a preliminary possible idea - I'm thinking about improvising for at least 35-45 minutes every night once February starts up, then after a little while, starting to work out specific sections. Ultimately, it's not gonna be transcribed note for note or anything, but I wanna have a clear idea of which parts go where, and what they'll sound like in general. And then we'll see what kind of things I come up with to make it interesting along the way. As much as I like the *idea* of studio wizardry, and using multiple tracks for different instrument parts, I think ultimately I'm gonna default toward just recording a single guitar, and just getting whatever I can play, like a live-in-the-studio kind of deal. I may or may not decide to add some words. We'll see, I might even change my mind about the whole thing, but so far, that's my idea, and the closer February gets, the more of a hassle changing my mind will become - though ultimately, whatever I come up with throughout the month, I imagine will be fair game. So it should be interesting, I think, and encouraging for me.

And that brings up another issue I wanted to mention. The fact that, the most important step toward accomplishing something, is committing to it. Because if you're not committed to it, then every little doubt you have becomes a potential reason to quit and back out. But if you've already committed, then your first instinct is to overcome those doubts and problems and barriers, rather than abandoning the project. And an insecure person such as myself will probably (I'm hoping) be surprised and impressed with how much he is capable of. So, I think, in order to accomplish amazing things, I have to commit to them first, or else they'll never get done. Like Burning Man. There are so many if's involved, that if I wasn't committed, I'd spend all my time worrying about it and not preparing myself for it. But having bought my tickets and committed to it, I don't care how much trouble or effort it is, I'm gonna do everything in my power to make it happen. It's like, getting into the mindframe that it's already been determined that it's gonna happen, and the only thing you can do is prepare for it. Whereas, if you weren't committed, then you can still fall back on the possibility of it not happening. And that becomes a crutch. And then it never happens. I think that maybe this could be good advice for other people, too. The most important step toward accomplishing something is committing yourself to it. Just don't be stupid, and make sure it's something you want to accomplish in the first place. And if it is, then once you commit to it, you'll be surprised at your ability to make it happen.

You know, I often think I won't have enough to say about something to make a good blog entry out of it, then when I finally get around to sitting down and writing stuff out, it turns out I have more than enough...