So here I am again utilizing this unread blog to analyze my idiosyncrasies and avoid the cost of a therapist. In the interest of revamping and/or restarting my life (as I move on toward the ripe old age of 30...), I must take into account the state in which I live. At present, it represents my college years... a little on the messy side - unorganized, cluttered, haphazard. They say a place for everything, and everything in it's place... and frankly, that just ain't the case in my house. I hesitate to say home, as I know I will not be living at my current residence for all eternity. I don't even know if this is the state in which I will eventually settle. I don't know much of anything, really, but c'est la vie, right?

Anyway, I'm here to ruminate on the concept of clutter and why I allow it to both happen and persist. Really, it just seems to occur of its own accord, but I know for a plain and simple fact the reason: I have too much stuff with which I clutter my living space. Now why not just throw it all away? Well, I convince myself that whatever the object is that I am questioning the usefulness of will, while not presently useful, will one day be essential, so why not save future money and time and keep it around? That being said, there is not a sliver of guarantee that this will actually be the case, therefore making me cogitate on what else might keep the errant objects around.

Perhaps it is a clinging nostalgia? The item/article/object means something to me... something special... lub dub lub dub. Please... there ain't nothing special these days. But I keep holding on: to a T shirt (for which I paid too much), to a pair of shoes I might match with... something on down the line, or to that sheet of paper on which there is some information that I cannot readily recall but will be crucial at some point in the future. The future! says I! What the hell is wrong with me?! How can I be a fatalist if I am so worried about the future? I mean... that's a friggin' contradiction in itself! I shouldn't be worried about any of this crap... or is that a cure to my fatalism? Am I not a fatalist after all? Hmmm...

Well, that cannot be the case... seeing as how the opposite of a fatalist (I think) is an existentialist. Well, sort of, anyway... in that I want to rid myself of this wretched predeterminism that seems to keep me from doing life. Yes. Right? Sure.

Purge.... that's the answer. I need to buckle down and get rid of the shit that is causing me grief. Get rid of it. Don't throw away... there are other who could use it. Other people who actually need it. Shoes and clothing, especially! I must do this soon. I WILL do it soon. Today, tomorrow, and the next day. Prepare to purge. And then purge.

And enjoy the space in which you can - and will - live.

So I feel my resolve to quit facebook on the 31st waning... and for the silliest of reasons. I keep thinking about how much "work" it will be to keep it from me. I mean... there's the iPhone app to delete, and the link on my homepage, and the website to ignore at work? Well, it's BLOCKED at work, so heck, work will be the best place to ignore it once the app is deleted... but all in all, I just keep thinking of the peskiness of escape. BUT! That in turn should bolster my resolve! I mean, hell... it's gripped me so tightly.

I know I need to do this... even if I think it will be okay if I don't or if I step down incrementally. I do however feel that I will not actually delete my account. I would really be in for a lot of work then, saving all my photos and whatnot. Besides, I was reminded recently (by the anecdote of a friend) regarding the "healing" of someone in Alcoholics Anonymous: they must learn to deal with existing in a world where temptation exists; simply because they are trying to shit-can the sauce doesn't mean where they live will simply hide it from their view. A truly recovering alcoholic must learn to stare it right in the face and know that any desire they feel to partake - any sliver of "need" - can be fought and conquered with the allowance of something more constructive... something to better one's self. I suddenly feel it might be worth going to their website and seeing what some of these things are... see if perhaps I might be able to use them in my quest to fight off facebook.

Heh, the facebook movie is coming out soon... "When you have 500 Million friends, you're bound to make a couple of enemies"... I love it. So much is being "discovered" about facebook - it's a subject of freakin' research... which in turn makes me a subject of research. A faceless subject... HA! How ironic is that? Wait, is that irony? YES! It is irony! "The use of words describing something other than their actual intention"... I am a faceless subject of the study of facebook... irony... marke ye it downe. But in all seriousness, they release these undoubtedly interesting facts regarding facebook, and I am curious just what they are expecting us to say in reaction. For example, they state that were facebook a country, it would be the third largest in the world behind China and India... heh: China, India, facebook... nice. Is that supposed to instill some sort of pride? HA! Patriotism, even? I pledge alliegence to the page, that is my personal opiate.... fantastic.

I need to get away. I heard on NPR the other day (in a segment which is part of the only thing I can stand to listen to anymore... a book review) an interview with a man named Alvin Tofler and his wife who co-wrote a book in the seventies called Future Shock. "Future Shock" I then learned was the shattering, overwhelming stress that befalls a society (or a person) at the alarming rate of technological expansion that promises to occur at any given moment... or now, as the case may be. While natural cases of future shock may very well just be heightened stress, Tofler and co. seem to think it may very well extend itself into insanity. Exciting, eh? Exciting enough to be made into a documentary style film narrated by ORSON WELLS... oooOOoooo...

I couldn't help but find myself affected by the piece... and I now want to read the book. But then again, do I really want to read the book? I mean... it was written for a 1970s audience, so will I absorb it the same way? And on top of that, will this book allay or compound my fatalism? It seems to have helped the author and his wife... they are in their 80s, living in California in a mid-century modern house... my dream... but will the book have the same affect on the reader?

Facebook appears to be the catalyst for my future shock... who knew, eh? I DID. Or do. Or whatever. The point is that I must keep renewing my resolve to find my middle way... my medium path towards balance in a future which I cannot see. And to do that, I must be able to focus... and lets face it: facebook doesn't really allow for a whole lotta that.

Textually Abusive

HA! You like that title? SOOOOOO original, don't you think? Yeah...

Anyway, it is a topic which has plagued my mind a little, as of late, and I feel that I need to doodle around it so that I might understand not only my resultant frustration but also how I might in turn deal with it in a face-to-face setting. I know that my words tend to be a tad jumbled when put on the spot... improvisation was never my forte. Therefore, why not plan out my grievance... no... no, that's far too dramatic a word. My response. Yes. Response.

I know this gentleman... well, not really "know"; he added me on FACEBOOK, and of course, this means that we are bosom buddies (a-ga-duh). He seems a decent fellow and I hate to kill him, and I seem a decent fellow, and I hate to d-... wait, wait, no; he seems a decent fellow and a wonderful, upstanding citizen* - graduate of SMU, teaches music, a very artistic guy. But he also seems to have a rather jagged edge to him; he loves - LOVES - to text. At all times of the day and night. He has the Sprint Evo phone, and apparently, he is able to talk and the phone understands him, thus negating the need for fingers to text.

And so he prefers texting to actual vocal communication. It suddenly seems to me then that perhaps it is a power/control thing: that he is able to do 100% of the talking and not feel obligated to actually listen to anything that the other person "says" (or rather types), basically allowing him to read whatever he wants into the texts he receives back. This leaves him quite vulnerable to one of my least favorite aspects of e-communication: lack of inflection. People do not realize (or at least far too many people tend to ignore) how important vocal inflection is when it comes to interpersonal communication. And seeing as how this guy thinks we are moments away from marriage, this makes our relationship all but insufferable.

The man sounds like such a nice, somewhat shy guy when we actually do converse on the phone, but a different facet comes to light when he texts me. He becomes rather haughty and attention starved... I guess kind of like my very own facet somewhat of the same lustre that I have learned to control. He assumes that I am ready and willing to agree with anything and everything he says, and being a teacher with summers off, he seems (please note I say 'seems' because heaven forbid he should explain himself) to become almost incredulous that I am unable to go on a date with him in BFE where he lives at the drop of a hat. I feel as though he may have been a rather privileged child... and perhaps might still be - one who has never really known want without fulfillment. I mean, heaven forbid that I actually do things in my life outside of my day job - my DAY job, which he has, but from which he is presently on summer hiatus - which I find more important. Selfish? Perhaps... but not in the slightest bit uncommon.

I think he feels he's charming, and that I am just head over heels for him and am merely playing hard to get. That being said, I do not find his character at all palatable and in all honest I am quite afraid of what inner demons this text persona is meant to keep covered. I fear that this "relationship" could go nowhere but down from any statement of exclusivity and thus I must bolster myself for the moment when I will need to merely tell him to stop.

My heavens I'm a picky bitch... but I was a child of the GHW Bush Era: "ME, ME, ME!" ... I was taught to think I was worth it.

Okay so I think I have figured out the meaning behind my ire whereupon I hear a specific phrase that is meant to administer (what I assume is) comfort. Why anyone would care is beyond me, but hey... I'm rocking my spiral, just like Susan (and John) said...

I guess it is misguided to call it a phrase, as I can't really narrow it down with such specificity; it comes in many a guise. But the idea is such - that all situations are never so bad as they could not be infinitely worse as demonstrated by [fill in the blank here]... and without fail, there is always some immediate example just itchin' to be used for just such a coddling admonishment. Okay, that's not fair... that I speak in such scathing terms of an act of comfort that more often than not is meant for just that: comfort. And you know, thinking on it now, I feel as though my shame for not having recognized the situation (aloud?) before it being called to my attention is what makes me lash out... but therein lies my conundrum, that I lash out. That it brings my any consternation at all is unsettling to me, but I feel it is somewhat justified...

It is my opinion that when a situation of greater severity than one's own is called to attention, it produces - initially - the desired effect of assuaging frustration... but I think that this assuagement is laced with - I personally feel - what might be contempt for the individual providing the comparison as well as the individuals involved in the situation of greater severity. Basically, we transfer the energy expended on our self pity into scorn for those who have it worse off than we do. Or at least that kind of feels how I react... and frankly, I am ashamed of this. It's a cruel thought, and I would do well to not say this when met with just such a situation as mention before.

Is it necessary to compare? I mean... we are alone in this world - we are utterly alone. The world exists because we open our eyes to see it, and a trillion different worlds exist because of each of a trillion sets of eyes. Therefore, is it really a good idea to compare? One might say that it is simply because it puts our insignificance in perspective... and it does, but then one must take into account the general self-centeredness and egoism that is the human way. And suddenly, it might be safe to venture that we as singular human beings would not look at it as a verification of our own insignificance but rather that of others, whether actual or imagined. And that's no bueno.

But then why not just be an egoist all one's self? Does that justify it? Nope... not in the slightest. And that's where awareness comes in... we have to realize our insignificance and accept that it is not such a negative thing. As the Buddhist saying goes, "you are already complete. You just do not realize it", whereupon one might then hear "when you do something, burn yourself completely"... we are not here to amass, we are here to disintegrate. Whoa... we are here to disintegrate.

Okay, I am spiraling... again... out of control. Well, no, that's not true; I have 'total control'. Or rather everything is stagnating, but kind of like a centrifuge which is in fact constantly moving but in one direction and to nowhere in particular. I have too much on my plate, and the world is not in my corner. Not that I can expect them to be, mind you, but the resultant situation does seem to put a damper on the prospects of my goals and aspirations...

I am in the show at Ohlook, [title of show]... FABULOUS. I love it, and I love my cast... they are amazing people. Some of the finer people I know at the moment. Unfortunately, the time I get to spend with them is marred by the fact that I spend every other waking moment (basically) at my day job. At that place. With those people. And it is, I feel, killing me softly.

Susan Blackwell - famed fellow "day-jobber" from [tos] - says (as I was reminded by my good friend John, that upon creative stagnation, one must keep doing something... anything... even if it is, in fact, a spiral doodle on the page one which you are writing. And suddenly I see the grand metaphor for the "page" and the potential "doodles" one may "write" thereon... huh...

Anyway, I stated (on facebook goddamnit) that I was spiraling, or trying hard not to or whatever... and in accordance with Susan Blackwell's words, John reminded me that I must, in turn, "rock it". One must "Rock the spiral" to keep going, keep all of it moving until you can pick back up where you left off. And it makes perfect sense... COMPLETE sense. Keep the mind moving, as the hardest part is just "starting".

"Just start. That's all you have to worry about. Starting. Get away from your computer, grab a notepad and a pencil and just write. Anything you want. Play. Doodle. Whatever. Okay?" says the character which I portray in the show when he talks to his best friend regarding creative inspiration and the set-backs thereof. Man, I wish I were a writer. That'd be amazing. But then again, I am quite the fatalist, as of late, and feel that nothing I have to say is of any great (or marketable) import. THAT BEING SAID... that is quite alright. And who knows? Perhaps the creative spark that triggers the ability to formulate quality thoughts into recognizable and universally understandable patterns will happen when least I expect it... wouldn't it be loverly...

Anyway, I am feeling a tad better as I sit here wasting time eating my bread-and-milk (thank you, Nigella Lawson! Although my bread is lo-cal and my "milk" is Almond Milk... go figure)... my head hurts however... and feels a tad dizzy. I felt this way last night at rehearsal and chalked it up to the heat and the ridiculous amount of "spinning" required in our choreography. I'm sure it looks fabulous, but at present, I kind of suck too much to get it right on the first night...

Here's hoping we have a show on Thursday... and that's not because I doubt we will have it ready as much as it is I doubt the marketing put into the show itself. Whoa... bitchy, Marshall. Pull it back. Anyway... all the same... here's hoping.

Okay, so I feel I have a better grasp on the whole "anti-facebook" sentiment I have felt as of late... I deliberated on this the other night as I felt my drive to break myself away wane - a sure sign of addiction, don't you think? I mean, it's bad enough I don't just walk away and leave it, cold turkey... but that I was thinking of extending my deadline for exeunt just helps me solidify my theory.

That being said, it is just a theory... but a well supported one - if there are scientific studies on being addicted to porn, surely one can be addicted to all things electronic... I mean, hell, look at Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? ... the incessant need to dominate over life... or something like it.

Anyway, what snapped me out of it, really, was the Wikipedia article on Jean-Paul Sartre's (famed French philosopher of the existentialist tract) On Being and Nothingness: An Essay on Phenomenological Ontology, or rather the study of being. Heavy stuff which is WAY above my head... but reading just the article made me want to start reading Sartre. I mean, not just this one book, but perhaps some of his plays as well; No Exit or Huis Clos as it was called in French sounds quite interesting... rather anti-fatalist as it discusses people "existing" eternally in hell, but hey, there you go. I know that it will take me forever, as that is just how I roll, but I feel that his existentialism would help me balance the encroaching fatalism I feel inside... whoa...

Anyway, this totally relates to the whole facebook thing... how? Well I'll tell you how; the idea behind this opus gripped me from the very description of the introduction in which the subjects of being in itself versus being for itself are portrayed as rather oppositional; "in" implies a lack of consciousness that, in our limited capacity, can only be approximated, and "for" implies that consciousness of something for the validation of the self comes into play. Blows... my... mind.

The first chapter is basically a page from the book of any one's life, whether or not they choose to recognize it, and practically verifies my theory that the road to "happiness" (or at least a path of little resistance) is one most certainly NOT paved in expectation; the Origin of Negation comes from the disappointment or resentment we feel when something expected does not come to pass, or the negation of expectation, at which point Sartre states "it is evident that non-being always appears within the limits of human expectation". From there, he describes the existence of "bad faith", or rather this expectation that we are all generally something that we are not. Now, this sounds initially rather pessimistic, but reading on (in the article, mind you) changed my opinion.

Sartre implies that one can escape bad faith by recognizing that the actual self and the projected self are not the same thing, and that basically, in that you are an existent being, you are not "no thing", you are anything. Anything at all... through effort of course, but abounding in endless possibilities and whatnot. We must realize we are beings who exist and not just some social position or aspect. He qualifies this, though, by saying that the "authentic" being is one who balances the existence, the bad faith in various conditions we must take on, and the nothingness in between. Like... whoa...

Facebook, yes, right... facebook is a condition on which I have taken willingly that I cannot shake. I am not my facebook. My facebook - in a perfect world - should be me, but it is not. I am my own being, endlessly capable, and not defined by online critiques of my e-personality. Therefore, it is my personal theory that the resultant no-thingness that exists between who I actually am and what my facebook portrays me to be (in all its "electric sheep" glory) is the barrier I must pass through (or perhaps through which I must return) in order to be more personally actualized.

Why am I making such a big, (poorly) philosophical fuss about something as trivial as a facebook page? Because I know what it is like to be addicted to something that is only harmless on the surface... addicted the candy from the wolf in sheep's clothing... addicted to routines that are endlessly self-destructive regardless of how we justify them; they may be harmless to the condition which consumes us, but they are poison (POISON!) to the existent being.

It is in this spirit that my faith in my decision to drop facebook is reaffirmed and renewed. July 31st, 11:59 AM... die, vampire... die...