Cultural Phenomenon

So I've had some ideas loosely floating around in my head for, oh, a decade, maybe 15 years or so. This seems to be a good place for me to loose my frustrations, so I thought I'd try to consolidate these floaters. A lot of this may seem horrendously obvious, but I feel that writing it down helps me to make sense of things a bit better, if sense is possible. Here goes nothin'.

I think Christianity, consumerism and corporate media together play a heavy hand in the creation of our culture as a whole. Likely the heaviest by far. I have been vexed and often appalled by blatant displays of a complete and utter lack of personal responsibility by those around me. The daily conflicts of driving in traffic, trying to find parking spots, grading student papers, etc. act as a constant reminder. This is a theme I have touched upon in various other blog entries, but I am trying to consolidate them here.

My students can't think critically. They don't know how to analyze anything. A text, a photo, a T-shirt or bumper sticker. Nothing. Of course some of them can - likely products of both good nature and nurture. With most, however, I feel that I'm beating my head against a wall. Their theses are broad and unargumentative. They summarize and generalize. They dance across the surface seemingly unaware that there exists a vital and amazing depth waiting to be pursued. For some it's sheer laziness. For others it's sheer ignorance. My question is how one achieves the age of 18, 19 or 20 never having analyzed anything, critically thought about a thing in their entire lives such that they don't even know how to begin. I can show them examples, good and bad. I can give them the definition of "analysis". I can walk through an example analysis with them. I can answer the same question 17 times in 17 different ways and yet some of their final papers look little different than their first. I believe that this is because, for 18, 19, 20 years they have been indoctrinated to tape their own eyes shut, plug their own ears and open their gaping mouths ready for whatever the spoon may bring. Christianity teaches them to do this. Television teaches them to do this. Nearly everything they see and hear teaches them to do this. And since Mommy and Daddy are letting Elmo raise their children, no one is teaching them anything different. By the time I get them, their brains are mush and it's my job to reconnect the neurons?! Right.

Aside from poor performances, these same students expect to receive good grades. I tell them to analyze and they summarize. I tell them to be specific and they generalize. I tell them to create an argument and they skirt any real subject altogether. Yet when they get a D in the class, it's my fault. When they fail to complete half of the coursework thereby failing the class, it's my fault. I lack "compassion". How dare I? Their work is apparently anyone's responsibility but their own. It's Mommy and Daddy's responsibility. It's mine. It's the university's. God forbid they be held accountable for their lives.

When I get on the highway, there's a guy driving 45 mph in the left lane. To get around him, another guy goes 20 mph over the speed limit weaving in and out of traffic having apparently forgotten that he has a turn signal while throwing Styrofoam Sonic cups out his truck window. He owns this bitch. We're all his minions. The slowy in the left lane also owns this bitch. But he doesn't know about any minions. When Mr. Weavy ends up parking somewhere, he parks in 2 spots simultaneously at the very front of the parking lot. He doesn't want to walk too far. That would take effort. But he also doesn't want anyone scratching his ride. He also owns this parking lot.

When the U.S. Military Industrial Complex decides they need something another nation has (its lunch money, you know, whatever), they act just like Mr. Weavy on the highway. Throwing their dicks around the planet like they own this bitch - destroying the natural environment, destroying entire cities and nations, displacing peoples, destroying lives. The citizens at home, my students who never acquired critical thinking skills, support this activity entirely. After all, it's all done in the name of Freedom - a word people love to use yet never analyze.

So what is the foundation of this cultural trend - this live and let die, walking around in a me-bubble oblivion, it's anyone's fault but mine cultural phenomenon? I believe it is a combination of an economic system that intentionally sustains such attitudes utilizing a 2000-year-old religion that conveniently lends itself to the same attitudes. When the humans who comprise this culture accomplish something, "God" did it. A student of mine recently wrote that her 11-year-old self somehow managing to operate a tractor was the work of "God". I say way to go 11-year-old you! This little human figures out how to operate a complicated piece of machinery (designed and manufactured by humans)...and God did it. How's that for a pat on the back? On the flipside, when these same humans fuck up their lives, they are told to remedy the mess my "giving their pain and suffering to God". How about looking in the mirror, owning your mistakes and remedying them yourself? God didn't fuck up your life, and God's not going to clean up your mess. But I'm sure if these people somehow scramble their way out of their respective shit holes, they'll be thanking God.

Consumerist agendas function in much the same way. The goblins in "Goblin Market" say "Come buy, come buy, come buy." Indulge now, pay later. That two-week-old PC's a dinosaur! That blouse is sooo 2009. Gorge yourself on the smorgasbord of wealth we have acquired by the broken backs of the rest of the world and don't even begin to imagine the consequences. There are no consequences with guns like these.

All of these underlying, unanalyzed, spoon-fed and deeply ingrained attitudes stem from the very building blocks of our culture: our economy and our religion. These basic infrastructures are so enmeshed in our mentality that it is nearly impossible for most people to even recognize them let alone alter or abandon them. Until we disentangle ourselves from this web and are able to witness it for what it is, nothing will change. Needless to say, I doubt much of anything ever will. I'm not even sure how I intend to disentangle myself despite my ability see and analyze the problem. I could become an executor. No. I could tune in, turn on and drop out. No. That obviously didn't work. I suppose all I can do now is look to those I admire as particles of harmony in a mess of individualistic bumper-cars for the clarity and wisdom to rise above the tumult.

Most Significant Dreams

Disclaimer: Please excuse the rampant self-involvement of the following post. It is more a record for myself than for others. Nonetheless, if it inspires others to pay attention to and analyze their dreams, it has done its job. I cannot emphasize enough how beneficial dream awareness can be...or at least it has been for me.

1. Age 6, 1988:

I am in the gameroom my family recently converted from what used to be the garage of my childhood home. I am tied to a chair being held captive by a road-runner. This is not the cartoon road-runner, but a real road-runner. However, it is very vibrantly colored – all of the colors of the rainbow. Though it is understood in the dream that the road-runner is the one holding me captive, the road-runner itself sits inside a cage that is attached to the wall. Eventually, I free myself from my restraints and walk toward the sliding-glass door to look out into the backyard. My parents are outside doing yard work. I see my father put his index finger to the tip of his nose, and when he pulls his finger away, the tip of his nose detaches from the rest of his nose and remains attached to his index finger. I freak out, run outside and tell my mother what I saw: “Dad took his nose off!” My mother turns to my father and says, “Hon, could you not take your nose off in front of the kids; they can’t do it yet.” I’m horrified to learn that I am of a breed of monsters. I awake and run into my parents’ room, wake my mother and tell her my dream, possibly crying, definitely freaking out.

2. Age 19 or 20 (same age in the dream), 2001-02:

I am on the deck outside and in the back of the house in which I grew up (the same one as above). There is a dirty, white curtain hanging from the sky. It is tattered and torn up. To the left is a palm plant (like the ones that grew downstairs under the deck) potted, but dried up, brown and dying. A strong wind picks up and blows through the torn curtain and the dried leaves of the palm plant. It is God speaking to me. Surprisingly, considering I do not believe in “God”, or at least the standard American conception of “God”, I become overwhelmed with emotion. I gasp and cannot breathe as if someone has punched me in the stomach, and I begin to tear up. I awaken and am frustrated that I cannot remember what God said to me, then later realize that what was said was not said in English or any human language that can be understood verbally.

3. Age 19 or 20 (same age in the dream), 2001-02:

This dream, I believe, occurred after the one just above, but I am not sure. They occurred, I believe, within about 6 months of each other; a year at the most. I am lying on the ground just in front of the garage behind the house in which I grew up (same house). This is the garage built to replace the one which was converted into a gameroom. I am wrapped in a white curtain hanging from the sky. It is long and wrapped around my body several times, with my arms down at my sides. I am wrapped as a corpse is wrapped for illegal disposal. There is a serial rapist and murderer prowling the neighborhood. I do not see him, but I know that he is inside my house. He is going to rape and kill my mother and sister and when he is done, he is going to come after me. I feel completely helpless and terrified. I want desperately to help my mother and sister and to save myself, but I can do nothing but lie immobile wrapped in the curtain.

Looking up “curtains” in a dream dictionary, I found that curtains represent hiding or protection. This seems obvious. It was only after discovering this and interpreting the second of the adult dreams that I understood what God had said to me in the first of the adult dreams. Thus, a running theme through all of these dreams is captivity or immobilization. My natural inclination is to protect myself, my vulnerability and sensitivity (via curtains), but that protection is what immobilizes me and keeps me from progressing and functioning successfully in life. The first dream (childhood) indicates the reason I feel the need to protect myself. I fear that I am a monstrosity and want to “hide” that from others; protect myself from being judged or treated harshly because of it. I’ve carried this initial fear throughout my life which results in dreams set in my childhood home. The first of the adult dreams, however, presents the curtain as tattered and torn. What God says to me, therefore, is that only after I destroy such curtains will I be able to function to the best of my ability and live freely.

*In the childhood dream, the road-runner is held captive while holding me captive. The road-runner is a representation of myself. This is not wholly negative. The road-runner is vibrantly colorful, which is why it must be caged. But it cages itself as it binds me. It is entirely within the road-runner’s ability to free itself; to perceive its vibrancy not as flaw but as a strength.

Addendum to "Gaming"

I feel kind of dirty about the last post, so I thought I'd attach, or provide rather, an addendum. My mother, a woman I admire greatly, gave me a pretty sound piece of advice. She said, no matter what the situation, be kind to everyone. Even if you disagree with the person. Even if you feel hurt or disrespected. Do what's right/best for you...you don't have to bow down to the interests of others, but always be kind.

I like this. I like the word kind. It means so much more than the word "nice" or "polite" or even "friendly". Kindness is a manifestation of the soul. There is truth and sincerity in it. I think that this is what Gandhi meant when he said you have to be the change you want to see in the world. You've got to have conviction, to stand up for yourself and your cause, but part of that cause, I believe, should always be to imbue the world around you with love and compassion.

I am not saying that I am a master of this - or even good at it a lot of the time, but when everything else is stripped away, this balancing act, this spiritual ecosystem remains. If I fight fire with fire, if I allow those who wish to tear me down to succeed, I am forfeiting my opportunity to maintain this delicate equilibrium. The scale is tipped on the side of aggression and intimidation. If, however, I choose to react with compassion, equilibrium is reestablished.

I'm not saying that I'm all that important on a cosmic scale, but then we are all a part of it. You know, "Do not ask for whom the bell tolls..."

In conclusion, always remember that it's always funny to hug a grumpy person...and it's good for your karma too!

P.S. Great quote from the Dalai Lama concerning his generous attitude toward Chinese soldiers in Tibet: They've taken everything from us; should we allow them to take our minds too?

Gaming

Paris Hilton once said, "Tell others what they want to hear, then do whatever you want." Excellent advice really. I keep forgetting that much of life, especially regarding social interactions, is a game. I'm not sure why this is the case. I hate playing games. I have been known to play games by accident - games like the ever-popular "passive aggression". I'm not proud of this. I'm not sure if people are conscious of the games they play. It seems that, to some extent, they must be. I personally prefer to be as honest and straightforward as possible. It cuts out a lot of bullshit. I'm the type of person who will show up at your garden party solely to discuss politics, religion and human sexuality. Fuck the weather and I don't know anything about the Dodgers. Why the hell would I be talking to someone if I didn't want to get to know him? I want to know what you think God is and what your deepest fears are. Only then do I know I can trust you.

But, as I've always said, I think I'm probably an alien. Most humans like garden parties and games. Several of the blog posts I've made discuss academic departmental politics. This shit's been plaguing me lately for various reasons...I think mainly due to a departmental split that I and few others are straddling. But departmental politics, like all politics, is a game. Politics is the game of all games. All of the words that go along with it - bureaucracy, diplomacy - connote this. This is something that may be obvious to many, but I'm just awkward enough to have missed it. Or forgotten it. I have a difficult time being insincere. It makes me feel dirty. But the fact is, when the situation one finds oneself in is set up, inherently, as a game...all one can do is play the game. All players are insincere. All actions are moves on a gameboard. Dr. Smeld is playing the game. Dr. Scalejake is playing the game. Dr. Graspawoman is playing the game. Even Haj and Scott are playing the game.

The only way I can function in a disagreeable sociopolitical environment (one in which leaving is not an option) is to discover others' interests, pretend that my interests coincide with theirs to create the pleasantest of possible rapports and then, when they're not looking, act in what I believe to be everyone's best interest.

I have a tendency to internalize things, but some things eat away at our souls. Games are intended to be superficial. That is why global politics becomes so dangerous. When we start gambling with people's lives, superficiality flies out the window (unless you're a Republican :)). Fortunately, at this point I'm only dealing with departmental politics. And if Smeld, Scalejake and Graspawoman aren't taking the B.S. home with them, then neither will I.

Quotes from Scottland

"If you plug your ears, close your eyes and run away, you're gonna run into something!"

"I've got your monogamy right here!"
-Percy to Mary Shelley

"Lizzie: Don't tell me you partook of the fruit!
Laura: Well, not really..."
-Goblin Market interpretation

"Top Gun, the horrible Tom Cruise film,..."
-typical relative clausery

"Dr. Who's dealing with the plague and, you know, what are you gonna do?"

"Ever get a fishhook stuck in your skin? There are a number of ways to get it out, and none of them is a good way."

"You can demonstrate this 'pants around your ankles' thing at home."

"I believe in secular forms of redemption."

"Now I'm even more afraid of the dark than I was before!"

"I mean 'literally' in the literal sense of 'literally'."
-on people using 'literally' figuratively

"Don't you be lookin' at me!"
-on the oppressive 'gaze'

"Why would you care? It's intertextuality!"
-on plagiarism

"Whenever I've done anything illegal, that's how I feel."
-on adrenalin rushes

"You've heard of the 1960s British group?"
-on The Beatles

"It's like pushing someone off of a train just to do it....a moving train."

"That's too much fucking perspective!"

More Political Shenanigans

When I was in high school, I was embittered by a great many things. I was 17; sue me. One of those things seems to resurface as a consistent problem, I would assume because I have remained in academia. There were a number of honors students who had a 4.0 gpa, scholarships and got into excellent colleges. They were fucking idiots. Morons. I was stuck on a bus next to one such "I got a 94 on my history test! This sucks!" student who could not have prattled on about more inane bullshit if she tried. They knew how to memorize facts, statistics, dates and names. They knew how to master the standardized test circuit. They knew how to sponge information, regurgitate it on tests, then forget they ever "learned" it in the first place. They knew little else. This may be why my students can't write, can't forge a single argument, can't analyze a text. They can't think. They never learned how to think.

In graduate school, things are a little different. My fellow fellows are not morons. They're actually reasonably intelligent individuals...within a certain realm. Some of them are brilliant and have capacity far beyond said realm. Some pursue the land beyond Faulkner or Chaucer or whoever; some do not. Others don't even concern themselves with the land beyond and persecute those of us who do. I'm not saying I don't love what I do. I love reading and writing and exploring and analyzing, and I love teaching. I get a lot out of it. I get nothing, however, out of bullshit politics. The thing that those high school morons and grad school meganerds have in common is that they are essentially robots. They know how to play the system and little else. That is not to say that playing the system isn't smart. It's a great way of getting what you want, but at what cost?

I believe in balance and sanity. Being able to breathe, to step outside of the bullshit of life, to enjoy the subtle beauty that robots can't or won't see is more important to me than anything else. I don't want to bend over backwards or bleed out my eyes just to function. I don't want to spend a year on a syllabus to compete for a position that needn't be a competition, that doesn't even register as a blip on the screen of high stakes accomplishments--a position that every scholar should have the opportunity to experience. I am not denigrating those who contort themselves, but that's not me. Academia is a job for me. A career, if you will, that I love very much--the best job I've had, but it's not my whole life and I don't think it should be. If it were, I'd end up listening to nothing but opera and refusing to talk to anyone who doesn't know what "verisimilitude" or "hermeneutic" means.

For those who have their heads so far up the Foucauldian or Shakespearean or whoever rectum that they can't see the light of day: If that's for you, if you're happy, more power to you. But don't you dare imply that I don't give a shit, that I'm lazy or don't want to work just because I'd rather not sniff Foucault's shit. What if I suggested that living in a library and then excelling at academia is easy? What if I said that balancing a life, a real live life (and I don't mean 2.5 kids and a picket fence--that's more of a "package") and still excelling at academia is hard? That figuring out what to sacrifice, because handling EVERYTHING is impossible, and still getting A's isn't easy?

I'm not a robot. I don't play the system, and if that makes me a failure, so be it. I just wish that for one second those who create the system (and playing it is creating it, sustaining it) could stop being a rung in the ladder and see that it's just a ladder and there is no "there" there. Get off the goddamn ladder. There's a whole world out here.

It's amazing how the purples and reds, oranges and yellows on the trees that have turned bursts through a day so cool and gray that it looks like one of Rissa's black and white photos with a touch of color.