mourning

rest in peace benazir bhutto.

the world is a little darker, a good woman was killed.

put your finger on the button

so...


i'm so confused about everything.


somebody have the answers?

leaving for paris

i'm kind of over this break...maybe the holiday part will make it better...

What's this Democracy thing I keep hearing about?

I just finished reading a (several weeks old) article in Newsweek on China's growing middle class - largely twenty-somethings with a much bigger interest in iPods and Starbucks than in politics. It's China's "Me Generation", and as much as it scares me to admit that I too am a twenty-something, the article asked several poignant questions about the nature of Democracy and how China will interact with the west.

(Now. Let's get something straight. I am an aspiring actor, an artist. As much as I may have political opinions, I cannot make any sweeping changes at all. Never will be able to. It's just not in my cards. However, I think it's important for whatever reason that I know.)

The article ended with a mission statement of sorts, saying that this generation in China would be defined by whether or not they realized that democracy could be a good thing for their country. Which prompts me, the brattish child of the allegedly foremost democracy in the world to ask if it actually would be a good thing for them. What favors has democracy done for me lately?

Of course, there is the common misconception about big words like "democracy" and "communism" and thrown-around, emotionally charged terms like "freedom" and "human rights". Let's get something straight. China is a communist nation, which is an economic phrase before a political one; it means that they have a form of command economy, where the government has very direct control in things like the worth of money and the rates that can be charged in restaurants or how much people earn. China is a form of dictatorship. China is led by an oligarchy, a political elite that makes all of the major decisions on any number of topics, from foreign policy to health care to what breeds of dog are acceptable. The United States is a capitalist nation, again, an economic phrase before a political one by definition. We believe in a "free-market" approach to all things money, which is why there are so many entrepreneurs bobbing around. We are a democracy. The people vote, and the leaders they elect, the people that were chosen by the people, are the ones who lead us.

But.

We have an incredibly small pool of leaders to choose from, perhaps with reason, perhaps not. This pool is almost uniformly well-educated, and those that aren't are wealthy. We're not talking a four year college, we're talking private schools from birth, the top colleges in the nation (which are still among the top in the world), and if you didn't go to Yale for your undergrad, you went there as a graduate. Same for Harvard. The uppercrust schools with tradition, considerable resources, and loads and loads of very smart, hard working students. Sounds like a good pool to draw from as far as leaders go, no?

Except this is the same pool that gives us George Bush and John Kerry. Wow. Community College starts to look real good after those two...

We are just as much an oligarchy as China is. And that's ok. But we should start admitting it. Every country has some form of political elite. In Britain, if you did not go to "Oxbridge" (one of the top colleges at either Oxford or Cambridge) you better have vast family connections and political history to break into the real positions in politics. Except, if you have those, you went to Oxbridge. In France, the same can be said of the "Grandes Ecoles" which, forgive the spelling, are public universities that have the same standing as Oxbridge in Britain or the top-flight Ivies in the United States.

Of course, we do have plenty of people around that didn't go to these schools. A lot of the people running on both sides in the current race to the White House didn't go to one of these schools, but it doesn't matter. They all attended good colleges and got through with enough sense to have the records to go into politics. They're all fantastic politicos, and that's what matters.

There are so many things to be said about democracy and why politics is the death of it. But I think it's important to note something here.

The twenty-somethings in China, at least if those in this article are a representative group, which I have no way of knowing, are happy. The twenty-somethings in the United States, or at least those that I know and read about are a representative group, which I do have some way of judging, are not happy. And this has to do with their prospectives for the future.

The motto of one of the Chinese youths (can I call her a youth if she's 9 years older than me?) is "Work hard, play harder." Now. that's an interesting motto, and it sounds very American. At least in the sense that Americans are supposed to be industrious and hard working, which, forgive my saying, most of us are not anymore. We're smart, but we don't know how to work. The previous generation took all the struggle out of everything, and the current generation of parents is even worse at providing too much for their children. Yes, kids should get stuff, and lots of it. But they should also get an understanding that all of the "things", the creature comforts that a lot of people live for, take work to earn. We don't work hard in America, at least in the middle class. We play harder.

This isn't to say that the middle class doesn't work, not at all. But we don't have a sense of purpose in that work. We don't know why we're working. It's a Red Queen scenario, we're all running as fast as we think we can just to stay in place. That's what democracy has given us.

Meanwhile in China, there are still atrocious human-rights violations, and out in the hinterlands, people are regularly oppressed and forced to work for barely adequate pay while the government tries to shuffle them around. Guantanamo Bay and the current debate over illegal workers anyone?

Perhaps before we continue to point to other countries and cry foul, we should take a much clearer stock of what's going on in our own nation...

here's to happily ever after

so...that's it. semester done. i really have nothing left to do except pack and go home.

wow.

i'm more than halfway done with college. a college i didn't want to go to in the first place, and a college i still have very mixed feelings about. but a place i'm glad i came to.

i'm not feeling that introspective (at least not by my standards) but it just amazes me really how people just keep going.

time just keeps rollin...

it's funny all the things you pick up on lafeyette street

wow. it's been a while.

nothing overly traumatic, just the last two weeks.


i'm about to finish my last paper of the semester.









praises be.

blowing through the thick corn, the bales of hay...

so.

i donno.


it's just a little ridiculous how crazy this semester has been, and how much has happened, and how much we've all been through.

life moves too fast. i can't keep up. i can't keep moving at this break-neck pace and not actually GO anywhere. and i'm definitely not moving.

ok, emo passage coming up.

i feel like everything i get just slips through my fingers, or turns out to be nowhere near what i thought it would be. yeah, the peter thing, but before that, the matt thing, before that...i could go on, but it'd be pointless. and not just relationships. school stuff too. it's just all too much, and i feel like i can't stop. i want to take a semester off, but i don't know that i'd actually make it back, and then i'd feel like i wasted three years. i can't keep having sleepless nights because i'm trapped in my own head. i want to do crazy things just to feel alive, but i'm so scared. and no one knows, because i'm so good at the facade.


ok. now that that's partially out of my system. at least as out of my system as anything ever gets.

good news!!

-only TWO WEEKS LEFT. if i can bs and survive TWO WEEKS, then i can make it to winter break...
-cast list got posted, and i'm benedick. so apparently i am talented...or at least talented enough for a small pond.
-i got a random fifty dollar check in the mail...? go figure, it's from the alumni association. schweet.
-i got a call from the gap, and they want to hire me for the break. schweet.

and. i guess that's life. i'm really lonely lately, but i don't see any way that that is amending itself anytime soon. and school kind of sucks, but i'm almost there. and i can't stop moving, but at least that means i'm not going to sit down and give up. i'll make it. i'm a fighter.


we try. and sometimes succeed. but when we try true, even the failure is glorious.

long long road

i need a major life change soon.

i have no idea what it is.


"here's to happily ever after..."

college

definitely one of the craziest 24 hour periods in my entire life. almost an entire 24 hours awake too, 7:45 am Saturday to 6:00 am Sunday morning.

and so very very much happened.

wild horses

home is cute. glad i'll be back for a few days at the end of the week.

school drama is pretty high stakes right now. and how to act above the fray...*sigh*. it's hard.

quints. i don't know how well i can sing today, and i'm not one hundred percent on the charlie brown christmas. but i have a few hours to get there, lol.

oh, and i love my family.

lately my hands, they don't feel like mine

so, i've been spirit questing. i'll give a rough account, minus the guidance.

i begin, by walking on a path, and end up in my front lawn on a sunny day. no one is around. the tree that got cut down when i left for school is still there, but my tree has been moved. i start to explore the hole with my old tree, but it yields nothing. so i move to the squirrel's home in the tree that has been cut down. i start to move down it. i can hear the squirrels scratching at me, not in an unfriendly way, just in an investigative way. i move further down, and i can hear them chatter up above. as i move down the trunk of the tree, almost-man joins me, and asks me, without words, if he is on the map, if i've seen him on the map. i have no answer, and so i press forward. he is almost man, gangly, and long, with a bushy face, but with spectacles. he is no one i've seen before, but is everyone. i continue to ignore, and finally, gloriously...
almost-man is gone, but i don't notice. i'm atop a cliff. i can see farther than forever, past all the space the world can hold and a million times more. everything is to greater scale, and more realistic than before. at the same time i am so accutely aware of my own body, and the physical sensations i am feeling. i begin to scale the smooth, gray face of the cliff. halfway down, i see a little bird to my left. he quickly flutters to my right. annoying little thing, with a large, crushing beak, and orange and green feathers. he hops and flits, and won't leave me alone. he follows me to the bottom...
at the bottom of the cliffs lies a river. i walk along the cliffside river bank, looking for a place to cross, to get to the forest on the other side. i eventually see it up ahead, underneath a protrusion from the cliff face. it's a strip of land that i can cross the river on...
i cross the river, and i find myself face to face with a slight clearing into the forest. in the clearing sits a massive crocodile. he defies imagination. he is taller than i am when he is laying down. i know he is not the one i seek, but despite his bulk and his ancientness (or perhaps because of these things) i sense he is benevolent; immense in power as he is in body, but not ill-disposed. i move closer to him, and ask a silent question. do you know where i can find my power animal...my spirit guide...
he looks at me. he's seen me before, or one like me. i'm part of an infinite progression, after all. he raises his great head, just a slight strain on his shoulder muscles, massive as they are, and looks off into the woods. i see a path, clearer than it was before, and suddenly i can see further. the bird reappears, having been frightened by this crocodile, and we set off into the forest to see what is ahead...

i am called back.


life moves on. painfully, slowly, real in the most bizarre way possible. apollonian. structure, order, time, rules...

i try to go back. i push to hard. the tree is gone, both trees are gone, both holes into the lower world are gone...
to my left a motion, and i'm racing after a road-runner. is this the spirit world? where will we go, where did this desert come from...
to my right a motion, and i'm sitting on a tree branch, looking down at a bird's nest. i see a squirrel's hole. i dart down, quick as i can before i can be pulled away again. too soon...
i move down the hole like mud laced with sticks. there is no easy path, no progress. i search the tunnels. there seems to be no way down...
suddenly, as before, i'm atop the cliff. i climb down, find my bird and thank him. i find the path across, and thank the crocodile. i know he is father crocodile now. i thank him again, and apologize for not showing gratitude before. wordless. he knows...
i start down the forest path, and suddenly i'm back, trapped in my body. under a blanket, in a theatre, drums playing, steady, tom. tom. tom. tom tom tom tom. tom-tom-tom-tom. tom-tom-tom-tom--tomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtomtom. playing forever. i can't escape the drums. i can't move my body. i know i can't move my body, except my eyes. i'm floating, my hands are floating, my legs are floating, i'm not in myself, but i can't move my body. i can only move my eyes, and they are not to be opened.
i open my eyes.
my body snaps back, i force myself back, rushing because i know i am blind, and i know i must go back...
suddenly, all wrong, i'm back. it's my own fault, something bad will happen, i'm back when i shouldn't be, i'm not prepared, i've brought more and less with me than i should have. father crocodile tells me that i am poisoned. that this is poison, and i must fix it before i can find myself. poisoned...
i realize that i am blind, and transfixed. i hear father crocodile, sliding down the slope of the clearing, into the river, feel and hear and taste his body moving through the river water which is suddenly deep enough for his bulk. he is gone, and i don't know when i'll see him again. no time soon by seeking...
i find my body. i can move, but i cannot see. i am blind, both physically and spiritually. i've always had such good sight before...
the little bird is with me. he lands on my shoulder, and i can see again. i know that father crocodile sent me back, and trapped me, and i know that now he has let me see again. i thank him, though he is not there. i know he can hear. my bird and i begin to walk through the woods...
we see no one. there is no one. the woods are empty, because i have brought noise with me. even pleasant melodies are harsh klaxons here. no one will come...
a snake appears and is gone, off to see someone else. i cannot find it, but it clears me, brings me fully into the spirit world, though i know that world is far more than spirit. we walk down the path. the trees are tall, forming a canopy as high as most people know the sky, but lower than a lover looking down during love. my bird begins to flit away from me as we go along...
there are noises in my head. visions. a panther, a bear fighting. each other. snarling, and then the panther appears before me. he is calm, placid. did he just fight the bear, or has he fought the bear in the distant past, or is he going to fight the bear sometime in the great vast tomorrow, or is he always in eternal struggle with the bear, i do not know the answer. but he is before me, and i am enthralled. i ask him if he is the one i seek, my spirit guide, but he only answers by looking deep into my eyes. my blue meets his amber, and i push into his skin. he lets me in, lets me feel his sinews, the shoulders, the sleek edginess. some feels right, but he is not the one i seek. he is not my own guide. i ask if he knows where to find my guide. he looks dispassionately passionate. he knows. he runs, and i follow...
i follow and follow, and am in joy of following. i have been given the chance to find, to seek again. this world will not give up on me. we travel across all kinds of forest terrain, under never-ending, endlessly high trees. suddenly, a small clearing, the panther runs through, i can feel him calling me onward, and i follow with joy...
i feel pain. i stop, look around. behind me, my bird has been caught in an eagle's claws. from the sky or the trees i don't know, but an eagle, holding my bird. my bird is not in danger, but he is in pain. i can see the panther up ahead, i can see my bird behind. i know i cannot choose both, i know my bird is fine. i make a choice...
the eagle's wings are battering me, he is clawing and screeching at me, but i am holding my bird close, protecting him, and then with one blow of my open left hand, the eagle tears off for the sky. i have lost the panther...
truly dejected, i hold the bird in my hand until he is calm enough to alight on my right shoulder. he knows i am feeling pain right now, but does not know why. he seeks to comfort me, and that is some, but never enough. we walk back through the forest. suddenly, my panther...
he sits on the path, tall, upright, like the egyptian cats. i dare to hope, but as he looks at me with the same sorrow i feel from the bird, sorrow that he cannot help, fear that he may have done more harm than good, i know that he has lost the path. i ask if he can find my guide, but i know the answer, and i know it is a lost cause here and now. i sit with them, loving them, and thanking them. i stroke them both, one with each hand, try to love them all i can, and then i'm gone...
i have not been called back yet, but i am still paralyzed. i sit and breathe and i wait. the others come back. discussion is futile, no one understands really, only pieces.

it's real. and i'm a cynic, and i know it's all false, but it's true.





i don't know what to do. i am poisoned, and my actions lately prove that true. i will remedy my poison, and now i begin to suspect that father crocodile does not show me anything specific at all, but rather, vagueries. the reptilian mind is farther seeing than ours after all, and maybe this is not anything specific, but something much more far seeing. i just want to heal myself from that poison. so i'll try to fix what i know, and then proceed from there.

i'll be ok. it's all a journey, and i'm blessed to have one. blessed.

catharsis

so i got dumped.

i got over it.

i realized i wasnt over it.

now im working on it.

and i may not be ok.

not just because of being dumped. actually much more because of other things.

but i will be.

because, god damn it, i'm a fighter.

so fuck off you crazy world. just because i'm moderately more self-aware than the average bear, does not mean you can keep me from being happy.


WAR CRY!!



and so i begin again. big cycle or small, it's a new beginning.

no-pants nietszche.

too much.

will update at some point soon.

the end of america

a way to keep

first incident. kind of messy, but everyone's ok. and that's what's important.


city tomorrow!! i'm sore and achy, and everything hurts, but i'm pretty happy.

next one down the line

today was an awful day.

i woke up at 1:16 (when i had a reslife meeting at 12) to the sound of someone keying into my room. to give me shelves of course, but i was naked.

so i ran over to the office. rosemarie did not look happy. i think i'll be put on probation, which is fine, because that's what the punishment is, but i don't like it, naturally.

then i ran (late) to the alexander workshop and realized my phone was dead. so i turned it off and tried not to cry as i got more in touch with my breath. fucking breath. its so connected to emotion, i hate it.

then i left to go to the dth meeting, where i realized that i don't have credit room to take everything i want to take, and that i still have 33 or maybe 36 credits to take, not counting next semester, if i just MINOR in english. fuck me.

so then i check my phone and realize there was an emergency preparedness drill that i missed. that had my parents panicking, because the phone was off.

now i haven't showered, and i'm going to go to dinner, then an oktoberfest program for peter, then go to quints, which i don't feel prepared for (or even like i can sing, even though my voice is fine at the moment), and THEN i have a meeting with player's guild about next week, which i'm also not prepared for.

then i'm going to have to read piers plowman, eat ben and jerrys, curl up and die.

roxanne...

could have stood

so it's been awhile. life is just too freakin' busy. papers out my ass, classes, rehearsals, reports, yada yada yada.

just gotta get i done.

i went to boston last weekend. it was pretty crazy. felt like something out of a fitzgerald novel, i acted like a crazy person to an extent. thankfully i was with some people who loved me, so i may be forgiven. and i made a new friend.

i think maybe we, as human beings, need to get off the notion of friends. keep a few friends, and i know who mine would be, but we should constantly meet and spend time with new people. it's healthy. meet people you don't know, and then throw caution to the wind and attach yourself to them for a short while. party with them, discuss god with them, sit on rooftops at 4 am with them. and always come back to the people who really seem to care.

but maybe that's the influence of fitzgerald on this past weekend?


at any rate, i'm far too apollonian for that to work for long...

siege perilous

an extremely good weekend. spent a bit too much in the city, but i suppose that's what a gay-day is for. its all stuff i'll make immediate use of. excepting perhaps the hoodie, because it's too small. but not too too small. and it will be motivation to keep (read: start again) working out.

back to le morte d'arthur. then another survey paper, surprise. then heroes, then diner, then bed? ve shall see...

going to bed early, and waking up and doing some more of this damn survey paper then. fuck you plato, for making me have that existential break down yesterday...even if you were just the straw that broke the camel's back, not the load itself.

and sometimes, i just need to chill the fuck out.

once

You must've fallen from the sky
You must've shattered on the runway
you've brought so many to the light
And now you're by yourself

There comes a point in every fight
When giving up seems like the only way
When everyone one has said goodbye
And now you're on your own

If you need somewhere to fall apart
Somewhere to fall apart
The rules of cain ,the rights you've made
The owls that caw, for those to blame
The broken glass, the fool that asked
The moving arrow to stop

You must've fallen from the sky
You must've come here in the pourin' rain
You took so many through the light
And now you're on your own

If you need somewhere to fall apart
Somewhere to fall apart
The ruins of man, the bloody black
The fool that bull the prouder hag
The night the makes the rattle ack
The wolves that follow the outed man
The falling star the way we are
The vern
The rules that never ever mulitply

You must've fallen from the sky
You must've come here on the wrong way
You came among us every time
But now you're on your own

If you need somewhere to fall apart
Somewhere to fall apart
The call you seek, the basket case
The rules of thumb you have to break
The raging skull, The rag to the bull
The nails that drag in either hand
Well I will make my worker that
I know this place
I know this time

You must've fallen from the sky




funny how it feels emo when i listen to it, but reading it it's a love song. i should know better, but i don't.

a fistful of unfinished moments and not one to hold on to

something that needs repeating

my attendance is kind of dismal for two of my classes this semester. of course, it's perfect for my theatre classes, with one absence in survey and one in lighting. hmmm...interesting...

in other news...i think too much, and try to hard when i should take it easy.

hit me with a hot note

we had our first performances for quintessentials today/tonight. they went fairly well, could have been better, but so be it. it's funny how you don't really get what you are missing for performance until you actually get in front of an audience, and then it's "oh, what's that note really?" or "ok, that's why that's funny". not too bad. but i'll make sure personally to be better next time.

lots of homework tonight. and city tomorrow!! finally!

and do i disappoint you?

oh, you silly silly boy, why do you do these things to yourself?


but i'm very good right now. so it's ok.

frustration nation

i'm just really frustrated. i'm good, but at this particular moment, i'm really frustrated.


frustration.

up!

actually awake, which means i'll make it to english 1, which means i get to spend my morning discussing le morte d'arthur! hurrah!

two sense

i would just like to express:

from where i stand, the world is doing some wonderful things. we're pushing the envelope, often in areas that could use pushing.

however, we as a species need to agree on a set of guidelines for social interaction. if we're going to be rude, let's all be rude. if we're going to be polite, let's all be polite. and fuck all to ignorance, that's just not worth a damn.

me goez two kollidje

this is probably the best paper i've written ever. i got an a. and it's a hard teacher. and i'm really proud of it.


subject: nietzsche, and the apollonian vs. the dionysian.

The Birth of Tragedy is German philosopher Freidrich Nietzsche’s treatise on where in human experience art comes from. He specifically focuses on the arts of the ancient Greeks and their origins, but his comments do have broader relevance when applied to the world today. Nietzsche’s principle idea is the conflict between Apollonian and Dionysian ideals, particularly how they conflict and how they achieve duality. He contends from the very beginning that both are necessary “even as the propagation of the species depends on the duality of the sexes”. Because the nature of the two world-views conflicts on such a basic level, their mutual existence pushes its mirror to greater creation.

Nietzsche compares the two realms to the difference between dreams and intoxication. Apollonian form is the form of dream, focusing on forms within forms, and an illusory interpretation of the world as is. This may be perceived to be an obscuration of the world as is, but Apollonian constructs contend that any perception of reality is marred by the very act of perception, and so dream is a fair way to ensure that reality is still acknowledged. This is a highly individualistic way of looking at the world. Dionysian form relates to intoxication, which is not necessarily anti-individualist, but rather, pro-collectiveness. This occurs readily with chemical aid and loss of the structure of rules and inhibition. It also occurs, perhaps less frequently, in group experiences that verge on orgiastic, whether sexual, religious or of some other nature, when a collective of persons surrenders themselves to a group mind, or group consciousness.

These two forms come into conflict because of the importance placed on contemplation versus action. Apollonian form is by nature a form of contemplation and thought. There is a throughline readily visible in any art which has its basis here, which allows its perceiver to have some concept of the reason for its form; artistic license is a foreign concept here. Ballet at its purest is an Apollonian art; it seeks form as a means of expression. The forms that descend from a Dionysian tradition and inspiration would seem chaotic to those more familiar with the form of Apollo, but rather than exhibiting lack of structure, the structure is assumed. If the expression is one of pain, then pain itself becomes Dionysian, with little need for embellishment.

These two distinct modes of thought are brought on by different sets of starting circumstance. Dionysian togetherness has a primal edge to it, almost taking the form of a hive mind, and combats the failings of the individual by absorbing them into a much more energetic whole. This enhances faculties to their straining point, but degrades ability for rationality or higher thought. Conversely, Apollonian structure is born of a need to individuate. Cooperation is between individuals, based on orderly ideas of conduct and still allows for the singular to have importance. Religion is Apollonian, but worship is Dionysian; one gives a code of conduct, the other glorifies the experience of that conduct.

The world today is just as split along Dionysian and Apollonian lines as it ever was, right down to the inner workings of private life. There are certainly those that lead a much more primal existence that suggest to observers something of the Dionysian spark, and likewise, those who abide so much in form that the ideal of Apollonian structure seems to emanate from their very existence. However, those souls are few and far between. Nietzsche discusses another philosopher’s work about willfulness. There are two ways of expressing will; satisfied willing, joy, or inhibited willing, sadness. This is remarkably poignant. Society seeks to give structure, but structure invariably stifles the natural impulses of its participants. However, completely free expression in a world where structure does exist leads to ruin. The over-diagnosis of attention deficit disorders and hyperactivity disorders is a very clinical example of this conflict. Those diagnosed are not always suffering from any real disability, but rather are naturally drawn to a different side of the coin than society imagines healthy development to entail.

Apollonian and Dionysian forms both share the concept of Maya, world illusion, and it is their relationship with Maya that defines them both. Maya is the fabric of the world as we know it, how we perceive it with our human senses. The Apollonian urge seeks to contemplate Maya, to understand it and meditate on it as a reflection of any other possible world. Dionysian tendency drives past it, looking for a truer world that Maya exists to obscure. Neither side ever really succeeds in their goal, nor can they. Inevitably, there comes a point when real knowledge fails, and on this threshold Dionysian reality merges with the Apollonian.

Psychotherapy, particularly dramatherapy, gives us another way of looking at the Apollonian and Dionysian in the concept of distancing. Distancing is a measure of how an individual views the world, in extremes of overdistance or underdistance, or at an ideal state of aesthetic distance. Overdistance is a detachedness or separation from the rest of the world. This is signified by a coldly analytical view; not always detrimental, but in experiences outside of the primal, it disallows healthy interaction between people. Underdistance is an excess of empathy that paralyzes the ability to distinguish between self and others. Aesthetic distance lies in the middle, reaching out to both ends as useful and necessary, but living fully in neither. Overdistance is the Apollonian extreme, contemplation without connection, and underdistance exemplifies Dionysian nature, connection at the expense of any contemplation.

Tragedy is birthed out of the presence of both Apollo and Dionysus, and in the rare instance when they are forced into direct conflict. The anagnorisis that occurs in an Aristotelian tragedy can only occur when one side or the other is forced to recognize the presence and the value of the other. When one side is dominant, there is no tragedy, only a gradual stagnation. They cannot be eliminated however, and are shadows or mirrors of each other; each bears the seeds of the other. Out of anarchy and chaos is born order and definition, which inevitably plunges back into wild abandon. They are not good or evil, but rather are truer reflections of what humanity is, twin urges that pull in opposite directions.

To understand these concepts is the study of a lifetime, and one that very few alive even possess the faculties to begin to undertake. However, awareness of the pull is the best place to start, and this frees up any number of possible reactions. Ideally, Dionysian and Apollonian tendencies are balanced, restrained will and will released both given their place in the course of living. Perfect balance, like aesthetic distancing, allows for appreciation of both sides of the coin, but a marked refusal to be dominated by either. Ultimately, all of human experience is the Apollonian or Dionysian pull, and each goes in and out of dominance; but neither will dominate forever, because humans collectively are always both subject and object, and observed and observer, and this cannot change.

have a nice day.

making the shift to blogger.

I guess it's time for a change. My livejournal has served me faithfully for two years, and now I'm moving to blogger. So be it.

That being said. I'll be keeping that. Because I don't want to get rid of it. But the time requires change. Like shaving my head. So I'm changing.