Monday, July 23, 2012

Random side note

Holy shit, I just realized that I finished all my New Year's resolutions.
http://dasflug.blogspot.com/2012/01/be-resolute.html

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Enough.

I told myself that I wouldn't pontificate about the recent shooting in Aurora, Colorado. I told myself that I wouldn't stoop to the level of so many self-important, pompous, pedantic chatterboxes that seem so intent on labeling and spinning this tragedy. And yet, here I am, unable to restrain myself. Why?

Because I saw some of those chatterboxes on the morning political shows today. Of course, they were talking about the shooting, how it should prompt gun control legislation, how "crazy" people should be controlled, how it is indicative of a decay in the morals of the average citizen of the US, how violent movies and video games contribute to the death of humility, etc. etc. blah blah blah. It was the usual tripe that occurs in the wake of a shooting. As always, there will be intense argument for a few months, then it will be forgotten with the advent of some new problem.

I don't particularly care to talk about gun rights, or violence in society with this shooting, but rather the individual himself. I won't talk about this perpetrator individually, but rather the mindset of America and how it turns immediately on those exclusive individuals.

Crazy. Schizophrenic. That is what the perpetrators are always labeled. In the wake of such an event, there will always be an endless circus of doctors willing to step in front of a camera and declare these people "insane, obviously." People who knew the perpetrators, though perhaps not very well, will say things such as "he/she was always very reclusive, quiet," etc.

So many people will look for any little bit of evidence to support the notion that these people are outside the societal norm for "sane." With every little bit, no matter how tangential or loose the connection may be, the nail of "insanity" gets hit harder and harder until the perpetrator no longer has a voice due to the label.

It sickens me, honestly. These people get dismissed so easily, as if we served them up with a freshly sliced lobotomy. Let's be frank, just for a second, and I realize just how ludicrous this might sound: they are no different from even the most mundane, insipidly boring person.

Before you stop reading, consider this: each perpetrator had a reason for what they did. Columbine, Virginia Tech, Fort Bragg, Aurora, etc.; they all had their individual reasons. Now, think back to a time when you wanted something so dearly that you would do anything to get it, regardless of consequences. We've all had times like that, and for some of us, those goals are a bit more extreme than others. I, personally, hardly go out anymore (ever) because of my constant writing. Not much of a sacrifice since I barely went out in the first place, but now I actively tell people that I won't leave the house except for work.

All of these people had a reason. Disregard them if you may, ignore them, whatever. Every single person alive needs comfort and a caring ear; why else might we be so driven to find love, or gain our parents' approval, or surround ourselves with things that make us happy? We love our comfort, but it is the confidence in the person upon whom we bestow that comfort that keeps us, as some might call it, "sane."

Surprisingly enough, Marylyn Manson put it best:


I couldn't care less about his music, but Manson makes an extremely prudent point. Too often, many are self-obsessed; you might notice this in any conversation, how quickly one person or the other goes "I would have..." or "I once..." as if a personal anecdote or opinion might have any relevance.

Talk to any person for long enough and you learn their eccentricities. Maybe they believe that some invisible man created the universe with a twinkle of his finger, or maybe they believe that the Illuminati control the world, or maybe they believe that fluoride renders teeth susceptible to detection by spy satellite. No one is ever completely "normal," whatever you may believe that definition to be. Our eccentricities divide us and individualize us, and sometimes they cause us to go to extremes. I cannot begin to recall all the times I have battened down my temper to stop myself from attacking someone, or did something completely random without realizing it. These things are motivated by emotions (for those of you who don't know what they are, it's that thing you feel whenever you do well on an exam or have wet stuff falling from your eyes), and emotions are not always easy to figure out on one's own. That's why, when you find someone with whom you are comfortable, whether it is a significant other, parent, best friend, or JD-Turk bromance , you feel you are able to accurately express how you feel. It makes your head clear. It's absolutely liberating.

Without that, you would be left to the self-denigrating voices in your head. It's not a happy time.

No one is truly crazy until they are labeled as such.

That's all for now (maybe even a while; currently editing),
Das Flüg

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Done.

So, after a little less than two months, my book is finished; well, the story is finished. It still needs editing. But, 60,000+ words later, the entire story is down on paper. Exposition, character building, denouement, the whole ten yards, all down on paper.

I guess my only concern is finding some way to get it published. Not to denigrate what I'm going to study, but I'd much rather be a published fiction author than work as a policy analyst or diplomat or professor. It's such an awesome feeling, being able to write one's imagination down, create something entirely personal, share it with the world, and be praised for it.

I've been told that I have to get an agent in order to get my work published, which is a little concerning- I feel as if I might be taken advantage of, my work changed or altered without my permission, etc. So, at this point, I've got no idea what to do, maybe aside from start on the next story or just edit this one.

For the two or three people who actually read this blog (including myself), feel free to contact me if you want an advance copy (if this damn thing ever goes to print). I probably will hate my own book, but that doesn't mean that you have to as well!

I guess that's it. Man, these posts are really uninspired.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Words few

Approach the minutiae of life with child-like joviality and curiosity, for only then can you appreciate what it means to live.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Dearth

Some (a hopeful number) may be wondering why I have not been updating this blog as frequently as I used to, especially now that I have graduated from college. Well, to be quite frank, my summer has been full of two things: working, and writing.

I got a job (not the most enjoyable nor the most profitable, but it gives a bit of money), and I have been writing a book.

Yes, a book. B-O-O-K. It's a thing with more words than your average blog post.

At this point, I've written ~35000 words, though I feel that I am not even halfway done. To be concise about the plot, in case you were wondering, it's a bit of science fiction that I have had on my mind for the past several years. I actually started out writing another story, but hit the writer's block wall so hard that I rebounded and headed in the opposite direction. Considering that I've been writing for a little more than a month, I feel quite impressed with myself, though the story might be a trite pile of crap.

I guess we'll see how it turns out in the end. Hopefully I'll finish it before I move to London.

Oh, and if I didn't mention it, I'm moving to London at the end of September. Woo. Wait, not excited enough.



There we go.

Anyway, if you were at all curious about what I have been doing (and I really don't know why you would be, I'm about as interesting as a snail race), that's it.

And no, you can't read it. Yet.

That's all for now,
Das Flüg