I’m taking a Political Psychology course online for Summer Session II. It turns out I hate online courses, because the lack of true class discussion makes me dry up a little in my brain fluids. But that’s besides the point.
I’ve made it through a few of Dostoevsky’s short stories, which I absolutely loved. I’ve never read something that so simply critiqued mankind without being an outright critique of mankind. I wouldn’t call it subtle, but let’s say Dostoevsky makes being a curmudgeonly asshole James Dean level cool.
Freud on the other hand. (Civilization and Its Discontents) Well, Freud is about as subtle as my 85 year-old grandfather telling me my skirt is too short. Freud is so markedly obvious in his disdain for the choices of mankind that, once you figure out what exactly in convoluted chaos he’s talking about, you can’t help but wonder how he had any friends at all.
But aside from picking favorites here, I’ll get to the title point. Each man (Dostoevsky a little more so) clearly states his point. I’m not sure I could so fully form an opinion on mankind in the way that these men have. Granted, I’m only 21, but I’m not sure I have the kind of backbone it takes to be so resolute in something. While I (painfully obviously) favor Dostoevsky, and agree with most of what he says about the basic failure of mankind, there’s still a little flare of hope in me. A teeny little spark that maybe, just maybe, mankind isn’t as pitiful and hopeless as I so often think.
I believe that it is that little spark in me, and maybe other people, that could prevent me from ever forming a strong enough opinion to affect generations of people. But I wonder if that little spark makes me more human, and makes me one of those people that can be affected by men like Dostoevsky and Freud.
I could write a pun-filled clever title, but hey, sometimes honesty is the best policy.
I think it’s excellent, in a cynical way, when the weather matches my mood. It’s raining and a bit dreary, the kind of weather that inspires more clever writers than I to write poetry about the pain and suffering of mankind and how it correlates to the weather. Instead, I’m just moaning and groaning on my blog.
I had an aisle seat on the flight to Bradley International from Nashville International last night. There was a man in the window seat, but he fell asleep too quickly to be of any consequence in this little story. We were flying across through sunset, and the clouds were so dark I could not distinguish one from another, but there was a brilliant red color right above them before it faded into dark blue. Just a strip of red, that seemed completely out of place from the rest of the sky. Red at night, sailor’s delight. Red in the morning, sailor’s warning. I hope that the sailors of the world have smooth seas today.
As much as I am feeling miserable and lonely and curmudgeonly, I have to appreciate that strip of red I saw last night. It was so completely out of place but so completely lovely that I have to give the world credit for still having beauty in it.
Went to a record store in Nashville. Am now the proud owner of Lou Reed, Simon & Garfunkel Live at Central Park, another album by The Kinks, and Crosby/Nash on vinyl.
Pardon me while I GEEK OUT.
I’m sitting at my laptop in Nashville, TN. Today is my last day here. The last “vacation” I took was to visit my old college, the one from which I dropped out in order to get my life back together. It was an amazing trip, reminding me of how far I’ve come and how proud I should be of my accomplishments.
This trip was different, though. I spent nearly four days with someone very special to me, and realized just how easy it is to live a more easy life. I mean easy in the sense that in the past few days, very little worried me and even less stressed me out. Maybe it was the fact that I was on vacation, but I’d like to credit a fair amount of it to my friend’s presence.
I know I live my life in a very strict, orderly fashion most of the time. (Although this summer has destroyed that, and as a result has thrown off my groove.) I often wonder if I’ve gotten stuck on an extreme side of the pendulum, and maybe if it’s time to let go. I think it is. I think I can keep the routines and traditions that I like, but I think I can take life less seriously, too. Sometimes it’s okay to go play in the park and then watch stupid comedies for the night.
It concerns me that even though I think this way now, that I won’t be able to take it with me. I want to so badly, but being here was like escaping my bubble. To be with someone with whom you are completely and totally comfortable and then to leave them behind is incredibly difficult to do. But he has inspired me and shown me that it’s easy to be easy, and hopefully I’ll be able to remember that.
In an interesting turn of events, I have been inspired by my father who was inspired to blog by me to once again start blogging. Did you follow all that? Suffice it to say, I adore my Twitter, but 140 characters does not allot much space for a good juicy rant, or commentary on an album or a film or a picture or…or… I could go on for ages. I have a lot to say. I think that might be why I talk so fast. It’s interesting to think for how many years I blogged then my abrupt abandonment of the blogosphere, but with much determination, I hope to get myself back into it. This also may potentially just be a ruse to distract myself from my Summer Session US History course Final Exam. I realized that history really isn’t my thing. At all. Ever. Majoring in Media Studies was an excellent idea.