Moving Day!

Dudes, I apologize if you’re of the RSS feed variety, because I’m gonna eff up your game. I finally bought  a domain name and found that the capabilities of posterous are far radder than those of wordpress (and while I could technically post from there to here, I prefer the incredibly clean and simple layout that posterous has). I tried to get this site to re-direct, but it got really messy and ugly, so, just forget about this one and go to theincrediblejulk.com (I’ve got the archives moved to there anyway).

philosophical gobbledygook

It is possible that the following is indicative of major psychological problems:  I don’t really consider myself existing in other people’s lives. Obviously that needs a little clarification, yes, I get that I interact with other people all the time, and that I do actually exist in the lives of people I know, but, I don’t ever consider the possibility of people thinking of me when I’m not there, out of sight, out of mind, you know? This seems odd, given that I think of my friends and family and people that I hate all day, every day, so why wouldn’t it be the case that as I function in each of those roles for another, the same wouldn’t be true? But, for some reason, the thought of me being thought of by someone else seems absurd. Is this crazytalk? I mean, it seems to me to be so, but in what way? I can’t decide whether it is extreme narcissism or if it’s abandonment of ego. I’m assuming the former, because humility is certainly not my strong suit, but I’m having a difficult time seeing how that plays out. 

In the rare times that I can concieve of others thinking about me, I go into panic mode. Maybe it’s a control thing, and I save small parts of my sanity by pretending that it cannot be the case that others are thinking about me when I am not there to at minimum monitor the context in which they encounter me. This was certainly the case when I was in the classroom. I couldn’t function when I started thinking about students doing evaluations of me online, meaning, I was brought into their consciousness without imposing myself there. I had to create my own evaluations that I could administer during classtime for the sheer sake of being able to regain control of the situation.  

This morning, that sense of panic overwhelmed me yet again. I’m not certain what made me even begin questioning the possibility of people thinking about me, but it froke me out. Even in situations with friends and family, I can’t help but fear the fact that they are construing an identity for me that is not me. I was nearly seduced by facebook again, because I suddenly understood the draw of being able to determine your identity at least in that particular context. The ability to regularly impose oneself into another person’s thoughts by way of status updates imbues you with a control that is seemingly nonexistent in any other sphere, (other than possibly twitter). If I am constantly letting the world (or my little world of online associates) know what I’m doing, what I’m thinking, chances of me entering their thoughts in any other way becomes greatly reduced.  Maybe in a subconscious way, this was one of the reasons I left facebook, in hopes that if I disappeared from that consciousness, I could eliminate myself from the general consciousness of potential thinkers-of-me. I can now be certain that while I can’t control the things being thought by way of modifying my profile, taking quizzes, updating status, etc., I know that I don’t have to constantly worry about controlling that persona, that identity.  If I can keep myself in the psychological status quo of believing that I generally remain outside of people’s thoughts and conversations (whether or not that may be the case), I can imagine that my identity is shaped only by my thoughts, words and actions, in the moment, and as a collected history of my thoughts, words and actions, paradoxical as they may be. So, while I may be lying to myself, I will certainly function as a much saner being, fooling myself into a unified subjectivity that I ultimately know does not exist. I am unwilling to be an object, even though I know it is my fate. Perhaps this is the last possible way of resisting, deluding oneself into believing that if they cannot be broken up into tiny bits of commodifiability (I think I just made up that word), little pieces of exchangeable matter, we can pretend that we retain subjectivity and thus control. Or, like usual, I’m completely full of shit.

Miss Piggy + Peaches

Fair warning: the title of this song is f*ck the pain away (look at me being all censory and whatnot), so if you’re not into that, or you hate Peaches, you probably won’t like this video. However, I love Peaches. I thought I was going to see her next week, but I will be on my trek to the great Northwest, so I will miss her (dudes, you should seriously go, I generally don’t like going to shows, but Peaches should not be missed), and this lovely video will have to suffice.

My grandpa would hate this video. I mean, he would probably be offended by the lyrics, to start, but he hated, I mean really truly detested Miss Piggy. To the point where we would torment him by giving him only Miss Piggy related gifts. Yeah, we cruel like that.

Also: if you’re trying to make it through a workout at the gym and are bored out of your skull, might I recommend any of Peaches’ albums. You will thank me.

Miss Piggy + Peaches

Running down a dream…and all those other tunes about running.

Last week I caught the tail end of an episode of Radiowest with Doug Fabrizio about being “born to run,” and  since then, I can’t stop thinking about running.

I’ve missed running, and I had no idea. Last summer we were big on hiking, and that was good, but it was something we got to do a couple of days a week, given busy schedules and a myriad of other excuses.  Running is an every day sort of thing, that once you get in the habit of, becomes addicting.

I haven’t been out in probably six or seven years. Every few months or so, I’ll hit the treadmill for awhile, but it doesn’t do the same thing. There’s something so invigorating about the fresh air making your lungs burn and the feeling of just going.  I think I get most of my best thinking done when I run, I love being alone with the cadence of pounding footsteps and measured breathing–sends me into a bit of a trance.

I used to run for hours. I’d leave my little BYU apartment, next to the stadium, and hit Canyon Road. I’d run up to the cemetary, to my Grandpa’s grave; I’d run up Provo Canyon; I’d run up Rock Canyon. I was so connected with my body and with the world around me, and I’m pretty convinced that it played a major part in me being able to keep my shit together.

And then, the world fell apart. I don’t want to dwell on the past, but for such a long time I didn’t really even want to live, let alone run. I gave up so much of who I was (am), and feel like I’ve been struggling to get it back, ever since. Maybe the stars are aligning, or jeebuz is coming back or something, but I just feel stricken with the need to put my life back together in the way that looks a lot like a much younger version of myself. In attempts to cast off so many parts of my history that burden me psychologically, I think I shook off a few things that were integral to my survival, so now I have to get them back.

I really enjoy my Saturday and Sunday mornings. I head to J&J, get an iced Americano, listen to the sadpod, and write. Sometimes its shitty poetry, sometimes the beginnings of essays I’ll probably never finish, and often, its a set of lists. When I write my lists, I am usually trying to figure out some sort of psychological/philosophical problem I’m facing, and it gives me a simple place to start from. Yesterday was a list day. So, I wrote a list of things that genuinely make me happy. Amid things like reading and writing and playing music and being with friends and family was running. It was at the top of the list, even though I haven’t done it in years. I’m taking it as a clue that my subconcious wants me to beat feet.

One of the first summers I lived in Provo was one of my best. I would wake up really early, run up to rock canyon, do a little climbing with my friend, run home, and sit outside and write. Almost every day that summer looked something like that. I think I want to bring that summer back.

oh incredible, i’ve missed you so.

So, I did it. I deleted my facebook account. Sometimes the internet just freaks me out, you know? I used to think it was a privacy thing, too many people knowing too much about me, but after talking with a friend of mine yesterday, it’s less that people know about me, and more the fact that I feel like I spend so much time constructing my identity online, devoting so much time and attention to trying to make myself somehow unique in this mass of other people all trying to do the same thing, prove how cool or ironic or progressive or funny they are.  And, I kind of lost it. I couldn’t handle the idea of so much mindless communication (a snippet from a review of a book I just ordered, very McLuhany– “the content of communication is completely without meaning–the only thing that is communicated is communication itself.”) that never really got anywhere.  Even messages that are intended to encourage effect become nothing more than a million tiny revolutions, crushed by an infinite amount of mindless drivel and minutiae, all of which I was being consumed by. I used to fancy myself something of a revolutionary, firmly devoted to causes, looking for opportunities to make change when I could. Now, rather than attention to ideas and issues I genuinely care about, I am caught in a continuous cycle of updates and reloads. I am not looking for what people are saying, but rather that they are saying anything. I suppose this could be blamed on the fact that I’m a voyeur at heart, and have obsessively wanted to know what people I have no affection for were doing in every moment, at least as often as they want to share.

I felt like making the break was a pretty bold move, at least for my own psyche. No farewells, no “I’m taking my facebook down” status updates, just gone. It felt good. It felt really good. I thought I would feel a little sadder, about losing connection with all of my friends, but I realized that if people really want to find me, they know where to look, and that I already seek out the people I want to be around.

It’s also giving me the chance to revive theincrediblejulk. I really enjoyed writing here for a long time, but combined with twitter and facebook and constant updates, I felt too exposed. I prefer this, where I have a space to actually address things I’m thinking about, and engage in dialogue with people who choose to read and respond. I know that those who engage me here are (seemingly) genuinely interested in doing so. I guess I feel like the experience here, mediated as it may be, by screens and keyboards and an array of all kinds of other distractions, has the potential to foster conversation and relationships that I was really missing by spending so much time with my 445 “friends” over on facebook.

I guess what I’m saying is, it’s good to be back.

Better Know a District – Utah’s 3rd – Jason Chaffetz | January 6th | ColbertNation.com

“when did rounding up people you don’t like and putting them in camps get a bad rap?” good question, stephen. jason chaffetz–a lot of people i know probably voted for him…

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The Daily Show: Anderson Cooper Holds First Dog Debate | Indecision2008 | Comedy Central

i never need to watch tv or look on the internet again. it’s the cuteness of all cutenesses!

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CUTE THINGS FALLING ASLEEP

CUTE THINGS FALLING ASLEEP.

umm. my friend ben is the best, because he shows me things that are cute. I’m over snark, man. I’m totally into little baby puppies being sung to sleep!

eff you, penguin

new best blog, ever. makes cute overload seem like dump. cuteness + snide comments = joy in my life. Go here. There are a lot of eff words, so if that ain’t your thing, maybe steer clear.

a very merry, to you and yours…

wy do i feel like this isn’t too far from my future?  thanks miah!