The rich are enemies of capitalism

Most of the people today who say they love capitalism really only love the idea of getting rich.

A true capitalist, like myself, who only wants what is best for the capitalist economy in which he lives, knows that accumulated private wealth, especially of the inherited kind, is anathema to the health of a capitalist economy. We would be far truer to the goals and ideals of the capitalism they claim to love, if we simply took the bulk of their wealth away and redistributed it to the poor.

See, private wealth is, by definition, money that is not circulated in the economy from which it was derived, or any economy at all. The only thing capitalism needs to thrive is for money to flow freely. When it gets walled off into private wealth, it stops flowing and remains static.

On a consumer level, that money might as well no longer exist.

And these people dare to call themselves job creators. The money they spend on their outrageous luxuries employs far fewer people than if it was spent in the regular consumer economy. If they insist upon labeling themselves job creators, we must not hesitate to remind them that flipping burgers employs a hell of a lot more people per monetary unit than building yachts, and that if they are job creators, they are the least efficient job creators in the world.

Now if you built a business empire, with real businesses that produce goods which consumers pay for, and thus enriched the economy, then you at least accomplished something that benefits others and the money you have accrued can be said to have been earned.

But if all you did was get luck on the stock market, or win the birth lottery and be born into money, then you contribute nothing to society. You are merely a name on a bank account, and it could be anybody’s name and it would be worth the same.

Also, I am not talking about functional wealth – the wealth that the wealthy spend to support their lifestyle. While it might not create jobs very efficiently, that money is still participating in the economy. Those butlers, maids, yacht designers, party planners, and so on will spend the money they are paid, and the places they spend it will spend it, and so on.

No, I am talking about what I call, if you will excuse the verbal legerdemain, idle wealth. Money that is simply not participating in the economy. It hires no one, it buys nothing, it invests in nothing, it just sits there in some bank account or passive investment somewhere. It’s just digits on a screen, a sum with a name attached.

Were that money spent, it would be stimulating the economy. It would be flowing from business to business, consumer to consumer, and every stop it made would increase the liquidity, and hence the efficiency and power, of the economy. It would be paying salaries, purchasing products, investing in new ideas, and making the world a better place.

But no, we have somehow let it be locked away from where it can do any good. This problem has only one solution : release the funds.

In other words, take the goddamned idle wealth away from those who have erroneously allowed to accrue it and inject it back into the economy by giving it to people most likely to spend it. Namely, the poor.

Now I must stress : this is a fully capitalist argument for the redistribution of wealth. This has nothing to do with the means of production or the rights of the worker or the labour theory of value or any of that Marxist bullshit. I am an avid capitalist who applauds some of communism’s aims but considers their methods to be entirely impractical and based on ideology, not reality.

But the same can be said of the so-called capitalists who worship the golden idol of unfettered (unless fetters prove more profitable) capitalists. Their ideas are just as impractical, as unrealistic, as unreasoned as those of the most overheated of coffee house liberals.

At least the liberals mean well.

These capitalist cultists, like most fanatics, strenuously avoid truly examining the object of their worship in fear of discovering it does not match their idolized (and made to order) vision of it. They think that because their ludicrously impractical, childlike ideas are said by impressive looking people in business suits, they are somehow superior to those espoused by people in Birkenstocks and hemp.

This fetishization of the appearance of respectability has become a shield that offers social protection to vastly inferior people with all the emotional development of cranky toddlers. They literally cannot imagine a reason that tell them no could ever be morally justified. Their wealth and the culture that supports it (and idolizes it) acts as a co-dependent partner to their moral and intellectual degeneration, and by indulging them so thoroughly, create the ideal conditions for power (wealth) in the hands of infants (the rich, especially the old and rich).

The first step to ending this miserable charade is to stand up to these people in language they can understand. Tell them that no, they can’t have everything they want. Remind them that they, too, are citizens, and subject to the exact same laws and limitation as everyone else. Tell them that the ability to get away with something does not, in fact, make it okay to do it. Instruct them on their duties as citizens of a world which, in case they have forgotten, contains other people with their own lives, needs, and desires…. and that’s okay. Reteach, or just plain teach, them the art of taking turns, only taking as much as you need, cleaning up the messes they make, and in general behave like the kindergarten graduates they would have us believe they are.

And in this scenario, the only available headmistress is the government.

After all, it’s not like market forces are going to bring about the necessary correction.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

There’s no such thing as a fox pack

I am finally ready to say it : I’m a loner.

I’m not antisocial about it – maybe I should be, at least a little – but I am a loner. I am not interested in being part of a group. I need a fair bit of alone time or I started to get really stressed out. I’m not a joiner, a booster, or a team player, and I never will be.

I am through with thinking this is just a phase I am going through and that when I am more socially healthy, things will change.

Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. But thinking that way has been highly counterproductive. It’s become yet another way I refuse to accept who I am and constantly try to force myself into a mold of my own devising in order to become what I think I should be. I have lived far too long denying the less socially acceptable parts of myself and pretending innocence and it’s time for me to stop.

Yeah, I know I’ve said that before. Fuck off. It’s a process.

I have been thinking a lot about that innocence thing lately. It’s almost like I am this innocent lamb in a plastic bubble, wandering around socially stupid and stumbling about like I was born yesterday, while my subconscious mind (and, sadly, my social support system) does all the dirty work for me. All so I can continue to blunder merrily through the world with my honesty and good intentions as my shield and my surprisingly sharp intellect as my sword.

But really, I am harmless. I will never hurt you. On purpose.

The thing is, I am nowhere near as stupid as I am innocent, and that’s a big problem, especially when you are doing your best, like a corgi trying to tow a boulder, to grow the hell up and become a part of the world however you can.

Earn money, live on my own, fall in love, settle down with some hot dude in our cozy home full of funky cool friends….. all the simple parts of life.

And part of that is learning who I really am, no matter how ugly that picture might be. And I am a loner. (See, I remembered the topic!). I don’t want to be part of your gang. I don’t want to sacrifice autonomy and identity in order to secure belonging.

If that’s the price of entry, than I will stay out in the cold and live as I have all my life, without belonging anywhere.

It’s where I belong anyway.

That doesn’t mean that this loner doesn’t long for a place where he belongs. Someplace where he feels accepted, wanted, valued, and possibly even needed. I have spent a long time metaphorically staring into the windows of the good and the pure, and wondering what it would be like to be part of their warm, whole, safe world.

But I’ve been far too long in the cold and desperate wilderness, and I have gone feral. Maybe more than feral. Anyone who wanted to truly take me in would have to be prepared to spend a long time calming and taming me, like the fox in the Little Prince, and not many people would think I was worth the trouble.

Easier to just put a bowl down in the back yard every once in a while, and forget about me.

Otherwise I am liable to bolt for the door, or attack. I have not had much safety in my life, even in all the years I was alone, and I am not sure I could handle it without freaking out. If I was among the right kind of people… good people, strong people, warm people… a lot of what I have left frozen within me would thaw, and come to life, and who knows what that might entail.

It’s not that I don’t love my friends. I do.

It’s just that sometimes I wonder if I would heal faster around people who did not share my psychological issues. They might be less understanding of my weaknesses and flaws, but maybe that would be good for me. Maybe I need a situation where I am the one who has to adapt would help me grow and heal. Maybe it’s time I moved on.

Or maybe not. WTF do I know?

I certainly feel the need for growth right now. I feel like I am ready for the next level. KPU was a necessary step but I am done with that now. I have to move on and find new challenges. I know what my priorities are now, and more academia of the typical kind is not high on the list.

So it’s VFS or burst. I got an email back from Patrick at VFS (he was my advisor when I applied before) and he seems quite happy that I took their advice and got more education (ten courses’ worth, bitches) and he says he is going to update my information and resubmit my application.

He also wanted to know when I would be available to chat on the phone. So I gave him my schedule. It’s a little complicated, but I am sure he can manage.

After all, he should know how crazy student life can be.

So, fingers crossed, I might be headed to VFS soon. That would make an excellent next step in my life. Shake off the dust of academic and dive, head first and heedless, into the entertainment world, and do my best to impress the fuck out of everyone there, and land myself a job somewhere where I can shine.

I am one hell of a writer, and I am itching for a chance to prove it before people who can actually advance my career. I want to write! I wrote two long-ish poems today and it felt great. I love to write… the problem is that I am not self-motivated. I need outside impetus to get me going.

Give me that, and I will shine like a million diamonds.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Land of confusion

Title taken from this song :

Today has not been great.

I was woken up by fairly bad IBS cramping at around 5:30 am. Luckily, I was in sufficient possession of my senses that I was able to stay calm, get myself into the bathroom and onto the toilet, and get don what needed to get done via gentle, measured pressure. After that, I recovered fairly quickly.

From that, at least.

I have a toothache. It’s located in the extreme lower left (from my POV) of my mouth. It isn’t severe, but something is swollen up in there and quite tender to the touch. I am thinking something got embedded in the gum somehow, or perhaps I have a minor infection there. Topically applied cold seems to help somewhat, suggesting it’s a inflammatory issue.

This is bad enough, but the real problem is that it will probably mean a trip to the dentist, and that is never fun. Especially for me, someone who neither brushes nor flosses (I know, that’s terrible, don’t need to made to feel worse about it, thank you ) because he just plain sucks at looking after himself and is so addicted to his distractions that he can’t even take the time to brush his fucking teeth.

And the thing is, people like me, who arguably need the dentist the most, are the ones most reluctant to go to one because we know we will get a lot of shit for not taking care of their teeth. And for a socially fragile person like myself, that is a big hurdle to surmount in order to get that particular form of healthcare.

So I am kind of hoping it will go away on its own, or that I will be able to fix it with just my fingers and some careful probing. I have fixed little dental issues on my own before, so that’s not out of the question. I hope I can do it again this time,.

Then there’s that research paper for my History of Canada Since 1867 course. I am doing it on the Acadian Expulsion, even though originally I had planned to do it on the role of psychology in defining normalcy in society and the problems inherent in that. Last night, I finished the rough draft of the thing, and all I have to do now is polish it up a little and put in the five references required.

But I slept a lot today, and so I haven’t gotten any of that done yet. I am hoping that, after a brief rest once I finish this blog entry, I will finally be in the right mental space to tackle that.

God, I hate doing research.

The assignment isn’t due till midnight Wednesday, AFAIK. But tomorrow is Tuesday and thus I will not have a huge amount of time to work on it. So I would really like to get it done ASAP so that I at least have some time to study for the Linguistics test (worth 10 percent of my mark) I will have Tuesday night.

It all seems simple till she starts applying it.

Hopefully, tomorrow I will hear back from Patrick at VFS, and he will tell me I am go for getting into VFS once I get him the documentation. That would be a huge load off my overloaded mind and I would be able to concentrate better on simply doing my best for the rest of the semester.

After that, I might actually find the time to actually get really stoked that I am finally going to VFS. But no guarantees. That shit takes a lot of energy I can’t spare right now.

I am still getting over my cold. The cold that I sadly have passed on to both of my roomies, and which (big sad frown) kept us from getting together to eat last night. Felicity can’t risk getting germs into the car which she will be using to take her father back from the hospital, hopefully soon.

I am worried about him.

and Joe was certainly in no condition to drive me anywhere, so…. no hanging out last night. That is a bummer. I probably could have used the mood boost, as well as the nutrition. Plus that meant that I did not get to do my usual Sunday shopping, which in this case was no big deal ’cause I have lots of my junk food in the cupboard. But I am totally out of diet soda.

And frankly, I think I am experiencing withdrawal symptoms from the lack of Diet Coke. It would explain all the sleeping.

All of this has left me in a confused, fuzzy, blurry state of mind. Never my preferred mental state, even when I don’t need to do some fairly high cognitive load work like looking at my rough draft for the research paper and finding the bits where an academic reference is needed, then finding those references and putting them in there.

It’s work I neither enjoy nor excel at, but it’s got to be done.

When I start feeling too stressed, I just remind myself that this is all temporary and all I have to do is survive the next three weeks and it will all be behind me, and I will hopefully be going forward to a brighter and more prosperous future with hopefully none of this academic research bullshit and a lot more of writing that I want to do.

If the main thing that makes the VFS Writing for TV and Film course so “intensive” is the amount of writing I have do to, I am relishing the challenge. I would love to write for all sorts of different media, formats, and genres. Like I have said, I will write absolutely anything that is not technical. I would not be worried at all.

If what makes it so “intensive” is its frenetic pace, well, I will learn to live with that too. Honestly, any educational situation which keeps me busy most of the time would probably do wonders for me psychologically, assuming it’s work I can actually do.

So hopefully, I will catch up on sleep, regain my mental acuity, nail this fucking research paper to the wall, and get on with all the rest of the BS I have to do before semester’s end.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

What the fuck was that?

Let me tell you about the last ten or so hours.

I was happily working away on my research essay last night when my Internet died. No warning. just one moment it was working, and the next, nothing.

Well crap, I thought. I guess I’d better try to figure out what went wrong. I am no expert, but I have some idea what I can check, anyhow. And things I can try.

So I poke around, trying a bunch of stuff, like checking to see if the connection between my computer and our cablemodem was good (it was), seeing if the network card was working (it was), and letting Windows try to diagnose the problem itself (it said network protocols were missing…. they were not. )

So I escalated the order by asking a bunch of my furry friends to help. This is an excellent strategy as like half of all furries work in IT and will rise to any computer related problem like the knights of old. And with their guidance, we tried a ton of other stuff, to absolutely no avail.

And the really weird thing was that the wireless connections were working. The other hardwired connection was working. Just not my PC.

So I decide to try to download the drivers for my network card to my tablet and then connect my tablet to my PC and transfer them to the PC from there. This turns out to be a maddening nightmare like I knew it would be, as Android is a very frustrating operating system to work with because it never tells you where it is putting a file. So you have to go searching for the file you just downloaded. For a lifelong PC user, that is sheer madness.

And even when you know where the file is, that doesn’t mean Windows will be able to see the damned file. And just when I think I have figured out a way around that, the tablet starts refusing to make a data connection to the PC and I am once more befuck’d.

All of this has taken three hours of solid effort and intense frustration as things refuse to work and I am met with roadblock after roadblock and complication after complication and my bullheaded determination to fix the motherfucking thing leading me to wear myself out in anger and frustration.

And all for naught. All I had accomplished was to work myself into a very negative frame of mind. If I was a character in a comic strip, black smoke would have been hovering over my head. I was so emotionally disturbed that even after trying to deal with my emotions via this Facebook post :

I am so messed up right now.
My computer suddenly lost the ability to connect to the Internet today. One minute fine, next minute fuck all. I have spent the last four hours doing everything that I and a bunch of other people, some of whom are IT professionals, could do to fix it, but the problem defies us all. Worse, when I decide to do common sense things like download the drivers for my network to my tablet then connect my tablet to the afflicted PC and copy them over, that spits in my face as well. After teasing me by working once (but refusing to see the necessary file), the computer then proceeded to refuse to see my tablet as a data device and mocked me by making a power connection instead.
To top it off, when I went to see what I could get done with my old computer that I let Julian use, I discovered that it had developed the exact same problem despite having worked just fine earlier.
I almost wish I could give up. But I can’t. I can’t give up till I run out of ideas, and I am a man with a LOT of ideas.
I am cursed to try them all.

… I was still too emotionally disturbed to be able to sleep or eat. The thought of either was intolerable. So I ended up playing this odd game called A Dark Dragon for hours, just wearing myself down till I could go do my usual snack thing, take my sleeping pills, and finally get to sleep at around 6:30 AM.

So I wake up around 2:30 pm and get up to eat n’ such, and Julian tells me that Joe decided that because we all have colds now (sorry guys 🙁 ), we would not be getting together with Felicity like we normally do every Sunday.

And just like that, on top of everything else, I have disappointment and confusion added to the mix. The one thing I had been looking forward to, snatched away, without even consulting me. Pretty miffed at that. I don’t take that kind of thing well even when I am healthy both physically and emotionally.

Then I sit down at this computer, not looking forward to going another ten rounds with my Internet issue, and find that the problem has mysteriously fixed itself overnight.

Which is a good thing, of course. I was severely stressing out over how the hell I was going to finish my research paper with no Internet, let alone submit it to the prof via email. Plus, I did not look forward to doing my blogging via tablet. Virtual keyboards kinda suck.

So I am quite happy that my Internet works now, even if it was not by dint of any of my efforts. But I am left wondering what the fuck happened to cause me such intense strife and stress and then just mysteriously disappear, like its job was done.

At this point, even a rugged rationalist like myself is tempted to conclude that the universe was trying to teach him some sort of lesson, or provide him with an experience he needed, or something like that.

And to think, my friends and I were just talking about the notion that “when the student is ready, a teacher will appear”.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

The ultimate eviction

I have decided to do my Canadian History research on the Acadian Expulsion, and it’s one heck of a story.

It all started when the British won the Maritimes (or “Acadia”, as it used to be known) from the French. They didn’t like all my francophone ancestors, making them all nervous with their going around being French and Catholic and stuff. (The Crown was Protestant at the time).

So for 45 years, the British tried to convince the Acadians to sign an unconditional pledge of loyalty to the King. [1] And the Acadians would not sign. There are a lot of reasons for this to choose from. For one, they did not want to anger their Mik’maq neighbors, with whom they had peaceful relations, to think that they had joined up with the Brits and therefore supported them in the conflict over treaty rights and land ownership battle they were having with the Crown.

That kind of thing can get your towns and villages raised. Not good.

Another reason : They didn’t want their able-bodied young men conscripted to fight against the French. The Acadians has no deep love for Mother France – France had treated them very poorly, and that is why they had left in the first place. But they definitely did not want their young men to fight the French, either.

Really, they didn’t want their young men to fight any war. That was one of the things they liked about being away from Europe. No more soldiers taking all your food and molesting your daughters and ruining your crops with their encampments. No more young men dying pointless deaths because of some squabble between royals who couldn’t give less of a damn about people like the Acadians if we invented negative damns. No more chaos and strife.

They really just wanted to left alone to farm, fish, and fu…. er, have families.

There’s also a religious angle. The Acadians are a Catholic people, and the King of England was the head of the Church of England, so pledging unconditional loyalty would conflict with their loyalty to the Pope. It may seem like a trivial point, but that sort of thing means a lot to deeply religious people like these 18th century Acadians. [2]

And, to be frank (ish), some of them would not sign people they were vehemently anti-British.

So after 45 years of trying, the Brits finally got tired of these uppity Acadians and order a mass deportation. This happened in two distinct waves.

In the first wave, the deportees were sent to various places in the 13 Colonies. They were welcomed and treated well in Maryland and Connecticut, but in Pennsylvania, Virginia and Massachusetts, they were denied permission to disembark upon arrival, and left to rot on overcrowded boats where many of them died of disease and the cold.

Not cool, Virginia and Massachusetts!

In the second wave, after the Siege of Louisbourg, the Acadians who has escaped the first wave by fleeing to the Gaspe Penninsula, unsettled lands in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island (then Ile Saint Jean), and Cape Breton (then Ile Royal) were hunted down and captured by the Brits, and either imprisoned or deported to France. [3]

All in all, around 11,500 of the approximately 14,100 Acadians (81 percent) living in the Maritimes were deported. Thousands died in the bellies of overcrowded ships, either sunk by the British, left to rot by the Americans, or dying of disease and deprivation on the journeys between France and the New World. The area’s economy was shattered. It was an attempt to commit cultural genocide, to rid the world of Acadians by less than lethal methods, and it is a testament to the strength and values of the Acadian culture that they did not succeed.

Instead, wherever the Acadians were put, they found a way to thrive. And over the decades, many of them found a way to trickle back to the Maritimes, and today, Acadian culture is alive and kicking in New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and on Prince Edward Island.

I consider myself Acadian. Je suis Acadien! Vive L’Acadie! Both of my maternal grandparents are Acadian, and so is my mother. My father is from Ontario, and that’s where his family resides. I don’t feel particularly close to them, nor do I particularly like them, and I grew up in the Maritimes, on Prince Edward Island, amongst a lot of other Acadians, and so that is the culture that I identify with.

Not that I have ever been much of a part of it. I have never been very close with my mother’s parents, though I loved them dearly and mourned their passing. And even if I had been close to them, well, nous somme assimile – we are assimilated. My mother spoke French as a small child but remembers none of it. My mother’s parents could find their French if they needed to in order to speak with their relatives, but other than that, never used it.

And me, I have only a little more French than the average Canadian, and that is only because I have retained a lot of the French we all learned in school while others seemed to have forgotten it as soon as they could. And even that has withered away over time. I have lost almost all my French vocabulary, and I don’t remember any of the complex grammar.

I don’t even remember how to put things in the past tense. Sad.

Still, je suis Acadien. if I have an ethnicity (besides Generic Anglo Canadian), that is it. A lot of people can’t understand what that means, to have a strong connection to an ethnic community despite barely being a part of it, but they are my people, and that is all there is to it.

Perhaps it’s just part of my hotblooded and emotional French nature.

Je vais vous parler des gens sympas demain.

Footnotes    (↵ returns to text)

  1. You would think they would get the message that we weren’t going to change our minds after the first twenty years, but this is the British Empire, and they are not known for taking a hint. Possibly they took Acadian hospitality and politeness to mean they stood a chance. Nope.
  2. This unwillingness to pledge primary loyalty to a monarch or nation instead of the Pope has been a primary source of tension between Catholics and Protestants since the days of Martin Luther.
  3. It was the Acadians deported to France who found their way back across the pond to Louisiana, and eventually become the Cajuns by learning how to survive where nobody thought people could live (the Bayou) by learning from the Spanish who traded there, the Catholic missionaries that had been sent there, and the aboriginal people who actually lived there.

Sly old fox

Today, I’m going to tackle a subject I have tackled many times before : manipulation.

There have been many times in my life where I have looked back at things I have said and done with a strange kind of double vision, because while I know for a fact that I had no conscious desire to manipulate people into doing what I want them to do, everything I said and did was exactly what a person who was trying to manipulate people would have done.

This can only mean one existentially confusing thing : I manipulate people by instinct.

It requires no conscious thought, no planning, no intention. Some part of my brain that lies below the conscious mind takes care of all of that, and so to my subjective experience, it seems like all I do is sort of stumble into things. I do and say what makes sense to me at the time, and only after do I realize that I had an agenda all along, just not a conscious one.

This mental duplicity is a hell of a thing to try to wrap one’s conscious mind around. I certainly can’t go through life constantly questioning my own motives all the time. My psyche would collapse under the weight of its own neurosis. And it is not like I am trying to be completely selfless. That kind of selflessness (where you always put the needs of others before your own) is a myth, and a dangerous one at that.

So I am not trying to convince myself or the world that I have no selfish motives. I have plenty. So does everyone else. And we all pursue them.

The difference is between pursuing your own needs in a way that is considered morally acceptable as oppose to being “manipulative”. And for me, that’s a very fine line indeed.

The thing is, I have unusual power in this arena because I understand people. I get them. Between my empathic sensitivity and my high powered analytical mind, I can figure people out on a level that most people would find frightening or creepy if they knew and understood it. And because of this highly detailed understanding of people, I am perfectly capable of manipulating them.

In a sense, it’s like people have buttons on them like vending machines, and I can push those buttons.

This alone means I operate on a different level than most people. Throw in some of the other ways I grasp things in a way others do not, and you come to realize that being a responsible person who stays within the rules of what is acceptable action towards one goals is a very tricky proposition for someone like me.

Like the Crooked Giant, I can’t play by the same rules as everyone else. I can’t say “Well I am just pursuing my own interests, just like everyone else!” and act like that makes it all okay. If I did, I would be one creepy, pushy, manipulative dude, and deep down I would know I was full of shit.

The thing is, though, that it’s very hard for me to see where the line is. I have to go by instinct, and as we discussed in the beginning of this piece, instinct can be corrupted. I have a sense of how far would be too far, but most of the time, I feel like I am dancing on the rim of a teacup.

If I could define the line between self-advocacy and manipulation consciously, I would stand a better chance of being able to stay within it without having to constantly monitor myself. But how far is too far? how do you know the difference between influencing people and manipulating them?

How does one wield my sort of power responsibly? Do I proceed with extreme caution at all times? Do I simply declare that all is fair and trust that I will use my powers for good? Do I abandon all restraint and go for the gusto. come what may to people unlucky enough to be in my way? Am I imagining myself to be more powerful than I really am?

I don’t think so. The things that go through my head, the possibilities that I perceive by must reject, convince me that I bear a greater responsibility than most other people in this regard. Maybe I am just making up excuses to remain timid, I don’t know.

But it’s what I have to work with, at least for now.

I suppose all I can do, when it comes down to it, is just be myself and have faith in myself as a good person with good intentions, and free myself from these mental convolutions. We neurotic intellectual types often end up lost in mazes of our own creation, and past a certain point, you just have to say “Fuck it” and get on with life.

Easier said than done. I get the feeling that such a shift in attitude can only happen via very tiny increments over a long period of time with me. I still “lead with my head” in most situations. I am so out of touch with my true emotional self, the one that exists independent of all that mental machinery, that the concept of following my heart is a total nonstarter.

You have to be able to hear it before you can follow it. I’m not even sure where mine is. I know it’s there because I feel things. But those emotions could be coming from the Planet Venus as far as I can tell. And when I contemplate looking directly into my own soul, without the many mirrors of analysis to protect me, I feel scared and uneasy and even a little nauseous.

In other words, I feel like I usually do when I am confronting one of my major psychological issues. I don’t know what I am afraid of. That I will not like what I see? That I will learn horrible truths about myself? That I will look deep into myself and find…. nothing at all?

Whatever the case, it seems like a thing worth doing (everything that disturbing is) and so I will ponder it anon.

In the meantime, I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

A general malaise

Feeling sort of crappy lately. Dunno why.

Could be some sort of bug I am fighting. If so…go white blood cells go! I can deal with a little malaise if it means I don’t get sick for reals. Feeling vaguely icky is preferable to feeling definitively terrible every single time.

Could be some sort of apnea issue too. I have been using my CPAP fairly faithfully, but that doesn’t necessarily get the job done in total and, well, I still find it impossible to put the thing back on when I have taken it off to go pee.

And I get the feeling that this is the sort of thing I really shouldn’t be half-assing like this. Sigh. Still working on getting at least somewhat good at taking care of myself instead of spending so much time figuratively (and literally) jerking off and doing nothing.

And part of that, I guess, is learning that I am still mentally ill and there is only so much you can do while riding those long and complicated mood waves. It’s hard to cope when you never know what kind of personal/objective reality blend you will wake up in. Mental instability is about a lot more things than merely being unpredictable to others.

I’m not predictable to myself, either. Or at the very least, I don’t know what I will have to go through just to keep up a thin facade of normalcy. There are days when it feels like I am trying to defuse a bomb while blind drink and suffering from the flu, and other days when it take no effort at all.

I would like a lot more of the latter, please.

It might also be a skin thing, that is, I think I have clogged pores. These are chronic to me and my mother. She is smart enough to have a rigorous skin care routine in order to keep hers open and working. Me, I am the stumbling fool who tries to get by with showing three times a week.

And it’s not enough. Not once the weather starts warming up, anyhow.

Which brings up another possibility : I might be dehydrated. That will make anyone feel crappy. Your body need a lot of water to function, especially our eliminatory system. Without enough water, waste doesn’t pass in either form and your body needs to get rid of that shit for a reason.

The reason is that it is toxic. We human beings are the most omnivorous creatures on earth (besides goats) and that means we have an amazing digestive system that can extract nutrition from a wide variety of organic materials. But said digestive system can’t digest everything, and what it doesn’t has to go.

This is why I am not totally skeptical when people talk about ridding their bodies of “toxins”. Granted, a lot of those people are probably substituting these mysterious toxins for something else they want to eliminate from their lives. And there is the fact that purging one’s system creates a giddy, light feeling that can be quite addictive, even though it is not so much about being toxin free and more about the endorphin high from all those purgative muscle spasms.

As someone who has been subject to involuntary purging from my IBS, I can tell you from experience that said high is freaking amazing. Almost worth it, really.

But I still think there is a core truth to the concept of eliminating toxins. It is, of course, what our eliminatory system is there for, and there is no guarantee that it can handle all the invented substances we come in contact with constantly and have not had nearly enough time to evolve a defense for.

Yeah I ended on a preposition. So what?

I would be very interested in a forensic study of the subject. How much of the tissue of a cadaver is human tissue and how much is other stuff that doesn’t belong there? Stuff out systems can’t handle at all, so it just ends up stuck somewhere, maybe with tissue building up around it to isolate it from the rest of the system.

Great, now I feel all dirty and toxic.

What else. The words are coming a little slow today. I honestly could use some more sleep.

Oh, right. Yesterday was technically my Friday. I don’t normally have classes on Thursdays, and I don’t have them on Good Friday or Easter Monday either, so I have no classes until next Tuesday. Meaning I have almost a full week off.

I am not worried about being bored or depressed, though. I have a ton of final-assignment type stuff to do. So I will be happily busy for much of the time as long as I can jump-start my lazy buttocks and get started on stuff instead of just vegetating out and ignoring reality like I normally do.

Odds are good of that. Despite my general malaise, I feel ambitious and ready to take shit on lately. So hopefully, I will be in this part of my long and complicated mood cycle long enough to attack and conquer five or so final projects of varying degrees of difficulty and research (shuddder).

I think I am at a point on my life where I have growing confidence in the things I am good at, and that makes it a lot easier to accept the things I am not good at or have no interest in. Or both. And that means that I am cool with saying that I don’t care that Linguistics is not for me, and that while I have enjoyed my history courses, I don’t really care if I do more of them either.

I want more of the things I am interested in and less of the stuff I am not. I want to find some kind of intensive writing program.

Speaking of which, I called VFS today, and well, upshot is that I have emailed Patrick, my advisor from before, telling him that I want to re-apply ’cause I got mad recent educational experience now. I can’t just log in to their website and re-apply because their system is apparently amazingly badly designed by someone who couldn’t imagine the idea of someone applying more than once and so there is literally no way to do that. You apply once, that’s your application forever, and if anything changes (like your phone #, address, and the FACT YOU ARE APPLYING AGAIN), Patrick has to enter it manually.

That is freaking ludicrous.

Oh well, the important thing is that they let me in finally!

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

The Ideology Illusion

People are not their politics. It’s easy to forget that.

In psychology, it is a well known fact that, because we need to form opinions whether or not we have enough information, people have a strong tendency to make their opinions of others based on first impressions, or single attributes. And they tend to assume that what they know about a person stems from a concrete and permanent aspect of that person and not some transitory quality like circumstance.

This fundamental attribution error lies at the heart of most forms of intolerance. If all you know about a person or group of persons is a single variable, like they are from the American South, or homosexual, or Jewish, or drive a big pickup truck, or shop at Whole Foods and you have in your mind a large set of stereotypes about that sort of person, the human mind will automatically create a picture of that person based on those stereotypes, and make a whole series of assumptions about that individual with very little evidence to base them upon.

That effect is well known. Lesser known, though, is how it applies to politics.

If all you know about someone is their political affiliation, and you (like must of us) have a picture in your head of what a person of that political affiliation looks like, talks like, drives, and so forth and so on. Thus, it is easy and natural for you to judge that person based on the picture of them you have created.

Take that and apply it to politics write large. These stereotypes make it very easy to demonize those who do not share your political opinions. It’s not that they merely disagree with you – they are horrible people who are evil through and through and are dedicated wholesale to destroying all that is good and right in the world.

This doubles when all you know about someone is their politics and something they said expressing the politics you do not like. Armed with not one but two pieces of information, we feel doubly warranted to declare that said person must be rotten to the core to say such a thing.

But the thing is, deep down, we know that we don’t have enough information to make that kind of judgment about a person. Imagine if that person thought they know everything they need to know about you based on one thing you said. You’d be outraged and demand to be treated as a complex human being with their own individual attributes and complexities.

You know…. unlike those other guys, who are all mindless sheep and genuinely evil down to every last one of them, and in every cell of their misbegotten bodies.

People are not their politics. Their actual moral nature and the politics they prefer have a weak connection at best. You quite honestly don’t know a thing about the other person except that they are, from your point of view, on the wrong team. If we all could remember this, we would have the perfect antidote to overheated political discourse.

Just remember : you can oppose someone without hating them . It is the hate that drives the politics of the day insane. True ideological discourse disappears and the desire to hurt the opposition takes over. Like in a messy divorce, people say all kinds of things they don’t truly mean just to hurt the other side and make them angry. And to get the cheers and applause that will inevitably come their way from their own side.

After all, they deserve to suffer for the things they have said to you for the exact same reason, right?

IF the tit for tat tete-a-tete continues, people end up publicly committed to increasingly extreme positions, and said positions are met with, of course, increasingly extreme opposition, and the hate (and heat) rises and rises, and eventually will spill out into violence.

After all, the other people are both totally evil and not really human, so why not kill them and eliminate their poisonous influence?

The only solution is to refuse to hate. Whenever exposed to the sorts of opinions which you find odious, take a deep breath, and say “I disagree with this person, but I do not hate them. ” Repeat this exercise as many times as it takes for it to change your perspective. Remind yourself that this person is just as human and valid and inherently good as you are. Remember that all you know about them is their politics and one thing they said. And remember that they might not even truly believe what they said. They might just be saying it to make the other side mad, or to hurt them in some way.

People’s politics develop for all manner of complex and often deeply personal reasons. Often, their politics serve their emotional needs first and their actual character last. For all you know, the person you are viewing as evil is actually exactly the kind of person of which you would wholeheartedly approve if you did not know their politics.

You might even share a lot more values than you disagree upon.

This transformation will not come easily to you, or me for that matter. I have been as guilty of demonizing those with different politics as much as most people and a lot more than some. I am a passionately ideological person by nature and it is very, very easy to slip into hating the person and not just their ideas.

And as human beings, our social instincts tell us to pick a team and then defend it from all who challenge it. This works great for team sports but it is inimical to real political discourse. The primary concern should be determining whether a given statement is true, not whether it sounds like the sort of thing we agree with or whether it is being said by someone of the same political stripe as us.

I am not claiming any form of moral superiority by making these statements. In fact, I am not even sure that the change of attitude I have proposed is even possible.

But I think it’s worth a try.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Oh, and if you think you know to which political group this message is “addresses”…. better check that envelope again, because this letter is for you.

Sails a boy on Fiddler’s Green

Title comes from this song :

Came up on the ol’ mp3 list today, and got stuck in my head. Dunno why. Guess I have some sorrow and grief to express. It’s one of my favorite sad songs. There’s such gentleness and depth of pain in Gordie’s lyrics and vocals. And I like the image of the boy’s soul sailing onto Fiddler’s Green forever.

He never knew a soul, and there’s no place that he’s really been…. but he won’t travel all alone. No, not in Fiddler’s Green.

Sounds a lot better than having him suspended forever in Limbo, anyhow. Goddamned Catholics.

Linguistics class continues to kick my ass. The stuff we are learning now is pretty hard, a lot harder than I thought it was when I did the homework for this class. Homework that is definitely not coming back with a passing grade. I thought I understood it but when we reviewed it in class….. nope.

Dunno about the test I did today either. I might pass, I might not.

Man, every time I think I have that class figured out, it knocks the legs out from under me. Right now, it is all about survival. I just want to make it through the class and maybe pass. And leave with the knowledge that linguistics is not for me, and neither is it the sort of thing one should take out of casual interest either.

I blame the one other Linguistics class I took back in UPEI, during College Part I : The I Didn’t Know There Would Be Two Parts edition. It was a softball course on the history of the English language, and as such, it certainly made linguistics seem friendly and easy. Arguably, if that had been my experience in College Part II, I would probably take at least one more linguistics class.

As is, no fucking way.

Creative Writing was okay. I actually did my homework for once…. and that ended up not mattering at all because she never called for it. Fuck. She’s way too disorganized, and way too prone to going off on tangents and telling us stories and generally veering away from what she is supposed to be teaching us. That kind of inability to be at least a little linear makes it very hard to follow her. I should not be put in a position where I have to work as hard as I do just to figure out what the hell she is saying.

Sometimes her speech just falls in on itself, like a black hole forming from the sheer mass of un-referenced pronouns and ill defined references and bewilderingly complex yet tenuous sentence structure. I honestly feel like she has no idea WTF she is doing most of the time. It’s hard to believe she has spent her life traveling and teaching without getting any better at it.

In fact, I am beginning to feel like she just might be, alas, full of shit. Like, totally full. No room for more.

All her tales of traveling all over the world to various places and teaching all the poor little children are beginning to wear thin. I want to believe her, but it’s hard to imagine someone with quite so amazing a life. It is beginning to sound more like something someone who is trying to impress people would invent. Either that, or the bar is very, very low for these globe-spanning aid jobs.

I suppose it might be.

Today was especially frustrating. At one point, she said “Go out into this beautiful day and take pictures with your phones then write a poem about one of those images! Oh, and I am breaking you up into groups and it has to be a group poem!”

Are you fucking kidding? Fortunately, she also let us stay in and work on our own, which I totally did. Woman, if I was the sort of person who wanted to go out and explore nature, I would not be a writer in the first place. I like writing because I can do it sitting down, indoors, and alone. A group tra-la-la outdoors is the exact opposite of writing as far as I am concerned.

Oh, and did I mention that she left too? She said “I’ll be down by Tim’s if you need my help!”. Translation : I am going to take a 40 minute coffee break in the middle of the class I am supposed to be teaching. Despite assuring us that she was as eager to go outside on this admittedly gorgeous day as she wanted to be.

I ended up writing two poems and starting a third. The second one was free verse and didn’t have much meat on its bones because I was more or less just stringing thoughts together. I wasn’t inspired or anything. And the third would have just been some crap about childbirth and blood and whatever.

The first one, though, was halfway decent. If I wasn’t so lazy, I would type it in. It was somewhat defiantly a traditional poem with rhyme and meter and scansion and such, all the stuff that supposedly is anathema to modern poetry buffs. Well I don’t give a shit. I don’t consider myself a poet at all so I will write whatever the hell I want, in whatever format I choose, and the world of modern poetry can choke on their overused enter keys for all I care.

Maybe that makes me even more of a poet than if I had towed the line. I dunno.

And then when she gave me notes on the poem, they were either incomprehensible or insipid or both. I should use absurd punctuation just to make it more “visually interesting”? Um, I don’t think so. I write for the ear and that’s it. It has the punctuation it has because of that. All my poems are speeches.

See why I an looking for a better creative writing school? Nicola Harwood was at least competent.

Needless to say, if I get an email asking me to comment on my Creative Writing class, they are gonna get an earful. Or iPodful. Whatever.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

A head start

Got fifteen minutes to spare, so I thought I would get a head start on blogging.

Got our specific challenge, I mean, assignment today in Ethics. A healthy young couple with promising careers ahead of them (but still in school) get pregnant. Is it okay if they abort it? I have to first explain what this philosopher called Hursthouse thinks in general, then what she would say about the issue, then what I think as expressed relating to Hursthouse.

Not crazy about that last part. I have very clear and well thought out opinions on the matter and having to refer them to the rather hodgepodge and inconsistent “virtue” ethics will seriously cramp my style.

Virtue ethics means well, and I understand why it is popular, because it appears to offer far less disquieting results than Kantian ethics or Utilitarianism, and it jibes with people’s inherent sense of ethics quite well. But it basically boils down to “the right thing to do is what a virtuous person would do”, and that begs the question rather hard.

It did make me realize, though, that while I need my ethics to be logically consistent and solid, others do no. Others will get more guidance and comfort from something less logically rigorous but better suited to our deep sense of right and wrong.

I confront difficult moral issues head on, and trust the products of my intellect to reveal the truth.

But not everyone can do that. In fact…. people like me are very rare. Most people are a lot more involved with life, and detachment isn’t of use to them.

It is to me.

(—)

And I am back after a hearty meal of pizza and cheese filled breadsticks honey garlic chicken bites and giant cookie.

Okay, not healthy exactly. Semi-healthy.

I feel good, though. I think I really needed a plus sized meal. I have been feeling like I have been running around a meal and a half behind metabolic demand lately. I’ve been skipping meals again, which I know is very stupid for someone like me, and yet the forces of laziness and lack of hunger keep joining together to talk me into doing it.

It’s time like this which make me wish that there were food pills like they had in the Jetsons. Normally, I find that idea repulsive. What lunatic wants to take the eating out of food? But in circumstances like these, they would be darn handy.

The closest we have is multivitamins, and they are hardly nutritionally complete. The jury is out as to whether we can absorb and make use of nutrition from pills at all, and assuming we can, the best a pill can do is supply you with nutrients like the vitamin C and iron, and micronutrients like zinc.

They can’t provide you with the macronutrients like protein and carbohydrates, which the body needs in very large supplies all the time.

(—)

Been thinking about Trump lately. (Someone talking about Trump on the internet, how rare. )

I feel a little bad for the people who got on the Trump train early, and because they are conservatives and thus would rather die than change their mind, they are now along for the ride no matter what. Most liberals can’t even imagine what that is like. As it was with Dubya, these people are not just committed to the candidate.

They are committed to believing whatever that candidate says. I am sure there are a lot of Trump supporters that are not racist at all, or only a little racist against Mexicans. But those people are, in effect, half-racist now because they have to – in the psychological sense – keep believing that Trump is going to save America, and that he’s a great guy, and so on. So even if there is a part of them that is growing increasingly uneasy with where things seem to be going…. they are trapped by their own need for certainty and lack of mental flexibility.

He has them now, and he can do whatever he wants to their minds. A couple of months ago, I would have said that he could still lose them by saying something they don’t like, but it’s increasingly hard to imagine what that would be at this point. What could possibly be bad enough to shake these people if everything he has said so far hasn’t done it.

It would have to be something huge (yooj). Like him saying that he was going to raise their taxes, or legalize pedophilic sex, or suchlike. Something so huge (yooj)that they absolutely could not absorb and believe it. Something so huge (yooj) that it would also give them a breaking point, something where they can say “I was with him until…. ” and save face.

Like when my very conservative father dropped Mulroney. The signs were there that it was coming. He kept mentioning that he was a “small-C conservative”. [1] So it should not have come as a surprise when he announced that he no longer supported Mulroney.

The reason he cited was that Mulroney had gotten too cozy with the Americans (never a good thing for a Canadian politician) and that gave my father the necessary breaking point. He never had to admit that he had backed a terrible man. Technically.

That was, incidentally, I knew Mulroney was fucked. If he managed to lose people like my father, his ass was grass.

So Trump could still stumble and fall. But it would take something pretty big and he is probably too smart to do that. It might seem like he can say whatever he wants and his people will still line up to such his big old alpha cock.

But that is only because he is dumping hate on people his supporters already don’t like and don’t feel any connection to at all. If he was to attack them… I am not sure what would happen, but it would not be good. They would turn on him, and quite possible kill him.

Wouldn’t that be a sight.

But how to arrange it?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Footnotes    (↵ returns to text)

  1. For my American friends : A big-C Conservative is a supporter of the Conservative Party. A small-c conservative is an unaffiliated conservative.