To any whom it may concern, I'd like to give notice that by September, I will be shipping out to the Navy. I know that I've wavered on the idea of joining the military before, but given the bad choices I've made throughout the past half-decade and my current real world status, I've weighed the options and found this to be the most satisfying in terms of presenting opportunities for further progress.

I'll touch base with anyone who wishes it at the earliest available opportunity, which should be after my basic training and Advanced Individual Training, or at the least twelve to twenty weeks from when I leave. I'd like to add also that it is most likely that once I do return, I'll be starting a new journal, for the reason that I've grown increasingly dissatisfied with the how I've represented myself through the years on this medium, and also by the lack of quality work I've accomplished here. To compound matters, this journal has roots years in the past, all the way back to a person I can truthfully say I no longer identify with, and entering a new stage in my life grants me a good excuse in order to recreate my framing point on the internet. I will, however, be sure to provide a link to whichever point in cyber-land I do resurface at.

I'd like to add that as I am entering a stage where I'm pursuing what may easily be looked on as a career, I will be changing this journal to a friends-only setting in order to preserve my memories while at the same time preventing prying.

Thank you all for those few of you who have kept track of me or found some small point of interest in those few-and-far-between posts I've coaxed myself to write. I'll see you on the other side.

Amazon is recommending the Twilight books for me. I don't know whether to be amused or offended.

If anyone is concerned about me spoiling a movie that's been around for decades, be forewarned that you may gather contextual details from the following entry.

There's a sort of cheesy joke my mother has with me regarding "Roman Holiday," starring Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck -- Every time it comes on Turner Classic Movies, she gives me a call to let me know that my favorite movie is on. It can be a tiresome ritual, but there's a good reason behind it. When I first saw the movie when I was fourteen, my mind was completely blown by the ending. I'd yet to encounter many gut-wrenching movies at that age, and for a romantic-comedy of the sort that "Roman Holiday" purports to be to have that sort of ending seemed to defy the genre. Even up until recently, I found the juxtaposition to be a little strange.

That was until I found where the popular usage of the term "Roman holiday" came from. I made the mistake of taking the title of the movie in the literal sense. Consider canto IV, stanza 141 of Byron's "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage" :

"[The gladiator] reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize,
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
There where his young barbarians all at play,
There was their Dacian mother -- he, their sire,
Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday --"

"Roman holiday" is bread and circuses, the coliseum, public execution and slaves fighting lions. But notice how this stanza focuses on the gladiator's lost life in a different sense than brain death and cardiac arrest -- the concern is the life he was forced to leave to provide the Roman holiday. His wife, his family, his simple home are his regrets.

If we apply this to "Roman Holiday" the movie, the ending graduates from the romantic comedy employing simple tear-jerking strategies to develop a sort of didactic tragedy. The happy ending is lacking because that fails to properly highlight the losses a person undergoes by embracing celebrity. The focus of the movie is on the life that could have been -- if only. For the movie to have ended as a comedy (in a traditional sense), it seems reasonable to assume that audience reaction would be something along the lines of "oh, how nice." Instead there are lingering questions -- is duty necessarily pain, and if so, is it worth it? Is it self-sacrifice, or self-deception?

Given this perspective, I've come to appreciate "Roman Holiday" to a much greater degree. I haven't watched it for years out of remembrance of feelings gone sour. Perhaps it's time I revisited the movie.

This is like the Juggernaut video. It's one of those things that I'd say I wouldn't laugh at if you just told me about it, but turns out to make me collapse on the floor with abdominal pains. The good kind of pain.

If you're curious as to why so many entries appeared and promptly disappeared, it's that I have a condition quite akin to that most embarrassing of maladjustments -- drunk dialing. I hope it will suffice for me to say that I always feel properly ashamed of my tripe the next morning. Some people need to have their keys and cellphones removed when they imbibe. It's my laptop that needs to be confiscated.

The plight of children will always tear at my heart -- and yet what would they be without their formative conflict? Or am I deceiving myself, and there is vast potential to be tapped...?

When you're born you feel thirsty
for the world that wraps around you;
and after ten you're torn betwixt ye olden and the new.
In your teenage years you teeter,
uncertain of your yearning;
but if you waver, in your twenties
there will be plenty of time for talking
of all the myriad and fruitful things to do.

In your thirties, if you're looking,
you're surely lost without a paddle,
without a map,
without a compass,
without a clue.

And if, on a bright and shining morning
you find you're really approaching forty
and you sense the grasp
of the twisted clasp of fear,
be sure you shove your carcass to
the nearest naieve lad,
and mourn and moan with simpering tone
on how the world's so sad.

Ignore the plight of your wasted sight
and two decades worth of promise;
Why try to strike an old learned note
when you could prance as a failed Adonis?!

"Seed: You describe children as being “useless on purpose.” What do you mean by that?

AG: It’s related to one of the basic things that came out of our research: Why do children exist at all? It doesn’t make tremendous evolutionary sense to have these creatures that can’t even keep themselves alive and require an enormous investment of time on the part of adults. That period of dependence is longer for us than it is for any other species, and historically that period has become longer and longer.

The evolutionary answer seems to be that there is a tradeoff between the ability to learn and imagine — which is our great evolutionary advantage as a species — and our ability to apply what we’ve learned and put it to use. So one of the ideas in the book is that children are like the R&D department of the human species. They’re the ones who are always learning about the world. But if you’re always learning, imagining, and finding out, you need a kind of freedom that you don’t have if you’re actually making things happen in the world. And when you’re making things happen, it helps if those actions are based on all of the things you have learned and imagined. The way that evolution seems to have solved this problem is by giving us this period of childhood where we don’t have to do anything, where we are completely useless. We’re free to explore the physical world, as well as possible worlds through imaginative play. And when we’re adults, we can use that information to actually change the world."

-- To Be A Baby

The author on spotlight here is Alison Gopnik, who has an interesting collection of cognitive papers at her homepage here. I'm especially interested in seeing what she has to say about Gestalt images, as I'm starting to be more interested in stochastic interpretations in general (literature, of course, in particular). I'm reading the papers now -- thoughts to come later.

The Master stood up
and the slaves murmured down.
He began with a flourish, and --

"Are the children around?

I speak out today
on a subject uncouth,
but from my lofty heights
its my duty youth.

My pedestal's hard
and the throne room is cold,
but gaze all you want to;
and receive what you've sown.

My crown is half-cracked
and the robes are on loan;
but wish all you want to,
and fly our flags bold!

My friends have aims skewed,
and their eyes chill the bone;
like who you want to,
but glisten your tone.

Sheep to the shepherds
belong in the fold,
so bleat what you want to
but do as you're told."

Alas, my Heart; I cannot say
when last I let your drummings play
alone, unhindered by my thoughts,
which ever tend towards wrath and rot.

I cannot say when last you led
me through the shadows which I dread
and saw me to the lighted path
where burdens ease, where people laugh.

For these past years, with every smirk
behind the act a switch did lurk
which was attached to a game
set to start when some seed came

to sprout in cells within my mind,
where a mad man gnaws on those foul fruit rinds.
He lurks and thrives against my will,
and forces me sick drafts to swill
which I sweat out from my pores
to catch in rags; and seeking more
poison for my hated brew
I soak up the spit of others, too,
whether it be some swift sped wad
or a fleck on the chin of some rambling sod.

Then I wring my rag into a bowl;
yet, not content with my own soul
I garnish my drink with whatever fear
I can dredge from whoever is passing near;
For the dregs must be drained, and by my life,
they're bitter without another's strife!

Alas, my Heart; I cannot say
when last I let your drummings play
alone, unhindered by my thoughts
which run the course which they've been taught;
Or when my smile won't be a twitch
set to move by that mad man's switch.

I no longer wish to play the game --
I wish no bad seeds ever came.
Perhaps they'd cease if I'd no sin?
Had a keener eye? A thicker skin?
Of course, I don't, and so I but dwell,
simmering in my stinking hell;

I trudge the paths of a circle's turn
too shamed to seek for the peace I yearn.

This is mainly for Matt, but other people might find it interesting. It seems the Bureau of Sabotage has somewhat of a historical precedent;

"The consuls had succeeded to the kings of Rome, and represented the dignity of the state. They superintended the ceremonies of religion, levied and commanded the legions, gave audience to foreign ambassadors, and presided in the assemblies both of the senate and people. The general control of the finances was intrusted to their care; and though they seldom had leisure to administer justice in person, they were considered as the supreme guardians of law, equity, and the public peace. Such was their ordinary jurisdiction; but whenever the senate empowered the first magistrate to consult the safety of the commonwealth, he was raised by that decree above the laws, and exercised, in the defence of liberty, a temporary despotism. The character of the tribunes was, in every respect, different from that of the consuls. The appearance of the former was modest and humble; but their persons were sacred and inviolable. Their force was suited rather for opposition than for action. They were instituted to defend the oppressed, to pardon offences, to arraign the enemies of the people, and, when they judged it necessary, to stop, by a single word, the whole machine of government. As long as the republic subsisted, the dangerous influence, which either the consul or the tribune might derive from their respective jurisdiction, was diminished by several important restrictions. Their authority expired with the year in which they were elected; the former office was divided between two, the latter among ten persons; and, as both in their private and public interest they were averse to each other, their mutual conflicts contributed, for the most part, to strengthen rather than to destroy the balance of the constitution."

-- Edward Gibbons, Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, abridged, pg. 91.

They were also the primary protectors of the rights of citizens, required by law to be of Plebian origin, and able, on a citizen's request, to stop any actions, including arrest, performed by the magistrates. Of course the problem is that the Tribunes rely on the rights granted them by the state, while the beauty of the Bureau is the motivating principle of its agents' guile; we can see the flaws inherent in the system through noting that the Tribunes were disenfranchised by Sulla, made pawns of Pompey and Caesar, and superseded by Augustus and all the Emperors following, though the title was granted from time to time to certain imperial heirs and members of the family. It suggests a certain degree of corruption and decay in the persons inhabiting the office, perhaps as a result of power lust.

I recently helped introduce my thirteen year old sister to the joys of downloading via torrent. This is a minor example of what I was talking about when I mentioned using helping people to sneak in my own agenda. There's plenty of bands that she's asked me to download, such as Avril Lavigne, Fall Out Boy, and David Cook, but since she's not very knowledgeable when it comes to music, I'm using the opportunity to sneak in "things that girls listened to when I was in school." There's enough there to make it seem plausible on search, such as Our Lady Peace and My Chemical Romance, but I've also snuck in some Arcade Fire, Broken Social Scene, and TV On The Radio.

And the best thing about it? It's working.

Am I the only one who feels it was an injustice for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to have been remade while there's still The Fantastic Mr. Fox and The BFG left to be brought back to the light of day? I mean, these books could be easily done, if you ignore for a moment such travesties as that James and the Giant Peach affair. I'm not being radical here; I'm not naive enough to think that Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator would make the cut, but Dahl was a creative guy, and there's a lot that's worthy of adaptation out there, if we're going to do adaptations at all.

The more I read about him, the more I realize how perilously close to being a Marx I am, and how little I want to be him. Somehow the following does not surprise me:

"The frustrated poet lived in a state of stagnation, his will paralyzed. He did nothing, he wrote nothing, he had no concrete goal of any kind. [...] If [Marx] could still be called a student, he was one who had gone completely to the dogs. He belonged to the class of intellectual bohemians -- the coffee-house intellectuals. Half of his life was spent in coffee-houses. There was the one stable point which remained to him; there he congregated with the men who jokingly called their permanent rendez-vous the "Professors' Club."

The coffee-house of the Continent was a practical and home-like institution. One could order as little as one liked and then stay as long as one wished. One could practically live there."

-- Leopold Shwartszchild, The Red Prussian, Page 33.

And:

"The members of the "Professors' Club" were little philosophers. There was not one of them who had not nursed the secret hope of one day inventing his own system and thus becoming a great philosopher. But at the moment they were only small-time philosophers. They did not attempt to fashion a new Penelop-garment according to their own pattern and from their own material. They worried as to whether a seam here and there could be altered on the Penelope-garment which Hegel had already made." -- (Ibid, 36).

And:

"[Marx]'s most pleasing trait was his appreciation of good wine. Every evening they repaired to the inn to drink; and then, as they emptied one bottle after another, Marx became gay, jovial and natural. When he was in a good mood, he amused himself time and again with the same joke. He would say suddenly to someone at the table: "I am going to annihilate you," and say it over and over, enjoying himself tremendously." -- (Ibid, 64).

---

There's a reason why I continue to avoid my school's Philosophy Club, no matter how many times the president of it assures me I would spellbound the room. In fact, it's almost because of this fact. I will have nothing of coffee-shop mentality.

"To put up with people, to keep open house with one's heart — that is liberal, but that is merely liberal. One recognizes those hearts which are capable of noble hospitality by the many draped windows and closed shutters: they keep their best rooms empty. Why? Because they expect guests with whom one does not 'put up.'" -- Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols.

I've lately been undergoing something that would best be described as a cross between a spiritual revolution and an intellectual progression. I feel like some things are finally coming together for me, or I might be on the verge of losing my grip. I'm still trying to figure out the best way to process, systematize, and approach what I've been thinking lately, so don't be surprised if I struggle with articulation or seem rather extreme for the next couple of months.

Edit: I'm also coming to face a fear of mine, which is of being wrong. I've given lip service to the idea in the past that truth is essentially impossible to affirm 100%, but there's a real difference in gradual change and extreme change. I feel like I've essentially been unable to produce any real work in the form of a significant body of literature, whether essay or fiction, because while some aspects of my thought process remain relatively static, I change my mind on other things on an almost daily basis. I've decided to push through this, and churn out as much as possible in order to at least leave a road map of my thought process, for other people if not myself, while advertising the disclaimer that everything I do is a work in process. I think I would be hurt if I ever did anything that somebody labeled as "definitive" for me. I'm hoping my appointment with the doctor to confirm or deny some long term suspicions I've had about myself will aid me with this.

I'm the type of guy that's always getting stopped in computer lab to help somebody do something, such as save a document when their mouse has died or show somebody how to set the margins of their paper. The statement is always the same when they approach me. "You look like somebody who knows what he's doing."

This statement is both wonderfully true and terribly untrue. Oh, if only they knew...

Edit: I suppose this could also translate to, "You look like the type of fool who will help somebody who is too lazy to figure something out for themselves with something." Which is true. I like feeling useful and of knowing how to do something other people can't, and absolutely loathe the feeling of not knowing how to perform a certain task. There's a definite give and take here -- I'm being taken advantage of, and I know it, but at the same time I hope I can sneak something in while its happening to me. I wonder who is really winning.

Edit the Second: I'm starting to think that maybe Ayn Rand had something right in a few of her characters. People level accusations of arrogance most when they feel inept and are struggling with themselves.

I find it hard to believe that literature has ever challenged a person's thinking -- rather, the aesthetic they did not know was buried comes to light. And for those who already stood firm in the aesthetic, the values are only validated further and beautified. So what of the work of art which shows the petty cruelties of one person against another? I cannot see a book being used to save the damned, but it would be a useful tool to help drive a blade....

My "anti-aristocratic" tendencies get a kick when I read Supreme Court Justices from the University of Chicago and Harvard saying things like this:

"On the other hand, "a lot of people like to think its Shakespeare because...they like to think that a commoner can be such a brilliant writer," he says. "Even though there is no Santa Claus, it's still a wonderful myth."

On this issue, Justice Stevens sees eye to eye with his frequent conservative antagonist, Antonin Scalia, who says that as a child he received a monograph propounding de Vere's cause from a family friend.

"My wife, who is a much better expert in literature than I am, has berated me," says Justice Scalia. "She thinks we Oxfordians are motivated by the fact that we can't believe that a commoner could have done something like this, you know, it's an aristocratic tendency."

Justice Scalia prefers to turn the tables.

"It is probably more likely that the pro-Shakespearean people are affected by a democratic bias than the Oxfordians are affected by an aristocratic bias," he says."

-- Justice Stevens Renders an Opinion on Who Wrote Shakespeare's Plays