Beauty

I was recently cast in a play. A play that I am quite excited to be a part of. An ever so slightly absurdist farce version of Macbeth. The cast is pretty fantastic and I sincerely look forward to working with them. And as several of my friends have pointed out, many of these women I'll be working with are quite pleasing to the eye.

I've come to the conclusion that I really don't give a shit.

At this point in my life a pretty smile, face, or pleasantly shaped body has as much interest as gardening or dancing. Which is to say, I can see the appeal but don't really care. The shape of their silhouette has the same weight as the shape of their elbow. Their face with the back of their hand.

I've lost interest. Physical beauty bores me at the moment. Attraction seems tiring. My default reaction is to set to "oh. well. That's nice I suppose. Can you step out of my way? You're blocking the door. I have things to accomplish."

Which I'm fully aware sounds very mean. And perhaps a little sexist. But it's pretty much the way it is. I've chased after pretty faces for so very long. All it's done is left me feeling rejected and alone. Now that has very little to do with my ideas on beauty I just need to explain why I don't care about pretty girls as much. Why "there will be beautiful women there" is not in any way a selling point to me anymore. There was a point not too long ago where I would start to get angry about it. Angry at myself for my desires. Angry for wanting what I couldn't have. But that just got too tiring to be worth it.

Now they're just another person. Which has me less worried about sexism. Sometimes it's still hard. There is a part of me that still wants that happily ever after dream I foolishly feel entitled too. But that part seems to hold less and less weight. I've become less concerned with beauty. Less concerned with finding somebody special. Not because I want it any less, but because I don't have the time to waste on it anymore.

As a poet, a writer, and an actor, beauty is not something I can simply deny in my life. It's pursuit is the only true one. It's just that sometimes in chasing the distilled beauty in art, we are forced to face the ugliness in our own lives.

Unique

I was having a conversation with a person I know. It was about writing for one of my existing projects. And in the process of the conversation he asked me what was unique about the world. I wasn't entirely sure what he wanted so I named some things and in the process he blew me off. "Elemental", "Extraplanar", and "Elves" were all words he had heard before. So obviously there was no way it was as "unique" as the novel he was working on so he didn't have interest in helping.

As I tip toe around outside of the Theatre and artistic communities this kind of conversation with a pretensions bag full of windy air is not unusual. In fact it could almost be argued as the norm. There are a number of people, particularly those that think they have a little talent, that are convinced that new and unique are the epitome of good works. If it has been done before then it horrid and must be cast aside.

These people are full of shit.

Or more specifically they are completely missing the point. A point about art. There is a lot of unique art out there. However most of what could be called unique is in fact... bad. "Unique" many times is used when there's nothing else good to say.

Don't try to be original. Just write a damn story, draw a picture, write a song, make a sculture.

What's been done was done for a reason. If a thousand people have done the same thing there's a point to it. Don't reject something just because it's been done before. Because at that point you are as defined by the cliche as they are. You're just exploring the negative space around it.

If you look at fantasy and say "Well there's a lot of elves running around so I'm going to replace the elves with donkey men who breath sand instead of air." What you've created is certainly unique. It's also completely bizarre and doesn't sound terribly interesting.

Well to most folk. I'm suddenly on the Sand Donkey as a concept side. But I have a deep and abiding love of the bizarre and the nonsensical. My personal tastes are perhaps undermining my point.

The better route as I see it, is to embrace the preconceptions. Understand completely what people are going to expect, and then start tweaking things. That's generally what I think. Just try and make it interesting. Make some choices and then run with the logic of it.

The trick is not to create something new. "New" is almost invariably either confusing or boring. Newness for the sake of newness is a waste of energy. And it's a waste of talent. Art feeds on art. Don't try and create from scratch, find something similar and take it in a new direction. Push the boundaries. That is where you'll find REAL innovation. It's not outside the box, it's at the edges of it.

Progress

Dove recently released an ad. More specifically they released an attempt at a viral video where they performed an experiment to compare people's self-conceptions with the perceptions of others. I have to say, I was moved. The amount of dimorphic adjustments the people did to their faces was fascinating. The emphasis that they put on what they saw as negative traits made the pictures show up radically different.

That is apparently not what some people took from that. They saw it as overly condoning of the modern "unnatural" standard of beauty. They saw it as racist. As unfair to the people who looked like the "negative" reflections. They saw it as the patriarchy once again laying the hammer on the Female of the species because it was saying in clear implications that a woman has no other value then in the prettiness of her face. We are all beautiful and to try and put any standards of what beauty is is a crime against mankind. How dare you! How dare you try and pass this off as anything but another attempt of the Culture to keep us down!

That's not directly what I saw, but it is an extrapolation of the feelings I gathered from behind the words. Is it fair? Probably not, but I'm writing on the internet so I don't need to be fair.

What I saw was an attempt at making people look at how they see themselves against what others see them as. The whole Dove Real Beauty marketing scheme is try and expand our cultural definition of beauty. Some say or at least it seems to me that they're saying that we shouldn't have one. We're all beautiful.

Only we're not.

There are beautiful people. And there are ugly ones. And it generally has nothing to do with what their meat looks like. We're not all beautiful. I know. I've met a number of truly foully ugly people. Some of them even were physically unattractive. But I'm wandering from the point I want to make.

Expanding the standards of beauty is the best step towards making this whole situation better. Because it's a baby step. Being overly angry about this step not going far enough is like screaming at a 2nd grader cause they can't do their taxes. You can read? You can add and subtract? That's all you need right there.

I'm not implying that you don't have a right to your anger, because you do. But I think there are better uses then casting down the folks that are trying to meet in the middle. We're all human. We make mistakes and large groups of us are all the more likely too. Human beings are prone to messing up, of making terrible choices and standing by them far after they make any sense too. And once more I'm not trying to disagree, you make some really solid points. However the amount of weight you are putting on this I'm not sure is there.

It was a meme.

And generally had a better message than most of the ones I've seen. It was at least aiming at positive, even if it wasn't a perfect representation.

And regardless, I think you're beautiful.

Unless you're an asshole.

Mental Chaos

As some of you may have noticed, I'm something of a chaotic individual. Chaotic but really quite predictable once you get to know me. However I have been told on many different occasions and with many different combinations of words that this chaos is of my own make. That I can control. Which of course leaves the unspoken implication that it is entirely my choice and that if I was merely, diligent/good/willful enough that this chaos in my life would magically disappear.

"You could be a gentleman if you just chose to."
"You are in control of your life. It's just the way you're looking at."
"You control the chaos man. The only roadblock to your success is you."

You know what are also roadblocks? Actual roadblocks.

There are a thousand quotes likes this. Pretty words about the limitations being only in the mind. Which is an attitude that I can really get behind. However, I think it's much more complicated than that. I'd perhaps reword it like this, "Limits are in your mind, and sometimes in your circumstances."

In order to understand my resistance towards towards what others would simply call self control you must first understand the three components to my nature. Because it is in maintaining the balance of these three that all my actions are explained. It also helps to explain by what I mean when I say things like being a force of nature, and of not always having choice in my actions. Because I firmly believe that you always have a choice. However, there comes a point when the consequences mean there is only one right choice.

I have dubbed these three components, The Magical Child, The Wise Man, and the Beast of Salt and Fire. Now there may actually be more but for the purposes of understanding my choices towards barbarism and chaos they are the most significant.

The Magical Child, is the part of me that tends to most commonly endear me to strangers. It's the fun part. The clever oversimplifications, the pithy comments, the exuberance around new experiences. This is what the magical child does. In many ways it's the part of me that makes me charming, and makes me easy to love.

The Wise Man, is sort of self explanatory, it's my wisdom beyond my years. My understand and my capacity to understand. Any person I met within a little while of knowing them I can tell almost exactly why they are loved and why they are hated. It's the the drive to understand and know the great secrets. Both of the universe and in the heart of the person I'm talking to.

Then there is the Beast of Salt and Fire. Most of those that I have been intimately linked to I have talked to about this aspect. It is what drives me towards destructive behavior. Rarely self-destructive, and never cruel as far as I can help it. I have little tolerance for cruelty. And I would not call myself a sadist, however there is a true simple and transcendant joy I find in destruction. Watching peoples preconceptions burn away with a well placed joke or an astute observation is a pleasure unlike any other. Building up the block tower simply for the pure happiness it brings with it's fall... That is the Beast. There was a time when I feared it. When I would fight against it and lead myself down darker paths.

Because you see, the real problem with all this is that each of these is a part of me, and in trying to find a balance in those three sides almost all of my actions are predefined. I have on many occasions talked about my seeming lack of choice in certain matters. And yes, I could choose to ignore them. I could shunt the negative parts of me to the side and not give them food to grow on. I could. Because I have. And that's when I learned something. That's when I found the secret.

My life was defined by the battle with myself. The Beast in particular as it was all that I hated about myself, but it happened with all three on different occasions. I fought with John Belliston so hard and so long. Then something would break. Because despite what many teach there is a limit to will, as there is a limit to your physical strength. And then I would do something I would regret.

So I looked at my options. Did I continue on fighting and striving a battle against myself? Have it sap me of strength and define me as person? Or did I seek to find a balance?

I have strayed quite far from where this post began, but I feel that this is something that needs to be said. You cannot fathom what it is like to have to fight me for every action. My mind is as much a battlefield as anything else, and my option was to be consumed by the Chaos... or make it into my ally.

I suspect you can guess what I chose.

Transition

I did something the other day. Something that is a huge step. Something that I've been planning on doing for years now but finally did.

I sent a letter. More specifically an email. I sent this simple form letter of an email to the Membership Records department of the LDS Church and asked that my name be removed from the records. It's been a long time coming. I've known that I wanted since about half way through college. I've sat and thought through all the potential issues that will likely come up. All the consequences that could feasibly effect me. The only thing that has stopped me has been the potential for family backlash. 

Not from my immediate family mind you. They've been exceptionally supportive. My father's slow shift to agnosticism coupled with my mothers embrace of a sectarian humanitarian mystic philosophy makes it easier for me. On top of that they have really gone out of their way to let me be my own man. And that is perhaps the single thing am I am the most thankful for. My brothers are in the same boat though arguable less further down the river than me, so nether of them will blame me. In fact I can't think of a single person that knows me that would give me any significant guff over it. 

So why did I wait so very long? Because of how it would effect my family.

I realize that this probably doesn't make much sense. However it has to be know that my mother's father is a sadist. I mean this not to defame his character but in order to explain my reasoning. My grandfather delights in belittling and making himself seem better then other people. As he got older he moved further and further into the fringes of conspiracy and insanity because the feeling that he knew something that others were just too blind to see.

It's not something that most people who knew him would catch on to. He is arguable the most charming man I have ever known. And it's perhaps his influence that has lead me to never assume that being charming makes you a good person. On many personal occasions I'd had discussion about my thoughts dreams and interests and he would simply, but brutally, dash them to bits if they weren't what he wanted or expected. Though he only rarely showed it, there was a delight he took in making people uncomfortable, in making them feel smaller then him. Though I don't think he inflicted physical pain all that often, he certainly delighted in emotional pain. It's the only way I can explain his behavior, and more importantly the distinct uncomfort I have felt around him for years.

Because I did not fully understand the process that I was instigating with my letter I held back. I worried that my grandparents would be told and that my grandfather would use it as ammunition to emotionally damage my mother. I could honestly care less if he broached the subject with me. I am firm in my convictions and have given more thought to my leaving then many give to their conversions and almost all give to their remaining. There is no reasoning, guilt, or leverage used against me that will affect me.

But he wouldn't target me. He'd use it against my mother, and there are few things in this world that more infuriate me then other people be held responsible for my actions, and the other way round. Do NOT blame me for what somebody else did to you.

Hell those lines of logic is why every time somebody talks about the Jews killing Jesus I want to punch them in their mouths. Roman hammers, roman nails, on Roman orders... but it was the Jews. But that is a post for another day.

But anyway, I talked to my mother about it and she gave me the go ahead. So I did.

And that's what I have to say today. 

The Mimic's Dilemma

When a mimic defines itself as being a mimic, when their identity is fully tied up in they're ability to mimic, who do they become with nobody else is around?

Who is a man made of mirrors when there's naught to reflect?

It's a question that I have asked myself a thousand times. Perhaps even more than that. It's become a sort of personal short hand for me. For a particular kind fo confusion and headache I get after getting to know new people. I can't really explain adequately, but I shall attempt to explain it.

I forget who I am sometimes. It's not amnesia or any issues of memory. The facts of my existence are never effected. My love of cartoons and dungeons and dragons. The love of my parents. The memoires of my childhood. My anger and passion. My history. These never leave me. I never doubt them. The forgetting isn't a madness dying me the details. It's something else.

When I met a person I seek to understand them. I try on every possible level to know the person before me. From what I can see, and what they open up to me about I extrapolate the entirety of their being. Each person I have know and who has opened themselves up to me on whatever level has left a template of their entirety within me. Once you have begun to let me get to know you there is very little if anything you could do that would surprise me. It all becomes a matter of cycling the details of the matter through the template I've created.

Oh? You've decided to take up painting? How lovely. I'm surprised you didn't before.

Now it's not a perfect process. Obviously. Otherwise it would be a superpower. It's limited by the data available, both that which I directly acquire or intuitively construct. However, what I learn about people, they're strengths, weaknesses, virtues, vice, and spiritual gifts, they all effect me.

Each of these templates exist within me. And in many ways who I am is a compilation of the best traits of these templates. Who I am changes depending on who I am around.

That's something that's true for everyone though. We each wear masks. And we have different masks for different situations. The only way I'm different is that my masks go so much deeper. My internal structure shifts to maximize the efficiency of those I am around. I do more then play a role, in some ways I become a different person.

And what I've dubbed the mimic's dilemma, is when in that restructuring I forget which configuration is the real me.

Maybe there is no real me. And when there's no one there to mimic I'm just a blank mirror.

Or maybe I think too much.