I have been thinking lately about how important audience is me. Not necessarily thinking of a specific audience for x or y, but in imagining or finding the existence of an audience. Here's what I mean:
Lately I've realized how central an imaginary audience is to my sense of humor. Most of the jokes I make and strange things I do are not for the people I'm around, but for an outside observe, whether real or imagined. So most people just feel confused by my humor, whereas an audience would find what I do to be much funnier, and what I think I do that is funny is funny to me when I imagine an audience watching. This is something I'm discovering rather than something I've been aware of or conscious of.
Similarly, with writing. I've heard creative writers given the advice to write as if no one would read what they wrote, write for themselves. I function in totally the opposite direction. My work only gains quality if I assume or imagine that at some point, some one will read what I'm writing. My writing takes on clarity, focus, and creativity, whereas without an audience it would be sloppy and self-indulgent.
Similarly, with music and performance. I can never bring myself during practice to perform as well as I do during the real thing. For instance, in my Shakespeare class last week I had a performance in front of the class, and did better during the actual performance than during any of the practices. With music, I sing better and play more creatively in front of an audience than during practice.
And I think this is why I don't enjoy "theatre" more, even though on an every day basis I'm constantly acting, throwing up masks and tricking people. With theatre, the artifice is too apparent. If I'm going to be acting, it has to be for real.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
tradition
Many people, when they're stressed or unsure, adhere to tradition. I've noticed in the last year that I am the opposite, that when I really need to find a way to relax myself, I break with tradition and habit of what I've done before. No better or worse, just the way it is.
Over the last year, though, I've become even more deliberately at odds with tradition, especially tradition and origin as a source of authority. In part, this is why Derrida's arguments on the futility of trying to find origins for words (as a source of authority) is very appealing to me. This has become especially frustrating to me in trying to play music with people this year. I generally don't think it's a relevant question to appeal to the way we've played songs before as the way we should play them. Or, the way they were written or recorded by previous artists.
In this sense, I don't think of any part of a song as stable, or something that must necessarily be kept. I don't care about maintaining the melody, or the chords, or the words, or the mood, or the tempo. Likewise, when I'm playing music by myself, I rarely play a song the same way twice, so that I'm not creating a new authoritative version even for myself. More interesting to me than tradition is the creative impulses people are feeling at a given moment, and the context that the song is being played in, rather than anything absolute about the song. Of course, I can appreciate those sorts of tradition questions just for the sake of efficiency, or trying to remember a specific part so that people aren't confused, but not for anything more. Anyway, that's just how I work best.
In the end, I just feel embarrassed doing the same thing twice.
Over the last year, though, I've become even more deliberately at odds with tradition, especially tradition and origin as a source of authority. In part, this is why Derrida's arguments on the futility of trying to find origins for words (as a source of authority) is very appealing to me. This has become especially frustrating to me in trying to play music with people this year. I generally don't think it's a relevant question to appeal to the way we've played songs before as the way we should play them. Or, the way they were written or recorded by previous artists.
In this sense, I don't think of any part of a song as stable, or something that must necessarily be kept. I don't care about maintaining the melody, or the chords, or the words, or the mood, or the tempo. Likewise, when I'm playing music by myself, I rarely play a song the same way twice, so that I'm not creating a new authoritative version even for myself. More interesting to me than tradition is the creative impulses people are feeling at a given moment, and the context that the song is being played in, rather than anything absolute about the song. Of course, I can appreciate those sorts of tradition questions just for the sake of efficiency, or trying to remember a specific part so that people aren't confused, but not for anything more. Anyway, that's just how I work best.
In the end, I just feel embarrassed doing the same thing twice.
Monday, May 18, 2009
humanism
Up until recently, humanism has been very appealing to me. There seems to be something wholesome and true about the notion of human value, about equality of humanity, about inherent worth in humanity that has appealed to me. Further, the idea of a human condition or experience has been appealing to me, especially thinking of Jesus as entering experiencing the human condition (and by human condition I don't mean "sinful human nature.") While this human condition or nature often means sinful to people, it hasn't meant this to me for some time. I've seen people as basically good, and I liked that.
But there are certain problems to humanism that I do think are worth considering. For instance, humanism has the capacity to conflate and disrespect human experience and suffering. It assumes a oneness in humanity that means I have the capacity, on some level, to empathize and understand your suffering, and you mine, and of a oneness throughout time. In other words, it confuses people with one another and makes their problems the same. Humanism in this way acts as a metatheory or metanarrative that subordinates individual narratives into one human experience. And I do think that's a significant problem.
To break this down even farther: humanism is variously loving and non loving, respectful and non respectful of humans. Right now, I don't know what to do with metan-theories or meta-narratives, or essentializing claims, and this means I don't know what to do with humanism. Although, to be honest, "humanism" is probably just a red herring. I don't actually care about "humanism," I care about how I am to see, know, and understand myself, the people around me, and the world.
But there are certain problems to humanism that I do think are worth considering. For instance, humanism has the capacity to conflate and disrespect human experience and suffering. It assumes a oneness in humanity that means I have the capacity, on some level, to empathize and understand your suffering, and you mine, and of a oneness throughout time. In other words, it confuses people with one another and makes their problems the same. Humanism in this way acts as a metatheory or metanarrative that subordinates individual narratives into one human experience. And I do think that's a significant problem.
To break this down even farther: humanism is variously loving and non loving, respectful and non respectful of humans. Right now, I don't know what to do with metan-theories or meta-narratives, or essentializing claims, and this means I don't know what to do with humanism. Although, to be honest, "humanism" is probably just a red herring. I don't actually care about "humanism," I care about how I am to see, know, and understand myself, the people around me, and the world.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
3 years
I recently passed the 3 year anniversary of my return to the States. I'm not sure what to say about it except that it happened, and that I haven't been disappointed.
And this is significant to me because I've been thinking lately about disappointment, and how inevitable disappointment is in life, in work, in relationships, in projects, in conversations and situations. And yet, when I look back over my life this far, I'm not disappointed. Ultimately, I'm not disappointed in the education I've received at SPU, or the time that I've had here. Of course there have been disappointing aspects, as there have been throughout my life, but in general I feel like what has happened has been good. And yet, part of me is still attracted to inevitable disappointment, to the idea of being old and looking back on life with great disappointment. Maybe that will happen, perhaps not.
Three years is a long time.
And this is significant to me because I've been thinking lately about disappointment, and how inevitable disappointment is in life, in work, in relationships, in projects, in conversations and situations. And yet, when I look back over my life this far, I'm not disappointed. Ultimately, I'm not disappointed in the education I've received at SPU, or the time that I've had here. Of course there have been disappointing aspects, as there have been throughout my life, but in general I feel like what has happened has been good. And yet, part of me is still attracted to inevitable disappointment, to the idea of being old and looking back on life with great disappointment. Maybe that will happen, perhaps not.
Three years is a long time.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
objectivity
Many times in my life, I've heard pastors, worship leaders, and missions groups pray for God to eliminate them from speaking, leading, and acting, and leave only God's will. I've prayed this prayer myself, in regards to worship or my daily life. More recently, however, in the last year or so, it's begun to seriously bother me, and I want to try to articulate some of the reasons that it does. This isn't directed at anyone, I just want a place to articulate what I'm thinking.
1. It never works. When a preacher prays for God to let them only say what is from God, and that all their ideas and thoughts, whatever is of them, be erased, it doesn't work. Sermons are still shot through with the personal opinions, biases, and beliefs of the speaker. Similarly, missionaries act based on theory of how they should act, and this theory is their belief rather than something handed down from God, and worship leaders sing songs with bad theology that are inappropriate for the situation, and choose songs based totally on preference rather than the work of God. Incidentally, I think its ridiculous to assert that the introduction of subjective elements into a sermon have anything to do with sin, that a pure believer would be able to totally erase themself.
2. I think this posturing of eliminating the self also eliminates all passion from worship, action, and teaching. Witness what happens when, as a worship leader, you don't believe the songs that you're playing, or try to choose songs on some sort of objective criteria. It's a miserable, deadening experience. Similarly, it's incredibly boring to listen to people talk about things they don't care about. And, more than boring, it's not rhetorically persuasive or appealing (thanks lit theory for inspiring that thought). And I think that the one leads to the other, that trying to eliminate the self from faith experiences results in not caring anymore about what you do.
3. The only way I can listen to speakers and participate in ,and not go crazy, is to think of them as expressions of belief, not as statements of truth. I hear people pray those prayers, and then say awful things to the extent that if those things are from God, I want no part in God. And that's what makes those expressions interesting, is that they are provisional, they're never quite there. I don't go to church to find truth, or to find God, I go there to be with the church.
4. Where does this posturing even come from? Perhaps from Jesus, from his claim that the things he teaches are not his own ideas but have been given to him from God, or ultimately from his decision to go and die. Or perhaps from Paul, "I have been crucified with Christ and no longer live..." These are nice sentiments, but I don't believe that Paul's writings were handed to him by God, or that Paul and Paul's personal, subjective beliefs were eliminated from his writing. That is to say, I dont think that Paul's letters could have been written by anyone except Paul. That's something to be celebrated. If what Paul meant was that he's an empty vessel for God to direct and manipulate and erase, he was wrong. It didnt happen. Eliminate subjectivity and you throw out the Bible and the entire Christian tradition.
In part, this is a subset of a larger problem for me. I hear people admit that objectivity is impossible, but that it's something to strive for. Something in that feels off to me, but I don't know how to articulate it at this point. In what sense do they mean I should try to be objective? Is what these people mean by objectivity actually objectivity? People go crazy trying to be objective, because inevitably they are forced away from objectivity any time they choose anything. I don't want to go crazy.
1. It never works. When a preacher prays for God to let them only say what is from God, and that all their ideas and thoughts, whatever is of them, be erased, it doesn't work. Sermons are still shot through with the personal opinions, biases, and beliefs of the speaker. Similarly, missionaries act based on theory of how they should act, and this theory is their belief rather than something handed down from God, and worship leaders sing songs with bad theology that are inappropriate for the situation, and choose songs based totally on preference rather than the work of God. Incidentally, I think its ridiculous to assert that the introduction of subjective elements into a sermon have anything to do with sin, that a pure believer would be able to totally erase themself.
2. I think this posturing of eliminating the self also eliminates all passion from worship, action, and teaching. Witness what happens when, as a worship leader, you don't believe the songs that you're playing, or try to choose songs on some sort of objective criteria. It's a miserable, deadening experience. Similarly, it's incredibly boring to listen to people talk about things they don't care about. And, more than boring, it's not rhetorically persuasive or appealing (thanks lit theory for inspiring that thought). And I think that the one leads to the other, that trying to eliminate the self from faith experiences results in not caring anymore about what you do.
3. The only way I can listen to speakers and participate in ,and not go crazy, is to think of them as expressions of belief, not as statements of truth. I hear people pray those prayers, and then say awful things to the extent that if those things are from God, I want no part in God. And that's what makes those expressions interesting, is that they are provisional, they're never quite there. I don't go to church to find truth, or to find God, I go there to be with the church.
4. Where does this posturing even come from? Perhaps from Jesus, from his claim that the things he teaches are not his own ideas but have been given to him from God, or ultimately from his decision to go and die. Or perhaps from Paul, "I have been crucified with Christ and no longer live..." These are nice sentiments, but I don't believe that Paul's writings were handed to him by God, or that Paul and Paul's personal, subjective beliefs were eliminated from his writing. That is to say, I dont think that Paul's letters could have been written by anyone except Paul. That's something to be celebrated. If what Paul meant was that he's an empty vessel for God to direct and manipulate and erase, he was wrong. It didnt happen. Eliminate subjectivity and you throw out the Bible and the entire Christian tradition.
In part, this is a subset of a larger problem for me. I hear people admit that objectivity is impossible, but that it's something to strive for. Something in that feels off to me, but I don't know how to articulate it at this point. In what sense do they mean I should try to be objective? Is what these people mean by objectivity actually objectivity? People go crazy trying to be objective, because inevitably they are forced away from objectivity any time they choose anything. I don't want to go crazy.
Monday, April 13, 2009
covers
I've been thinking about book covers recently. Mostly what I've been wondering is whether classic books could be published with contemporary art work on the covers, and whether or not contemporary stories could be published with classical artwork. Or maybe the question I'm getting at is whether they would sell as well and whether people would take them as seriously. Does publishing a book with contemporary art work imply that a certain standard of writing, a certain way of ordering the world will be found within, and the failure of the two to synchronize would result in discontentment? In other words, would people feel cheated if David Copperfield was published with the same cover as The Savage Detectives?
This also, I think, has to do with "don't judge a book by its cover." In my experience, books should absolutely be judged by their covers. That is, covers and imprints are usually marketed towards a certain audience and with certain genres and standards in mind. Similar covers imply similar content and experience created for certain audiences. In general, I've found that when I dislike covers, I'm usually not very interested in the blurbs about the books, and often if I read them they end up being low quality, unenjoyable works. Then again, a lot of this has to do with layout, font, page and font size, paper quality, binding quality, etc. I suppose part of the argument is that David Copperfield published with two covers is actually two different books, and so it's impossible to equate or conflate separate readings of each.
In other news, I feel that my life is always a balancing act between production and consumption, where when I don't consume, I feel empty, and when I don't produce, I feel stuffed. There are times when I can't read anymore until I do something productive, especially writing or music, and times when I need to read because I've been producing too much. I feel like the general trend of my life has been towards consumption of knowledge and information, but more and more I see it drifting towards production, or at least towards a balance between the two. I want to produce, and sometimes having to take in more and more just gets exhausting, whereas I don't think the same amount of information would feel exhausting if I were producing more. Hence this blog post.
This also, I think, has to do with "don't judge a book by its cover." In my experience, books should absolutely be judged by their covers. That is, covers and imprints are usually marketed towards a certain audience and with certain genres and standards in mind. Similar covers imply similar content and experience created for certain audiences. In general, I've found that when I dislike covers, I'm usually not very interested in the blurbs about the books, and often if I read them they end up being low quality, unenjoyable works. Then again, a lot of this has to do with layout, font, page and font size, paper quality, binding quality, etc. I suppose part of the argument is that David Copperfield published with two covers is actually two different books, and so it's impossible to equate or conflate separate readings of each.
In other news, I feel that my life is always a balancing act between production and consumption, where when I don't consume, I feel empty, and when I don't produce, I feel stuffed. There are times when I can't read anymore until I do something productive, especially writing or music, and times when I need to read because I've been producing too much. I feel like the general trend of my life has been tow
Publish Post
Saturday, April 4, 2009
o my sinuses
When I was growing up, I didn't pay any attention to the nutritional quality of the food I was eating. Not until I was 17 or so. I was, in general, very healthy and fit. Since then, as I've become more and more careful about what I eat, I get sick all the time. Additionally, I was eating food from all the street vendors in Thailand, while now I'm buying from supermarkets in the States. In other words, I need to start eating more junk food, sit around and play video games, and move somewhere warmer so I don't have to deal with all these little sicknesses.
I've been thinking recently about atheism. I wonder if more people become atheists because they can't find a use for God than from a lack of reasons to believe in God's existence. I wonder if much of the believing life is trying to find a reason to keep God around, to find something that he sustains or changes, to find some activity that he takes part in. This has become more and more difficult for me to do over the years, especially in my movement away from a morality and sin basis for understanding who God is: before, I believed that I needed God to be a good, moral person, but I don't believe that any longer. Why? Partially because I don't believe that morality is God's main interest in my life, but also just because most of the time where I do wrong or do right, God seems to be totally absent from the entire process. I don't want to invent uses for God and insert him into processes where he does not exist. That's lead me to better, healthier territory, but problem territory.
I've also been thinking about how much I hate people in general, and like them in particular. When I go around in life and see all the messes that people make, how inconsiderate, cruel, and irresponsible they are, I hate them. But when I come up against a single individual who makes a mess out of life, who is inconsiderate, cruel, and irresponsible, I often like them. Often, but not always. I think that what I hate is really an imagined person, a sort of straw man target that I mentally abuse, but who doesn't exist in reality (this is, arguably, how Jesus functions: he condemns the pharisees as a faceless, nameless mass, but he treats individuals with great compassion.) Or sometimes I bitch about people, in my head mostly, when they're not around, but then when I'm with them, whatever I'm bitching about doesn't seem to matter that much.
Contrary to contemporary Christian pop theology, I don't think it's possible to love someone unless you like them. Without liking them, you may be able to treat them with courtesy and respect, to make sacrifices for them, but I don't think it's possible to really love them when you dislike them. To like someone, I think, is to take joy in the essence of who they are, and without that joy, I don't think that love is possible. "Love the sinner, hate the sin," is also nonsense to me, along similar lines.
Let's not forget that justice isn't only about punishing those who do wrong, it's restoring those who have been wronged. When justice is talked about in the first sense, I am bored and repulsed. When it's talked about in the second sense, I'm excited. And, it is possible to have the second without the first.
Anger about the injustices in the world inhibits learning about those injustices and, summarily, inhibits the solutions to those injustices. Get angry once you know something.
I'm obviously writing my own book of proverbs.
I've been thinking recently about atheism. I wonder if more people become atheists because they can't find a use for God than from a lack of reasons to believe in God's existence. I wonder if much of the believing life is trying to find a reason to keep God around, to find something that he sustains or changes, to find some activity that he takes part in. This has become more and more difficult for me to do over the years, especially in my movement away from a morality and sin basis for understanding who God is: before, I believed that I needed God to be a good, moral person, but I don't believe that any longer. Why? Partially because I don't believe that morality is God's main interest in my life, but also just because most of the time where I do wrong or do right, God seems to be totally absent from the entire process. I don't want to invent uses for God and insert him into processes where he does not exist. That's lead me to better, healthier territory, but problem territory.
I've also been thinking about how much I hate people in general, and like them in particular. When I go around in life and see all the messes that people make, how inconsiderate, cruel, and irresponsible they are, I hate them. But when I come up against a single individual who makes a mess out of life, who is inconsiderate, cruel, and irresponsible, I often like them. Often, but not always. I think that what I hate is really an imagined person, a sort of straw man target that I mentally abuse, but who doesn't exist in reality (this is, arguably, how Jesus functions: he condemns the pharisees as a faceless, nameless mass, but he treats individuals with great compassion.) Or sometimes I bitch about people, in my head mostly, when they're not around, but then when I'm with them, whatever I'm bitching about doesn't seem to matter that much.
Contrary to contemporary Christian pop theology, I don't think it's possible to love someone unless you like them. Without liking them, you may be able to treat them with courtesy and respect, to make sacrifices for them, but I don't think it's possible to really love them when you dislike them. To like someone, I think, is to take joy in the essence of who they are, and without that joy, I don't think that love is possible. "Love the sinner, hate the sin," is also nonsense to me, along similar lines.
Let's not forget that justice isn't only about punishing those who do wrong, it's restoring those who have been wronged. When justice is talked about in the first sense, I am bored and repulsed. When it's talked about in the second sense, I'm excited. And, it is possible to have the second without the first.
Anger about the injustices in the world inhibits learning about those injustices and, summarily, inhibits the solutions to those injustices. Get angry once you know something.
I'm obviously writing my own book of proverbs.
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