Part One?

I've been procrastinating, I admit. Initiation is more difficult than perpetuation, just as static friction is greater than kinetic friction. Once I took a class called "Science of the Mind," taught by this nutty, hippie physics professor. There are plenty of stories about that class, but I digress. In "Science of the Mind," we studied functions of different parts of the brain, and I learned that initiation is primarily a frontal lobe activity. So I would blame my procrastination on a frontal lobe disorder.

This brings us to the first link, for an NPR show called "My Lobotomy," by Howard Dully. This poor guy got a transorbital frontal lobotomy. First paragraph of the NPR article:

Ick. I get queasy even thinking about brain surgery. I think it all started when I saw my uncle in a college performance of "One Flew Over A Cuckoo's Nest" when I was very young. How young? I can't remember, but "The Young Ones" was airing on MTV at the time. My uncle played the part of old man Scanlon, which was not so disturbing, but I had nightmares about frontal lobotomies after seeing the play. I had previously not been aware of the procedure.

I thought lobotomies were reserved for institutionalized patients only, especially schizophrenics but not manic-depressives (yeah, I said it. You gonna make me say "bipolar?"). I was wrong. People with mild depression were sometimes treated to the ice pick lobotomy--an out-patient, afternoon procedure. Some of them were turned into permanent 5-year olds. Some of them were zombies with no will of their own. But this Howard Dully got off pretty good, for someone who had his frontal orbitals liquified with an ice pick. I can't believe they actually used fucking ice picks. Dully has a wife and kids, and a job as a bus driver. He had the will to travel around the country and make this documentary. In case you didn't read the linked article, an mp3 of the whole story is available for download. He said he feels like he has no soul. I'm sure there's no way to describe the way you are changed by severe brain damage. Poor guy. His stepmother suckered his dad into okaying the procedure for no reason at all, other than she didn't like the kid. He was only 12 years old at the time, and was robbed of a normal mind. That's worse than murder, in many ways. It's crippling a person's spirit, unless you happen to miss a piece of gray matter, as seems to have happened for Howard Dully.

I'm not going to spend the whole time talking about lobotomies because it makes me anxious. But I highly recommend you take the time to listen to the whole story. Moving on . . .

On a completely trivial topic, a friend of mine recently told me about a site that's been around for awhile, but I'd never heard of it. You can waste a lot of time there, and most of the content is pretty retarded, but I really enjoyed Paris Hilton doesn't change facial expressions. 64 = 65? was also interesting.

I had a nice Thanksgiving this year. Some years have been pretty horrible, but not for the usual reasons. I get along fairly well with my family, and at any rate the fights I do have don't (generally) cause me a lot of anxiety. No, my horrible Thanksgivings have been caused by airlines or loneliness. Or Aggies. I have a bad memory of getting lunch amidst a throng of drunk, obnoxious, yelling Aggies at a sports bar on Thanksgiving, on a year that Texas A & M was playing the University of Texas in Austin. They alternate locations from year to year. This is the event that inspires the A & M bonfire. I have no problem talking smack about Aggies, because most of them are indeed crazy, while the rest of them are unfortunate Asian-American science and engineering students. Take a minute to read the wikipedia article about their traditions--they indoctrinate students with a fervor rivaled by only the Marine Corps or the Taliban. Which makes sense, because A & M was an all-male military school until the 60s or 70s.

Thankfully, there were no Aggies to ruin my Thanksgiving this year. The turkey and pecan pie were underdone, but I ate and enjoyed them anyway. I was in good company, with some friends in Portland. Thanksgiving is one of the few holidays I can really get behind; Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, Father's Day, Secretary's Day, and a good portion of the others exist only to sell cards and candy. Christmas is, well, ruined by consumerism. I enjoy the time off with family, but I cringe at the word "Christmas" after the onslaught of ads became too much for me to bear. People should give presents to their friends and families all year long, in small doses. When it's appropriate and meaningful. Isn't a thoughtful gift, given at some random occasion, going to be appreciated far more than a ritualistic, hollow present given more out of social duty than desire? Thanksgiving is about food and giving thanks. Food is something I celebrate every day anyway. Giving thanks is something I should do every day. It's good to have a holiday with the purpose built into the name, so you can't forgot. I bet most Americans have no idea Christmas = Christ + mass, and even if they do, how many actually go to mass on Christmas? No, Christmas is "Annual Gift Day." And there's a lot of pressure that goes along with that--marketers don't just target Christians. Everyone is expected to buy and give. I give thanks for Thanksgiving itself, the least selfish and consumerish holiday. Unfortunately, Christmas has encroached upon and passed Thanksgiving. When I was growing up, a local shopping center set up a Santa each year. I remember watching year to year as the date Santa arrived came earlier and earlier. From the twelve days before Christmas, to the beginning of December, to the day after Thanksgiving, to Halloween, and now there are Christmas ads in mid-October! Mid-fucking-October! Christmas-all-year is coming soon, I swear. I've been saying it for years, and have been sad to see the prediction coming true. I would love to be wrong about this. Please let Christmas retreat til after Thanksgiving, at the very least. It'll confuse the schoolkids otherwise--October is Halloween month, November is turkey and pilgrim month, while December is tree and Santa month.

I give thanks that Christmas has not yet reached summer. Summer is still safe until Labor Day, when Back-to-School shopping begins. Soon to be Back-to-Christmas shopping.

I guess if pressed I could be thankful for a few Christmasy things. Christmas has brought us some great movies, such as Gremlins or Lethal Weapon, to give but two examples. Christmas gives us eggnog, which is okay, and eggnog ice cream, which is better. Can I really give Christmas credit for eggnog? If pressed, I suppose. Christmas also gives us more food, which is always a good thing. In my family, we often have Belgian waffles for breakfast on Christmas. Yum. Did I mention I haven't eaten anything today? Is it pretty obvious?

I am thankful that I'm not one of the suckers who gets into a mountain of debt buying Christmas presents he / she can't afford. I'm thankful to have at least a pinch of common sense. I'm thankful I don't have a criminal record (yet). I'm thankful I don't live in Saudi Arabia, where Christmas trees are contraband. Making Christmas illegal would be one of the few ways to make it worse than it is. I'm thankful to be relatively healthy and not too fat. I'm thankful my brain has never been jabbed with an ice pick. I'm happy to have a comfy couch, high-speed internet, and a mosquito-free, air-conditioned living space. With running water that won't make me sick if I drink it. I'm happy that although about 25% of Americans voted for Bush, 75% didn't (100% of the nonvoters + 50% of those who voted). I'm happy that although Bush's regime are making out like bandits with this war, El Presidente has a 35% approval rating and I can call him a stinking crook on this web site without the Tonton Macoute coming to murder me in my sleep (yet).

This one is probably a bit unusual: I'm thankful I'm not a celebrity. I'm thankful to be relatively anonymous. I wish I could be even more anonymous. Anonymnity = freedom.

I'm thankful that I can end this entry right here, because I'm not being graded on this.

Eleven-and-a-Half Hour

Faust by Goethe. Dr. Faustus by Marlowe. There are several versions of the same story. It's one of those deal-with-the-devil stories. But I think it says a lot about human nature--Faust is never truly happy, despite getting whatever his heart desires.

The inability to be happy is, essentially, hell. Sulfur and brimstone got nothing on what can take place inside of your head. My heart goes out to all those dumbfuck tweakers who blew all the pleasure circuits in their brains. I don't think they ever fully recover. Rotting teeth is bad enough, but methamphetamine rots the brain, too.

Why are people unhappy? Are they spoiled? People in the third world aren't all taking Prozac. Even if they could afford it, the incidence of depression is lower. So wealth is not the key to happiness, but we already should have known that. People with idle time on their hands think too much, which can get them into trouble. People who stay busy don't have time to be depressed. Hmm . . . that does fit with the Hindu notion of karma yoga, or salvation via selfless deeds.

Besides having too much idle time, people must have some other reason for being so unhappy. At least, in comparison with a dog or cat. Something about being smart requires a tradeoff in happiness, I think. Or maybe it just makes happiness harder to attain. Who can really say. Buddhists say desire is the root of unhappiness, so they meditate to eliminate desire. Desire being the root of unhappiness would explain why Faust could never be happy: fulfilling desires just seeds even more desire, feeding the beast. What if Faust had made a deal with the devil to eliminate his desire?

Midnight approacheth. December is here, and I bid you good night.