a culture crisis

for the depraved

Category: Literature


Image(source: www.aritizia.com)

Just a shirt that reminds me of Beckett’s famous quote:

“Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter.

Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”


I very much appreciate that counterintuitive claim – that is, to fail better. An inspirational message from a true modernist.

In any case, it’s good advice for a writer, especially for a writer who can’t make up her mind regarding how and what she should write. So many questions: How to write this blog? What do I even want to post on this blog (because, let’s be honest, it’s a bit of a clusterfuck)? What do I want for my novel(la)? When the hell am I going to write it/finish it? These are merely my concerns, but I can imagine that such a quote can inspire just about anyone in any field to reevaluate their work, try again, and fail better.


Red Revenge

Image(source: http://www.rubylane.com)

He flicked him on his nose,

Stepped on his toes.

He pulled down on his tie,

Blew dry his eyes.

He kicked him in the rear,

Boxed both his ears.

He whacked him on his head,

And sent him to bed.

Goodnight, Harlequin.

Words: A New Page


I’ve recently added a new page. “Words” is what I hope will remain a continually evolving, continually growing page, filled with words that have shaped me, developed me in some capacity. Because, after all, words do that. They make us grow, they make us regress, they flatter us, the hurt us, they render us sad, they spur passion within us, etc. I could go on, but, let’s be honest, the list can never end. Words have such weight, such power, and yet these qualities often go unnoticed, unrecognized.

This page, then, is a tribute to the words in my life, for better or for worse. They are not always good words, not always happy nor inspirational. To be fair, though, I am not always good, nor happy, nor inspirational! Such is life, though. But nonetheless, they have come to mean something to me; they have helped mould whatever it is that I have become, whatever it is that I am today.

I’ve started the page with a series of quotes from some literature and authors that I really admire. Eventually, though, I hope to add some words from philosophy, from politics, from critical thinkers. If I am brave (and I hope that I am), I will also contribute words that I have encountered in my personal life. That is not to say that I don’t consider literature or philosophy a personal encounter, but rather that I want to contribute words that I have said or that have been said to me, even if they have been difficult to bear. Bearing them, though, is why I am my own self today, right now.  Words that troubled me have had equal influence (if not more) in shaping me, challenging me to determine who and what I would become.

What do I want for my life? Who will I surround myself with? How do I choose to cope with anxiety? How will I remain healthy? What kind of person do I want to be? What are those things, those qualities, that I value most?

While such questions are seemingly generic, something you’d perhaps find on a silly “discover yourself” questionnaire, if answered as honestly, faithfully, and bravely as possible, they somehow becomes exceptionally revealing. I recently interviewed for a position in a research firm (more on that later), and my interviewer told me that I seemed to be very self-aware. I told her that it was one of the things I was most proud of in myself, because I worked very hard to achieve this state (more on this later as well).

All to say, though, that words are extremely influential. Pay attention to them.

Mirror Talk & Sanity


I often talk to myself. Do you? Yes, you reading this – do you talk to yourself? You probably do. Actually, most people do. But do you talk to yourself the way I talk to myself? I imagine myself in conversation with another person, talk out both parts, I get heated, yell, give attitude, cry at myself in the mirror because this is how immersed I get. You are probably not like me. I like to think that most people aren’t. My therapist often asks me if I think I am the only one. The only one who talks to herself, the only one who deals with anxiety, the only one who imagines terrible things happening around her, the only one who thinks about thinking… I always answer no. Of course I am not the only one. However, I still don’t think that many people are like me. Already, very few people think about thinking – there are really not that many philosophers out there in the world when you compare them to the amount of non-philosophers out there. But even of these people, of those I have common interests or habits or feelings with, we really are not so similar. Everyone is weird, I think. I would love to find myself one non-weird person, whatever that might mean. And even then, I think it would be more weird for someone to be utterly non-weird at all, even when no one is looking. But as weird as you are, and of all the quirky things you do, you probably don’t yell and cry at yourself in the mirror while acting as though you are speaking with someone else. No, that probably isn’t you.

But it’s me, and I have accepted that. I like that about myself. I can keep myself company. I actually smirked out loud as I wrote this. Because it’s ridiculous to think I can keep myself company while pretending I am in the presence of someone else even though I am by myself. But it’s true, and that’s me.

I’m not “crazy,” I don’t see things (or at least if I do, I know they aren’t actually there), I am perfectly functional. I have an extremely vivid imagination. I hate that I have to justify it, but if you don’t explain it and convince others of your rationality, it’s like it doesn’t count. What you think, what you feel, what you know doesn’t count. It’s the dystopian fear that “they” will lock you up and shut you out and drive you mad all for normalcy’s sake. Fuck normalcy. No one is normal and we need to stop pretending like we are. It’s as though being yourself is not enough anymore. Actually, being yourself was never enough. It wasn’t even allowed. What a horrible thing for the world. When the only people who dare to be themselves are the “crazy” people, whether they are good or bad, right or wrong, terrorists or saints, they dare and we don’t. Norms govern us, institutionalize us, iron out the wrinkles and force in the edges that fight to come out, they breed us to perfection so that we buy into them and propagate them and force them upon others and mock and ridicule and ostracize and alienate anyone who dares to be otherwise, who dares to be more.

So today, I will openly state that I cry at myself in the mirror and I still declare myself sane, for the most part anyway. What about you?