Story of a Rock

A rock sits out in the sun, round, red, undisturbed. It has rested there for hundreds of years, minding its own business. Watching the sun rise and fall every day, watching the world turn dark every night. Watching the leaves and flowers grow green, dazzling, watching them wilt and fade, watching the snow fall in the massacre of winter, then watch it rise just as beautiful. The clouds constantly transforming before its eyes, that pattern above never the same one moment to the next. Sometimes the heavens above would be overcome with darkness, lightning, thunder, and rain. The rock would be drenched, but it was still minding its own business. In the spring, it would watch as the elk raised their young. They would eat the grass and the flowers, and the mountains in the distance would shimmer blue. In the summer, the wolves would come and hunt the elk in the evenings, catching one of the babes. In autumn, the elk would migrate away, the wolves with them, and leave the rock to itself. To contemplate nothing, just to watch the world transform itself year after year. Watch as one thing turned to another thing. This was the way it was year after year after year.

On just another day the rock was lying low, minding its business, when it spotted a strange creature. It stood on two legs, unlike the rest, and was wearing fur that should have been on the elk! Two of the creatures strode past it, growling at one other, their upper holes moving up and down. What were they doing? The rock had never gazed at anything like this before. Were they some sort of new species of elk? Or were they wolves? As the rock sat there, the pair of them walked closer and closer, eventually stiing down next the rock, placing their sharpened sticks closest to it. But the two continued to growl at each other. Sometimes one would exclaim a particular loud growl, that sounded like rocks rolling down a mountain, bouncing, and hitting cliffs. They had the strangest muzzles. Flat, not like the elk or wolf, and protruding noses, unlike the birds that sometimes pecked the earth. Fur only seemed to be falling from their heads, unlike the bear who's body was covered in it, or Mammoth, who sometimes boomed their feet. The creatures would often touch each other lightly, unlike the elk and deer who rammed each other's heads together, or wolf who wrestled down moose. Now the creatures took something out of a sack, and started shoving food inside their upper holes, still making that growling noise.

When they left, the rock was relieved. But they wouldn't go away, no. The next time it saw them, the two were wrestling. Throwing their limbs at each other, not growling. Red water leaked out of one of them, just like the elk or moose. A wail like a goose escaped into the air, reverberating deep inside the earth and through the mountains. Finally one stopped moving, and the other walked away, leaving the rock in the presense of the thing. But it disappeared like anything else that died, leaving him alone. Days past, day after day after day. Oh no! Another appeared, a different one. Water falling from its moving holes. Bending down to the disappearing thing, digging a hole in the earth, and burrying the thing. Why did it bother? Why did it care? The creature finally left after a few days, but it did return. This time it brought with it others. They began constructing mounds with hollow enteriors. The creatures would go inside and disappear. Eventually the mounds got bigger and bigger and more and more, and the creature with the water eyes started growing plants where the other had died. The rock hated them. The seasons stopped changing like they had, and the elk and wolves stopped coming at all. Even the nights didn't feel as dark, and the days not as bright. It wished they would go away, and let it be.

Sometimes they would leave for awhile, but they always came back. When they did, they would often bring littler, smaller creatures with them. The rock found these ones the most irritating. They would run past it, skipping, howling like a wolf. Once, one picked it up and chucked it far away. Finally the rock felt at peace, but no, the water-eyed creature found it and brought it back to where it was before. Next to its garden that grew on top of the dead one. The creatures seemed to waste everything. Throwing away dead elk and moose and deer, leaving garbage outside their mounds. The rock had watched them scream like geese at each other, throw things, kill one other in the middle of the night. He watched them be impatient, stare into the sky and howl. Throw their fists up toward the heavens, and curse when it didn't rain. It watched as they made fire and dance and howl. It watched them growl and it watched them touch faces. It watched little creatures being born, and it watched them die. Every day after sunset, the water eyed creature, who was now crinkled and pale, would go to its garden and cry. Leak its own water into its own garden. Slowly, the rock grew to love its people. It would bless the crying creature, and miss the little ones when they grew older. One day, the old water eyed creature died, and its littler ones burried it deep in its garden. Sooner or later, the littler people would get bigger and die too. This was the way it was year after year after year.

On just another day the rock was lying low, minding its own business. The day proceded like normal. It watched as the creatures went about their daily business. Growling, whistling like birds, chasing each other. They started their fire and threw out their garbage. One creature was arguing with another about nothing. Smaller creatures played, almost stepping on the rock. Just like normal. A sudden shot reverberated through the air, sounding like nothing the rock had ever heard before. The creatures stared at each other nervously, pointing out east. Bam. Bam. Bam. Creatures on top of four-legs burst into the rock's people. Creatures with sticks that blasted fire at the others. They howled, their legs trying to flee. BAM. BAM. BAM. Red water poured onto the earth and into the garden. BAM. BAM. BAM. Howling, growling, screaming, that's what it was, screaming for it stop. Then it was over, and the rock's people were dead. The men with four legs went away, and left the others to sit there. Gradually, the bodies disappeared, and then their mounds drifted a way in the breeze. Finally, the water eyed creature's garden wilted. Green petals falling away until nothing was left but one sprout. Then that disappeared too, and the rock was alone. It waited and waited for its people to return, no longer caring about the elk or wolf. It only wished its people would return to it. It forgot about the sky and the earth and all the other things it once loved. This was the way it was year after year after year.

One day, just like any other, the creatures returned. Covered in material the rock had never seen them wearing before, and growling in all new tones. One creature pointed to the earth and then the sky, smiling, its head with an odd creature on top of it. It sniffed, and pointed straight at the rock, its upper mouth flapping, the caterpillar under its nose smirking. The rock was delighted. Finally, they had returned to it. Finally, they came back for it. Finally, it was going to have people again. It waited the whole night eagerly anticipating the next day, because it knew the people enjoyed the light more than the dark. Then the day came, and the rock could barely hold back its excitement. The creature returned, this time with a mammoth creature. It pointed at the rock, then thrusted its hand in the other direction, winking at the mammoth. The mammoth moved forward, thrusting its tusks into the earth, picking the rock up. The rock couldn't wait as the clouds moved with him. Where were the creatures taking him now? The sky stopped, and the mammoth moved its tusks. The rock fell, sliding into the bottom of a lake. It drifted slowly down, watching the sun fade away, until it was dark and the light disappeared.

HERCULES

The philosophers

The Greek philosophers. They represent the power, the culture, the math, and all the greatness that seeped from Greece across the globe. Greece and Rome are still idolized today. Their empires stretched through Asia and Africa, and Europe was the center of the world. After the fall of Rome, Europe regressed into savagry, illiteracy, fuedalism, pretty much crap. They were dirty people, living in shacks and bathing once or twice a year. The peasantry rarely lived past 40 years, and the kings and queens were often corrupt and inbred. Eventually, after more than 400 years of darkness, the peoples of Europe again emerged from the abyss. But the ages after the empire fell, intellectual Europeans longed to return to that rational thought that philosophers represented, wishing they could live in another time then the one they were lving in. It was this longing that created the high-tech world we live in now. The world of math, science, and discipline.

Socrates was the teacher of Plato. Having never written any of teachings down, it is only through Plato and his other students that we know anything about Socrates. What we do know is fascinating. To outsiders, Socrates was a crazy old man (senex if you will), he spent his days wandering around Athens, questioning people exhaustively until he knew exactly what they were doing and why they were doing it. Socrates handed down to us the Socratic method of teaching through dialogue. Socrates proved his theories through discussions, similar to how a mathematician uses prooofs to prove equations. Instead of giving the whole picture all at once, he went through it step by step, making it easier for the reader’s mind to digest. Also from Socrates came the idea of the illusionary world, the cave, and the famous question: Is it good because the gods like it, or do the gods like it because it is good? With both sides of that question raising huge moral dilemmas. But Socrates also pushed how far a Democracy was willing to accept weirdos, way out there guys who badgered you endlessly, constantly balancing a tolerancy tight rope. Finally, because of the way he acted, and the general populace growing frustrated with the old dude, he was sentenced to death. Even after he was given the chance to escape, Socrates refused to flee. He believed it was his duty to die, to prove he was right.

Plato's student was Aristotle. He was the teacher of Alexander the Great who proceded over the Greek Empire. Here are my notes about him from my philosophy class oh so many semesters ago:

What does Aristotle believe? He lived from 384 to 322 BC in Greece and was the student of Plato, who was the student of Socrates. He asked what is the good life for human beings? How can I be a good person? What wold a virtuous person do?

According to Aristotle, what is it to be virtuous are these: Intellectual virtues are the character traits necessary for correct virtue. It is aquired by teaching. On the other hand, moral virtues are character traits that are necessary for the right action and a good life. These are aquired by practice. He argues that the virtue is a "means between two vices." That is when you are confronted with a problem, you should ask yourself this: how much is too little and how much is too much. Generosity: give too much hurt yourself, give to little seen as stingy. Bravery: suicidal situations, or coward. The danger is this though, it is not simply splitting the difference. The question is what would a generous person do? For example, if you someone asks you for a million dollars the correct answer would not to be giving them 500 thousand instead.

How is good character developed for Aristotle?
1. Development of natural capacities through habitation and training
2. We need a purpose or telos
3. This is the good life from Aristotles's vantage, a natural goal or purpose
4. a human being is good if he rationalizes well

What are some objections to Aristotle's view? It is difficult to apply to certain cases because it is ambiguous. Acting like a virtuous person is a vague goal, because there is no guidelines.

The three great Greek philosophers formed the root of all that was to come. Believing in pathos far more than mythos, tentacles of Western civilization were already in formation. Through it, Western man created the most advanced (or craziest) civilization he ever has. It gave birth to the airplane, computer, skyscraper, even a rocket to the moon. This is the world Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle dreamed of.

The Trickster

The trickster character is most prevalent in modern media. He is the anti-hero, the anarchist, selfish and unpredictable, and he stretches far, far back in time. To the Greeks, to the Native Americans, and to the Norwegians. He celebrates the spirit and intelligence, as well as of the anti-social. Why are we attracted to him? Is it his inner playfulness? His willingness to not be afraid to embarass himself in front of others? And why has this character trait of the rebellion hit such a chord with a modern day audience? Just a few examples: Han Solo from Star Wars, Indiana Jones, practically any character Harrison Ford plays. A plethora of characters from Harry Potter series, the most obvious being Fred and George Weasley, Peeves, The Marauders, even Harry has a little anarchist spirit. All the adult cartoon shows: Eric Cartman from South Park, Stewie Griffin from Family Guy, Bender from Futurama, Bart Simpson from the Simpsons. From television dramas including Starbuck from Battlestar Galactica, and Sawyer from Lost. And from the world of comic books: The Joker, Spiderman, Deadpool, and even Ironman.

A few things these characters have in common: they are loners, they are used for comic relief, they are often despised by others, and they are never truly good or truly evil. Why are these characters so appealing? Something about the dark anti-hero, mocking, making fun of everything he sees. Staring at the world with venomous eyes and poking holes in it. That clicks with me. The first time I read (or rather, was forced to read) the play Romeo and Juliet, I immediately had a bond with Mercutio. He was an outsider, a funny man, above the system. Yes, he has allegiances, but he was really thinking of himself. When he died, I was genuinely shocked. I don't if it was because I wasn't sure of his fate at the beginning like I was the other main characters, but it hit me the hardest. Why has this trait become so popular today, when before we were more focused on the wholesome image of the hero who would always do the right thing? It is because we are more repressed than we have ever been before. Rebellion is the definition of cool. Why is that? Why have we become a nation of men and women afraid to speak out? Political correctness is the devil's tool.

Echoes of Antigone

Thick eyeliner, red lips, blush, smoking a cigarette in her punk mouth, she stares at you with eyes that look like they would rather be staring at anything else. Sucking on the tip of her cigarette, she breaths deeply, then flicks it away, stomping on it with her foot. Smiling as it squishes under her hiker boots on the wet, dark street in some back alley. "So, you finally came to see me," she says. You don't reply. You notice the little things about her that have changed. She used to wear her hair in a cute pony-tail, but now it's a pink mohawk. Her skin used to be smooth, innocent, now its grey, and full of pot-marks. Her eyes were once full of that energy you could never quite place, but now they were hopeless, drunk. This is Antigone, some punk rocker chick who loves Rancid and MxPx, weed and tattoos, getting drunk and pissing her life away. Her motto, "The second best thing is to die," ask her what the best thing is, "Well, idiot, that would be to never be born at all." Ask her about herself and she'll tell you her family is dead, and she doesn't give a fuck what you think. Yeah, seems like a girl I could fall hopelessly in love with.

There was a girl I met over the summer. She had this energy that was almost indescribable, like some nymph, a trickster, Hermes. Her laughter was chaotic, a little kid overjoyed with something clever thing they did. Giggling as her malicious scheme came to fruition. It was so addictive, so illusive, so unlike anything I have seen or felt before. Her hair changed every time I ran into her. One day it would be a mohawk, the next it would be short, the next it would be long, blue, pink, red, blond, black. But it was this energy that she gave off that drove me straight to her. The next time I saw her it was at a concert. I have never been so sweaty in my life or danced as furiously. Whipping my head, drenched in sticky liquid. My hair dyed blue, and it was coming off, running down my skin into my cheeks. Thrusting my head and body with the music, the words, guitar, bass, and drums. The moshpit in the center was like a pit of anarchy. People bouncing off eachother, slamming, hitting, falling to the floor. People all around me grinding like lovers. And then she came. And we danced. She was a meteor from space, descending, descending smashing into me. Her anarchist spirit and her wild pink hair. It went on for what seemed like hours. And then she left, and I never saw her again.

She was my own personal Antigone. Strong-minded, beautiful, believed in things. Why don't women like this show up that often in our modern culture? And what's so intriguing about them when they do? The most recent example of a fictional character that I can compare to Antigone would be Juno, from (ha!) the film, Juno. Like Antigone, she does what she does, no matter what anyone else thinks. In this case, give birth to a baby in high school. Anyone who has seen the movie can tell you how attractive, addictive that girl's spirit is.



But my favorite modern day Antigone has to be Clementine from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The movie is about a couple's disintegrating relationship (and another killer example of men vs. women) and the lengths they go to forget about eachother. But is it destiny for them to keep falling in love with one another over and over and over again? Clementine is definitely the "bad sister". She is selfish and has self-esteem issues, getting drunk and being a jerk, but that's what makes her so beautiful are these qualities. She is wonderful.



I hate falling in love with fictional people.

But this repeats, again, the phrase: "The past possesses the present". All these "modern" characters have come before. We like to think the 20th century invented the term, "strong-minded women" and all the women from the past were meak and subordinate, but that's just not the case. The gods of old, Antigone, even Joan of Arc, they were all examples of these types of characters, and again and again we can find echoes of Antigone in our world today.

Numbers

I know this post will be all over the place, so I'll just number it off.

1. "I wonder, I wonder, what you would do if you had the power to dream at night any dream you wanted to dream? And you would of course be able to alter your time sense, and slip seventy-five years of subjective time into eight hours of sleep. You would I suppose start out by fulfilling all your wishes. You could design for yourself what would be the most ecstatic life: love affairs, banquets, dancing girls, wonderful journeys, gardens, and music beyond belief. And then after a couple of months of this sort of thing at seventy-five years a night, you’d be getting a little taste for something different, and you’d move over to an adventurous dimension, where there were certain dangers involved, and the thrill of dealing with dangers. And you could rescue princesses from dragons, and go on dangerous journeys, and eventually get into contests with enemies. And after you had done that for awhile, you’d think up a new wrinkle, to forget that you were dreaming, and think that is was all for real." - Alan Watts

2. "I am obsessed with the "now". It's true, and I can't deny it any longer. Every morning I get up and slave over the news of the day, and I think about what's on my plate. Always trying not to acknowledge the past, because that's what it is: the past. How could it affect my moment-to-moment existence? But now I am told I should focus not on the "now" but the "eternal", and sadly, that is not easy. I look at these old stories and they bore me endlessly. The only reason why we learn about them, or even know them, is because they are old. If somebody wrote Gilgamesh today, they would tell that person to learn how to write, dammit!"

The Alan Watts quote would seem to sugest that I'm going about life the wrong way. That I should really be focusing on the eternal, and not on the now. "The past does possess the present", right?

3. '... it is best never to have been born at all, next best to die young, and old age is the worst that can befall man." These lines are taken from Oedipus at Colonus. Interestingly, Steiner points out that in Greek tragedies death is interested in the young and has grown tired of the old. I gotta admit, I kinda agree. I don't ever want to get old; rather, I would like to die young. "Only the good die young" as they say. Interesting enough, today in the cafeteria I noticed an older guy sitting in a booth by himself. I immediately wondered why he was there in a somewhat angry manner in my head. Why was there a sudden burst of emotion? Is there really a conflict between myself and the older students? Next time...

4. Last thing, I really don't like Family Guy. It's senseless, stupid shout-outs. Honestly, the only humor you can get out of it is (well, at least ever since it came back from being cancelled) is nostalgia. One particular line that really pissed me off was from an episode where Stewie and Brian travelled to WWII. Brian kids that America didn't invade Germany because it was developing nuclear weapons in the 1930s. Think about how stupid that is. Is McFarlane suggesting that it was stupid to invade Germany because they were developing those weapons? If you want to laugh at that's clever (and you don't feel ashamed of yourself afterward) there is so many better shows out there: Arrested Development, South Park, Futurama, The Simpsons, Penn and Teller Bullshit, 30Rock, Always Sunny, The Office. ANYTHING, even American Dad for God's sake. Actually wait, I take that back. Dane Cook is worse than Family Guy. Somebody once asked me if I could beat up any person in the world with no reprucussions. No, not William Shatner, not George Bush, not Hillary Clinton, Dane frickin Cook. I hate that guy so much.