#lifelong drudgery

[testormblog]

False Promise

It was the end of 1959.  I was sixteen years old and needed to fund my existence.  There was no question, or choice depending on one’s opinion, about the job opportunities available to me.  Pop had and Dad still did work for the Railway; thus, I should too.  My only other option was casual labour on the local farms.

Dad asked George, his drinking mate, how I should apply for a proper job with the Railway.  George, being the Assistant Secretary to the Commissioner of Queensland Railways, was an important man.  He was Reggie’s father too and had a bit of a shine towards me.  He also knew I had buckled down when I had covered Reggie’s holiday leave as Beenleigh Station’s porter.  I had swept the trains and the platforms with super efficiency.  The Station Master had been astounded that I had wanted more jobs and handed over his paperwork to do.

George said I had two options: apply for a porter’s position at a station or sit the annual exam and hope to secure a trade apprenticeship.  Back then, the Railway was an organisation built on longevity where one started at the bottom.  My stint as a relief porter was enough time at the bottom for me!  So, I decided to sit the Railway exam.  Any apprenticeship would do; just a chance to jam my toe through the metaphoric doorway.  My situation was dire!  Otherwise, I’d be shovelling animal crap for a living.

I sat down amongst hundreds of young men in the Brisbane Central Technical College’ massive gymnasium.  Like me, most sweated with nervousness.  The morning, a hot Saturday in December, didn’t help.  Air conditioning was yet to be invented; the reek of body odour was putrid.  I noted the written exam was split evenly between Mathematics and English questions.  Whilst the Mathematics component wasn’t a worry; I had the willies about the English section.  If I had to write an essay, I was doomed!  Thankfully, it comprised of a dictation test and another for reading and comprehension.  I wasn’t a wordsmith but I could listen, recall what was said and read well.  I scribbled my answers quickly and prayed that my legibility and spelling were sufficient.  Afterwards, I put the wretched exam out of my mind and went birding to earn a few pounds.

Early in January, George strolled up to home smiling.  He told Dad my results and that I had placed fourth in Queensland, out of all the state’s testing centres.  My father was flabbergasted!  He didn’t know I had achieved an excellent Junior pass from high school.  Fourth meant I was fourth in line to choose from approximately one hundred apprenticeships on offer.  I was elated!  This was a huge step towards a solid future.  Better yet, I moved up to second position when the two top applicants chose options elsewhere.  I chose the second highest paid apprenticeship, that of an electrical fitter; the first being already taken.  I figuratively kissed those cows’ arses goodbye!  The four year indenture meant a meagre yet steady wage if I watched my own arse.

I started work at the Ipswich Railway Workshops.  I also took a room at a men’s boarding house in Ipswich and ate slop and potato during the week.  This rundown establishment was little more than a half way house for reprobates, who slept with their rum bottles.

Each morning, I caught the Workshops train with a thousand other men.  Unlike me, many didn’t pay their fares.  They jumped aboard from a disused platform when the train reversed to change points onto the Workshop Line.  Sometimes, they played ‘cat and mouse’ with the ticket snappers and risked penalty fares and fines.  To me, this exercise seemed counterproductive to the Railway as it delayed the train and the jobs scheduled that day.  Yet everybody still received full wages.

Upon walking through the Workshops gate, I discovered a place beyond my imagination.  The Workshops were a large sprawling complex of buildings.  Some were tall and long.  These accommodated massive steam engines, carriages, good wagons and overhead gantry cranes.  Many were built during the prior century although the machinery housed inside them was now powered with electricity.  Every trade had their designated workshop.  There were smithies, electricians, carpenters, upholsters and mechanical engineers to name some of the trades.  Here, steam engines and rail motors were serviced whilst carriages and goods wagons were constructed and repaired.  I was bedazzled by the locomotives, I’d see there: the Beyer Garett, PB15, C16, C17, C19 and tank engines.

The Workshops were regimented by Railway rules.  However, an underlying culture existed amongst the workers where nobody dobbed anybody in for breaking these.  The supervisors were incompetent; ignorant of their responsibilities to their jobs and their employees.  Given the Workshops enormity, men easily and purposefully lost themselves from 7 am to 4 pm.  Nobody looked for them.  On payday, they appeared.

The workshops were hot, noisy, dirty places and often smoky.  The foul smell of sulphur fumes intermingled with other noxious odours from metals and humans.  Men crafted by hand all the parts and tools their specific workshops required.  Safe work methods weren’t practiced.  The tasks were monotonous.  Men plodded along with the same task all day.  That was unless a foreign order arrived.  A foreign was somebody’s personal job like to rebuild their truck’s engine block.  I did what I was tasked to do; that being to manufacture small metal parts.  I was bored!

Accordingly, employees avoided constructive work wherever possible.  They pulled pranks in abundance.  Every new worker was initiated by a dunking in the water trough.  This was a frequent occurrence.  If the rookie resisted, he earnt a worse dunking and would be almost drowned.  I suffered my turn and miserably slogged around in my heavy wet overalls for the whole day.  However, far worse for us rookies were the unexpected dowses by the senior apprentices with their illegally manufactured water cannon device that they connected to the water fountain.

One day, when I was melting lead in a crucible, such an idiot appeared with the water cannon ready to dowse me.  His intention was exceedingly dangerous, potentially deadly.  I knew if water touched molten lead, the lead would explode!  Without any thought (I didn’t have time to think!), I threw a lead ingot round, about ten centimetres in diameter and a kilogram in weight, at him to divert his attention.  He didn’t catch it!  Yet, my throw, me being a cricket bowler, to my dismay was too accurate.  The ingot hit his arm and cut a deep gash.  Blood streamed from this.  He collapsed!  I was horrified and certain I’d be sacked.  His mates, who had looked on, carted him off to First Aid.  Later that day, he and his gang returned.  His arm was in a sling with the wound stitched up.  He commented that everybody should watch out for ingots falling off the bench.  The incident was buried!  Nobody targeted me with the water cannon again.

I thought Dad’s lot out on the train track was better than mine.  He worked in the fresh air and sunshine.  This fallacious promise of a decent future was really the shackle to lifelong drudgery in disguise.

[hooked-on-elvis]

"Desiderata" (a very special song Elvis liked)

"Desiderata" (Latin for "things desired") is a 1927 prose poem by the American writer Max Ehrmann. The text was widely distributed in poster form in the 1960s and 1970s and was turned into a song released by radio announcer and television talk show host, Les Crane, in 1971.

This probably will be one of the most special posts I share in my blog. Now, I'm not sure if there is another version of this song that E might have listened to. I know this one by Les Crane was released in early 70s, so I guess it must be it.

I was listening to that October 1976 phone conversation between Elvis and his lifelong friend, Red West. By the end of the call, no matter if they could finally come to terms on what came in the way of their friendship or if they were able to reconcile and forgive each other and let go of their issues or not, Elvis mentions this song to Red. He says - more than once - that if Red and Pat, his wife - and their kids, needed anything, in E's words, "I'm still here. I'll be more than happy to help." We all know Elvis knew about the tell-all book "Elvis What Happened," so I think it was kind of his part to offer a helping hand at this point of their friendship's journey. it's a whole different discussion, really, but I just wanted to share the song for now.

If you'd like to listen to his words, here's the moment Elvis mentions the song (Youtube - Min. 6:35 - Part 7/8 Transcribed Elvis Phone Call Red West October 1976). Most importantly, listen to that song and the words in it... there's various good advice in there.

My heart is so warm at seeing how Elvis tried to be a better person, you know? I think that is the greater lesson he left for us. No matter what, keep trying to be a better version of yourself - even if it's so hard to make it, even when you stumble and fall and things go a wrong way again, at least you are trying... so be kind to yourself and be kind to others because they have their own journeys too. In the end, we are all doing the best we can with what we have.

LYRICS — "DESIDERATA" Composer: Max Ehrmann Desiderata. Desiderata. Desiderata. Go placidly amid the noise and haste And remember what peace there may be in silence As far as possible without surrender Be on good terms with all persons Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others - Even the dull and ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons - they are vexations to the spirit If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter For always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself You are a child of the universe No less than the trees and the stars, you have the right to be here And whether or not it is clear to you No doubt, the universe is unfolding as it should Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans Keep interested in your own career - However humble, it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time Exercise caution in your business affairs For the world is full of trickery But let this not blind you to what virtue there is Many persons strive for high ideals And everywhere life is full of heroism Be yourself Especially do not feign affection, neither be cynical about love For in the face of all aridity and disenchantment It is as perennial as the grass Take kindly the council of the years Gracefully surrendering the things of youth Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune But do not distress yourself with imaginings - Many fears are borne of fatigue and loneliness Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself You are a child of the universe No less than the trees and the stars, you have a right to be here And whether or not it is clear to you No doubt the universe is unfolding as it should Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive him to be And whatever your labors and aspirations In the noisy confusion of life Keep peace with your soul With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams It is still a beautiful world Be careful. Strive to be happy. You are a child of the universe No less than the trees and the stars, you have a right to be here You are a child of the universe No less than the trees and the stars, you have a right to be here You are a child of the universe No less than the trees and the stars, you have a right to be here

(A picture from that period in his life...) October 22, 1976 Elvis performed at the University of Illinois Assembly Hall, Champaign, Illinois.

[lifecoachingbymikezinn]

Searching For The Perfect Note

Carlos Santana is an American guitarist, composer, singer and band leader. Santana is known for his blend of rock and roll and Latin American jazz. Born in Jalisco, Mexico, Santana rose to fame in the late 1960's and had a resurgence in his career in the 1990's. He has won ten Grammy Awards and continues to share his music with the world.

As you can imagine, Santana loves creating music and playing the guitar. After all of his years in music, Santana does not consider practice as drudgery, or a sacrifice. This practice time offers Santana the opportunity to "tinker" with his music, sharpen his skills and experiment with new songs. Santana likens this time with his guitar as an offering!

During a recent interview, Santana summed up his philosophy on music and life. When asked what he was searching for in life, he replied "the perfect note". Santana is not looking for eternal happiness, or world peace. He is looking for "the perfect note". One might ask, at seventy five years old, what does Santana need to prove? For some fifty plus years, Santana has entertained audiences and wrote and performed Grammy winning songs. Perhaps what Santana is really saying is, his best work is still ahead of him! Entertaining audiences and using music as his offering, Santana is striving for later in life activities and living life to its fullest. He is searching for "the perfect note".

Being happy and productive past the traditional retirement age is becoming a goal for an increasingly growing number of people. Later in life activities and lifelong learning are gaining momentum with many mature folks. People in all walks of life are exploring new passions, creating "bucket lists" and giving back as they create the next phase of their lives. When does one start to plan for this "Third Act"? The sooner the better! Start to explore your passions with lifelong learning. Be curious about the world around you. There are multiple avenues to be a lifelong learner. Explore books, podcasts, classes etc., to learn as much as possible about your "Third Act". The questions is, are you still searching for "the perfect note"?

[smileybonez]

Learning the Alphabet - Is It Really as Easy as ABC ?

This two-part article provides practical ideas for alphabet-learning games to play with your children to help them learn the alphabet and develop click here to learn more reading skills, and lets you see the simple act of reading in a new light, to appreciate what a true accomplishment it is.

Learning the alphabet and learning to read must be a piece of cake, right ? If nearly every six year old can master it, then it must be simple … or is it ?The alphabet, and its use in written language, is one of the most astounding developments in human history. The ability to share knowledge and information through writing has had an impact on every other human endeavor in history. For each new generation of children, reading is a bit of a miraculous accomplishment, which requires a sophisticated set of skills. To a young child, the written word is no more than seemingly random scribbles on a page. For those squiggles and lines to fall into place and form recognizable letters, and for those letters to have specific names with predictably constant sounds, and, incredibly, for each sequence of letters to come together to create a unified whole - wow ! Successfully making that journey is one of the crowning achievements in any child's life.

Learning to read means learning that written letters translate into spoken sounds. Those sounds represents known words. Those words conveys meanings - they signify real objects in the real world or they refer to concepts. "D" is the letter "dee." The letter "D" gives us the sound "dee." "D - O - G" equals "DOG," perhaps some specific dog that the child knows and loves. For a child to unlock that secret is right up there with taking his or her first steps, and soon learning how to walk, and then run. From scribble, to symbol, to complete word with meaning in the physical world !Once a child can read, new worlds of knowledge and pleasure open up, and a lifetime of learning and vicarious fictional experiences can begin.

What a child reads will play a role in the kind of person that that child becomes: what she or he knows, believes, values, enjoys. It may contribute to the choice of a career or provide an avenue for lifelong entertainment. In the western industrialized world, education and literacy skills are sometimes taken for granted, but the reality is that learning to read, this most powerful of cognitive skills, cannot just happen by itself, and it is not a quick process. It takes time, and different children master it at different rates. Parents need not, however, just sit back and wait for it to happen, or leave the entire burden to the school system. They need not simply hope that their children will prove to be quick studies. There is plenty that parents can do to get their children off to a good start and to reinforce reading skills at every step of the way. In "Teaching Our Youngest," from the U.S. Department of Education, it is stated that "Children who enter kindergarten knowing many letter names tend to have an easier time learning to read than do children who have not learned these skills. In fact, it is unreasonable to believe that children will be able to read until they can recognize and name a number of letters.

To read, children recognize letters and know how to connect these individual letters and sometimes combinations of letters with the sounds of spoken words. "This article provides some easy and practical tips for parents who want to enhance their children's liklihood of success, and to do so in ways that create effortless fun for their children. Learning does not need to be drudgery for parents or for children. It can, and should, be creative and enjoyable ! The trick is to work it into everyday situations, to make learning a spontaneous and natural part of everyday life.

[rubberkitsch]

I think my cat is dying and im very sad

Im going to start writing a Blanche/Monty Python and the holy grail/Giallo lesbian horror film 

I’m loving my temporary job but I’m terrified of reentering the drudgery of lifelong 9-5 

I am getting slowly better every day

I am getting closer to myself every day 

edit: i am also finally reading through my collection of zines I’ve hoarded and ignored since 2017

[alexsfictionaddiction]

12 Lesbian Books Everyone Should Read This Pride Month

I need to point out how wonderful the updated version of the lesbian flag is. It’s inclusive of lesbians of all skin colours and that’s exactly what I’ve tried to do in this post. Pride is a time for acceptance, love and inclusivity and it feels especially poignant with everything that is happening in the world right now. So here are my favourite sapphic books that definitely need picking up, if your life is lacking a little girl power. -Love, Alex x

1. Something To Talk About by Meryl Wilsner.

Rumours flood the media that Hollywood starlet Jo and her assistant Emma’s relationship is something more than it is but could that actually be true? This brand new release is a sweet slow-burning romance set in a believable contemporary Hollywood that will help you escape.

2. Under The Udala Trees by Chinelo Okparanta.

When war breaks out in Nigeria, 11-year-old Ijeoma is sent away to safety where she falls for another girl -an experience that will forever change her. With elements of both Nigerian folklore and Christianity, this is a life story set against an eye-opening backdrop of African history, cultural attitudes towards sexuality and the effects of war.  

3. In At The Deep End by Kate Davies.

Twenty-something Julia hasn’t had sex for three years, when she gets her sexual awakening at a warehouse party and so transpires her new life as a lesbian. It’s a filthy, hilarious British rom-com with a Bridget Jones level of heartwarmth to it that reminds us that you don’t have to have it all figured out before you’re an adult. 

4. Juliet Takes A Breath by Gabby Rivera.

Juliet’s coming out didn’t go down well with her Puerto Rican family but now she’s interning with Harlowe Brisbane, a leading voice on feminism and being a lesbian, so surely she’ll get her life figured out, right? Funny and charming, this is a fierce educational novel that you will eat right up.

5. XX by Angela Chadwick.

When Rosie and Jules become the first lesbian couple to fall pregnant through innovative ovum-to-ovum technology, someone leaks the news and the whole world becomes incredibly interested in their lives. XX is a feminist, speculative critique of misogyny, inequality, homophobia and multiple other ills of the world that will pull you straight in.

6. The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth.

In 1989, Cam meets and falls for beautiful cowgirl Coley in their small conservative Montana town but her religious aunt has other, much darker, plans for her niece. Cameron Post is a heady daze of a novel full of angst and heartache that deals with very real issues for many LGBT teens, making it easy to see why its largely considered a seminal work in YA lesbian literature. 

7. Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst.

Princess Denna is about to become queen of a land where magic is forbidden, while harboring a secret power of her own, but things get even more complicated when she meets her betrothed’s sister Mare. Intense friendship, conflicting loyalties and saving the world makes this fantasy novel a gorgeous read.

8. The Deep by Rivers Solomon.

Descended from pregnant African slavewomen thrown overboard, Yetu’s people have formed their own underwater society, free from sexual or gender labels, and Yetu remembers everything for them. This beautifully written novella is a very original, captivating and moving experience that is of paramount importance right now.

9. It’s Not Like It’s A Secret by Misa Sugiura.

When Sana moves to California with her family, she meets gorgeous and unique Jamie but both home and friendship dramas rear their ugly heads. As well as being a cute awkward romance, it also tackles racism, damaging stereotypes and celebrates interracial love.

10. Gideon The Ninth by Tamsyn Muir.

Tired of a life and afterlife of drudgery, Gideon plans to escape but her lifelong nemesis, necromancer Harrowhark has one last task for her. Gideon the Ninth is a very unique intricate fantasy with extensive world-building and a snarky, complex relationship at its heart.

11. The Color Purple by Alice Walker.

In the deep American South, Celie is separated from her sister Nettie, when she meets vivacious Shug Avery, who teaches her how to be her true self. The Color Purple is a classic within the black literature canon and explores race, abuse and feminism with wonderfully intriguing sapphic undertones. 

12. Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me by Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connell.

Laura Dean is Frederica’s dream girl but their on/off relationship is starting to ooze toxicity and Freddy realises that she needs to decide what -and who- is really best for her. This stunning graphic novel is a lesson to us all to go after the love we deserve as opposed to settling for the love we can get.

[nicklloydnow]

“The status of the embryo in the first trimester is the basic issue that cannot be sidestepped. The embryo is clearly pre-human; only the mystical notions of religious dogma treat this clump of cells as constituting a person.

We must not confuse potentiality with actuality. An embryo is a potential human being. It can, granted the woman’s choice, develop into an infant. But what it actually is during the first trimester is a mass of relatively undifferentiated cells that exist as a part of a woman’s body. If we consider what it is rather than what it might become, we must acknowledge that the embryo under three months is something far more primitive than a frog or a fish. To compare it to an infant is ludicrous.

(…)

That tiny growth, that mass of protoplasm, exists as a part of a woman’s body. It is not an independently existing, biologically formed organism, let alone a person. That which lives within the body of another can claim no right against its host. Rights belong only to individuals, not to collectives or to parts of an individual. (“Independent��� does not mean self-supporting — a child who depends on its parents for food, shelter, and clothing, has rights because it is an actual, separate human being.)

(…)

It is only on this base that we can support the woman’s political right to do what she chooses in this issue. No other person — not even her husband — has the right to dictate what she may do with her own body. That is a fundamental principle of freedom.

(…)

The anti-abortionists’ attitude, however, is: “The actual life of the parents be damned! Give up your life, liberty, property and the pursuit of your own happiness.” Sentencing a woman to sacrifice her life to an embryo is not upholding the “right to life.” The anti-abortionists’ claim to being “pro-life” is a classic Big Lie. You cannot be in favor of life and yet demand the sacrifice of an actual, living individual to a clump of tissue. Anti-abortionists are not lovers of life — lovers of tissue, maybe. But their stand marks them as haters of real human beings.”

“Some of Rand’s first and most important remarks on abortion are found in a lecture she delivered in December 1968 at the Ford Hall Forum in Boston, entitled “Of Living Death.” In this lecture, she draws a stark contrast between her secular, individualist philosophy and the religious philosophy of the Catholic Church, and on this basis critiques the Catholic opposition to birth control and abortion.

In Rand’s view, human beings have a fundamental moral right to pursue their own individual lives and happiness. For this reason, they do not have an obligation to serve some alleged higher goal or plan. To suggest that a woman has a “duty” to undergo childbirth amounts to treating her not as an individual human being with personal values, but as a “brood-mare,” and — especially when she is forced to undergo risky childbirth — as “a screaming huddle of infected flesh who must not be permitted to imagine that she has the right to live.”

(…)

For this reason, Rand had contempt for opposition to abortion in the name of the “sanctity of life.” Here again in “Of Living Death,” she explains why only the individual woman (and not the embryo or fetus) has a right to life:

An embryo has no rights. Rights do not pertain to a potential, only to an actual being. A child cannot acquire any rights until it is born. The living take precedence over the not yet living (or the unborn).

Abortion is a moral right — which should be left to the sole discretion of the woman involved; morally, nothing other than her wish in the matter is to be considered. Who can conceivably have the right to dictate to her what disposition she is to make of the functions of her own body? The Catholic church is responsible for this country’s disgracefully barbarian anti-abortion laws, which should be repealed and abolished.

(…)

Many conservatives oppose abortion in the name of “personal responsibility,” but this is a sham. To prevent a woman from ending an unwanted pregnancy is to deprive her from taking control of her own life. “The task of raising a child,” Rand observes, “is a tremendous, lifelong responsibility, which no one should undertake unwittingly or unwillingly.”

For Rand, abortion rights protect women who decide not to undertake the responsibility of raising a child. In “The Age of Mediocrity,” her 1981 critique of the Reagan administration’s appeasement of (in her words) “militant mystics,” she explains how this right protects women who want to lead real human lives, rather than endure a state of “living death”:

As I have said before, parenthood is an enormous responsibility; it is an impossible responsibility for young people who are ambitious and struggling, but poor — particularly if they are intelligent and conscientious enough not to abandon their child on a doorstep nor to surrender it to adoption. For such young people, pregnancy is literally a death sentence: parenthood would force them to give up their future and condemn them to a life of hopeless drudgery, of slavery to a child’s physical and financial needs. The situation of an unwed mother, abandoned by her lover, is even worse.

Rand suggests that those who would condemn a person to the “horror” of this life of drudgery are motivated “not [by] love for the embryos, which is a piece of nonsense no one could experience, but [by] hatred, a virulent hatred for an unnamed object.”

(…)

Because Rand thought that most opposition to abortion rights was motivated by hatred, not by any genuine concern for human life or individual rights, she did see the abortion issue as a kind of “litmus test” for judging political candidates.

In her 1976 “Last Survey,” she urged her readers not to support Ronald Reagan’s nomination as the Republican candidate for president because of his opposition to abortion rights. In response to another question about abortion that year, she said of Reagan: “If he doesn’t respect that fundamental a right, he cannot be a defender of any kind of rights.”11 In a separate comment on the 1976 Senate election in New York State, Rand remarked on James Buckley’s anti-abortion platform:

Anyone who . . . denies the right to abortion cannot be a defender of rights. Period. . . . What they have in mind is to enslave every human being who is alive enough to have some kind of sexual life — to enslave him to procreation like the lowest kind of farm animal, lower than that because when farm animals are bred, the breeders at least take care of them. . . . But here you make young people, people in love, slaves to involuntary procreation, and you don’t tell them what to do about it. . . .

Religionist conservatives are out to destroy the two-party system in this country, they are out to destroy the Republican Party. Now the Republican Party, like any “defenders” of free enterprise all over the world . . . is very busy trying to commit suicide. . . . [T]he religious conservative[s] . . . are pure fascists. They are not even for free enterprise; they are for controls, and what’s worse, they are always for spiritual, moral, intellectual controls. Oh yes, they might leave you some freedom to work for a while; it’s intellectual freedom that they want to cut. . . .

An “ally” . . . who comes close to you, but starts from opposite premises is much more dangerous than a mild enemy. I would vote for a liberal over Buckley any time.12

She maintained this position during the 1980 presidential election as well. She said that even though she would often vote Republican, she would not vote for Ronald Reagan because of his deference to religious conservatives and opposition to abortion:

I regard abortion as probably the most important issue, because the anti-abortionists have such evil motives. Because they have no interest in human beings, only in embryos; and because they want to tie down a human family to the reproduction of . . . an animal farm. . . . That’s what a creature like Reagan [wants]: . . . he comes out . . . for . . . his right to dictate to young people what they’re going to do with their life; are they going to have a chance at a career or are they going to be breeding animals? I cannot communicate how despicable that is.”

“A “right,” as Ayn Rand observed, is “a moral principle defining and sanctioning a man’s freedom of action in a social context.”43 The purpose of this principle is to identify the fundamental actions that an individual must be free to take to live as a human being—actions such as living one’s life as one sees fit (the right to life), acting on one’s judgment (the right to liberty), keeping and using the products of one’s effort (the right to property), and expressing one’s ideas (freedom of speech). A person’s rights, when recognized and protected, enable that individual to act free of forcible interference from other people.

(…)

The campaign against abortion rights does not take place in a political vacuum. A woman’s right to control her body connects logically and legally to our other rights, including those in the economic sphere. The antiabortion movement threatens to undermine all rights by demanding false rights for embryos and fetuses.

Most obviously, laws restricting or banning abortion directly violate a woman’s fundamental rights. Such laws violate her right to life, not only by threatening her with death and disability, but also by barring her from living a life of her own design. They violate her liberty by preventing her from controlling her own body and seeking abortion drugs and services in a free market, as well as by imposing criminal punishments if she seeks or obtains an abortion. And they violate her right to pursue her own happiness by forcing her into unwanted pregnancy and motherhood.

Moreover, antiabortion laws directly infringe economic liberty. Such laws forbid voluntary economic activities and exchanges, such as a doctor providing abortion services or a pharmacist selling abortifacient drugs. They also infringe the rights of drug companies to research, produce, and sell drugs that might abort or harm an embryo or fetus. Some abortion bans, particularly those based on “personhood” from fertilization, would likely have even further-reaching effects, such as outlawing the birth control pill and the intrauterine device (IUD) because their use might prevent the implantation of a zygote in a woman’s uterus. The most common fertility treatments would be outlawed, too, because they involve the creation of multiple embryos outside the womb, only some of which are implanted.45 In short, antiabortion laws violate the rights of individuals to produce and trade.

Bans on abortion compound these rights violations by imposing criminal penalties on abortion seekers and providers.46 Under “personhood” laws, these penalties would be draconian: Every abortion, even in the earliest stages of pregnancy, would be premeditated murder, on par with killing an infant or any other person. So a woman who has an abortion could face criminal prosecution and punishment, possibly including a lengthy prison sentence or even the death penalty. A woman’s boyfriend, husband, friend, or doctor who assisted her likewise would face criminal prosecution. This concern about criminal prosecution is not merely hypothetical. Recently, an Idaho prosecutor pressed felony charges against Jennie Linn McCormack for taking the abortion drug RU-486; a judge granted her a preliminary reprieve.47 In 2010, a 21-year-old Australian woman faced seven years in prison for taking RU-486, while her 22-year-old boyfriend faced three years for helping her obtain it (a jury found the couple not guilty).48 In 1975, U.S. physician Kenneth Edelin was convicted of fetal manslaughter for performing an abortion for a 17-year-old girl, even though the girl’s mother begged for the procedure for fear that the girl’s abusive father would harm her upon discovering the pregnancy.49

In addition, antiabortion laws establish dangerous precedents for sweeping rights violations in other spheres of life. For example, laws based on the premise that abortion is “socially destructive” or “harmful to women” violate the woman’s right to seek medical care based on her own best judgment. In so doing, they sanction other paternalistic laws, such as forbidding overweight people from buying certain foods deemed unhealthy by the government, or requiring everyone to purchase health insurance. Laws restricting abortion coverage in insurance policies do not merely violate freedom of contract but also encourage even more political wrangling over costly health insurance mandates.50 Similarly, if politicians are entitled to force a waiting period on women seeking abortion, then what is to stop them from enacting waiting periods on any activity, from buying a gun to selling stocks? Requiring abortion providers to include unscientific and other disputed claims in counseling violates their freedom of conscience and professional ethics���and encourages politicians to demand warnings for other goods and services that some people may oppose. In short, restrictions on abortion pave the way for countless other rights violations.

However, the antiabortion crusade threatens rights in an even more fundamental way—by demanding laws founded on religious beliefs rather than observable facts. Claims of divine commands, including the supposed “rights” granted by God, are nothing more than arbitrary, baseless assertions: There is no evidence for the existence of a God, let alone for any morally binding edicts from such a being. Any laws based on religious stories and dogmas will necessarily clash with the objectively demonstrable rights of individuals and the laws that properly protect those rights. Consequently, the antiabortion movement, particularly in conjunction with the broader “social conservative” agenda of the religious right, poses a grave threat to all our liberties.

If abortion should be outlawed because some people imagine that God imbues the zygote with the right to life at the moment of conception, then our whole system of laws could be rewritten to reflect popular tenets of Christianity—and individual rights would be systematically violated in the process. For example, if, as the Baptists claim, devout Christians should eschew alcohol, then perhaps alcohol should be banned across America, as happened under Prohibition—rights of property and trade be damned.51 Because Jesus regards lust in the heart as adultery (Matthew 5), perhaps pornography should be banned—a goal Michele Bachmann has already endorsed—even if that violates the rights of contract, expression, and voluntary association between consenting adults.52 Any claimed right to ban activities or goods on religious grounds necessarily clashes with our actual rights of property, contract, and speech.

(…)

Properly understood, individual rights are moral principles arising from facts about the requirements of human survival and flourishing in society. Those facts can be observed and understood by every person who chooses to observe reality and think. The recognition and protection of rights enable individuals to live together peacefully in a society, each pursuing his own life and happiness while respecting the equal rights of others. In a free society, each person may believe whatever he wishes and act on those beliefs, but he may not force others to conform to his religious faith or otherwise violate their rights.

The lives, health, and happiness of millions of American women depend on legal abortion. A woman’s right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness entitles her to seek an abortion if she deems that her best course, because every woman is an individual human person, whereas a fetus is not.

To establish and maintain a free society, we must recognize that our rights logically entail one another and stand or fall together. To fight for liberty, we must reject baseless and contradictory notions of fetal rights, and we must protect women’s rights to their bodies. All of our liberties depend on it.”

“Try as I might, I could not find a single influential libertarian exerting their influence on behalf of the freedom of the women of Texas. Despite the Texas government’s extreme coercion and its egregious violation of their most basic personal freedom. Despite the majority of libertarians who say they are pro-choice. Despite the Party’s own platform and stated beliefs.

I would like to be wrong. Please let me know if you see any influential libertarians in the media protesting the Texas outrage. Or marching in the streets on behalf of women’s reproductive freedom.

But if I am understanding all this correctly, I have to conclude that a libertarian is someone who will defend a woman’s right not to wear a medical mask during a pandemic, but inexplicably holds that choices about her body, her health, her economic situation, and her entire life trajectory, belong to the government. Let freedom ring?

Maybe it’s time to fix what’s wrong with libertarianism.”

[artcenterstories]

Experience Seeker: Meet Artist/Author Dominick Domingo

ArtCenter: What inspired your current creative project? Dominick Domingo (Illustration ‘91) arist/author/designer: A prolonged hospital stay and the proverbial brush with death. Being in touch with my mortality has lit a fire creatively and put legacy at the forefront. My latest IP, mythic fiction novel The Seeker is a parable of my recent trials and a portrait of all I’ve learned about the spiritual journey we are all on.

AC: What have been some of the most memorable twists and turns in your professional/creative journey after graduating ArtCenter? DD: A month after graduation, I began work at Disney Feature Animation on a small film to later known as Lion King. Having interned there between fourth and fifth terms, I visually developed the film during preproduction, then went on to paint production backgrounds. I continued on with Disney Feature for 11 years, in L.A. and Paris, painting backgrounds and creating visual development art for Pocahontas, Hunchback of Notre Dame, Tarzan, Little Match Girl and One By One.

I then attended New York Film Academy and began making independent live-action films as an auteur. My films won awards in the festival circuit and garnered distribution. Original screenplay credits on SAG/IMDB films led me to put my lifelong love of writing on the front-burner, while keeping one foot in animation by freelancing for major companies like Mirada, Blue Sky, Dreamworks TV, Nickelodeon, Disney Interactive, etc. The electives I offered for 20 years at my alma mater, ArtCenter, became the foundation of what has diverged into today’s Entertainment Arts and Entertainment Design tracks.

My essays and short stories have been included in anthologies and collections, some winning awards (most recently Writer’s Digest 2020 and Craft Literary 2020). My young adult trilogy, The Nameless Prince, launched in 2012 through Twilight Times Books. The Seeker marks my debut in the mythic fiction-meets-visionary fiction genre. I’ve had the good fortune of crafting a career that spans various formats and genres, all expressions of a drive I consider essential to the human condition: storytelling.

AC: What’s been the most unexpected or valuable takeaway from your ArtCenter education? DD: I am grateful for the ArtCenter legacy of excellence, and its stellar reputation in the fields of art and design; both have served me well. The demanding program and high expectations of instructors like Gary Meyer, David Mocarski, Jon Conrad, Harry Carmean and Burne Hogarth taught me to strive for excellence, believe in my potential, and push boundaries. At ArtCenter I learned nothing less than the art of alchemy and manifestation, to co-create with the universe and use my authentic gifts to contribute to our collective transformation.

AC: What’s the one tool you can’t do without? DD: My imagination. Like many artists, I consider myself a storyteller with different modes of expression. Whether editing a film in Final Cut, modeling in Maya or SketchUp during visual development or painting concepts in Photoshop, the common denominator is my imagination! My fingers come in pretty handy as well. And my eyeballs.

AC: What design cliché are you most tempted to use? DD: In my teaching, I've heard myself say, "Know the rules before you break them!" With regard to figurative and representational work, I am a big fan of buckling down and applying the discipline to master foundational principles at the outset. Whether Chevreul’s laws of color theory or Gestalt studies, internalizing theory with the faith it will become second nature is precisely what eventually allows one to take risks and explore. In developing one’s authentic voice, a framework of regiments and a clear vision can, in the end, free up the intuition to orchestrate magic that may not occur if one is struggling with technique or "finding one’s way…"

AC: What’s the first site you look at when you open your computer in the morning? DD: I tend to check e-mail and (UGH) Facebook first. But NEVER before putting caffeine in me and getting a change of scenery. As a long time freelancer/independent contractor, I like to get a walk in and listen to inspirational content (blogs or podcasts) before settling in front of the computer. Novelty is crucial for the ol’ dendrites and for brain plasticity!

AC: If you could trade jobs for a day with anyone, who would it be? DD: Pretty much anyone at Laika, as I would kill or die to get in there. I love their brand, its spirit, and the content they produce. As a kid who once knew every dinosaur that ever walked the earth and the period in which it lived (although they’ve changed them all), I'm often baffled I did not make every attempt to work with Stan Winston on Jurassic Park. I guess I was busy at Disney, but I often kick myself as that ship has clearly sailed… Also, Peter Jackson — he is living my dream!

AC: What books are on your bedside table? DD: Rather than imposing my recommendations (like "all artists should read Letters to a Young Poet or all humans should read The Alchemist,) I will give an honest answer: I don’t have a bedside table. However, on my coffee table currently: The Kybalion, Giant, 12 Years a Slave, and Jane Fonda’s autobiography, My Life So Far. Jane is an inspiration: the fact that she still gives a damn and gets up every morning and walks the walk. I also admire her tackling ageism head on, the societal ill I am most passionate about rectifying at over half-a-century. As a writer, I read a wide variety of genres. Neil Gaiman, Junot Díaz, Davy Rothbart, David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs are also huge influences.

AC: What is your prized possession? DD: I have two. One is an amazing painting titled The Three Muses painted by the formidable John Watkiss, with whom I worked on Disney’s Tarzan and who has since passed. The other is the traditional animation desk I had commissioned in the '90s using Disney’s patented design. There was one architect in the world with the Mouse’s blessing to use the patented design. But none of that is what makes it a prized possession — the reason is this: I nearly lost it in a fire. But unbeknownst to me, rather than taking the charred thing to the dump as discussed, my father secretly took it home and brought it back from the dead. Refurbished every bit of charred wood, every molding, right down to the laminate and the proper finish. Like new.

AC: What’s your best piece of advice for an ArtCenter student who’s interested in following your career path?​ DD: Remember why you do what you do. There are plenty of times in life when we must keep our noses to the grindstone and work can feel like drudgery. But inspired work energizes — the opposite of drudgery. Whatever is paying the bills, I would be sure it’s something that contributes to your personal transformation on the micro level and to our collective evolution on the macro. The artistic journey is lifelong: We may find our authentic voice, but it’s ever-evolving. I would encourage all artists to take stock now and then, and assess whether that voice has been married with a sense of purpose. And whether that purpose contributes to the dialectic of our human potential!

[disgruntleddemon]

i really wish warriors had celebrations. 

it would really make things feel more, idk, alive.

maybe during the height of leafbare they have a winter celebration to help keep spirits up.

 they celebrate the coming of newleaf with lots of festivities. competitions to catch the most prey, cats give flowers and pretty plants to loved ones. the camp is decorated for the occasion, and cats dress up. riverclan puts pretty stones or fish scales in their fur, thunderclan smears berry juice on their face, shadowclan weaves pinecones and needles into their fur, and wind clan smears rabbit blood on their faces.

 a sort of wedding ceremony is performed for cats who choose to be lifelong mates. the camp is decorated with flowers while the couple wears flower crowns and weave petals into their fur.

a smaller party, generally done by loved ones of the cat in question, is done for a cat’s first catch as a warrior.

just little things like that would be so interesting and fun to read about. it really brings more joy to a life of drudgery and death, y’now?

[impalementation]

I think your take on Doublemeat Palace is interesting because to me it's emblematic of all the things that make Season 6 (particularly the back half after "Tabula Rasa") not work for me. It's relentlessly grim and unpleasant and I can feel the writers twisting the plot to make sure every character is as miserable as possible. I'm not opposed to seeing protagonists in a low point or even outright failing. Season 3 of Game of Thrones is some of my favorite TV ever. (1/2)

(2/2) But at a certain point the grim and gritty, if it's not well written, and broken up with some moments of lightness (like Buffy was previously known for) the audience gets numb. It also doesn't help that no one has any agency. (Magicrack, the not!wedding, Dawn doing zip) Again, I'm not opposed to dark plotlines. I'm opposed to incompetent writing.I don't think you can call an episode or an arc "objectively" good if it doesn't work for the majority of the audience it's been written for. 

 you know, i’m going to disagree about the “grim and gritty” thing. doublemeat palace actually stands out to me as being really funny. and for having a lowkey positive ending. true, the episode is about the soul-sucking prospect of having to do the same dreary work every day. it’s about how much it sometimes sucks to work, which is why you have willow dealing with the fact that recovery is a difficult thing that you have to decide to commit to every day, xander and anya facing the fact that marriage is also a lifelong daily commitment, and buffy taking an unpleasant and mechanical job in order to put food on the table (and the episode plays up that the managers have been doing it for five or ten years). but like, names like “manny the manager”? the weirdo robotic people? the exaggerated camera angles? the swirling cow and chicken? buffy’s constant attempts at jokes? “hot delicious human flesh”? a little old lady with penis monster on her head? this stuff is totally absurdist. i think of doublemeat palace as almost the opposite of episodes like once more with feeling and tabula rasa, where things superficially seem fun but are actually quite dark. doublemeat palace seems superficially unpleasant but actually has a wicked sense of humor. and i say that the ending is positive because it involves both willow and buffy committing to doing work. they’re faced with the opportunity to “cheat” at life like the trio, who steal money instead of having jobs, but ultimately decide to do the right thing. willow doesn’t accept amy’s magic and buffy doesn’t blackmail the company. 

that goes for a lot of season six, in my opinion. even late season six. people say there was less humor, and i think that’s true to an extent, but honestly i think it’s more that the tone of the humor changed. it got more sardonic and absurd, but was definitely still there. eg people think of seeing red as the episode where the two Very Bad Things happened, but outside of those scenes a lot of the episode is like, fascinatingly (to me) slapstick (the whole jetpack bonanza? “say goodnight bitch” “goodnight, bitch”). and has that really lovely conversation between buffy and xander at the end. in general, i think a lot more season six episodes have positive endings than it gets a reputation for. i already mentioned the ending of doublemeat palace. but the end of gone has buffy saying she doesn’t want to die, the end of older and far away has buffy deciding to stay home with dawn, the end of as you were has buffy deciding to break up with spike, and the end of grave has buffy, willow, and spike all making important changes for the better. as in, season six can be very dark, yes. but i would not call it a hopeless or cynical kind of dark. it’s about the characters clawing their way out of that dark place. not just a statement that “adulthood sucks.” you can argue that the season didn’t pull off its attempts at lightness, but i very much think they’re there. 

at any rate, i agree to an extent that if a work of art isn’t working on most people, that’s probably a sign it’s doing something wrong. but i’d offer the counterpoint that you might also say that if a work of art really works on some people, even if not everyone, it’s probably doing something right. as far as the season as a whole goes, i’d actually take issue, on a basic factual level, with the claim that it didn’t work on the majority of people. not to validate IMDB’s ratings for buffy’s episodes, but it does have an n=~2000 sample size and if you average out the ratings by season, season six doesn’t rank starkly lower than any other season. it’s on the less popular side, but it still hovers around an 8.0 average like most of the other seasons. moreover if you go by the big r/buffy polls (n=~120-310), season six ranks in the top three favorite seasons every year they did one (2011: 3 > 6 > 2, 2012: 6 = 3 > 5, 2013: 6 > 3 > 5, 2014: 3 > 6 > 5, 2017: 5 > 3 > 6). you can see the data for yourself if you scroll down to where it says “surveys”. perfectly possible that there’s data that paints a totally different picture. this is just what i had on hand. that ranking also doesn’t mean the majority of people liked the season, but it does act as evidence that there are a lot of people whom it really worked on. basically, i wouldn’t say that season six is disliked so much as it’s divisive. people seem to either love it or hate it. with a smaller percentage that likes it, but for whom it isn’t a favorite. or who appreciate what it was trying to do but don’t think that it succeeded. 

as far as doublemeat palace goes i notice a similar phenomenon. people either really hate it or they really relate to it. either they think the style is bizarre and annoying or they think it’s delightfully surreal. so it really seems like it’s up to the individual whether they want to lend more credence to one audience reaction or another in order to assess quality. 

which is why i tend to use my own rubric. when i ask myself whether something is good or bad, i pay a lot of attention to (1) is the work trying to do or say something specific? (2) how unusual or challenging or astute is the thing the work is saying? (3) how coherently is it doing that, and on how many different levels? (4) on a formal level—dialogue, cinematography, costuming, acting, pacing—how fluently was it executed, and how well did the formal choices contribute to the ideas in (1)? 

for the record, i don’t think that doublemeat palace is the best episode ever. i just think it’s solid, and fits nicely into what i think the season as a whole was doing. but the reason i say that it’s “objectively” solid according to my personal rubric—which granted, you’re more than welcome to not share—is that (1) it has a pretty clear idea that it’s exploring. the drudgery of work stuff that i mentioned in the first paragraph. moreover i think that idea is really relevant to the season-long topic of “what makes it feel like adulthood sucks”. buffy having to take a menial food job fits into the season’s food motif that i talked about once, which in turn fits character-wise with buffy’s ambivalence about being alive. a somewhat grotesque/humiliating job fits with the mood of material existence being unpleasant. (also, xander impulsively chowing down on food speaks to him probably not being ready for commitment) (2) i think this whole subject was just hella daring for the show to do. having been a poor and suicidally depressed 22 year old in a fucked up sexual relationship while working a menial job, season six and episodes like doublemeat palace just ring true to me as something for a show about growing up to depict. sometimes real life really is a grind, and sometimes it really does feel profane, absurd, surreal, etc. (3) i really like the way that buffy, willow, and xander and anya’s stories all fit the theme of episode but in different ways. i wouldn’t say the episode is a super nuanced take on drudgery, but it does have layers thanks to the three different storylines, and it comes off as clearly conscious and oriented around its theme. there are other parallels like amy, spike, and halfrek each being influences, too. (4) there’s some cool formal execution. not all of it. willow’s story, like a lot of her mid-season-six arc, is kind of tediously on-the-nose. but i enjoy pretty much every second of buffy’s part of the episode, because the direction is so in control of it. and i like the absurdist and genre-conscious playfulness. the soylent green riff, etc. 

i also disagree on your assessment of agency in the season but this post is long enough as it is. regardless, i certainly don’t begrudge you your opinion. it’s an often clumsy season. it also sounds like we enjoy things in different ways--i genuinely don’t care too much about writers contorting things in the interest of theme. i’m mainly trying to push against the implications (1) that the season was obviously just trying to be dark and grim, and just for it’s own sake or something. instead of for deliberate and interconnected artistic reasons that one could analyze and talk about, and (2) that there is some monolithic opinion on and response to it.

[barryhuff]

Nostalgiaholic - The Remix

When I used to look up at the night sky alone as a child, I imagined a sinister, infinite, black, blanket sprinkled with glitter. Although, when my eyes followed the tip of my Uncle Jon’s finger, as he both traced celestial, stick-figures in the same sky and narrated their mythic, Greek stories, space always transformed from that lifeless blanket and into a destination to be explored. 

Jon, at times, was so inspired by space and space travel, he filled canvases dedicated to the filtered visuals he discerned.  As a dedicated science-fiction nerd, his paintings certainly had their share of stylized spaceships, laser beams, and explosions.  But as an equal part, planetarium-loving, star chart-studying, telescope-owning, amateur astronomer, Jon’s celestial backgrounds were wild, bubbling layers of greens, whites, blues, and reds, instead of a simple, flat, all-consuming blackness. Those paintings showed the cosmos as a tangible, topographic map ready to be explored, and not a deep, infinite sea of loneliness. 

That being said, I used to daily study a picture Jon painted of an astronaut floating upside down in the aurora borealis lights of Jon’s interpretation of space.  The figure held tight to the lifeline coming from his spacesuit at the waist with his left hand.  However, the same lifeline extended from the suit like a piece of floating spaghetti getting smaller, until it vanished in the distant horizon.  His right hand (so big that it appeared to explode from the canvas), desperately reached out for salvation.  

The reflective shield on the helmet hinted at the impending doom of the astronaut.  The reflection didn’t show a ship or even another hand reaching back, instead there were simply more endless miles of lively, colorful flashes of the space setting to die alone in.

No matter how much I wanted to imagine hope for the character, there was none… at least for him.

I often wonder if Jon’s painting was inspired by one of his favorite movies, the 1968 Stanley Kubrick classic 2001: A Space Odyssey.   When it finally, came on network T.V. one Saturday afternoon in the 1980s, I was excited to see it.  Hell, if Jon liked it, I would certainly like it.

False.  It turns out there were two barriers to me enjoying 2001: A Space Odyssey --  Star Wars and silence. 

One summer, my brother and I bragged about watching Star Wars 47 times on HBO.

I thoroughly enjoyed "The Bar Scene".  Especially the part in which a handsome, tanned, mischievous Han Solo (brown, feathered hair parted evenly in the middle) tried in vain to smooth-talk the twitchy-trigger-fingered, reptilian, green-faced, bug eyed, intergalactic thug Greedo (bald head).

Shit, reciting Greedo’s opening line to Han for anyone who’d listen (“Oo-nah too-tah, Solo?”) is still one of my favorite past-times.

In Star Wars, everyone could cover vast distances in the dark, dusty, intensely cold, INFINITE vacuum of space. It’s as easy as a con-artist pulling a few levers, confidently bellowing the order, “Punch it, Chewie”, and going faster than light without having to even buckle a seatbelt.

In reality, distances in outer space were not so easily traversed.

The Earth’s moon is 238,000 miles away. It took Neil Armstrong and the fellas six days to get from Earth, to the moon, and back, all while being cooped up in basically a large, flying port-a-potty. Their spacesuits looked about as comfortable as wearing every outfit in the average American’s good-credit-infused, stuffed closet AT ONCE.

This detail of space travel was not lost ‘Stanley Kubrick’s flick.  Even though there are a beautiful array of stunning special effects, it often felt like the audience traveled each second of the 365 million mile trip from the Moon to Jupiter.  There were no visual cues of a blurring landscape to both gage speed and generate a sense of movement.  The stars are perched in the background like apathetic teenagers forced to sit at the table during dinner, when they’d rather be in the solitude of their own rooms.

Body movements and conversations in the film were also slowed, as if everyone was walking in a filled swimming pool.  Mix in a relaxing soundtrack of orchestral music, and it’s the perfect lullaby capable of depowering my movie-watching enthusiasm.  In fact, the first five times I tried to watch the movie, I would fall asleep at an early scene featuring a space stewardess silently laboring down the aisle in her gravity “grip shoes” on her way to ultimately retrieve a floating pen for a sleeping passenger while composer Johann Strauss’s famous waltz, The Blue Danube, rhythmically chants in the background.

A few years ago, I tried one final time to watch the movie. And this time with the help of a streaming video platform, I was able to pause, re-group, pause, re-group, pause, re-group, and finally watch the movie my uncle loved.  

The striking thing about the movie is how quiet it actually was.  For much of the movie, there are no musical cues to warn of danger or intrigue.  Dialogue was conducted over the subtle drone of machines simply doing their mundane jobs of keeping the enormous spacecraft running during its long flight to Jupiter.   Life and death sequences were not given intense music accompaniment like traditional horror movies.  It’s as if Kubrick was saying, “People’s lives aren’t being scored by some musician to bookmark key events.  Life is merely something that happens -- even in space.”

It’s this absence of audible hints that makes 2001: A Space Odyssey uncomfortably realistic, as if the audience was watching a livestream of a computer gaining sentience, refusing to die (be turned off) and fighting off his oppressors (the flight crew).  

I’ve read that when a “vacuum” exists, somehow all of nature rushes to fill that empty hole.  So it’s funny that many science experiments happen in conditions that closely resemble a vacuum, in an effort to ensure results unweighted by additional stimuli.  Interestingly enough, because the movie is set in the vast, unforgiving, vacuum of space, Kubrick’s storytelling, in essence, becomes an experiment to determine if audiences will stay engaged without the traditional musical trappings.  Indeed, this stark story about the thrilling birth of strange, other-worldly life injected energy into overall science fiction mythology, and also into my young uncle.

Over the past 11 years, I have written a fairly regular Facebook post titled Reasons I Know I’m Getting Old.  When I started this, Facebook seemed to simply be a 21st century photo album, in which many people posted similar, stiff, smiling, posed pictures and inspiring quotes which suggested my extended online community was living their own collective happily ever afters.

But it was boring...

I mean, I loved my kids too, but were only my kids getting whoopings and other childhood punishments?  My wife was awesome too, but was I the only person still having trouble translating to her the humor in my daily fart symphonies?  Was no one else dealing with the often deflating, drudgery of the work-place?  Was parenting a lifelong crap-shoot for me only?  Because there was no connection to what I was seeing on my finger strolls on my phone, I was having a hard time wanting to even own a Facebook account.

Therefore, on April 14, 2009, I conducted an experiment:  How would my friends respond to a post that showed some dissatisfaction?  Nothing political or religious, just everyday grumblings.  I wrote:

“[Barry Huff] is dragging in from coaching his daughter's basketball team only to be greeted by Cap'n Crunch and a [sic] yet another pile of papers to grade!”

It received nine comments (four of those were my own).  And one of those commenters hinted that they understood the challenge of managing the grading paperload.

Facebook soon became a sliver into my reality normally hidden, when I walked into my home and shut the door for anyone who wanted to see access.  Initially, reposting fill-in-the blank lists, or other people’s videos, didn’t interest me.  I just wanted folks to know it was okay to not have all the answers.  Here I was, boogers and all.

But the experiment gathered a more scientific component in March 2020 -- the addition of an actual vacuum.  

In March 2020, the United States of America instituted a national quarantine in the hope of limiting the possibility of infection from the rapidly spreading “severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2)”, shortened simply to the “Coronavirus”.   I suspect that the horrified wails of a certain mexican beer company sharing part of the same name as the virus (after having carefully crafted years of popular commercials associating its product with serene, relaxing beach scenes) are still heard by masked customers now filling their shopping carts with other adult beverages.  Thus ensuring (at least in a few inebriated minds) binge drinking episodes without sudden, beer-birthed, pockets of community spread.

During this quarantine, the noise of my life (reporting to a building to teach, side-hustles, sporting events, car travel, movies, fast food) disappeared.  And with that sudden vacuum, came the desire to collect and revise the writings I posted about the uncertainty of navigating adulthood.

And while I still worry if I have the skill to create something that gives a clearer picture of my true self to my wife and kids, each vignette is a piece of the mosaic of my humanity.  And hopefully, this collection of blessed fallibility won’t be unnecessarily camouflaged during the stories told at my funeral one day, as attendees gulp down heaping portions of smothered pork steak, collard greens, macaroni, and apple pie piled on their sagging, disposable plates.

[nellygwyn]

Sarah Jane Rees (1839-1916), known more commonly under her bardic name of ‘Cranogwen,’ was a Welsh poet and teacher. Born to a master mariner in the small Cardiganshire coastal village of Llangrannog, Rees showed her intelligence early on when she was educated in Latin and astronomy by the village schoolmaster. As she got older, Rees, keen to avoid the frequent drudgery of housework, convinced her father to allow her to accompany him on his trade ship. Rees was able to travel around the British coastline and consequently received education in several places, Newquay, Cardigan and Liverpool included. She also studied at a naval navigation school in London where she gained a master mariner’s certificate, granting her the right to command any ship in any part of the world. In 1859, Rees set up a navigation school in Llangrannog. There was some objection to a 20 year old woman being appointed as a schoolmistress but Rees stood her ground. 

In 1865, Rees competed in her first Eisteddfod in Aberystwyth. She was the first woman to do so and she was also the first woman to win a major Eisteddfod prize for her poem ‘ Y Fodrwy Briodasal (The Wedding Ring).’ It was around this time she adopted the bardic name of ‘Cranogwen,’ in reference to her birth-place. After her first major success, she would go on to win prizes in several major Eisteddfod in and around Wales throughout the late 19th century. It was around this time that Rees also became heavily involved in the suffrage movement and in the feminist cause. Between 1878 and 1889, she became the editor of ‘Y Frythones,’ a Welsh language magazine for women and a platform for Welsh bluestockings and feminists to voice their views. In other ways, Rees was more conventional. She was a dedicated Methodist and a founder of the South Wales Women’s Temperance Union. Even so, contemporaries still noted Rees’ unorthodox choice of insisting she be able to bring her dog to church services and, in 1869-70, she toured the United States, mainly addressing Welsh immigrant communities on subjects like religion and progressive politics. 

Rees never married but was in two same-sex relationships. She and the two ladies she ended up living with were often compared to the Ladies of Llangollen, of the late 18th and early 19th century. Her first relationship was with Fanny Rees (same last name but unrelated), who she knew from her childhood. Fanny contracted tuberculosis in the late 1870s and returned to Wales to die in the comfort of Rees’ home. Fanny died in Rees’ arms and Rees was so grief-stricken that she was unable to visit Fanny’s grave to place flowers on it for 12 years. Her more lifelong partner was one Jane Thomas, who lived with Rees for most of her life. Rees’ poem ‘Fy Ffrynd’ is probably addressed to Jane and displays Rees’ attempts to categorise the relationship and domestic arrangement she and Jane Thomas had, as well as espouse her love for her. One of the stanzas reads: 

                                     I seren dêg dy wyneb di                                      Ni welaf fi un gymhar...                                      Mae milled eraill, sêr o fri                                     Yn gloewi y ffurfafen;                                      Edmygaf hwy, ond caraf di                                     Fy Ngwener gu, fy ‘Ogwen’

Translation:

                                To the fair star of your face, I see no equal                                 A thousand other stars of distinction                                  Brighten the firmament;                                 I admire them, but I love you,                                My beloved Venus, my ‘Ogwen.’

Rees died in 1916. Her grave is marked by an elaborate obelisk in reference to her career as a poet. She is a favourite topic of Welsh primary school children, who read her poetry and her songs. 

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welcome to my resume. you will see here that i am a highly skilled layabout with a lifelong passion for avoiding drudgery and a great deal of experience in general ineffectiveness and just goofing off. i earned a whole ass degree in time mismanagement with a minor in neglect of duty from a school so inert it only existed in concept. i possess what some would consider the worst priorities known to man, and have no regard for rules i feel are ill-conceived such as dress codes or attendance policies. hire me for any job you want unfinished or ignored entirely. i promise to not-do on a scale you've yet to imagine. i won't even try to appear busy like your average useless employee. i'm honest. i go below and beyond.

[lackadaisycats]

I don't know if this a bit of an inappropriate question, but how do you deal with procrastination in terms of art. I'm an artist myself but I often draw things months apart and I wanna make myself draw more. Any advice?

It’s not inappropriate. It’s a good question.  Different things work for different people, and I’m not sure my thoughts about it will be helpful, but here they are. (Pardon the excessive verbiage. I didn’t edit…because I should be working >_>)-Break the work into pieces.  Staring down a sizable comic chapter or complex illustration like you have to charge at it wholesale can be daunting. Even if you’re excited about it initially, reality eventually sets in and whatever reservations and anxieties you have stored at the back of your mind quickly become tactics for negotiating yourself out of doing the work. Sometimes even a smaller project can have that effect if you’re thinking of it in terms of how many total hours you’re bound to spend poking at it.  So, parcel it into whatever bits make it manageable, whether it’s looking at the writing, layout, penciling, color flats and final polish as separate tasks or deconstructing it into time segments like ‘however much painting I can get done during the 2 hour duration of this podcast I’m listening to’, then break and strategize your next move.

-Take breaks and reward yourself.  Sometimes I’m really in the zone and I’ll happily work a 10-14 hour shift on something without distraction. More commonly, though distractions do arise, the cat keeps trying to sit on me, my neck hurts, I’m not firing on all cylinders on a given day or I’m not feeling too enthused about the work.  That’s when it helps to use breaks like mini-rewards for each completed task. Stop and watch a half hour of Netflix, play a game, take a walk, stretch, have a snack.  Reward progress. 

-Do stuff you love and are interested in.  Mix as much of the “want to” into the “have to” and “ought to” work as you can. Granted, if you’re doing art for a living, it’s not always an option to focus on your personal interests, but if you’re trying to do your own creative projects, working on a school assignment in which you have some license to choose your subject matter, or if you’re able to be a bit selective with your freelance gigs, pick things that genuinely interest you, or add some of your pet topics to the mix - whatever will heighten your emotional/intellectual investment. I find I’m far more eager to do the work when there’s something about it that I can really glom onto, be it a favorite character, an animal I like to draw, a certain mood I want to translate, a historical setting or costume, a color palette or motif I want to toy around with, etc.

-Step away if it’s not coming together.  Struggling with a frustrating piece of art can be a lot like having a heated argument with someone.  Eventually it devolves into irrational appeals, antagonism and hurt feelings and any chance of productive discourse leaves the scene. Instead of sticking around and making it worse, turning the project into miserable drudgery, set it aside and come back to it later with your composure and sense of perspective intact. That’s not to say all projects must be or should be followed through on, and not all projects will be a continuous bowl of cherries to bring to completion, but it might not be as hopeless or unappealing as it seemed upon returning to it.

-Mindspace and workspace matter.  Find things that help you get into the rhythm of your work. Listening to podcasts, audiobooks and music helps keep me focused when I’m in the midst of the long-haul on comic pages - doing all of the value and toning work that takes hours.  Being in the right place with a comfortable seat, in a comfortable (but not so comfortable you fall asleep) position, with minimal distractions, tools within reach and good lighting is important too.

-Collect inspirations.  Keep things on hand that you can look at for ideas or simply for that motivation to keep on trucking. Personally, I have a lot of art books around, a lot of historical material like 20th century fashion books, books about old cars, books about flappers, comics with great art, funny collections of syndicated strips, character sketches hanging on my walls, and many gigabytes of inspirational and reference images collected off the internet. Sometimes just browsing through one of those folders sparks ideas and makes me want to pick up my stylus.

-Sleep right and eat right.  I have had a deep seated, lifelong terrible relationship with sleep. I’m still working on that part. If you’ve got a pretty consistent sleep schedule, though, you’re probably off to a good start.As for food - it seems perfunctory to say that it matters what you eat. On some level, we all know that, but, yeah, it really truly absolutely does matter..a lot.  When I was 20, I could live on ramen noodles, goldfish crackers, microwave ravioli and energy drinks. I could pull all-nighters on top of that and still keep chugging merrily along.  Boy, the years run like rabbits, though, and eating like a deranged dumpster goat catches up to you sooner than you might think.  I eventually found myself struggling with perpetual malaise, brain fog and a sour mood that made it hard to do anything or to enjoy doing anything. I’m ashamed to admit to how long it took me to realize - after blaming it alternatingly on allergies, anemia, depression - that my apathetic diet was not conducive to basic life functions, let alone fueling creative fires. I started putting some effort into food selections and it has made the difference between fumbling through life in a semi-conscious state and feeling bright and motivated and - in spite of myself - even happy.(And, contrary to the way society romanticizes connections between depression and artistic impulse, most people work better when they feel better.)

-Practice self-discipline.  Here’s the thing no one likes to hear.  Sometimes, no matter how many devices you have in place to make work fun and comfy and something you look forward to, you just won’t feel like it. You will have to be an adult about it. You will have to simply muster the willpower. You can be that “creative” person who has lots of ideas but never anything to show for them because a million vectors for instant gratification circle around you constantly like distracting little red-devil imps. Or you can be a self-starter building toward something, playing the long game with goals in mind; you can dig your heels in, grit your teeth, take a swig of coffee and get down to work, dammit.

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[saved-to-be-sent]

The Image of Heaven

The image of Heaven is different for many: some imagine fluffy clouds, singing angels, pearly gates, and shining lights; others see countless realms of individualized paradises, complete with pets and buffet-style memory replay. The interpretations are almost as numerous as the interpreters. One of the most common aspects among believers, though, is the presence of loved ones, fellow communicants who passed on ahead of us and who are waiting with a congratulation and a harp. It is an almost universal belief in American congregations that our loved ones are looking down on this world, smiling and encouraging us. We cling to this idea, as it gives our lives a purpose: an afterlife we can think of in terms we understand, a verisimilitude that makes our existence seem worthwhile and meaningful. In this way, death becomes a graduation ceremony for believers wherein this mortal coil is shuffled off in exchange for a role as celestial supervisor, watching and waiting for those behind us to arrive and begin their own watches. It is a comforting thought, and nearly ubiquitous in Christian ideology. Scripture and theology, however, may point in a different direction.

My first inclination of a different image of Heaven comes from C.S. Lewis’ A Grief Observed. He notes that there is nothing in the Bible that indicates we will actually be united with our loved ones or that our loved ones will even recognize us on the other side. Strong words coming from a man grieving the premature death of his wife with whom he spent significantly less time than he would have liked. In this assertion, Lewis is touching on a key element of Heaven—it is not the fulfillment-place of our earthly desires and attachments. Heaven is the wellspring of the soul and cannot be constricted to our needs for tearful reunions. The sole reunion of import—the soul reunion—is that occurring between ourselves and the Godhead. We rejoin our loved ones as brothers and sisters in salvation, yes, but our eyes are meant to be turned outward to the majesty of God the King, tripartite and singular, not inward to the fulfillment of mortal expectations.

The idea of mortal expectations (re: reunion) being fulfilled is somewhat, even fundamentally, against the core concept of Heaven as a paradise because it introduces the potential of decidedly non-paradisiacal elements, namely disappointment and sorrow. What good is a paradise where sorrow is prevalent and some denizens are constantly longing for more in the face of others who have all that they need? Families and friends are torn apart daily over matters of faith, but the common conception of Heaven forces the separated faithful to watch as complete families enjoy paradise together. Yet this is inherently included in the mortal reunion model of Heaven. Not every person we know and love is necessarily Heaven-bound; whether due to predestination (a thoroughly dangerous and poisonous concept) or free-will, some will not come to the Father’s table. This is, though sad, a central understanding of our faith. And why some of our fellow citizens won’t see Heaven is important: they refuse to fully accept and embrace their places as children of God and servants of Jesus Christ. The continuing praise of the Godhead is the one and only point of Heaven. For us to recognize and place undue value upon our mortal attachments would be for us to detract from paradise in two instances: first, our sorrow—for it would be sorrow; deep, unending sorrow such as we could never know on Earth, akin only to, yet still dwarfed by, God’s sorrow at our distance from and neglect of His love for us—at the absence of non-believing loved ones; second, our joy over the presence of the prior departed and desire to simply live in Heaven as we did on Earth. Both of these are completely antithetical to the idea of Heaven as laid out in the scriptures.

This is by no means a new idea. One of the greatest poets of the English language described Heaven as non-reunionist in “Pearl,” the poem by which the anonymous author is remembered. The poet’s dream narrative features a child, a mere infant at the time of her death, grown into a woman of grace and stature in Heaven. What’s more, the only attachment she seems to feel for her father (the dreamer) is one of religious affiliation, eschewing notions of corporeal family altogether. She notes, when her narrator-father tries to play on feelings of sentimentality, that her sole focus in the hereafter is her role as a bride of Christ, eternally praising Him. She has been given, quite literally, a new body which itself is free from familial attachment and sentimentality, furthering the idea of non-reunion. Herein is the idea that our reward in Heaven is one of simplicity—when the scales of mortality fall from our eyes, we see a singular, eternal purpose that far surpasses the joys and tethers of anything we experienced on Earth. Even the most rudimentary, base affections of family ties are nothing compared to the call of Heaven’s labor of love (for did Christ not say that to truly follow Him would require leaving one’s father and mother?). The trials of mortality make way for eternal praise. How then can we be solely devoted to the everlasting praise due to the Father of all if we are attending to the emotions connected with a reunion of loved ones? Christ told us through the gospels that He goes ahead to prepare a place for us—we are to join as members of His Father’s house. Becoming a member of a household, as the Bible routinely demonstrates, is taking on a specific function; ours is to praise, no more, no less.

For those surrounded solely by fellow believers, this may initially seem a bleak turn. We put great stock in the idea that we will see each other on the other side—that we will be able to laugh again with our siblings or meet the grandparents for whom we are named. None of this is to say that we will not. Though not centered on reunion of earthly mentalities, Heaven is also not a place of drudgery or mechanical routine: awake, praise, lunch, praise, sleep. That, too, would not be paradise and would diminish the power of the free-will granted by our existence as children of the Most High. It simply means that our earthly cares and connections will not be important, and this is an important facet of the image of Heaven, especially for those intimately connected with non-believers.

I recently had a conversation with an aunt that demonstrated the profound mental/spiritual strain placed on those Christians tied closely to non-believers. She said she would forgo Heaven in favor of being wherever her daughter was (a professed non-religious person). She, a lifelong, devout Catholic, would trade eternal paradise and peace for separation from God for a supposed proximity to her daughter—”wherever she is,” in her words. Glossing over the idea that the only other place for a post-death soul is Hell—and Hell is meant to be torture (more precisely, eternal separation from grace and protection of God, but theoretically extendable to other realms of depravity and deprivation), which means that she would never be reunited with her daughter (because why would there be any meaningful happiness in Hell?)—the idea that we can be sad or remorseful in Heaven is preposterous. This woman—and any other person separated from a loved one—will not, and I believe cannot (if the idea of Heaven as a paradise is to be believed), have the capacity to feel anything but supreme joy when Heaven is attained. Just as being reunited in a recognizable way with loved ones detracts and distracts from the eternal praise-work, so too would being eternally separated. Further, to allow this intense grief to exist as a natural part of paradise—set apart from the natural grief that is human existence—is to fundamentally change the nature of God, making Him ultimately cruel, uncaring, and out of touch.

The idea here lies in the base substitutive concept of Christian salvation. Christ, in His redemptive existence, took upon Himself the weight, the burden, of our iniquity and suffering. For us—in place of us, instead of us—did He die. This did not stop at the cross, but continued into Heaven as He reclaimed His throne. While we exist on Earth, God’s heart breaks for (after) us; He wants nothing more than for us to come home to His loving protection. In Heaven, His heart breaks for (instead of) us; He continues to bear the weight of souls lost to humanity’s mistakes. The loved ones from which we will be separated will not go unmourned; instead of us, Christ suffers. The Suffering Servant is not a one-time title; just as we are called to continually seek out the Heart of Love in Christ, that same Heart chooses to suffer for us. Without final separation, salvation means nothing, yet we do not serve a heartless God. He continually and permanently has our best interests at heart. He has promised to keep up close, to heal us, to protect us. We have no issue, most of the time, believing in the probability of this not looking the way we anticipate while we temporarily occupy Earth; why, then, do we not believe it possible when we get to our eternal Heaven?