I feel a lil’ old. The kind of old that you feel when you see chitlins running around that were born during years you actually recollect. Chitlins, such as they are, that weren’t even properly formed a decade ago. So I got to thinkin’: Rather than writing up the tired and overdone retrospective of the current year or a “hey here’s what might not be fail and AIDS in the coming year” list in honor of the new year, why not take a look back to the last time there was a nine at the end of year? Way back in 1999, a whoooole decade ago. Here’s what I remember:

- Half-Life. Actually scratch that- I remember the world BEFORE Half-Life. Before breaking open crates for ammo was just plain logical, before playing a game with a voiceless hero was an artistic “choice”, and well before ten minute opening sequences set in-game, on a rail, were tired clichés (yay Far Cry 2!). But in January of 1999 I opened up my new PC Gamer (South Park “The Game” on the cover; whoops) to find their highest-rated game ever, and that fall when I finally played it, I was completely sucked in by it. Without the blood on, of course.

- Team Fortress 2 is announced and man, was it awesome looking. Team-based WWII combat (and with Saving Private Ryan fresh out on VHS, a WWII game was all sorts of awesome), intense action, lips that would synch to player voices… I ‘member seeing it in PC Gamer and thinking it would be every bit as awesome as Half-Life. And when it was actually released THIS year, some people thought it was indeed (despite tossing out the WWII thing because let’s face it- that horse was flogged to gibs a good five years ago).

- Tribes (yeah, I was a gamer; deal with it). Listen here kids- before your fancy, state-of-the-art Crytek an’ Source an’ Bungie games, there was Tribes: Team-based gameplay, matches with up to 64 players (not to mention mods that took it over 100), multiple types of vehicles including APCs and scouts, sniping as a strategy, mortars, and of course, maps with endless terrain. In 1999. With DIAL-UP. You wouldn’t have the Battlefield series (especially 2142), you wouldn’t have Planetside, and given that Halo was an RTS game when Tribes 1 was finishing up development (and didn’t officially release until almost a year after Tribes 2), you probably wouldn’t have that either. Am I biased? This game ate up half my childhood, so probably. But I still believe it to be one of the most influential sci-fi shooters and multiplayer games ever made.

- Columbine. Just got home from school, passed by the TV and there were all the folks piling out a school window into the hands of SWAT teams. Then I went outside and shot some hoops. Nobody was getting shot, I didn’t live in Colorado, and it was a nice day out. I mean I had a fucking paved driveway, come on.

- Limp Bizkit. Heavy guitars that we uncultured lil’ fellas had never heard the likes of before? Dirty lyrics that we had to hide from our parents? A vocalist that was all rebellious sounding and a face-paintin’ guitarist? You bet. We were doing it all for the nookie. Sadly, the only reason we were was because we were too young to understand just what that meant and why it’s one of the worst choruses to ever reach mainstream popularity.

- Korn. Follow The Leader. This was the forbidden music. All In The Family? You didn’t listen to this anywhere within ear-shot of your parents. Personally, I found the whole thing so foreign it was a little intimidating (what’s a twelve year old who grew up listening to Bryan Adams supposed to make of Davis’s spastic beatboxing?), but fascinating enough that, for awhile, I’d listen to “Freak on a Leash” before getting out of bed in the morning for school. And this was long before “burning a CD” meant anything other than lighting it on fire, so we got out our best dual-deck cassette players and copied it to tape from that-one-kid-whose-parents-didn’t-care-what-he-listened-to. Thanks Levi.

- Bawitdaba. Da bang da bang diggie diggie said the boogie an’ up-jumped-the-booty.

- Napster. Holy shit, music on your computer?! 96 kbps mp3 files that take only half an hour to download? The future was already fuckin’ there, man.

- Tech TV. Ok, this wasn’t 1999 specific, but still. Leo. The Screen Savers. Call For Help. Gamespot TV (or “X-Play” as it is today). I look at G4 and still shudder with sadness at how they destroyed one of the best channels on television.

- The Sixth Sense, and the shithead at recess who spoiled the ending for me. Thanks Matt.

- 13th Warrior. Did anybody who made this film like it? Nope. Did anyone see it when it came out? Not really. Did I love every single Viking-laughing, gory arm-falling-off-the-bed moment of it while my mom winced beside me in the theater? Yes. Yes I did.

- Star Wars! Oh the merchandise, the hype, the throngs of crazy people waiting in line on the news. Mountain Dew and Pepsi cans with Star Wars stuff on them, tie-in contests from nearly every consumable-item-producin’-company you could think of, new toys, an impossible PC game! It was all terribly exciting. Especially since I was entirely too young to understand just how awful Episode I was when it finally came out (though I was astute enough to think Jar-Jar should die a painful, fiery death).

- New Years Eve. So there I sat, in the living room half-paying attention to the TV and playing Pro Boarders. Yeah, back when this was graphically acceptable. Everyone was all “OMG the world is gonna end” and it was allegedly suspenseful (unless you were hidin’ in a bus buried under ten feet of earth, like so many in Montana), but I personally agreed with the whole “we didn’t start counting at ZERO you morons!” philosophy. And then the clock turned, there was much hullabaloo on the television, and I went to bed.

Year turns are, in themselves, kinda boring like that. But thinking about all these memories, most of which I can remember like last week, it’s more than a bit amazing how much life has changed in just 10 years, both personally and from a global perspective. 10 years ago I was in sixth grade, awkward and quiet. I’m now a college junior in a mass media major, where I want as many people as possible to see what I do. Football at recess was the source of all our drama, now it’s Myspace. The internet was a fad; it’s now as necessary to life as water and food. Most of us couldn’t imagine owning a cell-phone (and in all honesty, most people in Troy still can’t), much less uploading videos we record on one to a website that’ll share them with potentially millions of people.

So on this New Year’s Eve, I look back at life in general an’ think about how it moves through time. It’s been quite a trip so far, and with any luck, each and every one of us will have more bizarre memories to share after 2009.

Unless the weevils revolt.
Goddamn weevils.

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Trampolines are a subtle way for parents to try and kill their children. “He accidentally launched off the side and compressed his spine” is easier to deal with than “I accidentally threw the little shit off the roof” I guess. But somehow, almost invariably, the kids with trampolines were the ones you wanted to hang out with as a wee tot.

Before living in Troy, one of my best friends in New Meadows had an enormous rectangular one (in addition to a SNES and an RV that we used as a fort- fuck, that kid was awesome), and it was always a matter of begging my mom to be able to play on it. As long as somebody was watching. Not that we needed supervision- Christ, I was five, maybe six years old. Practically an adult. So we’d bounce up and down, getting ridiculously high (stop giggling), and accidentally steal each others’ bounces. On a side note, I always found that damned terrifying- here you are, being innocently thrown up and down on this rubbery material, you land, and then fucking LAUNCH high enough to see your mom in your house five miles away yelling “you’ll break your legs on the way down!”. Here I am, 21 years old, and I still don’t understand the physics of that. Probably why I’m a film major.

Anyways, despite the fact that I loved hanging out with that kid, that trampoline was a big deal in itself when ever I went over to his house. So when we moved to Troy, I gravitated towards a neighbor who had all of the same cool shit.

I remember the first time I saw the Ramondellis- 250 Hummingbird Lane was a freshly tree-decapitated plot of dirt with a massive hole in the center. They (I’m not sure who “they” were, only that in later years it became obvious that “they” suck at building basements) were just starting to do the concrete for the basement, and I was standing in the backyard (though it was still just a bunch of entertainingly malleable dirt/clay). It was cloudy I think. Anyways, from up the back hill come these two unfamiliar big kids that my brother apparently knew, but I didn’t. Jeni and Griffin. They had left Shan below (typical game of “let’s see if we can get rid of the little one”), and a few minutes later he appeared.

Shan was a douche. I like him fine now, but not everybody is a little ball of sunshine as a child (myself obviously included). But we were neighbors and I was new, so a friendship was “encouraged” (after all, the only other person my age in the neighborhood was Jordan, and wimmins were gross). And it was ok, because he had cool stuff like a console and, yep, a motherfucking trampoline.

So we hung out occasionally. That’s how I came to know Rich, as “Shan’s dad”. A large man (at least when you’re seven years old), a scary man (when he yelled at Shan), and a man with a hammock.

Trampolines. One summer day we were bouncing- typical day really (if only fucking around on a trampoline were a common activity for adults). Something happened that caused me to swear. Like most kids by the age of six, I had a full vocabulary of swear words (as much as parents will try to pretend it’s not possible, sorry, we were all swearing at recess by kindergarten) so it wasn’t a huge shock to Shan or myself. But just to be a dick, as his dad walked by, this happened:

“Oh and Dad, Chris is swearing.”
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no, he’s gonna tell my mom.
There’s a fretted brow and look of dismay.
Rich: “How old are you Chris?”
“…10”.
He shook head, then went back inside.
No parents were informed.

I figured he was an alright dad at this point.

Flash forward to Junior High: One of those bullshit days where we don’t get P.E. and are forced into Health stuff in the library (Health: where, prior to broadband, all adolescents got exposed to childbirth, successfully killing masturbatory needs for a week). We walked out of the doors by the library- you know, the ones that take you through the last little vestiges of Jr. High lockers, the half lockers stacked on top of each other where those unfortunate souls with last names at the end of the alphabet are relegated to. Nowhere near as cool as a locker in the hallway.

Anyways, it’s myself and Matt Etienne. He’s on about something, I forget what, and I probably wasn’t paying attention anyways. Mr. Ramondelli was though:

“You talking to yourself Matt?”
I snicker.
Matt sputters.
“Hey you know what Matt, that’s ok. You know, some of the best conversations you’ll ever have in life will be with yourself.”

That quote has stuck with me as clearly as the day he said it (at least six years ago). It was just… True. Even before he said it and certainly to this day, I’ve always been able to figure things out better (or just amuse myself) via self-discussion. I guess it was just refreshing to hear an adult say that.

So what’s the point of all these trampolines and swearing and schizophrenia-in-denial anecdotes? Childhood. Growing up. Troy, MT. These are the things that Mr. Ramondelli has been and always will be inextricably linked to for me and, I believe, for most of the kids that grew up with me.

Living in a town of one thousand people means that you see the same faces almost daily for the duration of your stay there. For me, Mr. Ramondelli was “there” for 13 years of my life. Around the neighborhood, at school, at the store where I worked- and the fact that he no longer is, well, it could be sad and I’m sure it is for a lot of people. But for me… It serves as a catalyst to all sorts of great memories I hadn’t thought about in years: Line-driving a softball at him in P.E. and getting that “holy shit” look in return, busting out the scoreboard with a kickball and wondering if he was gonna flog me, watching him try to deal with Kenny (“my dog eats popcorn”, “…That’s great Kenny”), having to do those hilariously-bad plays in World History (solely for his amusement, I’m convinced), his curiously wandering into Mr. Jones’s class when he was bored across the hall, and just that enthusiastic voice that no one who ever hears it will be able to forget.

Mr. Ramondelli.
Yeah.
The next generation of Troy kids will be missing out.

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So rather than stay in Bozeman last weekend celebrating my birthday by hanging out with my friends here and doing some much needed studying for a test on Tuesday, I opted to take off to a city I’ve never been to with people I’ve never met. Overall it was pretty fun, but being a production assistant (aka, bitch) on a student film is fairly dull.

Thursday evening I joined a crew of about 10 film students (mostly juniors) heading to Billings to shoot a short project called “Human Business”. The story is kind of Twilight Zone-esque: It takes place in the present, but society is slightly different. Humans are now a stock option, with investors buying and selling stock on individuals based on their relationships with others, as well as their personal gains or failings. The plot follows a girl who believes she’s doing well, only to see her life come crashing down in a series of events triggered by the people around her caring solely about her monetary value.

Shooting started bright and early the next morning around 9 outside of the First Interstate Bank tower. Our producer ran into an interesting situation though: Apparently Bush is coming to visit sometime in November (I’m assuming as part of the elections), and Secret Service was in the tower that morning, setting up or something. They seemed none to happy that we were shooting that day, but they didn’t try stopping us since we had permission.

After we finished up there, we moved on to our director’s house, where the first scene with the lead actress took place. I really can’t remember her name (Marie something), but she was nice enough and had some interesting connections: She went to school with/knows Bryce Howard (daughter of Ron Howard, an awesome director who also played Opie on The Andy Griffith Show as a child), one of her instructors at NYU played Rafael in the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie, and she knows Leonardo DiCaprio personally. It was cool hearing stories from somebody who’s “in the business” so to speak (even though she hasn’t done anything bigger than television), since up until last week I’d never met any such people.

There’s not a whole lot to say about the actual shoot really- that day dragged on forever, since there wasn’t much need for myself or the other freshman who signed on to help. We pretty much just sat around and watched them go about their business for the entire three days. However, things DID get interesting on Friday night. We were shooting a scene outside of a bar & grill downtown, when out of nowhere a fire truck pulls up. Now, we had fog machines (bought at K-Mart for $15) going so everyone kind of went “oh shit”. But when the producer went up to them to tell them it’s ok, they walked right by and went inside. Apparently, someone inside had stopped breathing- how this warrants a fire truck is beyond me, but 15 minutes later an ambulance showed up to haul the guy off (who was yelling and very clearly wasted). So, we resumed. And I got to do some “actual” work by pushing around the makeshift dolly while they filmed on it, as well as appear as an extra that gets shoved out of the way when the main character runs off (kind of doubt that bit will make it in though).

Saturday was my birthday, not that anybody knew. Given that we weren’t eating meals per se (the occasional sandwich, junk, etc), I felt like hell when I woke up and was generally somewhat sullen- I mean we spent all morning shooting on a bus, where for 2 hours I did nothing but sit out of the way. Sort of made me think, “Wow, I’m missing out on actual fun for this?” But, it got better. That evening we ate dinner at our cameraman’s Aunt’s house- though he himself was busy with half the crew, so it was only 4 of us. After that we shot a scene in a gym, where the producer threw a pair of running pants at me and said “wanna be an extra?” This time I should actually be visible… Working out. Oh yeah.

Sunday went by insanely fast. The first half of the day we shot in a damn nice restaurant downtown and we spent the second half in a hospital, which was by far the most comfortable location (we lounged around in the administration conference room between takes, mwah). Wrapped around 7, and went to KFC for dinner.

The ride home was slightly terrifying. Halfway to Livingston, the snow was coming down so fast that we had to pull over- briefly contemplating sleeping in the car for the night if it didn’t let up (we couldn’t see 2 feet in front of the car while moving). But a convoy of semi’s drove by and we followed them until it cleared up. From there it was back to Bozeman without incident, though by the time we reached town there was 3-4 inches of snow and it was still coming down pretty good.

So that’s about it. As far as the crew themselves go, most of them were great (which is good, given that 5 of us were cramped into one hotel room). The director, however, was fairly incompetent. It’s pretty bad when even a freshman MTA major can tell you’re failing at your job, but she wasn’t interacting at all with her actors and it was very obvious she hadn’t done any sort of visual preparation for the shoot (storyboards or even a decent mental picture). But otherwise, all cool people. I probably spent the most time hanging around the sound guy (Jim), who was somewhat of an ass but very funny (don’t imagine too many people spend their time between takes playing StarCraft). The director of photography (I think- it was a small crew, so everyone was doing several things), Ryan, was equally hilarious and cool, and the producer (Jay) was one of the most down to earth guys I’ve met in the department so far (which is why I signed up on his shoot in the first place- he seemed “sane”). All in all, I’m glad I did it… Gave me a better idea of how to run my own productions. And, how not to direct.

Pictures here.

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Ok, it’s been well over a month since I’ve posted anything. Here’s what’s been going on:

I’ve started college- and 99% of you reading this know that already- which gives me a great excuse for claiming to be busy. But the truth is… I’m really not. In fact, I’m less busy now than I ever was during high school. The reason for the lack of posting is that prior to graduating, about half the posts here were directly related to or revolved around attending high school. The reality is that it’s rather hard for me to find something to get all riled up about when the vast majority of nonsense and stupidity has been cut out of my life (and I’m certainly not going to complain about that): There’s a large enough number of mature people to hang out with around here that it’s harder to notice the idiots, there’s plenty of things to do, and most of all, universities treat you like a person and not like a threat. See, if I were to write unfavorable things about the MSU administration and in some unlikely turn of events, they read it, they wouldn’t call a meeting to discuss whether or not they can shut me down (like say, a certain high school I used to attend).

But don’t take that to mean I’m through here. Not even. Hell, I just switched to a more expensive host while I’m going broke, so I obviously wish to continue my endeavors on this site. Posts will come, they’ll just be far between, so please keep checking out the site. If you haven’t read the archives, do so- I don’t quite agree with all of my early posts anymore, but they’re entertaining nevertheless. And go download everything off the Videos and 7th Act page if you haven’t already, because I’ve got a shitload of bandwidth to kill now.

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High school graduation has to be one of the strangest events, if you think about it. I mean the evening itself is fairly normal if taken at face value- you enter, you sit and listen to the two crazy people who made out with a 4.0 GPA, you walk up to the stage, get your fake diploma, leave without incident, then go to the after party.

The strange part is realizing that all of a sudden these people you’ve known since elementary school (and out of our 50 or so graduating, I’ve known almost half of them since 1rst and 2nd grade) are nearly adults, and a lot of them have already started what will become the rest of their lives. Hell, my neighbor and classmate that I met the day we dug out the foundation for this house back when I was a wee tot of about 6, got married today. I still remember her pointing at her tongue at the mere mention of a boy.

Another one I’ve known since 4th grade and whom I used to pick on (he’d return the favor by stabbing me with any random sharp object), heads off to Alaska in the morning for 3 solid months of labor, with no real desire to return (and on another note, he’s since become a good friend of mine). This is the same bastard who had no trouble threatening the few children he could find smaller than him for money at lunch, yet off he goes for the sole purpose of actually earning his wages.

And still another, who graduated after his first semester, has already been to Mexico and states I’ll probably never visit as part of his daily job (earning about three times as much as I). This is the kid that tried convincing us in second grade he’d been to Africa, and who I had to drag grumbling through three movie productions.

The list goes on. My point is that it feels odd, looking at a lot of my friends and realizing their “real lives” have already begun, when it seems like just a little bit ago we were all playing football at recess, yelling at each other about rules and wondering why we never got the ball. The truth is that aside from the sad state of public education (or at least our school’s, who’s administration seem more concerned with their egos not getting popped and sports than children actually learning jackshit) that engrosses high school as I leave, it’s a bit sad knowning I won’t get to hang out with many of the people I only had the chance to see at school for much longer, if at all. But not so sad is what else I’ll be missing: The drama, the useless bickering, friends treating other friends like playthings/dirt, and having to look at the same obnoxious idiots, quitters and lazy fucks every day. And while I realize most of these traits will just pick up another face and continue to be present in my life, it’s comforting knowing I have quite a bit of time between now and then for me to feel… Refreshed.

But thankfully, I can look back over it all and say that portion of my schooling was outweighed by the good times I did manage to have with friends and anyone else that was along for the ride and able to have fun. I don’t want to give the impression it was all smooth- because it absolutely wasn’t- but it feels easier to recall good memories of high school than bad ones. Especially lunch. Dammit, I WILL miss my lunch break, because it was by far the best half hour of random comedy I’ve ever been witness to or a part of.

Anyways, for any fellow graduates or generally anyone that sorta cares, I’ve got a dozen or so pictures from the senior party here. Enjoy. And feel free to use that contact button off to the side anytime to get a hold of me for any reason at all.

Good day. I’m off to begin my summer routine of staying up until I can hear birds chirping and see the faint outline of sunlight over the trees.

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The Burden Of Goodbye (2-25-05)

Rest in peace Groff, “alright?”

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It’s funny how when you start a site like this (especially like this, actually), you do it with the best intentions. My sole objective was just to poke fun at things I found stupid, but alas, when I get going on something it turns out quite mean and becomes rather hard to illustrate how I actually don’t care much at all about the topic. And as a result, I’ve managed to hurt and anger quite a few people along the way.

So as of today, I give up. Stupid Chronicles will be updated no more after this post, and I’m shutting down the forum.

Why? Because I’ve discovered hatred breeds hatred. Back when I was pretty much the only one looking at this site, it was fine. I could sit back and do self-analyization. But then, one night I gave this site addy to a friend of mine… And that’s where everything went to shit.

It’s sad how whenever I post something mean here, people just jump on the bandwagon and agree without ever really thinking about it. It’s like hate is the cool thing nowadays…

I’ve had enough of it. The people I offended with the suicide post are people that I’d ordinarily never dream of hurting, and to them, I apologize. It was an unwarranted act on my part to have written that, and I regret having done so. All the subsequent backtalk I gave in the comments section was a farce; I didn’t mean any of it, and to be honest, I have no idea why I wrote it.

You’re probably looking at the date right now and thinking “ha, he’s joking.” Yeah, I admit, the timing of this post is a bit odd. I meant to do it yesterday after having somewhat of an epiphany a couple nights ago, but I was sick and it literally hurt to sit up (one of those 24 hour things, thank God). And I’ll be gone Saturday, and at work on Sunday night, so yeah… Just one of those unfortunately timed events. It’s just a coincidence, and there’s no way in hell I’m waiting until Monday so all you people can jump all over me the following day at school.

The only good thing to have ever come from this page was the post on Groff. And for that reason, I’ll leave this site up.

So that pretty much covers it I guess. Hate mongering isn’t something I ever wanted to or intended to do here. As I said in the forum, “this is just a caricature of myself”. Sadly, people have begun to think this is the real me, and I’ve had enough of it. I’m not going to ruin my own good name through some damn blog.

Farewell all.

- Chris

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I’m taking a moment out of the usual again (I’ll try not to make this a habit) ranting/mockery for something entirely serious, so bear with me…

Yesterday something quite tragic and unbelievable happened: Mr. Groff (our high school English teacher) was killed in a car accident.

If it had been anybody else I wouldn’t bother posting anything here. But Groff was different. Damn near everybody loved him and his classes. Not because they were easy, and not because your daily work was limited. It was because he made it fun. It sounds like a cliche, making learning fun. But Groff did it. He gave you a reason everyday to want to come to school. I had exactly one semester with him and never have I laughed so hard inside a classroom, while in the same period of time learned so much. He could stand there, talk for an hour straight, and not once would you feel bored. I looked forward to his lectures/notes, no matter what the topic was, because it was always hilarious and usually thought-provoking.

I’d be lying if I said he taught me everything I know about writing, and I can’t stand when people patronize the dead for something they clearly didn’t do. But if Groff hadn’t arrived when he did, at a time when I had just finished 3 straight and fairly boring stories for short films, I may have lost interest in writing. He encouraged your writing, no matter if it was bound to offend somebody, so long as you were being honest. His class made me realize that it’s something you should have fun with, and it’s not always to be taken seriously.

Groff wasn’t a teacher to most people, though he may have “taught” them. He was a friend. I’ve never known any “teacher” who could just stand around with a group of students at lunch break, crack jokes, and make the lot of them laugh their asses off. He was a big kid, he really was (another cliche, but it’s so true). Hell, he even got a kick out of this site and encouraged me to write more here.

It was so unexpected you don’t know what to say or quite how to feel. I sat in the auditorium (possibly the only intelligent thing our principal has done all year was NOT announcing it over the PA system) amid the dead silence of 190 or so kids, and there was a moment where I tried to wake myself up. It didn’t feel real. And once it sinks in you look for something to blame, someone to point a finger at, but you can’t. Life is full of random events, and every so often one will be a horrible twist on reality.

Every interaction you have with people dictates their feelings towards you. It’s so obvious that half the population doesn’t realize it. Groff did. He cared about his students, and always greeted my classmates and me if we passed by in the hall or anywhere else in town. It’s such a small, subtle gesture that we all take for granted until we’re given the benefit of hindsight.

We never took Groff for granted, and we’ll never forget the good times we had with him.

RIP,
Eric Groff.

Seeya on the other side.

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Yeah, so I ripped that title off of a 4 year old nu-metal album. Sue me.

This post isn’t the standard fair of mocking whatever I find dumb (and leaving plenty of holes in the argument while doing so; see previous rant for a shining example). It’s not a shitty daily analysis blog post, nor is it a political rant.

So what the bloody hell is it, you ask? Read on…

People have this wonderful ability to shut themselves off from reality. And while it’s fun for short periods of time, living your life while doing so is a horrible waste. These are the people who ask “why do we have to fight?” during wartime, in some pitiful attempt to sound deep and thought provoking. They’re the ones who cry in horror when tragedy strikes, like it was something unfathomable. They’re the ones who refuse to entertain the thought of any of the less desirable things in life, and they’re the ones who turn to religion, astrology, or any number of crap ways to find meaning.

Then there’s the opposite: Those who don’t turn to overbearing father-figure for answers (which people who do don’t get anyways, but seem to enjoy pretending to), who aren’t affected in the least by the pain and suffering of the world despite paying attention to it, and who are more likely to think of something wretched than of something good.

Being a part of the latter I’d love to think it’s better, and I do, for the most part. But at a certain point you begin to wonder if it’s healthy. I think it depends on the person, so let’s take me as an example: I began to disown my religion (Christianity; could be worse I guess, at least I wasn’t raised Mormon) around 14, and I saw my first picture of real, graphic violence when I was about the same age. I saw more in the week following (by my own consent, and not that of some jackass in a comp lab), and it shocked me. I think that was the last time I ever felt “shook up” by something… Three years later, in the spring of last year, one of my friends (Keith; there, happy?) who frequents totse discovered gore videos. It was a post that pretty much listed off links to the most horrible things you can think of: Impalement, animal cruelty, children being destroyed in Africa, shootings, cooked babies (ok, some of these were fake) and finally, beheadings. After about a day of damn near begging me to watch one of the beheadings, I finally did. It shows, from start to end, the decapitation of a Russian prisoner by a group of Chechyen rebels. And my reaction? Hmm, looks like an animal being slaughtered. That, and “oh, so blood doesn’t so much shoot out of the neck as it ‘flows’ from it” (that would be the filmmaker part of my brain). After watching it all a couple more times, I worked up the courage to download the other one a couple weeks later. It had sound. Actually, it’s probably one of the more infamous clips on the internet… Same principal as the other, except it’s shorter, the camera is much closer (No more than 3 feet from the face), the man being killed is at most 25 years old, and you can hear him screaming as the knife goes in and cuts its way out. Nothing. No psychological effect. At least other than “Ouch.”

At this point you might be questioning me as a person, and I really wouldn’t blame you. I’ve watched countless videos like that since out of sheer fascination over the transition from life to death, and the fact that people actually record it. I realize it can’t compare to actually standing there, seeing somebody you’ve known for years die while screaming in vein and I wouldn’t want it to, but it’s much closer than having never seen death at all. And for all that, I’ve learned a couple of things: One, I’m never, ever visiting any 3rd world former Soviet Union countries, and two, that desensitization is a handy thing to give yourself. It let’s you focus on the real issues, rather than running about in the chaos.

So which is healthier? It doesn’t matter. I’d rather see the world for what it is than lying to myself, saying all can be fixed in time. Why do we fight? Because we’re flawed. Humanity is the definition of imperfection. No matter how good things get, there’s always that darker side that never goes away. I’ll think about what a person will look like after a bomb explodes, what they’d sound like as they’re being decapitated, etc. for the rest of my life, and I accept it. It makes life that much more interesting.

Dwelling on the bad things isn’t any way of going about your business, no. And I don’t pretend to always be thinking of this crap (I’m not a fucking emo kid; not that it matters, as most of them can’t grasp anything bad outside of their own miserable suburban life anyways). But you shouldn’t shun it, either, because sooner or later something terrible will happen and you won’t be able to cope.

Desensitize yourself.

And with that, this ridiculously long, semi-self-analytical post comes to an end. I know deeply uplifting posts like this always brighten people’s day, but I’ll try to refrain from making any more like it. Too much thinking.

Ow.

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