Posts Tagged life

Date: March 12th, 2011
Cate: observations + conclusions + beliefs, society + culture, things to think about
1 msg

obligatory dead baby joke

foreword: Hey, look at all those fallacies fly! Look upon my rhetoric and despair! In my defense, I’m talking about the way it makes me feel, though, and this is a blog post; so the only person I’m really arguing with is a strawman who doesn’t mind it when I use throw around appeals to emotion. My prose wanders into unfair territory only because I like stringing words together and this is something I feel strongly about.

I don’t like abortion. Here’s why: abortion is murder, and murder is reprehensible. I could probably put together some syllogisms for this if you’d like, but if you’re into that sort of thing you could just as easily do it yourself. Onward to explanations.

Maybe I should do the mortality post first? Spoiler alert – the reason this is the ‘Mortality Blog’ is that I’m making a (perhaps futile) attempt to deal with my fear of dying by treating the subject a little more casually.

Anyway, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone that the idea of people dying makes me uncomfortable. Wouldn’t I be a psychopath if I didn’t care whether other people lived or died? Maybe I care too much? Are there some people that just need to die?

Again, maybe I should do the post on the worthwhileness of human life first.

In the meantime, I have the following insight to offer: my problem with abortion stems from my deep-rooted problems with people dying, let alone people being killed. Which brings us to the point of contention - have you already figured it out? – how old do you have to be before you’re considered a person?

Okay, okay, that was a loaded question, no fair. Knowing about logical fallacies makes it okay to deliberately use them as an attempt to interject humor into an otherwise fairly humorless conversation. Somewhere between a twinkle in your parents’ eye and a certificate of live birth, a person appears. The question is, at what point does it stop being an ‘it’ and start being a human being?

In the beginning, we’ve got some sex cells, a genome half’n'half cocktail, with daddy’s sperm on one hand, and mommy’s eggs on the other. Are the separate sex cells people yet? I don’t think so. The chances that a petri dish full of sperm will ever develop into a human being has to be awfully close to 0%. It’s probably fair to say human life begins a little further down the line.

Let’s move on to other more exciting words – penetration, ejaculation! Thousands of joyous sperms wriggle their way towards fertilization. They’re on their way, the egg is waiting at the other end of the obstacle course. But is it soup yet? That’s getting trickier, because if you just wait, there’s a chance that the alpha tadpole will cross the finish line, the touchdown will be converted, and any number of sports metaphors I’m probably doing a terrible job of pretending I understand will set things on the right track for birth, 9 months later. Personally, the fact that the sex cells are still separate makes me think that this isn’t yet a human. It’s two halves of a whole, which will likely hook up, but it’s not necessarily going to happen. It’s a chance of a chance of a chance. At this point, spermacidal lube and whatnot is still in play, and maybe none of the swimmers will make it to the other end of the pool. Sports metaphors are nothing but glibness, coming from me.

Fertilization. My college dropout education and terrible memory for trivia (also a quick look at wikipedia’s article on the topic) tells me that at the moment of fertilization, the sperm merges with the egg, and boom, you’ve got a nice neat set of human DNA (well, ideally, anyway.)

(I’m going to take a moment here to point out that ‘Ooplasm‘ is another – and in my opinion, superior – term for ‘Ovum.’ Thanks, wikipedia!)

So now we’ve got one cell, made up of leftover bits of gamete, containing a brand new strand of DNA, freshly spliced together from mom and dad’s contributions. It’s an embyro!

And as far as I can tell, an embyro is getting much closer to being a human. There’s really only one more ‘right place at the right time’ consideration: implantation. The brave little potential person floats back downstream, passing all the disappointed-looking sperm who didn’t make the grade, and is looking to latch onto the uterus to keep things moving in the right direction. En route, it busies itself mitosis-ing, so we’ve got multiple human cells at that point, each possessing a copy of that person’s own unique DNA.

This is where I feel like we’re entering the territory of ‘life.’ Once the little guy has latched onto the wall of the uterus, it takes a few weeks to go from embryo to fetus. At some point it stops being ‘the brave little bundle of human cells’ and starts being ‘the brave little bundle of human cells that could,‘ or maybe even ‘the brave little human that is.’ Which is why I don’t have any problems with contraceptives – the morning after pill stops that brave little bundle of cells from even bundling, or hopefully from making it to implantation.

But once you’ve got a little embryo latched onto the insides of you, I think you’ve got a life in your hands. That life could’ve come into being through terrible circumstances, it could be a love child or a hate child, it could be an accident or the fulfillment of hopes, it could be a blessing or a curse, but it’s still a life. It’s a human. If you let it alone, it’ll grow up as big as you are. Days after being born, it’ll grab your finger and smile at you. If you give it a few years it’ll even try to start talking to you. It’s gone from ‘potential’ to ‘person.’

If I were to change my mind about abortion, that would be one area to look at: when does it stop being an ‘it’ and start being a person. However, you might agree with me on this point, but disagree on the degree to which I take the next one – killing people is wrong.

It’s a topic for another blog post, which is on my to-do list. But for the time being, let me say that I’m of the opinion that killing people isn’t a good thing. Yes there are nearly 7 billion of us, and that might double sometime in the next century, but human life isn’t cheapened by being common or easily obtained. Somewhere at the root of this feeling is the idea that if a person could turn out to be me, could turn out to be you, then who knows who else might turn up. And we’ll never know, if that person gets killed off early.

… and now, the problems.

I’m not unaware of the ‘but what if’s floating around my opinion. I apologize for the intentional double-negative, but like I said earlier, humor in a relatively humorless situation.

  1. “But what if it’s killing the mother?”
  2. “But what if it’s a rape baby?”
  3. “But what if it’d be kinder to put it out of its misery?”
  4. “But what if it has little prospect for any kind of meaningful life?”
  5. “But what if the process of bringing a baby to term will completely derail the life of the unwilling mother?”

I’m just coming up with these off the top of my head, and they’re horrible. They’re absolutely awful questions, the kind that make people cross their arms and huff, “I don’t want to play this game anymore,” during a particularly insensitive round of ‘would you rather?’

#1 – According to Matt Lohkamp, self-defense is a totally okay reason to kill someone. Murder is no less horrific in this case, but I’d be comfortable giving the murderer a nice tight hug and murmuring, “It’s going to be okay. You did the right thing.” If complications from pregnancy are going to kill the mother, she should be able to choose to kill her unborn child to save her own life. Fuck that’s a terrible thing to have to decide.

#2 – Self-defense isn’t going to work for children conceived of rape. The Futility Closet‘s ‘Duet‘ post today is actually what prompted me to write about this particular subject – it pulls a quote from Judith Jarvis Thomson’s “A Defense of Abortion.” It’s not a perfect comparison, I know. But it makes you think. It makes me think, I guess, if nothing else. If you find yourself responsible for the life of another human being, entirely against your will, what should you do? What if the disgust and nearly indescribable trauma of the act of rape itself taints the normal baby-bonding emotions, to the point where you’re disturbed by your own child? Is it okay to kill the child?

Again, fuck that’s a terrible thing to have to decide. It’s such a terrible thing that attempting to imagine my way through what it’d be like to find myself in that situation makes me extremely uncomfortable, and I’m going to admit I haven’t come up with an answer I feel great about. Maybe there is no ‘good’ answer. I do, however, feel comfortable supposing that the answer you arrive at depends on context. Sometimes some people are going to choose to abort the child, other times other people are going to choose to keep it. Maybe only very rarely will the latter case be seen. But what if, what if?

At best, I think I can say that this isn’t necessarily a question of life-or-death (as opposed to #1) – it’s a question of easy-or-uneasy. You’re choosing whether your own quality of life is more important than the actual life of your unborn child. It’s terrible! It’s a terrible decision! It’s a decision no one should have to make, yes, but I’m pretty sure that’s the choice at hand. Should you kill your child so that your own life is easier to live? Let me repeat one last time: fuck that’s a terrible thing to have to decide. If anyone has any insight to offer on this particular point, I could probably use some.

#3 – This overlaps with another subject I should probably consider for the future: euthanization, suicide, that idea that death is ever preferable to life. Oh that’s a sick idea. That rubs me in completely the wrong way. The idea that the bleakness of death would ever be a nice change from the harshness of life just… it wrenches at me, physically. This is so much shitty stuff to deal with in this topic, geez.

Given relative certainty that the life in question will never make it to birth… I would be very close to giving it a ‘maybe.’ A horrible birth-defect that would barely allow the child to live past the first month? “….mmmmmmmaybe,” Matt mused, teeth clenched, face contorted by an elaborate grimace. Let’s enter the world of my imagination for a moment: I am a fetus, and some terrible twist of fate has left me missing most of my head, and all the important things my little head is supposed to contain. Gross. But since this is imagination land, I know then what I know now – that a brief life of pain and misery is preferable to a non-existent life.

But that’s how I feel personally, now, barely a quarter of the way through my own lifetime. So maybe it’s not fair for me to assume that someone else would feel the same as me – and yet, I don’t have any frame of reference for any other outlook apart from: survival is of supreme importance, and a terrible life is always better than a lack-thereof. The trauma of dealing with your child dying naturally, possibly in extreme pain after a heartrendingly brief and tortured existence… you’ve got to weigh that against sending your child to oblivion. Again, it’s not life-and-death, it’s picking between an easier life and a harder life. Personally, I’d like to think I’d pick the harder life, if it meant giving someone else even a short-and-sour taste of life before they met oblivion.

#4 & #5 I have less sympathy for. We’re moving farther and farther outside of the question of ‘a life barely worth living’ and close to “It’s not fair!” ala The Labyrinth. It’s easy for me to sit here with my lack of a uterus and relatively low chance of being raped, let alone impregnated, and say, “well ideally…” – and maybe that’s a hint as to why abortion rolls further towards being a ‘women’s issue’ rather than a ‘human issue,’ but still. If you have to choose between college and a baby, between prosperity and a baby, between peace of mind and a baby… it hurts to think that someone would be selfish enough to choose murder to make their lives easier, and it scares me, because it makes me wonder how far they’d be willing to take that.

I think that’s all I have to say on the subject at the moment – that kind of sums up where I’ve found myself after a few years of contemplation. I’ll definitely take another post to delve deeper into mortality, and survival, because that feeds into this. There is of course one other rather obvious omission from all this – the issue of legality. I’m still not sure how I feel about that, which means in the meantime, I’d rather it was legal, so that other people can sort it out for themselves. I’m not ruling out a future point at which I might reach the conclusion that abortion should be illegal in certain situations – I certainly don’t think that’s impossible, or even unreasonable. I think that there must be such a thing as a ‘frivolous abortion,’ though I don’t want to consider outlier data until I’ve dealt with the more common reasons behind it.

tl;dr: murder is wrong, abortion is murder, therefore abortion is wrong.

Date: December 25th, 2010
Cate: matt's life

ann

I knew Ann ever since I can remember… according to mom, the first word I figured out how to say was ‘meow,’ and I knew that Ann was the lady with the cats. Ann and Ty were probably my favorite couple out of my mom’s friends (right behind Tom and Michelle, who won by default for owning a SNES) because they were nice patient people, and had some dogs and cats. I’ve always liked animals. It was weird when Ann and Ty split up, though it makes sense now that I know a little more about it. It was weird when Ann died, too, and it makes sense in a horrible sort of way.

Mom got a call from Ann, who said she’d been having trouble breathing – a trip to the hospital was in order, and while we waited to hear back on how she was doing, we went to grab dinner. The next morning, Mom called to tell me that Ann was gone. Just like that. Something weird with her lungs, her circulation, she couldn’t breath, and that was it. It’s fun to anthropomorphize health problems, talk about battling cancer or whatever, but let’s face it, sometimes you don’t die because you give up – you die because your brain doesn’t have any oxygen to work with, and shuts down, whether you like it or not.

Opiate of the masses indeed, sometimes you just want to put aside your problems and get high for a while – and in a world where it’s hard to look anywhere without seeing evidence of entropy, religion’s promise of an escape to the mortal prisons we’re born into sounds pretty nice. Strange to think how easily I slip into ‘dear god’ -type thoughts – prayers to an imaginary friend that I don’t even play with anymore. But death is horrible, and I guess if it makes people a little crazy, that’s understandable.

As much as I hate it, the mortality blog is going to see more entries like this before the last one – when I’ve gone the same way. I wonder who’ll write the last post? Will it be my brother? Some future children? A friend, or a lover? Will death come too suddenly for me to write down my passwords, so no one will ever breach the digital spaces where I’ve stored the bits of myself that I’d rather keep private for the time being?

Finally, earlier this year (or was it the last?) Ann had another hospital visit – her heart actually stopped for a while, but they got it going again. If ‘borrowed time’ existed, maybe she was living on it. I wonder what it was like, at the end?

Date: June 20th, 2010
Cate: matt's life, things to think about
1 msg

updated infrequently.

Okay, six months since the last entry? How’d that happen? Do I really have nothing new to say?

I mean, what’s it take to make me write an update – a good book? (The Perks Of Being A Wallflower, in this case)

For about a year, I kept a fairly frequent journal in highschool. And most of the things I complained about seem petty now. I’m pretty sure they weren’t petty back then, but the Matt in 2010 thinks the Matt in 2003 had it better than he thought. Not that things are bad now, or anything.

The point of these has always been thinking aloud, and posterity, maybe, and a little bit of showing off even. I mean, I like my life, I like me, and I flatter myself by wondering whether what I’m feeling and thinking might be intriguing, interesting, even entertaining to everyone else. To be honest, it’s a little censored, but maybe I’ll get over that eventually – or maybe there are some things that you have to censor, in order to get along with everyone. Even if it’s a little vain to think that everyone reads the mortality blog.

I was thinking that if you were to plot my life on a line graph, where Y is time, X is frequency, and each line represents any particular activity, you’d see two shapes appear most often: A quick peak and a long gradual dropoff, and a fairly steady line, or maybe something close to a low-amplitude sine-wave. In other words, some things I don’t do, and I don’t do, and suddenly I do all the time, and then I do less, and I do less, and I barely do at all. Things like parties, drinking, drugs, sex, making music, maybe even jobs – I’m not sure what those things have in common, but they’ve never been constant, always a peak and a decline. Then maybe another peak. The other things happen fairly regularly: reading, writing, listening to music, playing video and computer games, that sort of thing. Again, not sure what they have in common – maybe I should actually make that graph and look for a pattern. But those things tend to always happen, and keep happening, with little dips or spikes in frequency but overall very steady occurrence.

Which makes me think about the future, a little. For instance, let’s say how much I weigh, and any hypothetical plans I make to ‘get in shape’ – would regular exercise be a peak and a decline, or a new constant line? If I get a gym membership tomorrow, will I go less and less until I find myself paying a monthly fee for something I don’t use, and putting on the weight I’d previously lost? Or more to the point, beyond idle speculation, if I had reason to believe that was the case, would it be reason not to try?

But that’s just an example. I can live (well, for a while at least) with being about 50 pounds heavier than I remember feeling in highschool. I’m thinking about work, though. That’s the main thing that concerns me at the moment. Actually, I’m trying not to let it concern me, but I’m wondering about it.

In highschool, and in lots of other areas in my life, I have this sort of weird thing I do, which might be procrastination, but almost borders on… I don’t know, some sort of distraction, or something. Where something is important, and I know it’s important, but for some reason it becomes more and more important that it not be so important. That sentence makes sense, but I’m not sure it’s easy to follow. Let’s try an example. I work on a project, and there isn’t anything particularly special about that project, but this thing happens – and it starts out being important (because it’s fun, and I like the people I’m working for, and I’m getting paid on top of it all) but gradually, it becomes more important not to care. Maybe my sleep schedule is unrelated, which’d be easier, for sure, but maybe not. Either way, when I wake up at 9 in the morning after only getting 4 or 5 hours of sleep, it becomes harder and harder to just get up and do work. It gets harder to look at code instead of youtube vidoes – and youtube videos are completely unrelated, it could be anything, singing songs I like out loud, or tracing patterns in carpet, or literally anything I know isn’t at all important instead of doing something that I know is actually important. I know it, and yet…

… so that’s weird. At first I kind of wondered if this was a new thing, due to whatever, finishing puberty and hormones, or a change of scenery as I ‘grew up’ in a more cultural sense, but I’m betting it’s actually always been there, but it never mattered before. Because it was only school, or they were only friends, or it was only piano lessons, or it was only church, even only college. But when there’s rent, utilities, and “the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed,” it’s hard to say “it’s just work.” Already I’m wondering if I’m over-analyzing this, and just feeling a little melancholy and loquacious because I just finished a good book. But it’s happened, this thing, it’s happened at work, and so it isn’t not a problem (which isn’t an unintentional double-negative.)

Now, I’ve only recently started to notice it… to really recognize it. I suspect that CMD might have been the first casualty, and I’m thinking Ascentium might be the second. Although if I’m really rolling with this, AIPD might be before that, and even my grades in highschool, and maybe even a few things I can’t mention specifically here because of the people involved. My point being, I might’ve screwed a few things up in the past, which makes me wonder how I’m going to do in the future.

Arguably, I could just make the line on that chart I mentioned earlier marked ‘job’ turn into a constant line over a long period of time – my lifetime. If I keep getting jobs, then losing them, then hanging out for a bit before getting another, and then losing it, it’ll make a nifty little sawtooth wave that’ll average out to a straight line. But as long as I’m waxing metaphorical, a sawtooth at a short frequency sounds sweet on a synthesizer (thin and bitey) the whole quick cycle of jumping in and out of work doesn’t really sound right for me in the long run. It’s hard to be secure, although I’m awfully lucky to have found a career that pays so much that I can afford to be lazy about addressing things like this. See, I’m bragging.

So that’s what I wonder. What happens in the future? Do I try working out a bit, doing some running or some lifting, eat a bit less, and burn off some fat? Or do I fall off of that and go back to 230lbs? Do I continue to get peak and decline jobs until I’m… 60, or whenever I end up retiring, if ever?

The silly thing is, I kind of don’t care. If you ask me whether I’m an optimist or a pessimist I’d have to say the former, although only because I feel like overall things have generally worked out well for me, and so far I have no reason to believe that’ll change any time soon. I can’t tell if I deserve it or not, because then we’re talking about free will and determinism and I like the idea that there is no free will though it’s a moot point because we will never become powerful enough to map all the variables and accurately predict the ramifications of any particular action in such a complex system as human life, let alone the string of choices and related activities that put people like me in the place where I find myself. That’s a lot of writing I just did there. Anyway.

I guess I’m thinking that it’ll turn out alright, however it turns out, I don’t feel like I’m wasting my life by any means (not that it’ll be any less easy to die as a result.) But now that I’ve got this theory, I’ve got this observation about that thing that I’ve been doing, it makes me want to play with it, to see if I can figure out when it happens, and what to do about it. I guess it’s kind of a revelation, maybe not an epiphany (or maybe, if it illuminates other things about myself, who knows) and I’m happy with it, especially now that I’ve thought it out enough to actually articulate it a little, even in writing on my little blog that no one reads, ha ha. And if I manage to figure it out, I feel like I’ll have a responsibility (not to anyone but myself, arguably the only responsibility that’s important) to follow through and try to do something with it – get rid of it, work around it, overcome it. Because I’m embarrassed, I’m unsatisfied, I feel like my mostly smart self is being held back by this craziness.

So we’ll see about that. Maybe I’ll keep a little spreadsheet, or a new notebook journal thing, or whatever. I do think (as I usually think when I write a new entry for stuff like this) that I’ll start keeping a journal again, a personal one where I can make a post-college rendition of my highschool self’s petty complaints about stuff that doesn’t matter – I mean, it’s cathartic, maybe not even at the time, but certainly in retrospect, reading back in the future. That was Matt in 2003, or maybe even 1998. What was that kid thinking? So this’ll be me in 2010 – can you believe that stuff he thought was important?

If only I could see what it is that I’m stuck on now that I’ve circumnavigated then. Being a time traveler sucks when you’re stuck going one second per second, eh?

Date: August 11th, 2009
Cate: matt's life
1 msg

Matt at 23

It’s been a while since I’ve updated this blog – not since sasquatch. I blame my facebook account, which has surplanted myspace as my most commonly visited website. In fact, my myspace is gone now – all that remains is about 20 pages of blog entries that I saved out.

So as I sit here, listening to “Hefty Fine” by the Bloodhound Gang (for the first time) and wonder why it’s somehow worse than “Hooray For Boobies,” I thought I’d take a moment to catch up on where I’m at. I mean, 23 – my well-known traveling plans for my quarter-life-crises looms nearer, but to be realistic, I kind of want to be in a certain place by the time I reach my 25th birthday: specifically, graduated, making good progress on paying off student loans, but otherwise out of debt. I want a full-time job, and I want to quit it in order to travel, more or less. I want to throw my electronics in storage, fix up my car, buy a decent laptop, and freelance from the road. But for now, I’m 23, I’m in debt, I’ve still got plenty of school left, and my job situation is tenuous. Good at the moment – but only for the moment. Next month could be bad as easily as good – I’m at the mercy of my ‘industry contacts’ who are of course at the mercy of their clients, and the economy.

So it’s August 11th, so late Monday night that it’s technically Tuesday morning. I’ve been working on a website for a local construction corporation, which has been going well, despite a few delays. I’m still living in The HoytHouse, which is a good place to live, although we don’t really see a lot of Ryan these days – I’m glad I get along well with everyone, though, as it seems that several friends have bad roomate horror stories to tell.

This is shaping up to be a long rambling “taking notes for my memoir” blog entry.

Anyway, I’ve got to admit, I’ve been having some interesting issues with sitting down and getting stuff done. It’s the same old odd sort of procrastination/aversion that I’ve experienced ever since I was a kid. It doesn’t feel like an inability to concentrate. It’s almost like a lack of… will, maybe? Typically, I stay awake until 5 or 6, when it’s getting light outside, regardless of what I’m doing the next day. As a result, it’s really tough for me to wake up before, say, 2 PM. Even on nights when I try to get to bed earlier, I just toss and turn, or otherwise sleep unsoundly, wake up feeling tired, and go back to sleep until the afternoon anyway.

It’s a weird sort of nearly compulsive justification of procrastination, I guess. If I know I’ve got to be somewhere at 5PM, leaving early never occurs to me. Starting at 2, I’ll wake up, go to the bathroom, then lounge around in my room for several hours, sifting through new emails, new facebook stuff, new artiles and comics that I’m following online, and finally glance over at the clock. 4PM? I ought to get ready to leave – but I don’t. I do anything else other than that. Finally, at 4:45PM, I jump up, take a super quick shower, and leave, only to arrive half and hour late. This sort of thing happens A LOT.

Unfortunately, this has a sort of ‘crying wolf’ effect as well. For the first few minutes after I wake up, especially if I haven’t had enough (nearly 9 hours at this point) sleep, I am a complete zombie animal – I mean, sometimes I literally have no memory of what’s happened. There have been a few times where I can only assume that I’ve woken up to my alarm, flipped it off, and gone right back to sleep – and missed whatever I was trying to wake up early for. Similarily, when I wake up, it’s easy for me to think, “Ah, I’ll just lay here for another fifteen minutes.” What really happens is I go back to sleep until 2PM, right? After a while, I guess I get to be the guy who almost never shows up on time.

Like other things that’d be to my benefit to change about my life, I don’t seem to be able to find the motivation to do this differently.

Let’s say my life is a river. That’s a good metaphor. Earlier, I was waterskiing – and now, even after I’ve let go of the rope, and the boat has sped off, I’m still skimming over the water. But this momentum, wherever it came from (highschool? CMD?) is starting to get killed off by friction, and eventually, I’m going to start sinking, and when I do, I’m going to need to start swimming. What I’m debating is – where am I now? Should I be getting ready to start swimming, or am I already up to my shoulders underwater, and need to start doggy paddling right away?

There’s some sort of weird little priority list in my head that’s got some weird little priorities flipped around regarding the economy of my activities. School takes up a significant amount of my money – you ‘d think I’d pay more attention to it. And work makes me a significant amount of money – you’d think I’d pay more attention to it as well. But somehow lazing around, thinking about Magic Cards and the Internet, staying up late and sleeping in late have all gotten bumped to the top of the list. What does that say about me?

I’m suspicious that this is what I get for being so lucky – throughout my life, just about the time I’ve needed something, I’ve caught a break, and recieved it. Not all the time, not reliably, but enough that I’ve noticed it. I’ve wondered about what causes that – is it pure luck, or am I somehow subconciously putting myself into profitable situations – but I guess it might be worth thinking about the result as well. Am I spoiled? Do I think that I can just not make an effort, and things’ll work out anyway for me? Logically, of course, I don’t think that – that’d be stupid. But then again – why didn’t I go talk to my department director today about my classes in school, after planning to last week? There’s a post-it note right there on my monitor and everything – I literally bought a new pack of notes so I could write it. I spent all day doing nothing productive (until this evening) and glancing at the clock, thinking, “Oh, I don’t have to leave for another hour – another half-hour – another ten minutes – I can be a little late – I’m not going to make it – might as well not go.”

I kind of wish I was at least preocuppied by something constructive. I kind of wonder if I need something constructive to do as a hobby. I really wish I did as much music as I used to – how did I get out of the habit of doing that? It seems like now, whenever I sit down and grab my keyboard, everything sounds boring – nothing’s new, or interesting, and nothing’s worth pursuing. I have some good ideas, but never anything worth finishing.

So like I said – coasting, maybe sinking, need to start swimming soon. Well, if nothing else, writing all this out is a good way to organize my thoughts on the matter.

I also need to work on designing up my little group of blogs (mortalityblog.com, musicblog.mattlohkamp.com, and storyblog.mattlohkamp.com) – as well as adding another site for my music, now that myspace isn’t there to provide an easy host anymore. Should I go back to the old ANDR artist name, or find something new? Hmmm.

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for now. I’ll try to remember to write more often.

Date: January 16th, 2009
Cate: matt's life, society + culture, things to think about

when did this storm begin?

Blog title is a song reference, see Shiny Toy Guns’ latest album ‘Year of Poisen’, track 1. This is probably one of the first blog posts I’ve written that I’ve (briefly) considered keeping to myself – it’s really just me talking about me, but I figure that you, my friends, are probably nearly as interested in me as I am, and that complete strangers certainly don’t have anything to lose. It’s kind of rambling, as usual.

So – after reading an incredibly good book (Spanking Shakespeare by Jake Wizner) I’m thinking about typical highschool experiences, and how I missed out on some major classics: drinking, drugs, parties, and dating. Or rather, I’m wondering, did I miss out?

Obviously, since highschool, I feel like I’ve more then caught up – and while I rarely regret any past actions, I do wonder a bit about how I might be different if I’d been exposed to some of that stuff before college – or, honestly, before working at CMD, ha ha. I mean, if I’d had a date to the prom, smoked some weed in the parking lot before we went in, spiked the punch or whatever, laughed at whoever was crowed prom king, then drove up to Mt Tabor to fuck around and drink tequila, where would that leave me today? Socially, things never really lined up – I was too nervous about the repercussions of being gay in highschool to ever really persue any romantic interest, and all my friends were straight, anyway. Well, not that a lot has changed since then – my sexual preference is pretty low-key, and my sparse encounters with the ‘gay scene’ have been disapointing. Most of my friends are pretty straight, and I don’t even remember who ‘knows’, ha ha, which might be because I just don’t care, or perhaps because it almost always sounds forced to me – like I’m trying to come out of the closet, when I don’t think that should even be necessary.

But what if I’d had all that stereotypical stuff – maybe not even a boyfriend, just a somewhat gay friend, a fuck buddy, perhaps, who I went to dances with and got super drunk with? It feels like it would’ve been totally out of character – but honestly I’d always wanted to get a taste of that sort of lifestyle, but wasn’t ever really assertive enough to seek it out. Now I wonder if my parent’s hypothetical “you’re not old enough to be doing that” response might’ve been right? I’m egotistical to think that i have a fairly supreme outlook on life and people and things in general – would I have developed it if I’d partied my way through senior year and into college? I don’t know, it’s like there’s a weird parallel universe version of me, who’s probably pretty simliar, but not quite the same as the me that’s writing this. I don’t believe in the theory about alternate universes constantly fractalling out every time a choice is made, but it’s an appealing concept. I’m attracted to that idea of there being more of me, ha ha.

The reason that this has relevance and isn’t just fanciful speculation is that it has bearing on how I make decissions today, and in the future. Should I be more adventurous? (another music reference, whee!) I might just feel this way because of the group of people I hang out with, but getting drunk, high, sleeping with guys, and living in a house with some friends and owning all this stuff just seems like a normal thing to do – it’s not really an accomplishment. All of these things were sort of milestones, in my mind, and yet they’re pedestrian to people a few years older then me. They would’ve been pedestrian to people a few years younger, even. So is that something that I’m concerned about? Reaching sort of cultural milestones, being recgonized for ‘being ahead’ by my peers?

I think it’s one of those rare occasions where peer pressure, societal pressure, cultural expectations, and maybe even basic animal instinct slip through my otherwise expertly maintained self-confidence – not even to the point where it degrades the trust I have for myself, but at least to the point where I occasionally question it. Why don’t I have a boyfriend? Why didn’t I try harder to stay at CMD? When I think about stuff like that, I can’t help thinking back to being younger, to a few of my brief often nerve-wracking encounters with girls, and my petty little spats with teachers – I’ve always been mulish about submitting to authority, especially if doing so would make me uncomfortable, or if I perceive that I’m being coerced into a decision. I’ve always second-guessed myself like crazy when it comes to starting and maintaining relationships – my ideals, my hunches, and vauge notions of cultural expectations all collide and leave me fumbling for the right thing to say, or the right move to make. And yet, despite all that, it doesn’t really bother me. I mean, thinking about it at this moment, it certainly seems like a big systemic problem in my life, but an hour from now it’ll be completely gone from my mind – I won’t lose any sleep over it.

Actually, the swing between not caring and caring, frank examination and frank indeference, is probably worth thinking about as well. Am I not interested in striking up a romantic relationship because I already lead a fulfilling life, or have I convinced myself that my life is fulfilling because I never had what I would consider a real ‘going out on dates’ relationship, and I’m 22? That sounds like the sort of thing that cultural expectations would interject into my thought process, and there is the overwhelming evidence that the subject only rarely surfaces in my near-nightly introspective pondering (again, is it because I have trouble sleeping, or a cause of my trouble sleeping?) and if I hardly ever devote much thought to it, can it really be that important to me? I think more about dying then I do about dating, and I try to think about dying as little as possible due to my fear of mortality (which this mortality blog refers to.)

 

… after writing all this, I kind of wonder what my motivation is. Do I have a somewhat compulsive desire to inform my fellow members of humanity that I’m gay, haven’t had a real date in forever, didn’t drink or smoke at all until I started working at CMD, and et cetera? Are these really all important factors that contribute to Matt Lohkamp? They must be – I mean, they seem kind of tame, but I’ve pretty explicitly identified them as important to me, what with all this thought I’m putting into them. My guess would be that it’s cathartic more then anything else – that was such a freaking good book I just read, and the main character sort of got his whole screwed up life together at the end, and now I kind of wonder if I’m in the process of doing that too. Well, my life isn’t exactly screwed up, though. Actually, it’s probably a sort of preliminary life story telling – I would’ve discussed any of this with anyone, if that conversation had happened, but if it does now, it’ll be easier because I’ve essentially already talked it out pretty thoroughly. I actually do that quite a bit – carry on long hypothetical conversations with myself, or play out hypothetical events, all in my head, and I’m honestly not sure if doing that ahead of time helps me any when the situations or conversation actually occurs – it’s more likely that it just calms me down if I’m nervous about something.

To end, I’m going to tell a story about one of my first almost-girlfriends, one of the crazy ones. We walked down the dark path to the beach, where the ocean crashed invisibly against the sand, and we huddled together next to a driftwood log. In between french kissing, she told me that she saw ghosts, and spirits, and angels, and devils. I felt incredibly akward, because I didn’t believe in any of that stuff (despite the fact that we were both currently attending a christian church camp.) She went on about how demons had come after her while she was talking to her counselor, and they had held hands and prayed, and a white sheet had fallen around them that protected them from their supernatural assailents. I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to kiss more, or maybe try having sex (I might’ve been a virgin at that point, I don’t remember), or if I wanted to seriously debate the existence of angels. I wasn’t brave enough to make any sort of sexual moves, or to do the conversation thing (she was a cool person to hang out with, appart from the semi-girlfriend thing, and this new supernatural revelation) so I opted for more kissing. A year or two later I told her I was gay, and she told me that she was bi.

Good story. The character in that book I just finished was supposed to write his memoirs as a senior highschool assignment – and I for sure would like to give that a try. I wonder – would I change the names to protect the innocent?

Date: November 28th, 2008
Cate: matt's life

what have I got to be thankful for?

  • I’m glad I have a nice house to live in, and cool housemates to share it with.
  • It’s cool to have so many good friends.
  • I like my school, and most of the people who attend/teach there.
  • I’ve got a cool family, full of people that I actually look forward to seeing.
  • I’ve got a good career that I enjoy and tends to pay the bills, albeit in a somewhat inconsistent manner at the moment.
  • We recently had one of the coolest elections ever – sex and race made great strides, race moreso then sex, but now that the precedent has been set, I have no doubt that we’ll continue to see non-white people and female people be represented in higher positions of politics and business.
  • Even if my car is fairly shitty, I still really like it.

I wish I had someone to be thankful to – but since God and I aren’t speaking to each other (He started it) I guess I’m just glad in general for all this stuff. Happy Thanksgiving!

Date: October 30th, 2008
Cate: society + culture, things to think about

what is the worst thing that you have ever done?

Has anyone else read “the book of the skulls” by Robert Silverberg? towards the end, in order to attain immortality, four of the main characters are tasked with revealing to one another the worst thing they’ve done in their entire life, the secret shame that they’re haunted by.

So I’ve been thinking – what would I say, if I were in that situation? Right away, I can think of a few times in the past where I’ve been a complete asshole, to a somewhat uncharacteristic extent. If you know me, you might try to guess – but I doubt you’ll get it right. One time in particular, perhaps, that I completely regret. But I’m not sure that I’d call it my ‘secret shame’, or my cross that I’ve born for however many years. I’ve sort of made peace with it – not forgotten about it, exactly, but just accepted it as a mistake I made before I was as smart as I am now, and moved on.

Thinking about the things I’ve done that I regret brings up an interesting point: things that I’ve done that I don’t regret. It’s a little bit of sociopathy, in the ‘Dissocial personality disorder’ sense of the term – “Gross and persistent attitude of irresponsibility and disregard for social norms, rules, and obligations.” [wikipedia]. I mean, I’ve done some stuff that’s not only illegal, but ‘morally reprehensible’ according to the average person. But I don’t think it was wrong for me to do so, regret it, or even feel the need to stop myself from doing it in the future. Once again, if you know me you might be able to guess it, but I doubt you’ll hit on the one in particular i’m thinking of.

So if I’m in the situation that the main characters of “The Book of the Skulls” find themselves in, which do I confess? The choice that I regret making but am at peace with, or the choice that I don’t regret but most other people would find totally reprehensible?

Date: October 8th, 2008
Cate: society + culture, things to think about

what’s a human?

Note - this opinions in this post have been obsoleted by the ones in a newer post: “obligatory dead baby joke“

My aversion to murder (in the general “humans killing other humans regardless of context” sense of the word) is pretty familiar to most people who know me – and the other night I decided to try to think through the implications it posed for abortion, embryos, and stem-cell research.

I’m going to have to depart from the average liberal and say I can’t condone abortion or the destruction of embryos, whether research-related or otherwise.

We all know where babies come from – when a man and a women love each other very much, the man wants to be as close to the woman as possible, and the closest he can get is by laying on top of her, and putting his penis inside of her vagina. This feels very good, and eventually his penis releases sperm into the woman’s vagina (this feels really good for both of them) and later, the sperm swim up the woman’s fallopian tubes, in search of an egg to fertilize.

Up until the point that the two gametes merge, there’s no human life present. There are human cells, but they belong to the woman and man, and will eventually die off on their own, to be replaced by more. However, as soon as a sperm squeezes its way into the egg and the two halves of their DNA zip together, it’s a human, totally unique, with a future ahead of it. It doesn’t really look human, and it hasn’t even started to grow yet, but I can’t see it as anything but a person. A very small person. Not even a fetus yet. The longer we’re alive, the more our spectrum of available future paths narrows to a single point – that point is our death, the single event in our future that we cannot avoid. But at the moment of fertilization, that human’s entire life is undetermined. It could die before it even attaches to the wall of the uterus, it could be miscarried, it could die from complications during childbirth, afterwards, in a second, a day, a year, or even a century. It literally has its entire life ahead of it.

And there’s no way I would ever feel comfortable with taking that life away. It’s murder. You’re taking a life that’s just begun, and ensuring that it has no chance of continuing. That’s reprehensible.

Of course, accepting this involves accepting situations which make people incredible uncomfortable: rape is an often-quoted excuse to justify abortion. It’s hard for me to stick to my guns on this one, but I can’t help thinking of it this way: the child growing inside the victim doesn’t know anything about the circumstances of its conception. This tiny human doesn’t deserve death for the sins of its parent(s). Children whose parents are unable or unwilling to fulfill their responsibility as a parent (one of the few responsibilities I really think people inherent posses) should be taken care of by the state (in the “general governmental” sense of the word, not in the “geo-political boundary” sense) and given a fair chance at the American dream: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It’s hard to do all that when you’re dead.

All that said, I’m not sure I have the balls to recommend that my conclusions be made law. I think it’d be reasonable to implement them in a nation that had first developed adequate infrastructure to stand in for biological parents in child-rearing, in a nation where rape and incest were a rare occurance. I think we can do it – but I don’t think we’re there yet, so I’m not really ready to commit to any actual legal stuff about it yet. However, if anyone were ever to ask me about it, I know exactly what I think about it, and why.

Date: June 4th, 2008
Cate: matt's life

why I do the things I do [myspace]

Motivation for action is an interesting thing. There are plenty of different motivators – I’ve always thought that the survival instict is the base of everything else. Some of us are lucky enough not to need to worry about basic survival needs – food and shelter, then reproduction and community. The possibility that I might not be able to eat tomorrow, or I might not have a safe place to sleep tonight has never crossed my mind. It’s not even on my radar. So when survival isn’t really much of a factor, why do I want to do all this other stuff?

I’ve got urges that I don’t really have a name for – but there are some words that come close:

  • aesthetic
  • whimsy
  • sentiment
  • feng-shui
  • atmosphere

… irony in particular appeals to me in a tought-to-describe manner.

Here’s why I’m thinking about all this. I reorganized my clothes today, and now I’ve got one drawer for socks – and what goes in a sock drawer? Well, socks, sure, but also porn! And I realized I didn’t have any actual physical porn.

Now, I like porn, I’ve got tons of it, but the digital format works great for me – in fact, I really don’t even think that porn magazines and DVDs are even neccesary any more. And yet – as soon as it occured to me, I really wanted to get an actual porno magazine for my sock drawer.

So it’s the irony of me having porn in my sock drawer, right where it’s supposed to go, that prompted that. The sort of aesthetic picture of me moving my socks aside and finding those glossy pages underneath. I don’t know, it’s weird, but it’s appealing.

Then there was the dilemna of what magazine to get – I gave the  Taboo on 82nd’s selection a once over, and picked out one published by ‘Bel Ami’. It was a tough choice – ‘Penthouse’ or even a not-so-racey ‘Victoria’s Secret’ would have actually fit in better, that or ‘Playboy’, but in the end it seemed like fitting the stereotype by putting a porn magazine in my sock drawer but then breaking it by making it gay porn was so much better.

So with that as an example, there’s actually a lot of that kind of reasoning that dictates my actions. Obviously, it’s not always practical. But in most cases, my choice in most things is guided by comfort, utility, and irony, possibly in that order.

… this whole thing might’ve actually just been an effort to make a post more interesting then, “I got porn for my sock drawer!”, ha ha. Well. That’s all I’ve got on this subject.

edit: oh man, this just occured to me, I rack up further irony points due to the fact that you don’t just put porn in your sock drawer, you hide it there – which means I’m telling people that I’m hiding it, therefore making it not at all hidden! Ohhhh man this is so perfect.