17 November, 2002

On The Existence Of People

I saw the latest Harry Potter movie yesterday. It was pretty good, though the changes they made from the book were too extensive for me to say I really enjoyed the movie all that much. 

Last Friday night, I was shown a fan-made music video combining scenes of Vegeta from DragonBall Z and music from Creed and Linkin Park. It was, to say the least, extremely moving. Whomever made this video is most definitely a real person. Whomever it was that knew how to splice such music with such scenes truly does exist. 

Most people don't exist. 

He got up, walked over to her, and stood looking at the lights of the city below them, at the angular shapes of buildings, at the dark walls made translucent by the glow of the windows, as if the walls were only a checkered veil of thin black gauze over a solid mass of radiance. And Ellsworth Toohey said softly:
"Look at it. A sublime achievement, isn't it? A heroic achievement. Think of the thousands who worked to create this and of the millions who profit by it. And it is said that but for the spirit of a dozen men, here and there down the ages, but for a dozen men -- less, perhaps -- none of this would have been possible. And that might be true. If so, there are -- again -- two possible attitudes to take. We can say that these twelve were great benefactors, that we are all fed by the overflow of the magnificent wealth of their spirit, and that we are glad to accept it in gratitude and brotherhood. Or, we can say that by the splendor of their achievement which we can neither equal nor keep, these twelve have shown us what we are, that we do not want the free gifts of their grandeur, that a cave by an oozing swamp and a fire of sticks rubbed together are preferable to skyscrapers and neon lights -- if the cave and the sticks are the limit of our own creative capabilities. Of the two possible attitudes, Dominique, which would you call the truly humanitarian one? Because, you see, I'm a humanitarian."

I was invited out to dinner this weekend, but I did not go. It is not that I forgot (though I nearly did); rather it is that as I took my shower and began preparations for the outing, I stopped myself, thinking on what needed to be done. 

I have a paper due tomorrow on a book I have yet to read. I know that such procrastination is stupid, but I almost feel as though my subconscious did it on purpose. What if I purposely waited until the last minute to read my book solely so that I would have a reason not to go out to eat? 

I must truly hate myself. 

Yet at the same time, it is this supreme hatred that defines why I love whom I am. It is because I hate my life that I feel that it is the life I lead that is preferable to all others. I mean, sure I'd be so very much happier if I had what I wanted, but then what would happen? 

I just don't get it. Why must I be as I am? If only I were just slightly stupider, then all would be fine. If only my depression sprang from an idiotic source; then, I could be happy. But no. Instead, my depression comes from something so deep that it is impossible to describe here. Others that I talk to about it misrepresent my pain -- it is not from a woman or love or even an ideal. It is not from lonliness or lack of friends or social status. It is not from a barrier of intelligence or racial qualities or apathy in life. 

No, what depresses me is that I exist. 

And yet, even that definition doesn't sound right. It's not simply because of that; if that were the case the solution would be simple: kill myself. No, it is simply that I have the possibility of existence. And yet, that's not right either, for it's not a personal feeling. It really doesn't have anything to do with me per se. In fact, it has nothing to do with any of my qualities. 

When it comes down to it, I really don't have a good definition for it. But isn't that in itself illogical? 


A friend of mine just came back today from the protest for the School of Americas in Fort Benning, GA. While there, he signed up in the communist party and gave an interview for an anarchist paper. From his decrsiption of the events, it sounded like fun. I almost feel like I want to go next year with a camera and a notebook so that I can cover the event from the point of view of a staunch capitalist. 

Tonight, I promised a friend of mine that I would be going to a play entitled "The Last Of The Formicans". But I shan't be going; not because I don't want to, but because it is more important for me to stay here, doing the work that I should have done much earlier. 

I am so stupid. 

I don't mean to be, of course, but I am anyway. And everyone out there reading should not dismiss this statement -- I am stupid, whether you believe it or not. Perhaps I have more knowledge than most, but I am stupid. Anyone who cannot resolve cognitive dissonance is stupid. I'd almost use that as a definition of stupidity -- the incapability of resolving cognitive dissonance. 


You know, I didn't used to use the double colon before and after the word 'sigh'. I used to use < and > instead. But html has forced me to use colons. And what makes it doubly annoying is the fact that in IM conversations if I use colons, the ':s' combination in '::sigh::' almost universally creates an emoticon that I did not intend. And that's annoying. 

A lot of things annoy me. There are a lot of things that don't annoy me, too. But there are very very few things that I adore. 

Like Vegeta. I adore Vegeta. 

I know most people hate DragonBall Z. That is to be expected, as it is one of the stupidest cartoons ever made. But if you can get past the stupidity and watch Vegeta... If you can watch how he grows from episode to episode... If you can look past the cartoonish exterior and see what Vegeta's soul looks like... 

Vegeta is a real person. Vegeta exists. 

So few people truly exist... 


No comments:

Post a Comment