Think "Dread Pirate Roberts"

The car Vern currently drives, the one he has been driving for twenty years, is Vern’s Volvo.

In order to arrive at this conclusion, one must first decide on what exactly we mean by the phrase “Vern’s Volvo”. I believe we mean the idea of a car—that Vern’s Volvo is a concept, not a set of wheels and tires and mediocre Ford Motor Company craftsmanship. Those things are just a physical placeholder, the current manifestation of Vern’s Volvo, if you will.

This may seem a little too new-agey for some, but thankfully proof positive for the identity of Vern’s automobile does not necessitate the acceptance of any car-as-a-concept theory. As soon as one gives some thought to the question, it becomes clear that it is impossible either for the pile of parts Grace has so carefully accumulated over the years to be Vern’s Volvo or for the car to have ceased existing entirely, which conveniently makes the vehicle Vern now calls his own Vern’s Volvo by default.

The logic is as follows:

1) The car Vern started with was, indisputably, Vern’s Volvo.

2) In order for the car Grace now owns to be Vern’s Volvo, there has to have been a definite moment in time when Vern’s car stopped being Vern’s Volvo and Grace’s parts started being Vern’s Volvo.

Statement #2 cannot be true. When would such a shift have occurred? Was it when Vern first had a part replaced? Impossible! All Grace had then was one isolated piece, and at the same time Vern still has all but one piece of the original Vern’s Volvo—ergo, the car he drives away from the shop that day is still Vern’s Volvo. This remains true in each subsequent case; every time, Grace replaces just one part of Vern’s Volvo, and every time he rolls out of the shop in, you guessed it, Vern’s Volvo. If she hadn’t kept all the previous pieces, there wouldn’t even be a question of whether or not the car Vern drives is Vern’s Volvo. It’s just the fact that she happens to have collected all the former pieces of his car in one place that can throw the mind trained to recognize that particular grouping of pieces as Vern’s Volvo.

This is where it gets new-agey again. From the logical progression outlined above, one must infer that there is something about Vern’s Volvo quite apart from its individual pieces that is what makes it, in fact, Vern’s Volvo. That is to say, the thing is more than a sum of its parts. It’s meaning, emotion, history—the idea of a car (which, incidentally, is the main reason why one can’t say that Vern’s Volvo ever ceased to exist).

I’m too tired to bother with a well-thought out ending right now, so you’re probably best off satisfying yourself with the idea of an ending, and getting yourself a sandwich.

Sunglasses All Around

For as long as I can remember, life's been a little confusing. It's easy enough to set goals for oneself, but how can one know which of his (or her) goals are even remotely attainable? Furthermore, how should one go about pursuing these goals? Personally, I can't help but think it'd be a lot simpler if, whenever faced with a troublesome decision, I could just go and visit the Oracle out of The Matrix; she'd tell me exactly what I needed to hear, and I could get on with my life.

And therein lies the problem. Without an Oracle to guide us, we're all stuck having to make our own life decisions without any sort of expert consultation (barring of course the guidance provided by the elderly, who've done it all before but possess disconcerting bias towards hard candy and shuffleboard). The only conceivable way for that path to end well is for one to take steps to learn about oneself by identifying the strengths, weaknesses, aspirations, skills, likes, and dislikes that combine to form that individual. Only through knowing oneself can one make the intelligent, informed decisions that will, with any luck, lead to one's achieving his (or her) life goals. For this reason, we would be remiss not to take a few minutes every once in a while to think about our own strengths and weaknesses, lest we become encumbered by our ignorance. I’ll go first.

Let’s start with the weaknesses, just to get things rolling. If forced to name my single weakest area, I’d probably have to say “judgment”. I can be pretty impulsive, which has proven itself problematic in the past; self-control’s always been kind of an issue with me (I’m told I once punched a kid in the face in kindergarten for continuing to sing the Kit-Kat song after I’d asked him to stop. I have no memory of this happening, although I do remember being punished for it by being made to miss recess and write the ABC’s over and over again on that inordinately wide-ruled paper they have you use when you’re learning to write. I never really saw the point of that as a punishment—I think the action of making me write the ABC’s really took the focus away from the bad thing I’d done and then placed it on literacy skills which I’d already acquired, seeming to me to defeat the purpose of that punishment. I’ve not since punched anyone for singing the Kit-Kat song, though, so I guess it could have been an effective one. Either that or they’ve just stopped airing those commercials—we’ll never really know.), and over the course of my childhood and (ha) maturation I’ve consistently worked on my ability to restrain my first thoughts of word and action just long enough to consider the question: will this lead to problems later on? Then I usually do it anyway (as a cursory glance at this blog will prove), but the point is I’ve made progress.

I’m honestly quite puzzled as to what my greatest strength is, if only because I can’t think of anything particularly outstanding about me or my abilities. That’s not modesty—I’m sure I’ll do something outstanding eventually, it’s just that I’m seventeen and haven’t done all that much life yet. One thing I do have is the ability to roll with it—whatever “it” may be, I find that with a little perspective there’s not much worth worrying about, so best to enjoy life while you can. I think that outlook is surprisingly rare, which makes it all the more valuable to me.

It can often be difficult to really be objective when talking or writing about oneself. The person one wants to believe on is can get confused with the person one is in reality. Personally, my main problem is that the stigma associated with speaking about one’s good qualities made it all the more uncomfortable for me to be writing about my favorite quality. I’m a big subscriber to the “actions speak louder” philosophy, so it’s a little weird having to just say something relatively abstract without any really concrete evidence.

Hopefully, though, I’ve learned something about myself in the process, and next time I’m faced with a tough decision, I’ll be able to tell me exactly what I needed to hear.

Learn to Waltz in Three Easy Steps

One of the best pieces of advice I've ever received came from a Russell Brand's show on BBC Radio 2 (the show's now sadly off the air, but you can locate archives with a quick google search if you're interested). Going off on one of the show's common tangents, Brand made a comment about life which resonated deeply with me:

"As soon as [an opportunity for] something good occurs to you, that is an obligation to do it, 'cause otherwise you're not in tune with higher things in the universe."

There, condensed into a single sentence, was a perfect summation of my own views on morality, and I've integrated that outlook into my life as much as possible in the past year or so.

It was this line of reasoning that led me to sign up to give blood last Friday. I just turned seventeen a few weeks ago, and I met all the necessary requirements for donors, so I knew I had the opportunity to do something good (potentially even life-saving). At that point, there was no longer any question in my mind of whether or not I would be giving blood; as soon as the world had presented me with that opportunity to do something good, I did not have the moral option to decline. Nobody else could give blood for me, and regardless of how many other people did or did not donate they still didn’t face the same specific choice that I did to be a force for good in the universe—their obligations were unique to them, as were mine to me.

On the day of the drive, I went down to the back gym and signed in. I was fifteen minutes late, having forgotten about my 8:00 time slot in the heat of Psych (perhaps having Freudianly repressed my appointment to have a pint of blood removed from my body), but things went smoothly as I nervously read through the informative packet and waited to answer a personal history questionnaire. Questions answered and eligibility confirmed, I lay down on the cot while a nurse prepared my arm—suddenly, I remembered my fear of needles (really just a subset of my more general fear of pain), and rather than experience the whole ordeal firsthand I opted to take out my mp3 player and remove myself from the world for the next ten minutes. One hour later, I was back in class with a bandage on my arm and sticker on my shirt.

The process wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as I’d imagined it would be, so that was a relief. Moreover, I returned home Friday secure in the knowledge that I’d been presented with a chance to act as a positive force in the universe, and I had lived up to my own moral obligation—because in my opinion, the choice to save a life is no choice at all.

The End of the Tracks (where the fountains fly into your eyes)

When trying to come up with five set things I want to have possessed/accomplished by the end of my life, I had a really hard time thinking of precise goals, most likely because I don’t have many of those yet. I mean, I’ve got goals for my next few years or so, but I’ve never been a bucket list kind of person—I’ve always thought of my future in much vaguer terms than that. So, while I can’t honestly name five specific things I want to possess or have experienced when it’s time for me to shuffle off this mortal coil, I have been able to narrow my goals down to five concrete categories:

-Love/Family:

I think it’d be kinda cool to fall in love at least once, and before I die I hope I’ll have the opportunity to pass on some of my bad habits to my children, only to have my parents laugh at me when my own progeny won’t listen to a damn word I say.

-Material Possessions:

However little they may matter in the long run, I’d like the opportunity to try a few of the finer things in life—though I understand academically that all things are transient, I still think it would be fun to own, say, a medieval castle (retrofitted for modern living, of course), complete with secret passages and jester. Failing that, maybe a custom tailored suit—I’m not picky. They say you can’t take it with you? I’m taking it with me.

-Service:

I have been particularly fortunate thus far in life, and it would be selfish of me not to try and repay the world that’s treated me so kind. Whether it’s through a career saving lives in medicine or just heavy philanthropy, I plan to help somehow; I believe I have been given the capabilities necessary to make some people’s lives better, and that in itself is an obligation—because otherwise I’d just be a jerk.

-Accomplishment:

It would be dishonest for me to say this wasn’t one of my bigger hang-ups, life-wise. I still haven’t decided what I plan to actually do with my life, but I can’t die until I’ve done something. Not something dumb like “worked loyally for X company for fifty years” or “was a U.S. Senator”—something important, or at very least something that’ll affect a lot of people positively, even if that just means bringing a little more light into their days, maybe through something like music. I don’t need to live forever, but being recognized as having made a contribution to society somehow would go a long way towards making me feel like my life’s meant something.

-Cool Stuff:

These are all the rest of the things that’ll go into making life worthwhile for my next however-many years until I finally croak, and they generally range from “self-enrichment” to simply “fun”. I definitely want to spend time traveling and see the world, I want to learn at least one more language, if at all possible I want to fly with a jetpack, learn a martial art, and stop a mugging. I want to do enough fun and fulfilling stuff during my life that, when I’m finished, I won’t need reincarnation to tie up my loose ends.

Out of all of these amorphous goal-categories, only those of “service” and “accomplishment” could really be called “valuable to humanity”. Service is valuable insofar as it helps individuals, and I hope that, whatever I accomplish in life, it’ll mean something to humanity. I don’t know if I’ve answered the question at all well, but at this point that’s the best I can do—after all, I haven’t really decided on what I plan to do with my life yet. With any luck, though, I’ve got a lot more time ahead of me with which to decide on more specific goals. Ultimately, I guess my overriding ambition is just to be able to look back on it all at the end of my life, and smile.

--Wistfully,

SG

I Think I'll Cry

Examples of epic entertainment in our culture are about as varied as our own Ms. Kimball’s continuingly impressive collection of pez dispensers—they differ in feel and delivery, and some of them feature Chewbacca, but ultimately they all share the same essential characteristics. The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, The Matrix, Harry Potter—all have longer-than-average story arcs, plots that boil down to a battle between good and evil, and exceptionally powerful, iconic characters. These characters, be they heroes, villains, or “other”, are what really drive their stories, so it’s fitting that we should begin to take a closer look at the concept of the hero.

I personally consider all the protagonists of those works to be heroes, based on my personal hero criteria, which are as follows:

-Heroes are not normal. They’re better than normal. Whether it’s through some inborn power (e.g. Neo in The Matrix, Luke in Star Wars), personal training or character (Indiana Jones in Indiana Jones, Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings), or some combination of the two (Bruce Willis), these people have some physical or moral strength we probably don’t—and if they start out below average, they’d sure as heck better develop some highly admirable attributes if they plan on surviving the first installment (all the hobbits). Which brings me to the second major heroic trait…

-Heroes are role models. They do the right thing when they can, no matter the odds or the consequences, and because of this we look up to them. In comparing ourselves to our heroes, we constantly evaluate the decisions they make and why they make them, and more often than not we’d like to think we’d have made the same decision in a given situation that Harrison Ford would’ve made. Be the obstacles physical, emotional, magical, or moral, a hero will, for the most part, surmount them, and we’d like that to apply to our own lives as well. Last, but definitely not least…

-Heroes are fun. We all wish we could do what they do, and to a certain extent I think we all live vicariously through their on-screen and in-print adventures. Who wouldn’t want to lift objects with his mind or single-handedly take on an army of Hugo Weaving? I know I would.

All the above listed characters meet these three heroic guidelines, which makes them heroes in my book (blog).

You may be wondering why there are no women in that list of heroes, which might naturally lead you to ask certain questions. “Could it be that Sam has cherry-picked a list of works with male heroes?” “Is there an inherent anti-female bias keeping women out of epic works?” “Can women even fit your ‘heroic criteria’?”

The answers are “no”, “no”, and “don’t be ridiculous”. The phenomena of women not appearing as heroes in modern epics can be explained as a function of human nature and capitalism. Epics today usually involve a lot of violence, often in the form of wars. The fact is, heroes in that context are usually great warriors, and men in general just like watching/consuming that sort of entertainment/art more than women. We like to connect and look up to our heroes, and men are a lot more likely to look up to someone capable of running face-first into a fight and emerging triumphant than women are, ergo more male heroes are created in order to facilitate that connection to the heavily male audience. Women still have heroes—they’re just different types of heroes, like Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle, or Julia Child, or some other dull, real-lifey thing. Now and again, there’s the exception, and a female character comes along who meets all the male requirements of a hero, and those characters are every bit as awesome as any other (you ladies have Quentin Tarantino to thank for this).

With all this fuss over heroes, one has to wonder whether we really “need” them. I find it kind of a hard question to answer, if only because I can’t really imagine a society without the concept of a “hero”. I think we always will need role models, so no matter whether or not anyone’s writing sweeping epics, people will still have their own personal heroes—we need something to work towards, because in the end that’s what a hero really is. Bertolt Brecht is on record as having said, “unhappy the land that needs heroes”; why, though? As long as there’s room for improvement within a population (or even an individual), there will always be heroes, so I think what Brecht is trying to say is that only when we have eliminated the need for heroes, i.e. our own imperfection, can we really be happy. Well, with all due respect to Berty-Bert, I think he couldn’t be more wrong; a society that doesn’t need role models is a society without sin or suffering, and not meaning any disrespect to those who’ve truly suffered, in terms of unhappiness that scenario seems second only to a society composed entirely of pain and anguish.

Without dark, the light seems irrelevant, there can be no heights if there are no depths, and if there is no need for heroes then there cannot be real happiness. So invite a couple of friends over, dig out your copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark, enjoy your culture’s heroes, and try and think what life’d be like without Indiana Jones. I think I’d cry.

--Yours always, SG