Detached

For my acting class, we had to do a non-verbal self-presentation that was representative of who and where we are at this stage in our lives.  We had to do this using some kind of general action demonstrating some kind of general metaphor.  It took me a while to come up with something, and I changed my mind several times before finally settling on me walking around the room, looking at different things and starting down several paths before stopping, shooting a bored look, and walking back.  Then I mimed going to sleep, waking up, and going through my “getting ready for school” routine, i.e., brushing my teeth, putting in my contacts, and putting on my clothes.

People generally got it right when they tried to explain what I was doing.  There were a few specific things they missed or mis-assumed, but for the most part, they got it right.

Right now, I’m not sure what I want to do.  With my life.  With my self.  With my days.  It seems like each week, I change my mind about what I want to do as a career, whether I want to go to grad school, for what, where I want to live in a year and a half, and everything else.  I came here so sure that I wanted to teach English and do High School theatre and live close to home and make a big change in the education system and cause a huge splash sending huge ripples through the world.  And now, I’m not sure.

I’ve started down so many paths, even over the last year, and each time, I turn back and come back to the clearing, looking around for which one to choose next, for which one will be the right one, and for which one will bring some goddamned meaning to my life and give me some kind of purpose for being here.

And now I’m back in the clearing.

For a while, I’ve felt this general sense of detachment from anything and everything.  I don’t feel attached, emotionally, physically, mentally, to anything, and that bothers me.  I don’t feel emotionally attached to any one person.  I don’t feel attachment to things.  I don’t feel attachment to hobbies.  Even the things that I generally love, like writing and theatre and Senate, I don’t feel really attached to right now, and it’s sucking the goddamn passion from the things that made me who I am.  It’s like, to use attachment literally, I’m floating and looking for something – regardless of what it is - to weight me down so I can at least see things more clearly.

And so, since I’m not attached to anything, I go through routines – something, I might add, I swore never to do.
Heidegger and Sartre’s idea of human existence was that human nature was divided in two:  a side that exists to fulfill our basic needs and desires, and a conscious, reflective side that is constantly working to achieve some grand vision of what our lives are adding up to.  We’re always reflecting on our aspirations, what we could be, what we could do, and what we could have, regardless of what we do.  We’re always seeking something else, something better, something different.  Where I am right now, all of this makes unbelievably lucid sense.

I guess I just feel like I need to commit myself to something, whether it’s writing, theatre, politics, Senate, or, God forbid, even a person.  Maybe that’ll bring some kind of clarity, even if it is temporary.  Because living in this constant floating tension is just draining me.

Reflections on MLK day

Well, today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and after attending some of the various speakers that Mount Union had on campus, I got to thinking about him and what he did.

Martin Luther King Jr. died for what he believed in.  So did Malcolm X.  So did Nathan Hale, excuted by the British during the American Revolution, but not before uttering from the gallows the now famous line, “I only regret that I have but one life to give for my country.”  This line, upon research, was inspired from the play Cato by Joseph Addison.  The line from the play reads “How beautiful is death, when earn’d by virtue! / Who would not be that youth?  What pity is it / That we can die but once to serve our country.”

How beautiful is death, when earn’d by virtue.

All of this got me to thinking.  These men are famous because they died for something.  They died, whether by execution or assassination, for causes which they believed in so passionately that they were prepared to give their lives for them.  And here I am, 21 years old, and I don’t really feel like I have anything I’m willing to die for.  Maybe that’s good, and maybe that’s tragic… I don’t really know.

I guess that the underlying problem here is that I think that I would be willing to fight and die for America’s ideals – the principles and ideas upon which this country was founded.  The principles of freedom and liberty.  The principle of opportunity.  The principle that anyone can start with nothing and make something out of it.  Can make a life.  Can make a family.  Can make a fortune, if that’s what they want.  Unfortunately, I think that we’ve gotten too far from those ideals.

I love my country, and I am proud to be an American, but not in that redneck-country music-gun toting-warmongering-put 10 flags in front of my house kind of way.  I’m proud to be an American because of what America is supposed to stand for.  I’m proud to be an American in a “Give me your tired, your poor / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, / The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. / Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, / I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” kind of way.  I’m proud to be an American in a “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness” kind of way.  And I’m proud to be an American in a “Give me liberty or give me death” kind of way.

So what happened here?  Looking back on these words, the current state of things is fucking depressing.  I do love my country, but I’m not completely sure that I’m ready and willing to die for it as it is.  I don’t want to die for a country where the rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer and the middle class doesn’t give enough shits to do anything about it.  I don’t want to die for a country where people are all too willing to defend their own stupid freakin’ rights while at the same time being all too willing to take them away from others.  I don’t want to die for a country where the government primarily serves itself, rather than the people who depend on it for their opportunity.

I guess the point of all of this is that I want to live in a country where I love it so much that I am willing to fight and die for it.

One of the most oft-quoted lines from Ghandi is that “You must be the change you wish to see in the world,” and I used to believe so passionately that one person – any person – could be and make that kind of change.  But I’m not so sure anymore.  Martin Luther King Jr. certainly did it.  Can I?

I like to believe so.

Blogger copycatting while waiting to go get some food

• Four jobs you've had in your life:
  
• Maintenance Man, Supportive Services Inc.
  
• Sales Associate/Paper & Chemicals stock boy/general indentured help, Wal-Mart
  
• Mental Health Associate II, Supportive Services Inc.
  
• Assistant to Mount Union’s English Department


• Four movies you could watch over and over:
• The Royal Tenenbaums
  
• Garden State
  
• High Fidelity
  
• The Shawshank Redemption


• Four places you've lived:
  
• Beaver Falls, PA
  
• Alliance, OH
  
• In Jesse’s Basement (practically)


• Four TV shows you love to watch:
• Lost
  
• The West Wing
  
• Iron Chef America
  
• Seinfeld


• Four places you've been on vacation:
  
• Ocean City, MD
• Gettysburg, PA
• Geneva-on-the-lake, OH
• Washington DC


• Four websites you visit daily:
  
• My Yahoo!
• DailyKos
• Facebook
• Regnyouth


• Four of your favorite foods:
• Lasagna
• Fettucini Alfredo
• Mozzarella Sticks
• Pomegranites


• Four places you'd rather be:
  
• Italy
• NYC
• Someplace warm
• Somewhere with food


• Four albums you can't live without: At the moment:
  
• Duncan Sheik – Daylight
• Dave Matthews Band – Listener Supported
• Coldplay – X&Y
• Beck – Mutations


• Four people tagged next: Don’t know enough people who blog/care.

News in light of The West Wing

As involved and interested as I am in politics, it’s kind of surprising that I had never gotten into The West Wing until the past Christmas break.  I bought the Season 1 DVD set for my mom, and started watching it after I finished the full first season of Lost (another show which I’ll hopefully write about soon).

One of the things that I particularly like about The West Wing, other than its brilliant writing and liberal politics, which are often blatant but sometimes subtle, is how it shows, with much realism, the inner workings of the White House.  Sure, it’s TV and some of the issues are sensationalized.  That’s to be expected.  But a lot of it is true.

That’s why, when reading the news for today and seeing the headline “Laura Bush Backs Domestic Spying Program” I (a) wasn’t surprised and (b) thought immediately of an episode from Season 1 of the West Wing where the first lady leaks her preference for an appointment to the Federal Reserve Board, causing a shitstorm of havoc for the White House Staffers who have to deal with it.

One of the greatest things about The West Wing is that it shows exactly how the White House works in our state of modern politics.  The importance isn’t really on what or how a decision is made, but rather that everyone lines up behind that decision, whether they agree or not.

Granted, there has been fire from both sides over the Domestic Spying issue.  Sen. Specter has recently come out expressing his skepticism, and he’s joining a number of other high-profile Republicans (including, interestingly enough, Sen. Sam Brownback of Kansas, one of the more conservative members of Congress) who are questioning the legality of the program.  But imagine if Laura Bush, or any of the top White House Aides to the President came out with anything less than full support.  It’d shake up and tear everything down, and the administration would likely fall apart.

Of course, this also points out a big weakness in our system as it is: that independent thought takes a back seat to following in line.  

The words of Ben Franklin ring eerily true in these times:  “They who would give up an essential liberty for temporary security, deserve neither liberty or security.”

Will people get what they deserve?  Or will things make a change for the better?  Only time will tell, I guess.

Judicial Confirmation in 2046

In 30 or 40 years, during Judicial Confirmation Hearings, do you think that the opposition party will acquire/produce/ask questions about information on MySpace/Facebook/Blogger/LiveJournal etc. pages written during High School/College/younger days?

What about campaigns for public office?

Will candidates/nominees be expected to explain/defend/deny that stuff?

Will it influence voters?


"Mr. Ricci, I see that during your Junior year of College, you listed "hookahs" among your Facebook interests. Can you please explain?"

"Mr. Ricci, during college you were a member of the following Facebook groups: Ambidextrous Masturbators, If You Like it Kinky, The Clit Trust, Hot For Republicans, Want to Get Stober, and Chuck Norris is a Bad Ass. Please explain how a man of your low moral standards can even think that he represents the American People. I mean... Chuck Norris? You can't be serious."


Ah, who knows?

King Kong + Narnia

Alright... finals week is over, I've left the good old mushy-snow streets of A-town and made my way back East for the next few weeks. Hopefully I'll have more time to write and actually something to say.

At any rate, a few days ago I made a post about movies I'd like to see, and I figured I'd update on that. Thursday night I went to see King Kong with Joe and Amanda, and I'd say that overall it was a good movie- it far exceeded my initial expectations. That said, I did find it to be quite long and contain some scenes that I thought were unnecessary and didn't really add much to the movie other than that Peter Jackson likes strange CG creatures (speaking of which, when the group was being attacked by all of the creepy bug-like animals, did anyone else pick up on the one creature that stunningly looked like one of the enemies in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time? Ah, the geek in me comes out...) I will say that, for a CG animated creature, Peter Jackson has done a terrific job endearing King Kong to the audience, and actually making them feel as if a terrible injustice has been committed when he dies in the end. I suppose that quality is what has made King Kong popular through the years.

Tonight, I got to go to see The Chronicles of Narnia, which I also enjoyed. I haven't really looked at the books since I first read them in 4th or 5th grade 10 years ago. That didn't really matter though, because the movie was fantastic. The production was fantastic, and the principal character actors did a terrific job, for being a group of relatively unknowns. All in all, the movie was great, and I'm looking forward to reading the books again sometime soon, and the release of the rest of the series on film. The Biblical allegory was obvious, but I think that C.S. Lewis most likely intended it to be so, and Liam Neeson was a terrific Aslan (as could be expected).

Alright, I'm off to watch a few episodes of Lost Season 1 and catch some sleep.

10

Haven't written in a few days... finals week, you know how it goes. I'll hopefully have lots of time to write over break (which is sorely needed). But for now, 10 years ago the year was 1995. The O.J. Simpson murder trial was going on. Timothy McVeigh bombed the Murrah federal building in Oklahoma City, and Unibomber was sending bombs through the mail. Jacques Chirac became president of France. Windows 95 was released. Bill Clinton got rid of the 55 mph speed limit. Calvin and Hobbes went out of syndication. And where was I?

10 years ago, I…

was in 5th grade, and has Mrs. Helsing as a teacher. Regularly visited Mr. Klicker and Ms. Neely (fourth grade teachers) at the end of the day. Went to Camp Kon-O-Kwee as a student. Was 11 years old, and eagerly awaited being a “teenager.” Had just met Jesse Helfrich, and quickly became best friends with him (Funny how things like that work out…) Had a bowl cut. Loved math and science. Found out that Jesse had to have his appendix removed, and actually cried because I was worried he would die. Liked animals. Didn’t own a computer. Didn’t have a TV in my own room… in fact, there was only one TV in the whole house. Shared a room with my brother. Started riding my bike to Chippewa on a daily basis. Spent most days with Jesse, Tom Detka, Bo Oravitz, and Tony Wyman. Later on, I would meet Amanda Cox, Candice Strickland, Courtney Storey, Stephanie Staples, and Matt Peters. We became a really tight group of friends, spending most days together, until they all pretty much moved away. Used my imagination a lot more than I do now. Had hardly any body hair. Bought candy at the store and sold it on the bus. Was even more of a geek than I am now. Rode my bike EVERYWHERE. Found out that my grandma was diagnosed with cancer. Hated chapstick with a passion. Got glasses because my eyes sucked. Was helping to clean up the “new house” so we could move. Didn’t fully appreciate having 3 bathrooms (until we moved to a house with only one). Ate ramen almost every day after school. Played around on an old apple computer that my grandfather bought from somewhere... This one had simple graphics, but still was just green on a black screen. Wanted to be an astronomer, or a scientist. Wrote for a little newspaper that the Gifted Program put out to the intermediate school. Spent my free time at school building elaborate things with pneumatic lego sets. Listened to B94 out of Pittsburgh pretty much nonstop. Had a crush on Natalie Freed and let her play my Gameboy on the school bus so she would sit with me. Couldn’t cut my fingernails for shit. Started playing trumpet. Watched new episodes of Seinfeld after Friends on Thursday nights (Must-see TV). Watched All That on Nickelodeon, and thought it was the funniest show on the planet. Went to Jesse’s after school to watch taped episodes of The Late Show with David Letterman, since we weren’t allowed to stay up that late.

The beauty of Seinfeld

I was watching Seinfeld tonight, mostly out of boredom, and as I watched the first 4 episodes of Season 4, I realized one of the many things that makes Seinfeld such a great show: Each of the characters has so many little quirks that we all laugh at, but every so often, they hit a quirk on the head and we see ourselves in them.

For example, in "The Trip," George is accompanying Jerry on a trip to appear on The Tonight Show in L.A., and although it is only a two day trip, George packs two large suitcases and several bags. Jerry questions him as to why he has packed so much, and George replies "I happen to dress based on mood." I find this humorous because, I, too, often choose what I wear based on what mood I happen to be in. I used to lay my clothes out at night, to reduce the time I needed to get ready in the morning, but often I found myself the next morning either regretting my choices and picking something new, or putting them on anyways and feeling strange all day.

I saw another little part of myself in George Castanza in "The Pitch." George is discussing his discomfort because he hadn't shaved that morning, and Jerry nonchalantly asks him why he didin't shave. George replies that he had shaved yesterday afternoon and it was too early to shave again, and that he would have to get back on schedule. While I'm sure there are people who can shave any time or as many times in a 24 hour period as they'd like, I don't happen to be one of them. I, like Costanza, would most likely have waited and gone with stubble for a day, waiting until the next morning to shave, effectively "getting back on schedule." I've found in my own life that if, for some reason, I am unable to shave at the usual time, I must be stubbly for a day or so until I can get straightened out.


I'll post more when I find them.... it amuses me, at least.

Great headline.

This just in: Bush says he does not live in a bubble. Thank you, Mr. President, for clearing that up, but I'm sorry, the card says 'Moops.'

15

Alright, I stole this idea from K-Lowe, and so I'm not trying to claim it as my own. I believe he stole it from someone else, and so here it is. In installments, I'm going to write about where I was and what I was doing 1, 5, 10, and 15 years ago.

For what it's worth, I'm going to start with 15. Even though I was just starting Kindergarden at a ripe 6 years old, I think it's interesting to note what I can remember.


15 years ago, I...

Was 6 years old, and started Kindergarten. Had George Bush for a President. Learned to Count and Tie my shoes. Learned that Santa Claus wasn’t real. Was very religious, and had unquestioned faith. Had Mrs. Wagner for a teacher. Was taught the alphabet in class, but my dad had already taught it to me. Learned the Pledge of Allegiance. Took Ninja Turtles stuff into class for Show and Tell. Watched Saturday morning cartoons religiously. Had to go to bed at 9:00 on school nights, because my mom made me. Hated brushing my teeth. Spent my afternoons after school at my grandparents’, where my grandfather taught me about computers and showed me how to program on an old Radio Shack computer with no graphics and only orange text on a black screen. Had about 10 cats that lived outside. Still lived at the “old house,” which is, coincidentally, right next to the house where I now live. Regularly rented VHS tapes from Wilson's Video Corner in Chippewa. Made some money by sweeping floors at houses my dad was building and folding flyers he mailed to generate business for Riccon Development Inc. Uncle Ronnie was alive. Pap Gray was alive. Had a bowl cut. Took sign language classes with my mom at CCBC for fun. Had a best friend, Carson Pete, who eventually moved to Nevada. Bought candy from McCarters. Rode my bike to the bar across the street to pick up the cans and bottles people left outside so I could recycle them and my grandfather would give me money. Convinced my mom to start going to church. Had a two-year-old baby sister. Went swimming out at Shirleen's swimming pool, right next to my grandma's house. Wore cheap shoes from Payless and hand-me-down clothes from relatives and the rummage sale at the Chippewa United Methodist Church. Did odd jobs around the house for money, which I saved up in a jar in my dresser for the entire year, only to spend it during the week my family spent at Geneva-on-the-lake every summer. Great Grandma McClain was still alive. Shared a room with my brother, and fought over top bunk (or bottom, usually whichever of the two I happened to want at the time).

Movies I'd Like to See

Unfortunately, I haven't gotten to see as many movies lately as I would like to, but there are certainly a bunch of movies out or coming out soon that I'd like to see... possibly over break.

• The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe - I first read The Chronicles of Narnia when I was in 4th grade and had Mr. Klicker as a teacher. I read the first book and quickly tore through the rest of them. I haven't reread them in years, but I can't wait to see it. And Liam Neeson, who is a badass, will be the voice of Aslan. A fine pick.
• King Kong - I think the first time I saw a preview for this was when we all went to see Star Wars: Episode III at the midnight showing, and I remember thinking that the movie looked horrible, the animation was fake, and it looked like it was going to be a big piece of shit. We all laughed at how bad it looked. But recently, I've actually found myself really looking forward to seeing Peter Jackson's King Kong. I don't know what happened, but it really looks like it's going to be good. Plus, the fact that I just Checked Rotten Tomatoes, and right now it's at a 96% rating, which is fucking amazing for Rotten Tomatoes. I'm starting to wonder if it's going to be like one of those experiences where your mind is totally blown because it's something so... groundbreaking? New? Innovative? That it is absolutely and truly unlike anything ever done before.
  
• Walk the Line - I wanted to see this one long before Jamie DeMonte recommended it. From the previews (and Jamie's say-so), it looks like Joaquin Phoenix does a great version of the Man in Black, and I really think Johnny Cash's life would make a fantastic movie.
• Capote - I wanted to see this since I read about it in the GQ I snagged from the convenience store when they were giving them away at the beginning of the month. I really have liked Truman Capote since I read In Cold Blood my Senior year of High School. I think that Phillip Seymour Hoffman is a very versatile actor, and he doesn't get enough credit for it, and so I think that he'll pull of the role of Capote nicely. Plus, Frank Tascone recommended it, and I trust him. *Cue up Selby voice: "I wouldn't tell this to my classes ten years ago, but Truman Capote was a homosexual."* Only you, Selb Dogg, Only you.

Plus, Maggie said I could borrow season 1 of Lost. I've been interested in it, but I haven't had the time. So maybe I'll catch the bug.

P.S. I'm going to try to restart my blogging. I usually don't have much to say, and what I say will most likely not be too important, but at least it keeps me writing.

Wisdom from Bill Maher:


New Rule: For Christ's sake, no more devil movies. "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" opened huge last week, and it surprised a lot of people, mostly because Owen Wilson wasn't in it. But exorcism, or as the Catholics call it, "elective surgery," is a popular theme nowadays because it reinforces the comforting notion that evil resides outside of us.

Well, I'm sorry, but it doesn't. And whenever I hear someone blame a bombing in Baghdad or a levee breaking in New Orleans on the forces of evil, it makes me so mad I just want to grab my pitchfork and stick it right through my cloven hoof!

Now, Americans have always loved devil movies: "The Exorcist," "The Omen," "Rosemary's Baby," "The Devil's Advocate." The list goes on forever because Americans love the devil. Why? Because he's simple and he provides a simple answer. He did it.

But evil is not a demon with a tail and horns. That's a Jew. And evil - evil isn't some spectral goblin with red eyes and the voice of Anthony Hopkins. That's Anthony Hopkins.

Is George Bush purely evil? Of course not. And that's what's so evil about him. He doesn't twirl a mustache and smirk and cackle. Well, he doesn't twirl a mustache. He's like the Peanuts character Pigpen. Wherever he goes, he stirs up such a humongous mess it can only be cleaned up by Halliburton. But he is not pure evil.

Because evil is a chain. Did any one person doom New Orleans? No, it's a chain. People vote for a corrupt leader; a corrupt leader puts unqualified cronies in high places, and when those cronies fuck up, evil gets done. The devil didn't fly up from hell and knock a hole in that levee. The levee just didn't get built because the money for it went to rich people's tax cuts and pork projects and corporate welfare.

Evil isn't "Salem's Lot." It's Trent Lott. This week, an ailing American bald eagle was found to be dying from mercury poisoning. Republicans immediately tried to blame it on the eagle's lifestyle choices. But it's worth noting that also this week, the White House threatened to veto limits on mercury pollution. Now, pure evil would be if George Bush sat around the White House saying, "Let's poison eagles!" And even I don't believe George Bush would do that.

Cheney would do that. And even he is not pure evil. Dick Cheney doesn't hate poor children and caribou. They're just in the way.

Bottom line: some people think Satan is real and some people think global warming is real. If you think stopping gays from doing it is more important than the ice caps melting, the boogeyman is you...

DiSC results

Okay, so when I was at LeaderShape in July, one of the things that we had to do was take this personality profile called DiSC. The way that this particular profile worked was that we were given 28 groups of 4 words and we had to choose one MOST and one LEAST out of the four words. For example:

sociable, patient, self-reliant, soft-spoken

Out of this particular group, I chose "self-reliant" for MOST and "patient" for LEAST. Anyways, after it was all said and done, we had to tally them up, put them on a graph, and figure out some different things.

At any rate, here is what my DiSC personality profile says about me, because I think it's interesting.



General Highlights:
I scored very high in D and i, and very low in S and C. What this means is as follows:


D: Dominance - Emphasis is on shaping the environment by overcoming opposition to accomplish results.
This person's tendencies include:

• Getting immediate results
• causing action
• accepting challenges
• making quick decisions
• questioning the status quo
• taking authority
• managing trouble
• solving problems

This person desires an environment that includes:

• power and authority
• prestige and challenge
• opportunities for individual accomplishments
• a wide scope of operations
• direct answers
• opportunities for advancement
• freedom from controls and supervision
• many new and varied activities

This person needs others who:

• weigh pros and cons
• calculate risks
• use caution
• create a predictable environment
• research facts
• deliberate before deciding
• recognize the needs of others

To be more effective, this person needs:

• to recieve difficult assignments
• to understand that they need people
• to base techniques on practical experience
• to recieve an occasional shock
• to identify with a group
• to verbalize reasons for conclusions
• to be aware of existing sanctions
• to pace self and to relax more

i: Influence - Emphasis is on shaping the environment by influencing or persuading others.

This person's tendencies include:

• contacting people
• making a favorable impression
• being articulate
• creating a motivating environment
• generating enthusiasm
• entertaining people
• viewing people and situations with optimism
• participating in a group

This person desires an environment that includes:

• popularity, social recognition
• public recognition of ability
• freedom of expression
• group activities outside of job
• democratic relationships
• freedom from control and detail
• opportunities to verbalize proposals
• coaching and counseling
• favorable working conditions

This person needs others who:

• concentrate on the task
• seek facts
• speak directly
• respect sincerity
• develop systematic approaches
• prefer to deal with things instead of people
• take a logical approach
• demonstrate individual follow-through

To be more effective, this person needs:

• to control time, if D or S is low
• to make objective decisions
• to use hands-on management
• to be more realistic when appraising others
• to make priorities and deadlines

Some words that describe me:
egocentric, direct, daring, domineering, demeanding, forceful, risk-taker
enthusiastic, gregarious,persuasive, impulsive, emotional
change-oriented, fault-finding, spontaneous, frustrated by the status-quo, active
rebellious, defiant, obstinate, tactless, sarcastic


My Classical Profile Pattern: Inspirational.

Emotions: accepts aggression; downplays need for affection
Goal: Control of their environment or audience
Judges others by: projection of personal strength, character, and social power
Influences others by: charm, direction, intimidation; use of rewards
Value to the organization: acts as a "people mover"; initiates, demands, compliments, disciplines
Overuses: attitude that "the ends justify the means"
Under Pressure: becomes manipulative, quarrelsome or belligerent
Fears: weak behavior, loss of social status
Would increase effectiveness through: genuine sensitivity, willingness to help others to succeed in their own personal development

Persons with the Inspirational Pattern consciously attempt to modify the thoughts and actions of others. They want to control their environment. They are astute at identifying and manipulating an individual's existing motives in order to direct that person's behavior toward a predetermined end.
Inspirational persons are clear about the results they want, but they do not always immediately verbalize them. They state the results they want only after they have primed the other person, offering friendship to those who desire acceptance, authority to those who seek power, and security to those who want a predictable environment.
Inspirational persons can be charming in their interactions. They are persuasive when they want help in repetitive and time-consuming details. People often experience a conflicting sensation by feeling drawn to Inspirational people and yet being curiously distanced. Others may feel "used" by Inspirational persons' powers of manipulation. Although they sometimes inspire fear in others and override their decisions, Inspirational persons are generally well liked by co-workers because they use their considerable verbal skills to persuade others whenever possible. Inspirational persons clearly prefer to accomplish goals through cooperation and persuasion instead of domination.

Advanced Global Personality Test Results Extraversion |||||||||||||||||| 80% Stability |||||||||||||||||| 76% Orderliness |||||||||| 36% Altruism |||||||||||| 43% Interdependence |||||||||||||| 56% Intellectual |||||||||||||| 56% Mystical |||||||||||| 50% Artistic |||||||||||||||| 63% Religious |||||| 30% Hedonism |||||||||||||||||| 76% Materialism |||||||||||| 43% Narcissism |||||||||||||||| 63% Adventurousness |||||||||||||||| 70% Work ethic |||||||||||||||||||| 90% Self absorbed |||||||||||||| 56% Conflict seeking |||||||||||||||||| 76% Need to dominate |||||||||||||||||| 76% Romantic |||||||||||||||||| 76% Avoidant |||| 16% Anti-authority |||||||||||||||||||| 83% Wealth |||||| 23% Dependency |||||||||||| 50% Change averse |||||| 30% Cautiousness |||||||||| 36% Individuality |||||||||||||||| 70% Sexuality |||||||||||||||||||| 83% Peter pan complex |||||||||| 36% Physical security |||||||||||||||||| 76% Physical Fitness |||||||||||| 44% Histrionic |||||||||||||||||||| 83% Paranoia |||||||||| 36% Vanity |||||||||||||||||||| 90% Hypersensitivity |||||||||||||||| 63% Female cliche |||||||||||| 50%

Stability results were high which suggests you are very relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic..

Orderliness results were moderately low which suggests you are, at times, overly flexible, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.

Extraversion results were high which suggests you are overly talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting at the expense too often of developing your own individual interests and internally based identity.

trait snapshot:
messy, disorganized, social, tough, outgoing, rarely worries, self revealing, open, risk taker, likes the unknown, likes large parties, makes friends easily, likes to stand out, likes to make fun of people, reckless, optimistic, positive, strong, does not like to be alone, ambivalent about chaos, abstract, impractical, not good at saving money, fearless, trusting, thrill seeker, not rule conscious, enjoys leadership, strange, loves food, abstract, rarely irritated, anti-authority, attracted to the counter culture

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Narcissism in a Nutshell

***

Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit. –Virgil, The Aeneid

***

I’m full of shit and none of you probably care about what I’m writing, which is, in effect, the maniacal ramblings of a 20-year old white boy who can’t sleep and is faced with the realization that he doesn’t know everything and isn’t invincible. In actuality, this is all just narcissism – Here I sit, in love with and obsessively contemplating my own self-importance, looking at my metaphorical reflection in the symbolic pool and not doing a damn thing about it, ultimately leading to my demise.

The upshot, of course, is that Narcissus at least was such a fucking pathetic creature that the gods pitied him and immortalized him with a flower. As for me, I get nothing save for this rambling drivel… nothing more than ink on paper, when all is said and done. Some testament.

But nevertheless, I write and I blather on, trying to make some kind of meaningful statement and make this my contribution to society and make my writing what all of you will remember me by. Such is the life of a self-important, self-centered, angst-ridden writer.

Mother of God, I really am Narcissus. At the very least, I’m quickly becoming him.

***

So… here I am once again, lying awake in Cunningham Hall, an old brick building filled with a bunch of obnoxious freshmen and me, a sophomore/junior who works too hard and gets too little… I’m on the campus of Mount Union College in Alliance, a run-down town in Eastern Ohio with a Wal-Mart and an Applebees and two McDonalds’ and 5 or 6 drive-through beer distributors and everything else that a college kid could really want. It’s early February, snow is on the ground, and my girlfriend just broke up with me, leaving me feeling, among other things, hurt, anxious, confused, lost…

…Christ, my contribution to literature is rapidly turning into the same fucking cliché that I’ve always written and always tried not to write. I should have started this with “Dear Abby...” Really, is this how far I’ve fallen? Have I actually stooped this low? A cocky, 20-year-old sonofabitch like me writing what sounds like the typical pathetic letters asking for advice to Ann Landers or Penthouse Forum or Miss Cleo or … it doesn’t really matter… after all, When you boil them down, they’re all the same brand of full-of-shit crackpot trying to think they know best for you… right?

And so I begin my cliché with the same old burned-out metaphorical bullshit that I’ve always been fond of in my own writing, but which I’ve always hated when I read it the next morning: “It seems like for the past week and a half or so, I try to go to bed, but I can't sleep. I lay awake, while my mind wanders wonders wanders, and my thoughts roam and ramble from one dark corner to the next, exploring the nooks and niches, finding nothing except my own memories, faded and jaded, and ghosts of the past hopelessly entangled in the silky webs of long-dead spiders.”

Wow… that was deep and symbolic and well written and meaningful and look at my talent…

Right now, it’s late and I want nothing more than to just go to sleep and forget about everything, at least until the alarm goes off the next morning in its same old static beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep until I grudgingly roll out of bed and slap the snooze button and I start the same old routine same old routine same old routine over again because yesterday is today and today is tomorrow and tomorrow is yesterday and it’s all the same – every day just like the others over and over again and I wish tomorrow would be different for once and I wish I had some milk and cookies or I wish I smoked so I would have something to do to help me relax and maybe I should go for a drive and … ah fuck it. My mind is running a marathon. My nerves are buzzing like they’re wired to a car battery. Christ, I need to do something… at least to make me feel like I have a purpose.

…So I start writing. “It seems like for the past week and a half or so, blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah.” Seriously …Nobody cares… This is all just my narcissistic delusion of grandeur, that I’m feeling something that nobody has ever felt before (or maybe everyone’s felt it and couldn’t explain it) and maybe if I can get it all out and articulate it on paper I’ll make some grand kind of statement about life and people will think that I’ve figured it all out and they’ll respect me more for it in the morning, right? Right? Isn’t that how it works? That’s why we write, isn’t it?

Sure it is, Andrew. Sure it is. You just go on and write, darling, and you’ll be self-righteous and philosophical and full of wisdom and you’ll let everyone know it, I’m sure. Fuck you, you self-serving, egotistical, cocky bastard.

…And so I keep writing…

I am laying awake in Cunningham Hall at Mount Union College, a small school in Eastern Ohio. Why are you even here? How did I end up here? I don’t even know, really. A blind choice, I guess, but it worked out and I am, for the most part, happy here. I stay busy. I feel needed and appreciated and like an important part of the workings of the world, which is what everyone really wants, isn’t it? It’s late and I’m particularly full of shit sentimental and morose tonight… more than usual, at any rate.

My roommate is fast asleep, long since passed out. I should be so lucky. I watch the wedge of fluorescent light that bleeds in from the hallway through the crack underneath the door. I wonder who is still awake. At 4:00 A.M., everything is silent, save for the whirring of the room’s heater and the occasional soft tap of slippers or sandals or bare feet on the hard green and tan tile floor… someone must have to piss or must be thirsty or must be pulling an all-nighter. Maybe I’m the only one awake in this building. Maybe I’m the only one still awake on this entire campus. Maybe I’m the only person awake in the entire world…

My mind is scattering itself all over the place like ducks and I’m not making anysense at all anymore to anyone not even to myself and you probably don’t understand me either. I know I forgot to put a space between those two words back there but fuck off, I like it and I think it looks innovative and I’m not going back and changing it.

I’m the only person still awake…That’s a strange thought to consider, isn’t it? That everyone but you is right now dreaming about happiness or death or fucking or falling or the girl they’ve been trying to get in bed for the past two weeks, but you’re sitting here, steeped in your own self-pity and apathy and trying to figure out where it all went wrong and feeling like there’s no answer to any of your questions and wishing you could just fucking get it right for once. Just once, you wish you could do something right, for Christ’s sake.

Stop it. Get over it. For the last time, go to sleep, you stupid, sentimental bastard.

Here I am, in college, a privilege that most people only dream of but I take for granted. I’m an asshole. What about the people who dreamed of going and getting an “education” but couldn’t? What about the people working late nights on the graveyard shift, as I have so many times? What are they doing? Are they mopping floors, cleaning up other peoples’ shit? Are they waiting tables at all-night diners and serving strong coffee to big-rig drivers at truck stops? Are they watching TV and reading? Are they sleeping?

Why the fuck do I even care? Maybe it’s that I’ve worked in places with people like this, and I guess maybe, in some ways, I can sympathize with them. But look, I’m in fucking college, something that neither of my parents got to do, a point that is, for the most part, irrelevant, but it makes me feel like my presence is here is justified. I guess that maybe I’m just still too connected to my roots to fully forget about everyone else, which is another strange feeling, isn’t it?

How, in all of your infinite wisdom, do you reconcile the fact that there are people worse off than you, worrying about bills, mortgages, feeding the kids, and staying employed, while you’re here laying awake in the dorm room of your expensive private college, bitching and moaning and beating the shit out of yourself because your high-school sweetheart finally decided to call it quits? I’m goddamn pathetic, and I apologize for that. I guess that maybe I’m just self-centered. Actually, I know I’m self-centered... It was one of her motives for her decision to finally let me go. Hundreds of thousands of relationships end every day for hundreds of thousands of reasons, and I’m sure that hundreds of thousands of terminated relationships are more devastating than mine. I’m just an egotistical asshole, I guess, and I can’t escape the feeling that people have a duty to fucking care about me. They do, don’t they?

…..Maybe not.

Ah, I’ve allowed myself to ramble. So, anyways, what about those other people who are still awake?

What about the doctors on call who are awoken from their sleep at 3:30 A.M. because some 17-year old Jane Doe coming home from a friend’s house was hit by a drunk driver and needs immediate medical attention? What are their lives like? What do they think about as they rush to get dressed and then speed all the way to the hospital to do what they can to save this girl’s life? What do they do afterwards? Does the girl survive? Does she make it? Is this the ending to her story?

What about the pregnant woman somewhere who goes into labor at quarter after four? What thoughts are going through her head as she’s on the way to have her first, second, third child? What about the people who are sleeping soundly and peacefully in their beds? I wonder what they’re dreaming. I wonder what stories they have to tell and what stories they tell themselves every day in order to live.

What about people who may just be getting up, getting ready to go to work in jobs they hate but are endlessly trapped in? What about people who love their jobs? What makes the difference? Is it money? If that’s true, then money equals happiness… is that the kind of world we live in? Is that the kind of world I want to live in? Jesus, I don’t know…. Is it success? What is success? Is success gaining the respect of your neighbors, having a perfect wife and perfect kids and little pink houses for you and me? Maybe success is just being able to do what you want to do. If that’s the case, why can’t I be successful? Why can’t I do what I want to do? …I know why… it’s much easier to whine about everything that’s wrong than it is to get off my ass and do something about it.

…What about the people in other parts of the world, other parts of the country, other parts of the state, other parts of town? What are the intricacies of their lives, how do they construct meaning out of their existence? In what do they believe? What do they live for? What are other people dying for?

What about me?

………..I do not know.

What I do know is that I can’t fucking sleep, and it’s frustrating me and pissing me off.

Tonight, as I lay awake in the dark, I confront myself, my soul, my spirit, my demons. All of them come upon me like wolves creeping in for the kill. Every night seems to be the same. Every night, I lay awake and think about my past, present, and future: where I was, where I am, and where I am going. Every night, I end up feeling the same – clueless, confused, disappointed, and anxious for something to happen, for anything to happen. For something to be meaningful, for something to be unexpected, for something to be spontaneous and crazy and unplanned and invigorating and… Jesus…. I just want to do something.

You know… I’m just fucking confused, and I don’t know how I should handle myself.

Tonight, as I toss and turn like an experienced insomniac, I think about human relationships – their beginnings as well as their ends. I think about each and every relationship that I’ve been in. For some reason, I think about middle school. I think about my first relationships. Things used to be so much easier then.

"Amanda doesn't want to go out with you anymore," Courtney told me on a warm day in late October.
"Okay," I said, as I ran away, feigning hurt and seeking pity.

Three weeks go by.

"Courtney doesn't want to go out with you anymore," Amanda told me on chilly day in November.
"Okay," I said as I ran away, feigning hurt and seeking pity.

Every breakup was always the same. Simple. Beautiful. Heartbreaking in that puppy-love kind of way that only a 14-year-old can understand and that we all lose once we experience true heartbreak for the first time. We can look back now and say that we were stupid and childish and immature, but that’s because we don’t understand anymore. We laugh it off and pretend it’s meaningless now, but it wasn’t, it never will be, and there’s no way we’ll ever be able to understand it……..

…I’ve started rambling again…

At any rate, those times were happy and simple, and maybe that’s my point. I have my memories of my adolescence, and at times like this, I pull out the happier ones and parade them around in lock-step lines to cheer myself up and remind me of how things used to be, how I used to feel, and how I want to feel again. Maybe we all do this… maybe each of us is prone to thinking of happier times when we mourn…

Oh, Jesus, don’t let me fall into this. It’s a trap! You’re supposed to think about the past and fall into a pit of introspection and reflection and self-pity and warm, fuzzy memories. Goddammit, if you do this you’re going to look at how you felt as a painful reminder of how good things were instead of as a guide to how to feel again…

***

O, teenage summertime! In those days, you celebrated your one week anniversary by walking to get an ice cream cone and maybe, if you were lucky, you stole a kiss in the hedges or the shed or in the dark when nobody else was watching. If you lasted longer than two weeks, things were serious. You weren't in it for love; you weren't in it for emotional fulfillment or sexual gratification. You were in it because life was easy, life was fun, and you didn't have anything else to do. You were in it because you were newly pubescent; you were feeling new feelings and trying new things and you were immortal and nothing could stop you from life.

You were in it because you were drawn to one another in a way that you had never felt before. You knew that something inherently special was happening, but you couldn’t exactly explain it. You still can’t explain it. In many ways, you don’t want to explain it. To explain things like this is to oversimplify them. To oversimplify them is to reduce them to something that doesn’t even come close to doing justice to the absolute beauty of the original situation, and you wouldn’t dare vandalize your memories like that.

You were in it for the long summer days when you rode your bikes around the neighborhood in the hot sun, ate popsicles and ice cream sandwiches on the back porch while they melted and made your fingers and hands sticky; for the nights that you sat at the side of the pool at dusk, exhausted from swimming for the entire day and listening to the radio blast the songs of summer… singing along, enjoying life, enjoying each other, enjoying being young, foolish, and ignorant. Most importantly, you enjoyed being, for the first time in your long 13 years of life, genuinely and unconditionally happy.

You were in it because you wanted to be. You were in it because you had to be. You didn’t realize it then, and you don’t fully grasp it now, but those days built you. It is true to say that those days are your past, but you often fail to realize that those days are also your present and your future, and to convince yourself otherwise is to do yourself a great injustice.

Certain bands and songs characterized that summer, and even as you hear them today, your mind immediately snaps back to those times and you are, for a moment, as genuinely happy-go-lucky as you once were. Sixpence None the Richer, Third Eye Blind, Eagle Eye Cherry, Sugar Ray, Barenaked Ladies… the list goes on and on. Some of the bands that you loved were one hit wonders, but you still dust off your old CD’s sometimes and give them a listen. Somehow, you always know which song you need to hear and you sing along, loudly and off-key, just like always.

During that summer, every sensory perception became seemingly more vivid. The smell of freshly cut grass will forever remind you of that summer, because you lived outside, and somewhere a lawnmower was always running. The smell of grass and gasoline was ever-present around you. You ran through backyards with wet, bare, feet and the grass clumped around your legs and stuck between your toes. The feeling of your bare, calloused feet walking on the smooth painted yellow lines on the hot asphalt road, because you had figured out that the lines were much cooler than the rest of the road. The feeling of your feet squishing into the black tar patches that were put into the cracks and potholes.

The haze of heat mixed with the unmistakable smell of gasoline. The musty smell of the old house that you broke into until it was sold and new owners moved in. You went in through a window that wasn’t locked, and you pretended. You lived out your entire adult lives together. You pretended that it was haunted and you could see ghosts. Sometimes, you still think you did.

You were in it for the silly games you played once it got dark. Hide and seek. Capture the flag. Just running around and chasing each other until you fall to the ground, grass staining your bare knees, dirt smudging your face, and laughing until it hurts.

You were in it to sleep outside on the grass under the stars so you could sneak off to the girl's house once it got dark and everyone was asleep so you could explore each other until dawn when her father wakes up for work and you have to sneak away through the woods so he doesn’t catch you.

You were in it to leave your shoes and socks in the shade on the cold, damp grass while you waded through the streams in the woods, feeling your feet slip and slide over the slimy algae-covered rocks. You were in it to hide under bridges and talk, to sit by the lake behind the house, to play grown-up games, to dream about futures growing old together, to think that nothing would ever change and you would be this happy forever.

You were in it because you were young, naïve, and stupid. You were in it because it felt right, because you were happy, because it made sense, and because you didn’t want anything else. You couldn’t imagine anything better, because you didn’t want to. You didn’t need to. You wouldn’t dare to.

You were in it because you were irresponsible. You were irresponsible because you had no real responsibilities. No kids, no bills, no mortgages. Carefree.

You were in it, because that was your life. That was everything.

***

…Those are my memories, and tonight, I fall back on them, against my better judgment. But why? Maybe it’s that I never really grew up. Maybe I’m like Peter Pan and these memories are my Neverland, where every possibility is a reality and everything carries the weight and burden of being infinite.

Maybe this is human nature. Jesus, does everyone do this? Oh, Christ, now I’ve done it. I always pledged to never fall for the same traps that everyone else finds themselves ensnared in, because I always thought I was better than that, smarter than that… that’s the egotistical asshole in me talking again. Oh shit, maybe I’m human after all…

So I guess the conclusion I’m coming to is that all of us do this. We all have these memories that we’ve willfully and almost delusionally forced to become, for us, the epitome of happiness. We’ve filtered out the impurities and cleansed them of anything that is distinctly not joyous, so that we have a point of reference for the rest of our lives…

***

In short, those memories are what you think of when times get bad.

Those are the days that you remember more than anything. Those are the days you think of after you break off relationships, after you have a rough week, after you’re fired from your job. Those are the places you go back to when you have nowhere else to turn. Those are the days that you think of when you come home early to find your wife in bed with another man. Those memories of being young and free-spirited are what you think of in your prison cell after the bars click home, the lights go out, and everything seems bleaker than ever.

Those are the days you think of when you're standing at the top of the bridge while police shout at you from the ground and helicopters circle around you while you’re watching the dark water churn below, looking for the courage to step off and the reasons not to. Those are the times that you think of as you're leaning out of your 18th story window, and those are the memories that frantically fly through your head while the street below rushes to meet you.

Those are the days, those are the memories, that help you through the hard times. The people, whom you haven't seen for years, are nothing more than the ghosts that get caught in the spider webs, fighting, against their better judgment, to escape. What are they doing today? You don’t know, and in a lot of ways, you don’t want to. You hate to acknowledge it, but it’s nice to be ignorant of reality, because that way you can keep your utopian, idealistic views of the people in your memories and you don’t have to face the fact that they, like you, have grown and changed.

They don’t just come during the bad times though. Those are also the days that you think of during your best times. Those are the days you remember right before you propose to the woman who will be your wife. Those are the places to which your mind wanders during your wedding. Those are the memories you think of while you're standing on the beach at sunset, looking out over the endless ocean while the waves roll over your feet and splash up around your ankles and the sun is grand but fading and you could live here forever and never want a single thing but this…

Those were the days when things were simple.

They are not simple anymore.

***

Now, the hurt is real. I no longer want pity from anyone. I just want to make the best I can with the reality of the situation, and to have everyone understand my reasons, my actions, and my intentions. I guess that’s the best I can hope for.

Tonight, I think about the fresh start, whenever that may come. I think about the opportunities ahead. I think about my present. I think about my gifts and my blessings. I understand.

Late at night, life is clear. Maybe it's because this is the only time of day when I can clear my mind enough to truly think. Maybe it's because I'm caught in the state between asleep and awake, and every dark corner of my mind is illuminated.

I can finally see that this is how life is. Life is a cycle of beginnings and endings, some at random, others staged, others accidental. Nothing happens because it is simply "meant to be." People enter and leave the dramatic plot of your life like actors on a stage doing what the script tells them. Relationships are broken at the end of the first scene, and new ones are forged in the second. Who knows what the third will bring?

At any rate, you must see the drama through. You start, you finish, you try, and you survive. You can't sleep, so you write, so you smoke, so you listen to the incessant tick-ticking of your watch; you lay awake, tossing and turning, watching the wedge of light under the door waiting for a bomb to drop or a meteor to hit or an earthquake to split your room in two and leave you stretched across the chasm, fighting for handholds. You want a life or death situation so you can know that you're alive, so that you can feel the blood coursing and pulsing and rushing through your veins and so you can move forward knowing that your time is limited and that you should do something, anything while you can.

“Carpe diem,” they say. Sometimes, that’s easier said than done.

You want to play chicken with a train. You want to see those tons of steel and machinery plowing forward towards you, knowing that it’s not going to stop and wait for you to move and that it can end you if it, and you, wants to. You want the reassurance that you have something to live for, and you want the reassurance that you’ll be able to sidestep it at the last second and live a fuller, more meaningful life afterwards.

You want to be able to see your own ending, if only for a second. Your mind wanders. You think, you reflect, and you learn. In a lot of ways, you need this pain to force you into this kind of situation where you are forced to make a decision about who you really are and where you go from here and how you get on. But then again, that’s life. Some days you understand why things are the way they are, and some days you don't. You look, you seek, you find, you love, you hate, you desire, you lust, you sin, you anger.

In short, you live.

***