FINAL COLUMN

Dreaming of Places

Dreaming of Places by ~finalcolumn on deviantART

Tags: other worlds, science fiction, spacescapes, star trek

Warning

Milk Scare by ~finalcolumn on deviantART

Tags: blog, GIMP, milk

Empty

Empty by ~finalcolumn on deviantART

Tags: deviant art, GIMP

Soundtracks of Our Lives

Many would admit to thinking of themselves, even if but for a glancing moment, as the star of a movie about their own lives. Funny, right? We’re so self-absorbed and egotistical to think our lives are interesting enough to warrant a motion picture … though I’m sure we have all seen movies far less interesting than our own lives. Anyway, in our imaginary autobiographical films, our level of involvement does not stop at lead protagonist; we assume the roles of the director, cameraman, wardrobe specialist, art designer, makeup artist and musical director. Right?! Don’t fool yourself if you think otherwise.

2v and myself are creatives in our own right, and are currently in the process of writing a movie script. While the process has been postponed, slightly, due to some sensitive issues on my part, I cannot help but see a lot of myself in the screenplay, just as I am sure 2v does. It is as close to realizing those passing moments when someone says, “my life is totally like a movie” as one can get. All it takes is…countless hours to get the plot laid out and dialogue set…and then countless extra hours for editing & storyboarding for flow.

While the process often falls into the technical (and pseudo-creative) hands and interpretations of others after it leaves you–just as all authorship does after one’s text reaches print and thereafter detached itself from authority–I still feel essential to the process. And damn it, there are songs I intentionally play or just hear in my head given the circumstance of the plot. And, in order for certain moments to feel more real, those songs must be played, like we sometimes do in our heads.

For example, in the morning when I’m performing the “morning ritual,” you have no idea how many times I’ve hummed “When the S**t Goes Down” by Cypress Hill. While driving, it’s always some fastpaced techno song, like “Sandstorm” by Darude. When about to make sweet love, maybe some Classical Chopin or Beethoveen…or Bluegrass…Hahaha.

I suppose that the point of this blog entry is am examination of the role that music plays in our lives. It sets mood, establishes atmosphere, and eccentuates both the positives & negatives in life. In my case, it is also longed for to echo my mood. I don’t know.

So I leave it up to anyone who cares: how important is music to the movie of your own life? And while you’re at it…how many hats do you wear in the production of your autobiographical film?

The Sacrifice

The cogs are in motion for a full-scale catastrophe. Some will gaze at the debacle in disbelief, jaws dropped to the floor, while drawing breath in short anticipatory pants. I shall hence forth refer to such onlookers as the “bewildered rationalist,” never before have I seen a powder keg the size & likes of this. A potential quagmire, a chimera, the end of days. For some of us anyway…the rest will be saved. Praise Jeebus!

Others will look upon the scene and hold it as a time for celebration. They’ll kneel in their churches & temples, dance in the streets, and exhaust the supplies of large banquet halls.

The sprockets keep on turning, keep on spinning, keep on turning…as though they never remembered having sat idle. And amidst the commotion, a son of Adam and a daughter of Eve will throw themselves into the gears. Like self-sacrificial lambs…the fools. They offer their lives to ages of tradition, standards, conventions–all those irrationalities that distinct man from beast. Indeed any choice dictated by the unnatural order of things is the failure of the cognizant. The failure to recognize our own mammility.

It is a ceremonius event, this holy offering. I, myself, was recently afforded the opportunity to bear witness to one such events from an honored position. I, a bewildered rationalist, was chosen to wear the traditional sacrificial vestments and watch as my life-long friend took the plunge. And while I was flattered to be chosen to bear witness, I just didn’t get it at first. I resisted…and this was the motivation for this piece. It wasn’t until I saw a single tear in my dear friend’s eye, and saw how he gave one last look to his family, his friends, and the life he’d built, that it all made sense to me.

It wasn’t a tear of sadness, not likes the ones we often shed (either out of emotion or for show) but rather a tear of joy and satisfaction. How often can we honestly shed those types of tears?! A tear of both jubilation and content. 

Then it all made sense–we do this because if we don’t, we deny ourselves our humanity. And if we don’t have that, we have nothing for which to aspire. And, so as to carry on in Socratic Method, if we have nothing for which to aspire, then we no purpose outside of carrying on the species.  And that’s a sad thought.

Perhaps someday this bewildered rationalist will join rank.  Perhaps someday, I will take the plunge.  In fact, I know that someday I too will gladly hurl myself into the mills of humanity.

Tags: cogs, rationalist, sacrifice, wedding