Passions of Individuality

I cannot sit here and exclaim to this page that I am passionate about any selfless cause or benevolent organization. I cannot write that I give any more of a thought to the welfare of a suffering people in a remote place than the turtles in the pond that I watch give to me. Passion connotes a grave, often empathetic emotion, so please do not deem me crass yet. When I launch Firefox and the New York Times website pops up as my homepage, the stories of terrorism, abuse, and injustice evoke sympathetic emotions from me, but those emotions can only be characterized by a capricious levity that soon escape me as I continue my browsing. So the task of writing about my greatest passions is immediately a difficult one. The more I confronted the topic, however, the more my vision of passion was corrected. What I feel most passionate about spawned the roots of my struggle—myself. I am not any more narcissistic or conceited than we are all genetically engineered to be, so it is not a passion of selfishness.

Evolution occured only because of this fact that we must indeed concern ourselves with primarily ourselves

Rather, it is a passion of individuality and the unique self—my unique self. But this idea, this passion, in order to connect to something greater than myself, is tied with another—a passion for doing my best. I feel strongly about these ideas, so much so that I say am passionate about them, and I think they are the basis of what creates more than just a purely biological ecosystem of humans—they create human society.

When I first thought of my passions I thought of soccer. It is the one sport, the one activity, the one culture that I am inextricably a part of, and it is a part of me. But how does a game connect to something greater than what I can make of it?

In all honesty, soccer, along with all sports, is a rather mundane activity

In many ways, it connects to nothing bigger, except to the many non-Americans of this world who contrive to make it everything. I think professional sports lack substance and too many people derive meaning from them. I think ESPN is silly. But I think that my playing soccer allowed me to connect to something bigger, and the same goes for all who play any sport competitively. Soccer allowed me to be a part of a team that is a microcosm of society (several teams, actually, but the concept is of the whole, not of its parts). Players are sorted into positions not based on arbitrary or hierarchal reasons but because each player brings a unique skill-set to the team as a whole—each player is an individual. Defenders should not act like forwards, nor should midfielders tend goal. A coach is the entity that brings these aspects together, to foster individuality for the sake of the whole. It is the coach’s leadership vision that produces this greater team out of all the players that act as they must—as individuals.

It sounds ironic to use a sports analogy to promote individualism, as the concept of “team” connotes the idea of community and networking. But at its base, this concept is driven by the absolute principle that we can only be ourselves. Why would a forward ever want to act like a goalie though? More broadly, why would anyone want to be another? Extending this analogy further, out of the athletic realm and into the social one, I think it becomes clear. Society revolves heavily around image and far too much on emulation. Those who are not popular often try to act like those who are. This classification is entirely arbitrary, yet many deem it gospel, and it is a bastardization of what society is based upon. Individualism is what makes us human. In essence, I see it as the primary manifestation of enlightenment. How can two turtles be differentiated without regard to physical attributes? Genetically, we are 99.5% the same as a banana. The remaining .5% of the genome accounts for the less than subtle physical difference, but it is our individuality that provides us with that “human” element, that enlightenment. Thus it is our responsibility to the rest of mankind to be unique. Without variability, we have only one sum that is perfectly divisible by all of its parts. With it, we create a much different whole that is far greater than such a sum. It is not so much an option to be unique as it is an obligation. As the UT crest states, “Cultivated mind is the guardian genius of democracy” (X305). Individuality, as much as education, is the cultivator.

For those reasons, I try to be myself, as tired an aphorism it may be, but I consider it a passion for different reasons. I strive to do the best that I can in all schools of life—athletic, academic, social, moral—and that drive is closely related to my desire to be myself. I am heavily driven by success, not so much to call it a passion of mine to succeed but at least one to present the best that I have. Bob Dylan said it best, “All I can do is be me, whoever that is.” I continually struggle to find out who I am, what my dreams are, what my pilgrimage is.

Inevitably, the pilgrimage always takes this shape:

To be honest, I am yet to find a more tangible cause that I feel strongly about other than the cause of the self, but in this uncertainty I find the validation of my quest as a passion in itself. I am not impervious to outside influences, no one is. But I exalt in the fact that I do not let those influences redirect me without a genuine consideration of my own. I let these factors change who I am in ways that I want them to. Whether for good or for bad, I am myself. As with a soccer team, my individuality connects me to things greater than myself. Society and the existence of humankind as a dominant species is based upon individuality and by contributing exactly what makes me unique to others, I contribute to the greater purpose—the whole. More and more, my reflections on this passion and the ideas of unity and university bring me back to the efforts of the ancient Greeks.

I used this same picture in a previous blog entry, but it represents the same idea. The remains of the Lyceum are far more than rubble:

Given nothing, they formed everything: science as a whole can be traced back to them. This discovery is due to the fact that men such as Aristotle, Thales, and Plato observed life and drew conclusions that no one had before. I do not admire these men because they possessed a brilliant understanding of what is now known as science—they were egregiously misguided regarding many subjects—but because they formed these conclusions independent of the beliefs of others. The ancient contributions of these men were useless by themselves but invaluable in society. These legitimate, genuine, whole-hearted observations, conclusions, and opinions led to further understanding and further questioning. Each gave his own spin, each played his own position until team society eventually hammered into unity the sciences.

A particular scene in the movie Garden State comes to mind when I think of individuality.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNnyNbYVm0g

It involves Natalie Portman making an awkward noise accompanied with an even more awkward dance. She does because it makes her feel completely unique, because she knows that no one has ever done that exact dance and made that exact noise in that exact spot ever before. One of the main messages that the movie conveys, as is pertinent to this topic, is to be yourself. In that scene, we see the natural bliss of being completely original sometimes and thus the importance of a collective individuality. Josh Campbell writes, “Follow your bliss” (X71). I follow my bliss, and my bliss births forth from the knowledge that I have done something unique and of my own accord—that I have done something me. And thus I will follow it. Further, leadership at its base is about bringing out the best in those whom you lead. I cannot think of a more beneficial leadership vision than one that inspires us to be ourselves. For, in the end, that is all we can be.

The Greeks had it down

In the survey that I filled out for Bump in the middle of the summer, I wrote that the reason I wanted to go to college was because I did not know what else to do. At the time, I think that was a correct answer, or at least as correct as an answer to that question could have been. Now that I am here, however, I realize why it is that I am: I want to be an intellectual, educated being. The purpose of a university is, after all, to make those. But the more important question that needs to be asked is how a university accomplishes that, more specifically, how this university accomplishes that, and even more, how this major accomplishes that. Even further, this question lurks: what is an intellectual, educated being?

Not everyone is born one:

According to John Henry Newman, “all branches of knowledge are connected together, because the subject-matter of knowledge is intimately united in itself” (X308). Knowledge is the lynchpin in this process of education, but it is not an end, as Newman later discusses. The reason why I am in Plan II is because of this fact (actually, the reason is probably because I didn’t get into Stanford). The idea of education is not absolute knowledge but knowledge combined with a limitless creativity, an inspiration for critical thinking, analysis, and synthesis, and a desire to understand and not necessarily know. I cannot think of a more tailor-made curriculum and structure for this purpose than that which has been prescribed for us. Real education is that which provides us with the ability to form our own opinions and make our own decisions not from scratch but from a well of thought that is inevitably hammered into us as we bear the rigors of our schooling. How often do we say something along the lines of “Forget this. When am I ever going to need to know this?” when we become frustrated with our studies? A lot. But that is, paradoxically, the point. We learn these seemingly time-consuming facts and write papers and solve equations not so that we can memorize our answers and conclusions, but so we can have practice at the art of forcing ourselves to think about things that are foreign to us. Bump’s theory of “discovery learning” is exactly that, “Active learning supports the belief that knowledge can be constructed by you rather than received from a higher authority” (X343D). We learn so that we can grasp. Newman’s statement that, “The eye of the mind, of which the object is truth, is the work of discipline and habit” (X312) goes hand-in-hand with Bump’s theory. The fact that F=MA isn’t going to help us push a heavy rock up a steep hill, but a background in engineering and overall critical thinking and problem solving will.

Pure knowledge leads to a mere Sisyphian struggle:

I remember almost nothing from my 9th-11th grade history classes spanning from the period of ancient civilizations to the end of the Cold War, but the “work of discipline and habit” is enough for me to be able to grasp as a big picture the course of history, the development of civilization, and the reflections of the present onto the past, or vice-versa. Despite what the “Origin of University” says, the first universities were indeed Plato’s Academy, Aristotle’s Lyceum, and Epicurus’ Garden.

The remains of The Lyceum are far more than what is physically left:

The article states that the Academy, “taught its students philosophy, mathematics, and gymnastics” (X341). But that is far from what made these original schools of Greek thought special. As I have been thinking about the origins of science in Dr. Weinberg’s Modes of Reasoning class, I am beginning to understand what it really means to be an intellectual. The original philosophers and their students alike had no books to teach them about physics or math. They had only their minds, and in the present’s technological splendor, we owe everything to them. The original scientists were called philosophers rather than scientists because science did not exist. As the course description implies, they invented it. Let me write that again: they invented science. Talk about right brain-ness. Honestly, did the left side even exist back then? I doubt it, and I am thankful. Who cares that many of Aristotle’s theories and ideas were terribly wrong, he came up with them from nothing but his own observations. In the present, we are responsible for this same kind of thought process, but we already have the gift of previous knowledge. Through a university, “A habit of mind is formed which lasts through life, of which the attributes are,[sic] freedom, equitableness, calmness, moderation, and wisdom” (X309). The desire for this habit is what drives me in my quest to be educated.



As the words on the UT crest translate, “Cultivated mind is the guardian genius of democracy” (X305).


It is our responsibility, more than anything else, not to memorize formulas and dates and equations, but to employ the curiosity that originally engaged our desire for this knowledge in new, creative, and abstract ways. Our individual and daily encounters in the classroom and our studies build the left-side of our brains, but it is the journey and quest for that knowledge that fosters the right.


Although it may have been cool to say that I got in to Stanford, the words “I am in Plan II” resound. At least in mine.

Alice in Wonderland, in hindsight.

Let me start by saying that I am not a theater person. My ability to discern between good and bad acting is non-existent. That being said, my infantile reactions to the play as a whole, not unlike Alice's reactions to the ridiculous nature of Wonderland, will be genuine and unbiased, if not credible. Here goes:

I have not read or seen or thought about Alice in Wonderland since I first watched the Disney version of it no less than twelve years ago. My knowledge of the plot is lacking, and so I was confused at times as to exactly what was happening. I do not think that is a fault of the production however, any more than it is of the convolutions of reality that the story calls for. Nonetheless, the show left me rife with glee and a childlike satisfaction with something that I did not fully understand. I think a large part of this entertainment was due to the actress that played Alice. Her performance did not grasp me in anyway, but I think she played the role exactly how it was meant. Alice was annoying and beautifully ignorant. What more could be asked of her? I don’t know, honestly. Her first acquaintance in the play, the Rabbit, was not as good. His constant panic was annoying when, unlike for the role of Alice, it was not called for. He was overly jumpy and not a very good singer.

Other things that I liked:

The Mad Hatter—what a pimp. I see now why Bump wears that thing (potential Halloween costume, anyone?). Beyond that infatuation with him, the actor was very good. His eerie voice fit the role very well, and he had one of the better singing voices.

The Cheshire Cat—I think she played her role the best. Her grin, even without makeup, was entirely too creepy. This character, from what I remember of the plot, is supposed to be the most mysterious of a group characterized by mystery, and the actress left me wondering. She had the best voice in the show, as well.

The Caterpillar—her makeup was incredible, her accent—very fitting (during the speaking parts at least). And she has obviously been to a lot of hookah bars.

The Play (or musical?) as a whole—much like Austyn talked about, I don’t think you can really put on a bad show of Alice in Wonderland. It is far too colorful a story to have left me unsatisfied. Talk about right brain work at its best—Lewis Carroll is awesome. Especially considering the topic of our last discussion board, this was the perfect time to see this. I feel comforted, almost, and inspired by Alice’s journey to find her place as I (we) try to find mine (ours).

Lyrics of the Freshman Condition

Nostalgia: “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” by The Beatles:

I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at the floor and I see it need sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps

I don't know why nobody told you
how to unfold you love
I don't know how someone controlled you
they bought and sold you

I look at the world and I notice it's turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps

I don't know how you were diverted
you were perverted too
I don't know how you were inverted
no one alerted you

I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at you all
Still my guitar gently weeps

Oh, oh, oh
oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
oh oh, oh oh, oh oh
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
yeah yeah yeah yeah

“Sooner or Later” by Michael Tolcher:

I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at the floor and I see it need sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps

I don't know why nobody told you
how to unfold you love
I don't know how someone controlled you
they bought and sold you

I look at the world and I notice it's turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps

I don't know how you were diverted
you were perverted too
I don't know how you were inverted
no one alerted you

I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at you all
Still my guitar gently weeps

Oh, oh, oh
oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
oh oh, oh oh, oh oh
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
yeah yeah yeah yeah



Exile: “Scar Tissue” by The Red Hot Chili Peppers:

Scar tissue that I wish you saw
Sarcastic mister know it all
Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you ’cause
With the birds I’ll share
With the birds I’ll share
This lonely view
With the birds I’ll share
This lonely view

Push me up against the wall
Young Kentucky girl in a push-up bra
Fallin’ all over myself
To lick your heart and taste your health ’cause
With the birds I’ll share
This lonely view...

Blood loss in a bathroom stall
Southern girl with a scarlet drawl
Wave good-bye to ma and pa ’cause
With the birds I’ll share
With the birds I’ll share
This lonely view
With the birds I’ll share
This lonely view

Soft spoken with a broken jaw
Step outside but not to brawl
Autumn’s sweet we call it fall
I’ll make it to the moon if I have to crawl and
With the birds I’ll share
This lonely view...

Scar tissue that I wish you saw
Sarcastic mister know it all
Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you ’cause
With the birds I’ll share
With the birds I’ll share
This lonely view
With the birds I’ll share
This lonely view...



Loss: “Nothing Lasts Forever” by Maroon 5:

It is so easy to see
Dysfunction between you and me
We must free up these tired souls
Before the sadness kills us both

I tried and tried to let you know
I love you but I'm letting go
It may not last but I don't know
Just don't know

If you don't know
Then you can't care
And you show up
But you're not there
But I'm waiting
And you want to
Still afraid that I will desert you

Everyday
With every worthless word we get more far away
The distance between us makes it so hard to stay
But nothing lasts forever, but be honest babe
It hurts but it may be the only way

A bed that's warm with memories
Can heal us temporarily
The misbehaving only makes
The ditch between us so damn deep

Built a wall around my heart
I’ll never let it fall apart
But strangely I wish secretly
It would fall down while I'm asleep

If you don't know
Then you can't care
And you show up
But you're not there
But I'm waiting
And you want to
Still afraid that I will desert you, babe

Everyday
With every worthless word we get more far away
The distance between us makes it so hard to stay
But nothing lasts forever, but be honest babe
It hurts but it may be the only way

Tough we have not hit the ground
It doesn't mean we're not still falling,
Oh I want so bad to pick you up
But you're still too reluctant to accept my help
What a shame, I hope you find somewhere to place the blame
But until then the fact remains

Everyday
With every worthless word we get more far away
The distance between us makes you so hard to stay
Nothing lasts forever, but be honest babe
It hurts but it may be the only way

Everyday
With every worthless word we get more far away
The distance between us makes it so hard to stay
But nothing lasts forever, but be honest babe
It hurts but it may be the only way


Time: “First Day of My Life” by Bright Eyes:

This is the first day of my life
I swear I was born right in the doorway
I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed
They're spreading blankets on the beach

Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don’t know where I am
I don’t know where I’ve been
But I know where I want to go

And so I thought I’d let you know
That these things take forever
I especially am slow
But I realize that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange you said everything changed
You felt as if you'd just woke up
And you said “this is the first day of my life
I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you
But now I don’t care I could go anywhere with you
And I’d probably be happy”

So if you want to be with me
With these things there’s no telling
We just have to wait and see
But I’d rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery
Besides maybe this time is different
I mean I really think you like me

I am going to write a screenplay.

“Want to get ahead today? Forget what your parents told you. Instead, do something foreigners can’t do cheaper. Something computers can’t do faster. And something that fills one of the nonmaterial, transcendent desires of an abundant age” (Daniel H. Pink, pg X331).

Ever since I saw Superbad, I have remained convinced that I could write a successful screenplay. Nothing in the movie shocked me. I come from an all-boy high school—school life existed devoid of the inhibiting factor that is estrogen. More than anything else though, Superbad afforded me the opportunity to be my own third party perspective—to see on screen what my high school life was like. I won’t call it a profound sense of humor because that is not what I think I possess—more like an absolute degradation and defilement of what most would deem appropriate, and thus something that entertains when turned into film. Upon venturing into this realm of right brain versus left, the roots of my interest in the realm of filmmaking and screenplay writing grow deeper indeed.

My dad and I have conversed often about what I want to do after school, about what kind of career I would be interested in. I have no idea. He tells me I could be good at the practice of law. I have very little knowledge of what the “practice of law” entails, nor do I have a shred of interest in learning of the subject currently. He then tells me I am not allowed to live at home once I graduate from college. I have an interest in law.


The Scales of Justice: where is the fun in this picture?

Facetiousness aside, I could see myself attending law school and practicing it at some point in the future. Despite whatever level of enjoyment I could squeeze from so pragmatic a profession, where is the fun or the excitement or the adventure in reciting over and over again, “I am a lawyer.” A history teacher of mine from 11th grade once announced to our class, “Do what you love. Screw the rest.” Intrinsically paradigmatic with a lot of American society, this aphorism is the cause of my hesitance when the question is begged, “What are your ideas for a potential career?” These are the times when I think about that screenplay.

I have some great ideas for what I would put in it. As Covey writes, “your powerful right brain capacity can be a great help to you on a daily basis as you work to integrate your personal mission statement into your life. It’s another application of begin with the end in mind (132).” Fragments upon fragments of scenes, character exchanges, monologues, and plot lines appear in my head on a daily basis. The right side of my brain has envisioned enough of these fragments to write a film in its entirety. At some point I am going to have to do some left-brain work and put these bastards together. The end is indeed in mind, but the process is nowhere to be found.

After watching “Web 2.0,” I am inclined to think that a computer can help me put together my scenes (after I write them, of course). But even then, it is not that easy. I have a serious gripe with the makers of that video. It is sensationalist and attempts to promote a possibility that is still years down the line. Outside of communication and entertainment, computers and the web as a whole are nowhere near fully integrated, half-human robots that play catchy, new age beats in the background.

"Web 2.0" reminds me of this song:






Stephen Ehrmann says, “When [electronic] portfolios are used in [a helpful] way, the doorway to rapid, intentional evolution of liberal education opens” (328A). Does this “rapid evolution” mean that the left-brain tasks are going to be supplemented by computers? Exactly, so where is my screenplay? I need to get to Habit 3 first.