Incite Full

A giant pet peeve of mine is people who argue on pure emotion. It’s not the emotion that bothers me, but the fact people get caught up in it. When that happens, a lot people will say anything to prove they are right. To them, being right is more important than being correct. I can understand that. Being right feels good. Being right is what a lot of people are paid to do. But it’s not the only thing.

Some people don’t just need to be right, they need others to be wrong.

When a person’s value doesn’t stem from their own deeds or ideas, there is a problem. When they knock other people down to build themselves up, that’s a problem. This can take many forms: making fun of disabled or overweight people, criticizing clothing choices, out of hand dismissal of other ideas, and more. But the one that causes me the most grief is the aforementioned powerful drive to be “right.”

What I see most wrong with it is that is devalues the idea of truth and facts. As I get older, I realize there are fewer truths in life. Quite the opposite, I see things that I always held close seem to fall apart. When I was a kid, the future was filled with flying cars, all jobs were fire fighters, police officers, doctors, lawyers and sports stars, and anyone in my class could do anything they wanted. A lot of those things fell apart, some quicker than others. Because of that, I feel we owe it to ourselves to find the truth whenever possible, to not accept anything less when it’s out there. That’s why I have a problem with this blinding drive to be right.

The idea of right is the one that doesn’t exist in a vacuum. The one that takes two people, ideas, or beliefs to exist. When that happens, we are more focused on the act of arguing itself, and turning it into a competition- the end goal isn’t ultimate discovery. The end goal is being right- no matter what it takes.

I suppose that is why anecdotal arguments are useless, a lot of the time. Nothing to prove, really- and how can you argue against them? Numbers, citations, expert opinion are valid, but “I heard…” isn’t really as effective. And that’s how experts become experts- they don’t simply parrot things they’ve heard (which is moderately better than making things up). Experts analyze and deduce, they formulate ideas and create thought experiments (or “real” ones) to test them and see if they are valid. But this rigor is not common to most people. In fact, quite the opposite, our culture of “you’re special” means we rarely tell our kids they are wrong. I know people who will not say “no” to their kids, I’ve read about people who sue McDonald’s because they make it hard to say no to their kids. If our kids don’t understand right and wrong, or that it’s OK to be wrong, then we’re creating more problems for them in the future.

Oh boy, I’m about to use an anecdote to further my point.

In high school, I had a few teachers who would ask questions and then call on students. This is standard. But when they gave answers, incredibly wrong ones at times, the teacher would give a tepid reaction. “Ehhhh, kind of.” This drove me nuts- most of the times these questions aren’t difficult- they didn’t require original thought, simply regurgitating information in the book or what’s written on the board.

To show a stark contrast, I had a math professor in college answer my question by proving, mathematically, that it made no sense. That was brutal. Of course no one in class laughed because they were all as lost as I was- the ones who would laugh didn’t came to that particular class because it was easy. Now this didn’t prove to me that being wrong was ok, but it was a lot better than my professor leading me to believe I was remotely close. I value his honesty in retrospect.

When I started to write this, I was confused and jaded by a type of person. I even went back, after the argument, and looked up the facts to prove them wrong- but that’s when I realized that proving that person wrong wouldn’t stop them from being who they are- it’s deeper than that. And it wouldn’t make me feel better either, in fact, I would probably feel worse by bringing it up to them. Now that I’ve written through my thoughts, I understand now that i’m not upset by this type of person. Sure, it’s irritating. But it’s more about something permeating our culture. Not academic rigor, but intellectual curiosity. Being wrong is OK as long as you learn from it.

Wow, did you see that game? The NCAA Men’s championship game, between Butler and UConn was hands down one of the worst games I’ve ever watched. Don’t get me wrong- the kids played their hearts out, and they put every ounce of effort into the game that they had. For UConn it was 2 heavy weight bouts that they won- one by knock out in the Big East tournament, and the other, a sloppy decision after 12 rounds in Butler.

Butler, on the other hand, did the unthinkable- back to back final runs for a mid major. If the game was played by hearts alone, Butler hands down wins this one going away. I’m not going to lie, with all the shadiness surrounding Connecticut, I was hoping for a Bulldog win. That has nothing to do with the kids playing for the Huskies, but it’s something I can’t forget- and Yes, I am a USC trojan. I don’t freak out when kids take money, or boosters slip a kid fifty bucks after a game, but coaches acting, lying, and just breaking just about every rule in the book is something I actively cheer against. See Ohio State.

The game, though, was really the culmination of an interesting year in NCAA Basketball, and a few years of the infamous “And One” rule. Players being forced to play a year in college before going pro might be exciting, but they are essentially mercenaries hired to win a championship. The past few years we’ve seen senior heavy teams, the likes of Butler and VCU make valiant charges into the late rounds of the tournament only to lose in heartbreaking fashion. Last year Butler had NBA Talent, this year- not so much. And we’re seeing a lot of this, good, solid teams without that wow player beating teams that don’t have the chemistry to compete in those pressure situations.

But don’t believe that upsets are good basketball- they may be exciting, but it’s only great basketball when some storybook ending or amazing play elevates the Cinderella to titanic heights, not when erratic shooting meets sloppy turnovers and a dozen charges. And the thing is, they almost has us fooled. We almost bought into the magical season of this tournament, and all the upsets and spectacles- the Mooreheads and the Rams.

Again, this is not about the players on the court, but the system that put them there. The system that hung them out to dry with fatigue and inexperience. It’s a shame that it happened on a night when everyone is watching. Bill Simmons was not terribly far off when he said that Women’s basketball caught up. Not sure I believe him, but I do believe the most explosive and dominant player in college basketball, wears number 24 for UConn.

Quotations are an interesting thing. Sometimes I’ll be feeling a thought about something; food, defeat, happiness- anything, and I can Google a listing of quotes that refer to this. It’s a really simply way of finding the exact words to describe a feeling that i’m having, or a thought too intricate for me to do justice in the time I have. After all, if someone has already said it best, “steal from them and go out strong.”

There are problems with this, however. And it’s not what you’re thinking. Let me back up, I don’t mean to be presumptuous.

I take an issue with the ability to take a feeling as complex as love or hate, throw it into google, and be satisfied with the result, although I often do this. There are a handful of quotes I can pick from memory, but they don’t often apply. I can’t quote Palahniuk’s rebel yell against consumerism if I’m not feeling that same emotion. The square peg doesn’t always fit.

No, the issue is these quotes have no meaning to me personally. They are filtered out of their original context and placed on a page because they share a word or two with other famous sayings. The problem with this, in my opinion, is that these lines are often the fuse on the powder keg. By this I mean there is a  motif or theme building up to these all-too-poetic, transcendent words. I feel these are sublime moments for the author, the white whale of their novel- the words aren’t right for weeks, months, or years and then, they fall onto the page and are nothing else but perfect.

Who am I to cheat an author out of his work? To disregard the rest of those novel thoughts and words without which the quotation wouldn’t be powerful, quotable. These authors didn’t have google or yahoo or whatever the new, flavor-of-the-day search engine is- they read everything, made notes in the margin, wrote letters to their friends recommending books. We have it too easy now- so easy to be lazy and allow others to do the work for us.

I’ve started to write down the quotes and things that move me, that make me step back from the page and think to myself about what I read. Those moments don’t come fast enough, which is good, but what is true about them is they conjure up a thought and emotion in me. Something that is mine. It was me that witnessed the creation of a thought, that inkling of wonder or serendipity. It’s as if we have thought all of these things before, but the words are  l’esprit d’escalier; the words find us only after we need them.

Enough of that.

Today ended the first season of softball in my competitive league. We definitely came in last palce, which is altogether fine. I’m not worried about it, and we ended up going out to celebrate, or at the very worst commiserate, our season long struggle. I had an absolutely terrible offensive day, which I guess is forgivable seeing as how we lost by 12- Not much I could have done to sway the tide.

Speaking of tide, I’m starting to get tired of some cliched analogies: ocean, road, and car metaphors. If there are things in the world that are mentally grating to me, those are them. For some reason I don’t need to hear you are drowning in anything, an inspirational moment is not like coming up for air, and Robert Frost and Yogi Berra can talk about forks in the road, but you probably should leave it to them.

Why isn’t life like a bicycle? In fact, I like it better. Think about it this way: A bicycle is clean, ehalthy, self-powered, self-started, complicated gears working together to make things easier. If something is off, the bike moves forward but more difficultly, if things are really bad, you’re stuck. Compare to a car: Needs fuel, protects those doing the driving from the elements and the world, forward and reverse with a large turning radius- this isn’t life it’s a condom. It’s protection, keeping you from whatever is out there.

Let’s all agree to move on from the car analogies then. Perfect.

Ok, so lately i’ve been reading a lot about our food system and how it works. Well, how it doesn’t work is probably a more apt phrase but I’ll get into that later. The thing is, I’m surrounded by several people that often talk about things such as factory farming, vegetarians, geneticly modified seeds, and the fact that chickens cannot turn around in their cages. Even with all of that around, I was able to tune it out.

I’m not sure how it really happened, but I’ve decided to make quite a change in my diet. I’ve decided to give up factory farmed foods as much as possibly. This will entail quoite a cutdown on my meat intake, which is probably for the best, but it doesn’t rule it out completely. I’m trying to plant/grow some of my own food and when that’s not possible, I’m going to purchase my food from farmer’s markets and other reputable, local and/or organic sellers.

I recently purchased a grass fed steak and cooked it like i would any other steak. While the meat was definitely leaner and the texture a bit different, the taste was absolutely amazing. I’ve heard that grain fed produce a more marbled piece of meat, and therefore more tender and juicy, but I could not have been happier with mine. Honestly, South Americans have been eating grass fed beef for their entire lives, and they clearly know what they are doing, so maybe it’s the American palate that is accustomed to our grain fed cows.

I’m not going to try and convince you (yet) to this until I’ve walked the walk, so to speak, for a while, but I assure you the day is coming.

I will convince you, however, to stop using the word “just.” I will of course allows it’s use in certain situations, like when talking about just anger, as I believe I have for a word in this case, or a play or novel where one wants to show a certain voice for a character, but in all actuality, the word brings absolutely nothing to the table. Think about it this way and the following few sentences.

I just ate an entire sandwich.
Don’t question me, just do it.
I just can’t do it, I’m too afraid.

Does the word bring you any closer to waht the person is saying? You just ate? does that mean 2 minutes ago? Half hour? An Hour? It’s as ambiguous as “I Ate,” which, by the way, I much prefer. The next two implicitly give a reason for soemthing. But what’s the reasoning? Do it, in all accounts, is a stronger more forceful sentence, isn’t it? I don’t udnerstand the use of this word, and the mere fact that it has “just” 10 definitions is a little mind boggling.

I won’t condemn others for using it. It’s not as hot of an issue as irregardless, or using “good” when you mean “well,” but I hope someday it will reach the same weight as those.

In other news, I’ve gone and purcahsed a slew of books. My current reading list includes:

Blindness
Dear American Airlines
Omnivore’s Dilemma
Pygmy
Gravity’s Rainbow
In Search of Lost Time
Freakonomics
Catcher in the Rye

That outta keep me busy.

By the way, you should probably read Blindness, as it’s an amazing book thus far, and one of the few works i’ve read where an author is fully able to redefine the rules of language to stress their point.

It’s hard to put into words what love actually is. Not hugs and kisses, but to describe the indescribable. To express exactly what it is to a person who would otherwise not know. In some respects, it’s easier to explain it to a child in terms of how they feel about their mother or father. But that’s the “easy” type of love, the kind of love that everyone has for someone, whether it be parent or friend.

Today I saw it for the first time in a long time.

Gabe and Danielle got married today, and it was a great ceremony and reception. The music was great and the readings and prayer for the service were about as perfect as such a thing could be. What struck me about it all came near the end of the service, before “The kiss,” when we were to all silently take in one of the readings. Everyone on stage was fidgeting, uncomfortable with the silence. Some were swaying, others were darting their eyes to their friends or around the church.

But Gabe and Danielle, Mr. and Mrs. Hohrieter, were simply standing there looking at each other. It was one of those looks where a cracked smile said more than either of them could say verbally. Standing there holding hands, I felt like I was let in on some secret they have.

And it was incredible. Obviously I knew they cared about one another. They are perfect together, after all, but seeing that let me in on what a relationship can and should be like. I wrote on a not that I was jealous of them (in a joking tone) but the more and more I think of it, I am. Not a scornful jealous, but a happy for them feeling i’ve not really felt before. It’d be easy to be a tad bitter and scornful what with my recent relationship woes, but I can’t be. First of all being Danielle’s friend, but second of all I should hope we’re all as lucky as those two.

Congratulations D and Gabe, you guys have a long, exciting life ahead of you. And plenty of relatives to babysit free of charge.

I also went to the Phillies vs Dodgers game Friday night. I went with Jordan and his friends from The Shack, a Philadelphia sports bar with much love for all things Eagle, Phlyer, Phillie and 76er. The group is an eclectic bunch, from guys looking like Matisyahu and Scott Stapp, and girls on gluten free diets to those who can talk trash and moon other drivers. That being said, man they are a lot of fun. The game was going well until towards the end and alcohol had set in for the Dodger fans.

I swear I’ve never been pelted with more food items and beverages in my entire life than I was last night. After the Dodger fans went ahead and won the game, insults were thrown even further than the hotdogs with which these douchebags were armed. Now I didn’t really have a problem with it and partially expected it coming in. But they should have at least been men about it all. The girls in our troupe (said mooner and gluten-free femmes) were the target of most of the thrown items, and one guy, apparently, took a swing at one of the girls. I wish I had seen it, but unfortunately I wasn’t around at that point.

Imagine a grown man swinging at a girl over a baseball game. Stay classy, Los Angeles. And as much as I know it’s not indicative of all fans, it shows you that there are fans and people out there going Robert Deniro over this shit like they are playing in the actual game. My favorite is the asshole who’s talking shit from the left bleacher, only to run away when we saw him in the parking lot. The best way to describe it: The bleachers at Dodgers stadium are most like the internet; Anonymity plus opinion equals incredibly stupid behavior.

Making matters worse was the “security” in the park. They were too busy hassling a bunch of phillie fans for their tickets and ensuring they were sitting in the right spot instead of kicking out said douchebags hurling shit at us. Can’t remember the official who came and talked to us, but he looked like Squeak from Basketball. This guy was more interested in being our friend than actually fixing the problem, a quality I find loathsome in human beings.

I’m not perfect, but I’m not afraid to disappoint people once and a while either. There are about 4-6 girls in my past life you can confirm this with. But honestly, the expression “Don’t piss on my and tell me it’s raining” is apt here. Tell me you can’t do shit about it, don’t tell me “We can’t watch everyone,” because either way you’re failing at your job, but one way I don’t expect change. And pro-tip: If I get upset and swear, calling something “fucking ridiculous,” threatening to kick me out is a baller move. Apparently swearing is higher on the pantheon of crimes at dodger stadium than throwing a plate of nachos. At least put jalapeños on it, spice up my life.

The point of my rant is that I’m not even a Phillie fan. They are fun to watch, and i don’t mind cheering for them from time to time (but they still beat the brewers and we can’t have that happening). But I am even more of an anti-Los Angeles fan than I can describe, but I’ll try. LA Fans, go back to your freeway congested, smog filled, band-wagon jumping, waitering because you can’t act, more plastic than a matel factory, bottled water drinking, bad driving, over-populated, 7-dollar-beer selling, slicked-back or shaved head, blond or dyed blond, groupie gathering, twenty-dollar micro salad, paparazzi infested latrine that feels less and less like home than it does a pit stop on my journey through life.

Kind of wish I didn’t hit my 1000 word limit in anger, but I’ll take it. Gearing up for nanowrimo.