Thursday, July 29, 2010
Braddy Reads The Sociopath Next Door
Okay, so this book actually TERRIFIED me.
Martha Stout defines a “sociopath” as a person who, for some reason, does not have a conscience. Without love (or even hate) to motivate him, the only satisfaction such a person finds in life is through winning – often at the expense of anyone else around. A sociopath will do everything he can to succeed, no matter what the consequences to others.
A sociopath regards the idea of “love” with the same amount of emotional investment as the idea of “chair.” He can be anyone from a charming yet ruthless businessman to the sluggish layabout who refuses to get a job. She might even be the cranky old cat lady that calls the cops on you when your car is parked an inch too far out into the road. The only thing that ties all these people together is a complete lack of regard for the well-being of others.
Dr. Stout’s entire thesis revolves around a fantastic little statistic: one in 25 people in the world could clinically be considered a “sociopath.” Technically, that means of the 529 friends I have on Facebook, 21 of them lack the capacity to form REAL human attachments. Well, considering how effective Facebook is at cultivating “real human attachments,” that number is probably significantly higher, but you get my point.
The Sociopath Next Door is a good tool to help those who may have been victimized by a sociopathic individual to recover and protect themselves from being targeted again. Anyone else who reads it will get a few warm fuzzies from the author’s belief that, ultimately, a life lived for others is the most meaningful and that conscience IS superior to consciencelessness. They’ll also start into a paranoid tailspin, suddenly suspecting everyone around them of secretly plotting against them, until they start living in the space under their bed with a tin foil hat and a can of E-Z Cheeze.
You’re welcome.
Martha Stout defines a “sociopath” as a person who, for some reason, does not have a conscience. Without love (or even hate) to motivate him, the only satisfaction such a person finds in life is through winning – often at the expense of anyone else around. A sociopath will do everything he can to succeed, no matter what the consequences to others.
A sociopath regards the idea of “love” with the same amount of emotional investment as the idea of “chair.” He can be anyone from a charming yet ruthless businessman to the sluggish layabout who refuses to get a job. She might even be the cranky old cat lady that calls the cops on you when your car is parked an inch too far out into the road. The only thing that ties all these people together is a complete lack of regard for the well-being of others.
Dr. Stout’s entire thesis revolves around a fantastic little statistic: one in 25 people in the world could clinically be considered a “sociopath.” Technically, that means of the 529 friends I have on Facebook, 21 of them lack the capacity to form REAL human attachments. Well, considering how effective Facebook is at cultivating “real human attachments,” that number is probably significantly higher, but you get my point.
The Sociopath Next Door is a good tool to help those who may have been victimized by a sociopathic individual to recover and protect themselves from being targeted again. Anyone else who reads it will get a few warm fuzzies from the author’s belief that, ultimately, a life lived for others is the most meaningful and that conscience IS superior to consciencelessness. They’ll also start into a paranoid tailspin, suddenly suspecting everyone around them of secretly plotting against them, until they start living in the space under their bed with a tin foil hat and a can of E-Z Cheeze.
You’re welcome.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Confessions: Music
The following confessions are all true – if not in fact, then in spirit.
1 – The first time I heard the song “Jukebox Hero,” I was on my way to a night of Country Swing Dancing with a girl I was nuts about. I can’t help but think of her every time I hear the song – which was more memorable than every single country song I heard that night.
2 – I once saw one of “those” internet videos of a girl dancing to “Rock You like a Hurricane.” As a sensitive young Mormon boy that has never seen a girl’s leg above the lower edge of the kneecap, I’ve been emotionally scarred ever since. I can’t even LISTEN to the Scorpions anymore. I still beat Guitar Hero 3, but it was uncomfortable.
3 – On my way back from Flaming Gorge when I was about 13, I heard this song on the radio:
“Those were the days my friend!
We thought they’d never end.
We sang and laughed forever and a day.
We lived the life we’d choose,
We’d fight and never lose,
Those were the days. Oh yes, those were the days.”
I have never heard this song since. I still remember the words, I remember the sound of the woman's voice, but I don't know anything else about the song. I don't know who wrote it, who sang it, anything. I guess I could look it up or something, but I kinda enjoy having this ethereal mystery song from my past.
I first heard "American Pie" on that same car trip.
4 - A terrible day will turn into an awesome day if you hear three Doobie Brothers songs in a row. Fact.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Braddy Reads The Graveyard Book
I first learned of Neil Gaiman as one of the big names in comics writing. He’s most famous for writing the Sandman series, which helped launch DCs Vertigo imprint for mature readers… or something. I knew him best from the miniseries Books of Magic, which may actually be one of my favorite comic stories of all time.
Well, turns out, Mr. Gaiman’s also a novelist. I don’t care much for his “grown-up” books, but his children books are among my favorites. I picked up Coraline last year after hearing about it’s dark take on Alice in Wonderland (it’s not NEARLY as good as Carroll’s book, but that’s not saying much – it’s still a great book). Then, just about a week ago, I checked out one of his newest books – The Graveyard Book.
Neil Gaiman writes The Graveyard Book like he’s writing a comic book. The first chapter gives the origin story of Nobody Owens, a living boy raised by graveyard ghosts. The subsequent chapters show Nobody meeting a living girl, getting kidnapped by ghouls, and having basically one grand ol’ adventure per chapter.
The real PLOT doesn’t kick in until about halfway through the book – and that involves a secret international organization of supernatural murderers all named Jack, something that wouldn’t look the tiniest bit out of place in an actual comic book (I hear they’re facing off against Spider-Man in next month’s issue).
It seems to be a common formula for children’s books to go this route – spend a couple of chapters introducing characters and throwing them into silly, unrelated adventures, then having the central difficulty (the one most “adult” books tackle from the beginning) come in at the halfway point. Sometimes, to give the appearance that the whole thing was planned out from the beginning, the separate plot threads from the first half are brought back and used in the final resolution. And, I guess, for children’s books, it works pretty well.
The Graveyard Book feels like it’s written from a formula, but the formula’s not an inherently BAD one. It’s not an inherently SPECIAL one, either, so I guess I’m about out of things to write about it. If you’re in to supernatural children’s literature (???), then I’d recommend The Graveyard Book.
I just needed something to give me a bit of space between the death-filled Tuesdays with Morrie and my next book, The Sociopath Next Door. Man, talk about a downer.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Love, Sadness, and Other Nonsense
I hate ex-girlfriends. Anyone else with me on this?
I don’t hate them PERSONALLY. I think I’ve had good fortune in dating some fantastic people over the course of these last several years. Pretty much every girl I’ve ever dated has been something of a force for good in my life. But seeing them AFTER we’ve broken up… well, frankly, I’d often rather engage a patch of poison ivy in a close-proximity staring contest.
Again, here I have to clarify something – I do maintain contact with my ex-girlfriends. For the most part, I think, we’re friends, and I’m grateful for that friendship. Sometimes I get a case of the “whatmittabins,” but those pass like a twenty-four hour cold (with less mucus… usually).
It’s when the exes move on that things get tough. See, as a rule, I don’t like dating, and therefore I don’t do it very often. It usually takes me a LONG time to get over someone else. And if that someone else isn’t as averse to spending an evening or two with someone of the opposite sex that they barely know, chances are that someone else will move on a lot faster than I will.
I’ve had some doozy experiences. I dated a girl who was in a play with me once, who then went on to date one of the stagehands while we were still involved in the exact same production. I also dated a girl in college who, after we broke up, continued to bring her new beaus to hang out in the university in plain sight of the reference desk where I worked. And I’m not too proud to admit – I had a hard time with this. But I got over it, eventually, and all I have to say to these women is this: If you find someone who treats you better than I did and makes you happy, then GOOD ON YOU.
I find, though, that it doesn’t take a big dramatic experience to spark some of those special feelings of loneliness and neglect that come with encountering an ex. Sometimes all it takes is a glance.
Everyone has a “one that got away.” Fishermen do. Cops do. Sometimes morticians do. My “one that got away” was my high school sweetheart – and, as is so often the case with romances, she was one I let get away. I saw her at Saturday’s Fourth of July parade, with one child in her arms, and another scampering a couple of feet in front of her. I think we made eye contact, then she was gone – didn’t even say a word to each other. And still, I got that kind of cold pain that comes only when seeing one you used to love. Or getting punched in the chest by Frosty the Snowman.
It’s been now nine years since I broke up with this girl, and a glance still leaves me feeling cold. There’s a lot of power in a simple human connection – a single look, a brush of the fingers – that can totally rock one’s emotional world. Kinda surprising.
I’m sure there’s a poem in that somewhere. Of course, I’m also sure that poem’s probably already been written.
I don’t hate them PERSONALLY. I think I’ve had good fortune in dating some fantastic people over the course of these last several years. Pretty much every girl I’ve ever dated has been something of a force for good in my life. But seeing them AFTER we’ve broken up… well, frankly, I’d often rather engage a patch of poison ivy in a close-proximity staring contest.
Again, here I have to clarify something – I do maintain contact with my ex-girlfriends. For the most part, I think, we’re friends, and I’m grateful for that friendship. Sometimes I get a case of the “whatmittabins,” but those pass like a twenty-four hour cold (with less mucus… usually).
It’s when the exes move on that things get tough. See, as a rule, I don’t like dating, and therefore I don’t do it very often. It usually takes me a LONG time to get over someone else. And if that someone else isn’t as averse to spending an evening or two with someone of the opposite sex that they barely know, chances are that someone else will move on a lot faster than I will.
I’ve had some doozy experiences. I dated a girl who was in a play with me once, who then went on to date one of the stagehands while we were still involved in the exact same production. I also dated a girl in college who, after we broke up, continued to bring her new beaus to hang out in the university in plain sight of the reference desk where I worked. And I’m not too proud to admit – I had a hard time with this. But I got over it, eventually, and all I have to say to these women is this: If you find someone who treats you better than I did and makes you happy, then GOOD ON YOU.
I find, though, that it doesn’t take a big dramatic experience to spark some of those special feelings of loneliness and neglect that come with encountering an ex. Sometimes all it takes is a glance.
Everyone has a “one that got away.” Fishermen do. Cops do. Sometimes morticians do. My “one that got away” was my high school sweetheart – and, as is so often the case with romances, she was one I let get away. I saw her at Saturday’s Fourth of July parade, with one child in her arms, and another scampering a couple of feet in front of her. I think we made eye contact, then she was gone – didn’t even say a word to each other. And still, I got that kind of cold pain that comes only when seeing one you used to love. Or getting punched in the chest by Frosty the Snowman.
It’s been now nine years since I broke up with this girl, and a glance still leaves me feeling cold. There’s a lot of power in a simple human connection – a single look, a brush of the fingers – that can totally rock one’s emotional world. Kinda surprising.
I’m sure there’s a poem in that somewhere. Of course, I’m also sure that poem’s probably already been written.
Jesters 4th of July Recap
The Jesters Royale had their big Fourth of July show on Saturday – and that may have been the most enjoyable performance I ever participated in. The audience, although not our largest, was the best and most energetic we’ve had in a LONG time. Plus, I got to play some top-notch improv scenes with the Most Extremely Talented Blake, Brady, Jake, Jourdan, and Shawn.
Highlights from the night include:
1 - A gravedigger communing with the corpse of his grandmother… and a shovel.
2 - A tragic amnesia case (“What’s a chair?”).
3 - Hannibal Lecter getting his comeuppance from a drunken old man.
4 - George Washington chopping down the cherry tree, transformed into Saruman destroying an Ent, transformed into a Night Elf warrior tickling the World Tree to death. Don’t worry, it didn’t make a whole lot of sense if you were there, either, but trust me, it was fun.
5 - Blake’s fantastic transformation into a Na’Vi from Avatar.
6 - A four-man game of Revolver… plus one.
7 - And more fat jokes than you can shake a plus-sized stick at.
Oh, and Jourdan held my hand for, like, a minute, prompting my dad to ask me if I’ve officially come out of the closet. Thanks for that, Jourdan.
I wanna give a special shout-out to some of the other members of the team for their help with the show: Heidi, who rocked the microphone as our Mistress of Ceremonies; Darian, for a killer job at the sound booth; Manelle, for her help with box office; Nate, Keri, and Brady, for their music contributions; and Bryan, who restored our tired old props to their former glory. Y’all are rockstars, pure and simple.
I’ll admit to having a few misgivings about continuing with the improv team recently. As with just about any dramatic discipline, there’s a LOT that goes on backstage that most people watching the shows don’t know about. Sometimes I wonder if the opportunity to perform really is worth all the rest of the baggage.
Nights like Saturday remind me why I do this – and it’s not all for the applause. See, I’m pretty much a grown-up now. I have rent, a job, responsibilities with church and the community, and I wouldn’t ever want to get rid of all that. However, I LIKED being a little kid, and a lot of the things I enjoyed as a little kid still bring me a lot of happiness. I like eating cold cereal in the middle of the day, I like reading superhero comics, and I like walking around barefoot.
Improv almost allows me to BE a little kid again. I don’t mean that I get to act all immature and talk about poop… well, okay, I DO get to do that, but that’s not the point. There’s a lot of freedom that comes from improvisation – a type of imaginative freedom that I don’t feel as often in its purity now that I’m no longer a child. Improv sometimes lets me capture the magical freedom of being a child – and that makes all the drama totally worth it.
So here’s one last shout out to the entire team of Jesters – all the students, the veterans, the ones that have gone away and the ones that are joining us again – Thank You.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Proud(ish) To Be An American
So we’re coming up on the Fourth of July weekend – fireworks, hot dogs, grass-stains… all in all, a good time to be alive, right? Well, other than the one day off from work I get, I gotta say there’s not a whole lot about this weekend I’ve been looking forward to. I’ve kinda been surprised at the enthusiasm with which most others seem to approach the holiday, and I’ve wondered why I don’t have the same excitement.
Well, as it turns out, I don’t actually LIKE Independence Day very much.
This shouldn’t really be a surprise – as y’all may have noticed, I “don’t like” a lot of things. Still, I actually feel kinda bad about not liking the Fourth of July. Ever since elementary school, my educators (and peers) have tried to impress on me the almost religious significance of Independence Day. Not liking Independence Day somehow feels like a bit of treachery, like I’m some kind of unpatriotic Benedict Arnold that deserves to be drawn and feathered… or tarred and quartered… torn and fettered… fawn and… heck, maybe just shot.
Here’s the weird part – I can’t even tell you WHY I don’t like Independence Day. I mean, I can point out aspects of the celebration I don’t like – hot dogs and fireworks, for example (grass stains, on the other hand, I’m totally down with). So, I guess, my distaste for the holiday makes me some kind of heathen, right?
The best explanation I can come up with is that I dislike most forms of extreme fanaticism (with the possible exception of Batman fanaticism), and, sometimes, American patriotism strikes me that way. I actually wrote a while back (on Facebook) about a young woman I heard sing “The Star-Spangled Banner” at a rodeo:
“I don’t mean to disparage the singer too harshly. I’ve sung the national anthem before, and I can tell you one thing: it’s a HARD song. For this girl to get up and sing without the benefit of musical accompaniment must have taken a lot of courage, and I respect her for that. However, she added so many runs and other embellishments that almost every phrase wound up in a different key than the one that preceded it. If the anthem is meant to be a song of respect for a nation, then it should be performed in a dignified manner. Generally speaking, the anthem should not be sung as a showcase number.”
Allow me to turn my old observation into a tortured metaphor (more tortured, perhaps, because of my awkward use of the word “disparage”): Just as the young singer tried to sing the heck out of the National Anthem and ultimately put on a tortured performance, so does our devotion to God and country goes a bit overboard, and we wind up causing a bit of damage to the reputation of the very thing we try to honor.
I guess that’s as close as I can get to an explanation. Anyway, happy Independence Day. Don’t have too much fun, or Samara will crawl out of your television and kill you.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Goal Check 2010
With 2010 now half over, let’s just see how I’m doing on those goals I made WAAAY back in January:
1 – Write for a half hour and complete at least one sketch per day.
VERDICT: No Good!
I’ve done a great job on my daily sketches (STILL haven’t missed a day, and that’s been pretty well-documented), but I’m lucky if I get in a half-hour of writing a WEEK!
2 – Make at least one submission to a journal or magazine per month.
VERDICT: No Good!
I did a pretty decent job on my submissions up through May, and then I just let things get away from me. I think I’ll consider this one fulfilled, though, if I can get caught up with three submissions in the month of July.
3 – Enter at least 15 poems in the Utah State Poetry Society Annual Contest.
VERDICT: Completed
4 – Read at least 3 books on art technique (1 on charcoals).
VERDICT: In progress.
I borrowed a book on figure drawing from my good buddy Aldo Gomez. Next, I picked up Scott McCloud’s Making Comics. Just have the charcoal book to go.
5 – Read at least 3 books on theatrical improvisation.
VERDICT: In progress.
I’ve read one so far. So it’s better than nothing, right?
6 – Attend the temple at least once per month.
VERDICT: So far, so good.
7 – Attend to my church responsibilities regularly, including monthly attempts at home teaching.
VERDICT: Eh. I’m about 50% here. Which, I believe, would get me an F at school.
8 – No more “That’s what she said” jokes.
VERDICT: I’m doing okay here, but I think I could stand to clean up my humor a bit more.
9 – Be proud of who I am. Because who I am is awesome.
VERDICT: I’m not sure how to grade this one, as it’s purely subjective. So I’ll go with “Super.”
10 – Listen more.
VERDICT: Probably could use some more improvement here, too.
11 – Explore more – especially in the world of literature.
VERDICT: Picked this one back up recently, although I did a TERRIBLE job back in the early months of 2010. I’m going to start writing up reviews of a lot of books that I read, so this should be pretty easy to track.
12- Adventure more.
VERDICT: I had bacon chocolate for the first time. Does that count?
13 – Have fun.
VERDICT: Well, I’M enjoying myself. How about you?
1 – Write for a half hour and complete at least one sketch per day.
VERDICT: No Good!
I’ve done a great job on my daily sketches (STILL haven’t missed a day, and that’s been pretty well-documented), but I’m lucky if I get in a half-hour of writing a WEEK!
2 – Make at least one submission to a journal or magazine per month.
VERDICT: No Good!
I did a pretty decent job on my submissions up through May, and then I just let things get away from me. I think I’ll consider this one fulfilled, though, if I can get caught up with three submissions in the month of July.
3 – Enter at least 15 poems in the Utah State Poetry Society Annual Contest.
VERDICT: Completed
4 – Read at least 3 books on art technique (1 on charcoals).
VERDICT: In progress.
I borrowed a book on figure drawing from my good buddy Aldo Gomez. Next, I picked up Scott McCloud’s Making Comics. Just have the charcoal book to go.
5 – Read at least 3 books on theatrical improvisation.
VERDICT: In progress.
I’ve read one so far. So it’s better than nothing, right?
6 – Attend the temple at least once per month.
VERDICT: So far, so good.
7 – Attend to my church responsibilities regularly, including monthly attempts at home teaching.
VERDICT: Eh. I’m about 50% here. Which, I believe, would get me an F at school.
8 – No more “That’s what she said” jokes.
VERDICT: I’m doing okay here, but I think I could stand to clean up my humor a bit more.
9 – Be proud of who I am. Because who I am is awesome.
VERDICT: I’m not sure how to grade this one, as it’s purely subjective. So I’ll go with “Super.”
10 – Listen more.
VERDICT: Probably could use some more improvement here, too.
11 – Explore more – especially in the world of literature.
VERDICT: Picked this one back up recently, although I did a TERRIBLE job back in the early months of 2010. I’m going to start writing up reviews of a lot of books that I read, so this should be pretty easy to track.
12- Adventure more.
VERDICT: I had bacon chocolate for the first time. Does that count?
13 – Have fun.
VERDICT: Well, I’M enjoying myself. How about you?
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