mattmoore.blog()

One of the perks (or curses, depending on how you look at it) of working for Disney was having a Silver Pass. The Silver Pass entitles employees and three friends or family members to have access to the amusement parks. Whenever friends or family visited me in LA, I usually took them down to Anaheim to spend the day at Disneyland. I went, not because I enjoyed going, because it was a spectacle and it was free. In my three years at Disney, I maybe visited the park over a dozen times. On one of my last trips, I came home, took the obligatory post-Disneyland nap (PDN) and then wrote this.

—

Humans are not biologically evolved
to visit Disneyland.

At around 4pm in the afternoon,
kids get whiney and annoying,
parents get grumpy.
No one looks happy trying to
maximize their dollar to fun ratio.

The breaking point comes when
fanny packs outnumber smiles.
A long day of waiting is punchuated
by brief moments of forced adrenaline.

Being voluntarily assaulted by bright colors,
the perpetual crescendos of background soundtrack,
as well as resisting a biological fixation on crowds
is exhausting.

This week, I arrived safely, albeit slight jetlagged, home from my Denver trip. I hadn’t seen my roommate Kathryn in about a week so we played catch-up in the kitchen right before bedtime. We reciprocated stories about our forth of July weekends when, throughout our conversation, we were interrupted by a periodic and faint yelp-squeal.

It sounded like it was coming from the inside of our stove. I crouched down to confirm that it was, in fact, coming from that general vicinity. Kathryn grabbed a headlamp from her room and we both crouched down with one eye to the floor. It was clear that among the thicket of dust balls was a tiny mouse caught in not one, but two traps.

Kathryn removed the drawer from underneath the oven so that we could get a better look at the mouse situation. Awhile ago, our landlord had placed sticky traps under our oven in combination with these black plastic clamp traps. Somehow the mouse had managed to find the only sticky spot not covered in pillowy gray dust while having its hind parts crushed in the clamp.

The terms of Kathryn and I’s contract for what was going to happen next were agreed upon before proceeding. It can be summarized by the following: I was going to owe her one. My role would be to stand with one foot in the kitchen and one in the hallway with a clenched fist near my mouth. Humans have long and tumultuous relationship with mice, so I felt that evolution was clearly defending my cowardice.

While Kathryn and I discussed the soundest course of action she should take, the mouse started chewing its leg in some desperate, last ditch effort to spread vermin blood all over our kitchen floor. We were clearly wasting time. Kathryn found some gloves, a brown paper bag, and a broom. She brushed the mouse and attached traps into the bag, rolled up the top and scurried out the front door. My sigh of relief was interrupted when seconds later she returned with the unopened brown bag.

Kathryn felt guilty for just leaving the yelp-squealing mouse in the trash can. The only decent thing to do was a mercy killing and the cleanest solution was drowning. Kathryn filled a large yogurt container with water and went to the back porch where she apologized profusely before committing our furry foe to a Stoneyfield Farm grave. As the unqualified medical examiner, I came to the back porch to see that there was no movement of the sticky paper.

Kathryn, you are a brave and courageous individual. Thank you. And yes, I owe you one.

I went alone to a matinee movie this morning. I was a little early and for awhile was the only person in the theater. A couple then walked in and was ushered to the seats directly behind me.  This was at the Arclight so the seats were assigned. I went from feeling generally relaxed and comfortable before they sat down to anxious and restless. Why is it that in a large empty room when total strangers are forced in close proximity is there a tendency to want to separate?

Is this a case of diffusion–to move from a high concentration to a low concentration, thereby increasing the entropy? I don’t think so. Diffusion seems overly simplistic.  If I walked into a room of randomly scattered people and I recognized a person, I would go and talk to them. Entropy has no friends.

Maybe, there must be some evolutionary survival advantage to not cluster among unfamiliar strangers–probably because of the fear of competition for resources. Or maybe my anxiety was born of a cultural fear of being in a dark theater with my back toward two unknown people. It could also easily have been my anti-social tendencies–I was, of course, willingly watching a movie by myself.  I think I buy the first explanation (survival advantage) more readily and the reason that I didn’t move to another seat was cultural (respecting assigned seating, fear of offending, etc).

And in case you were wondering the movie I saw was Choke. It was okay.

nature created the Internet as a defense mechanism
to communicate the impending ecosystem collapse
and to allow the worldly stewards, namely Homo s. sapiens
an opportunity to course-correct it’s destruction
for which it is entirely responsible

the most cunning and deceitful jobs
are reserved for those that dress in sheep’s clothes
every outward expression is a performance, a falsehood
aimed at creating grandiosity

the self-inflated,
passive-aggressive,
idea-stealing,
credit-wielding,
ego-inflating,
promotion-happy,
entitled and poisonous
managers

they believe they inspire, but they foster laziness
they believe they nurture, but they are your drunken father
they believe they are funny, but they beg for nervous laughter

Cultural isolation is deadlier than physical isolation.

the city of lost history
of good people that have done bad things
of a fictitious past and an even more suspect future

a myth, a silent yet pervasive marketing message
promises of greatness and the delivery of nothingness
like shoes that fall apart while they’re still fashionable

these idled pimpled walls are architectural responses to youth subculture
and the homestead for millions of isolated and lonely pilgrims
this is the only place to pawn dreams

an igloo of tabloid news defending from worldly injustices
where respecting the spectacle is a profitable lie
where paradise is punctuated by honks of inconvenience

even the loaf of bread has a story to tell
delicate soil to an overpriced shelf
with enough water and shit, the desert can grow anything,
even disappointment

There are times in the course of conflicts where it is appropriate to be silent. Time to set your ego aside and open your heart and your ears. As difficult as it may be, it is these times that define our relationships with each other. The way we negotiate conflict is sacred among family and close friends. And it is something we take with us to the difficult, chaotic, and unfamiliar times in our lives. It is this ability that becomes more refined with age–like a smooth polished stone tossed relentlessly by the ocean currents. Conflict is a constant, unavoidable component of our culture and our relationships. There are times when it seems very much appropriate to listen and open yourselves to possibilities that you have not already predefined for yourself. To accept that you maybe wrong or misguided or narrow-minded. Conflict is an opportunity to empathize, to love, to reconcile, to be humble, to make peace. Why would you not seize that potential?

addiction is a feedback loop created by
the unconscious pleasure-seeking and
stress-avoiding parts of the brain

dopamine is release during pleasure

the absence of pleasure creates stress
particularly in impulsive individuals

the brain’s reward for avoiding stress
is more dopamine

addiction is more prevalent in
an environment filled with
an abundance of stimuli

we have more tools than ever that reward us with communication
cell phones, video chat, instant messaging, text messaging
blue tooth, handheld, pdas, iphones, email
facebook, myspace, linkedin, friendster, orkut, bebo, skype

a generation of use has even created a new language
to optimize efficiency in these new mediums
lol, lmfao, brb, wtf, btw, stfu, nsfw,
yet, our efficiency has robbed us of the subtly of language
we represent our emotions with icons, glyphs and graphics
our inexplicable emotions are acceptably unexplainable

in the process we have created a lot of noise
which is digitized, stored, backed up, recalled, searched
the byproduct of noise is a depletion of signal
the signal is the quality and potential of our social connection
we forget how to write a thoughtful letter
or have a meaningful conversation
or how to be respectful

we are constantly compounded by feelings of having to perpetually respond
our work, lives, vacations are filled with an impulsive connectivity disorder
but does anyone have anything valuable to talk about?
or are we just narrating our lives to each other?

our days are consumed with thoughts of cellphone rings
we can hear its call from at least a hundred meters
or sometimes it’s a phantom ring our memory creates
it’s rhythm is there when we wake up until we go to bed
we move, eat, and sleep with our devices
the circadian rhythms of our phones. would you believe that?

humans have a social capacity of 150 simultaneous connections
when we are over capacity we forget names, identities, relationships
now we have these sophisticated websites that represent our more subtle connections to people we will never talk with again
you’d think all this networking would allow us to use our brain cycles elsewhere
but in fact, it dominates our thoughts
we spend more time of our day managing responses
organizing inboxes, answering calls, sorting intangible relationships

how do we find meaning in all this?
i want to have relationships that are real, that are based on trust
not ones where people can so easily misrepresent, disguise,
unabashedly embellish