I've noticed lately that music no longer has the adverse affect it once did on society. We used to live in an era (the 60s and 70s), where the radio would play politically and socially charged songs with real messages about events that affected every single person, and motivated them to take action or change. We lived in a world where music was a tool of enabling political power and utilized that tool as often as we could. Society wrote songs to educate people about the conditions we were living in, and had some affect on the way things were.
Today, however, we don't see that. Today we see a world where the most socially active song we hear on the radio is "Let's See How Far We've Come" by Matchbox 20, a song that's lyrics are ridiculously self-centered, offer no options for solution, and do very little, if anything to motivate anyone to get out and vote, let alone do anything of real political or social significance. Even then, that song is not the most popular. Turn on the radio and you'll head a bevy of ballads about perverse sexual acts (Crank 'dat Soulja Boi kids!!!), or gangsterism. Yes, 50, we all know how street you are, but does that mean you're changing the world? Probably not. And does that mean you're doing it for the better? Most certainly, that is deniable.
Music today has become a corporate sponsored time in which we can turn our minds off and allow the world around us to pass us by.
That saddens me.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Sports? Sports.
Sports affect my life in the way they would affect most "outcast culture" kids. Usually, we harbor some hatred for the organized sport but love the more individual ones, such as skateboarding, BMX, etc. I am no different. My 4 wheels and wood have served as my major form of transportation and self-expression (outside of music and writing) for longer than I can remember. The board is an extension of my being, and thus blurs the line between sport and art, causing (at least for the time being) some transcending experience of note. This, however, doesn't make me unique. This is not the exception in counter culture, it is the rule (for evidence, see Mike Vallely). It is also the rule that teams are bad. "Jocks" and "preps" are just another gang at school waiting to harass you for not being as cool as them, and that's usually a rule I adhere to.
There are, however, two glaring exceptions to that rule. The Kansas Jayhawks (basketball) and Kansas City Chiefs (football) have been staples in my existence and upbringing since I was old enough to understand what was happening in the games my father and I watched. The Jayhawks give me a sense of pride in that they're from where I from, and are generally an awesome team, giving true identity on the court to such players as Paul Pierce, Kirk Hinrich, and Danny Manning. Knowing those guys were from where I'm from made me feel like I had a connection to them. When they won, I won, and they won a lot. But it wasn't just that. It was the camaraderie at games and backyard barbecues. Feeling like you were a part of a family greater than your own, or just feeling like you're a part of your own family for another reason was enough to make me bleed blue and red as I screamed ROCK CHALK JAYHAWK every March at my TV as the finals drew near.
That feeling also led me to the Chiefs. The Chiefs haven't won a playoff game since 1997, so the winning part was sort of ruled out, but the feeling of brotherhood was there. 86,000 people wearing red shirts and screaming in an attempt to make the other team screw up was just something to be a part of. The Chiefs are representative of a community of people whose hearts and minds are all united for a few goals: Winning is obviously one of them, but if you go to the games, it feels like the least important. The other goals are family, community, and an overall good time (and beating the Raiders twice a year. The Chiefs could go 2-14 every season, but if their two wins were against the Raiders, it'd be a winning season).
This is a bad transition leading to a conclusion paragraph. The two essential purposes of sports are expression (individually) and family/community (obviously as a whole). Both give a sense of purpose and being that lead to a bigger part of me than I'd previously realized. Wow. That's... deep.
Thanks.
There are, however, two glaring exceptions to that rule. The Kansas Jayhawks (basketball) and Kansas City Chiefs (football) have been staples in my existence and upbringing since I was old enough to understand what was happening in the games my father and I watched. The Jayhawks give me a sense of pride in that they're from where I from, and are generally an awesome team, giving true identity on the court to such players as Paul Pierce, Kirk Hinrich, and Danny Manning. Knowing those guys were from where I'm from made me feel like I had a connection to them. When they won, I won, and they won a lot. But it wasn't just that. It was the camaraderie at games and backyard barbecues. Feeling like you were a part of a family greater than your own, or just feeling like you're a part of your own family for another reason was enough to make me bleed blue and red as I screamed ROCK CHALK JAYHAWK every March at my TV as the finals drew near.
That feeling also led me to the Chiefs. The Chiefs haven't won a playoff game since 1997, so the winning part was sort of ruled out, but the feeling of brotherhood was there. 86,000 people wearing red shirts and screaming in an attempt to make the other team screw up was just something to be a part of. The Chiefs are representative of a community of people whose hearts and minds are all united for a few goals: Winning is obviously one of them, but if you go to the games, it feels like the least important. The other goals are family, community, and an overall good time (and beating the Raiders twice a year. The Chiefs could go 2-14 every season, but if their two wins were against the Raiders, it'd be a winning season).
This is a bad transition leading to a conclusion paragraph. The two essential purposes of sports are expression (individually) and family/community (obviously as a whole). Both give a sense of purpose and being that lead to a bigger part of me than I'd previously realized. Wow. That's... deep.
Thanks.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Eulogy (Break it Down, Y'all)
To open with a cliche, we meet here today not to mourn a death, but to celebrate a life. The life of Gregory Petar Harkins. He played many roles in our respective lives and touched each of us individually, as a friend, a "brother", and an entertainer, in some respects, and for me, a loving husband. Always willing to listen, not just to hear, he was also one of the most giving people I've ever known in that regard. He'd lend the entirety of himself to you if you needed it, I swear. I don't know how I'd have ever gotten through some of those tough days without the help he gave me. And I'll never forget it either.
I remember the first time we met. I was sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria at our high school and he came over and introduced himself as 50%, the new hot rapper, because he "only had to rhyme half the time. The other half was just gunshot sounds on the track." He asked me to be in his next video "Stanky Thug, feat. 50%" as a backup dancer and I knew from that day forward that we'd be fast friends.
A few weeks later, I was in a bit of a bad mood because of some issues I had with my parents and he sat and talked me through it. He reassured me and told me everything would be okay and gave not only credible advice, but the biggest hug when I was finished.
Another time, on Valentine's Day, he spent the whole lunch period complaining about "Hallmark Holidays" and how much he despised the corporate aspect of an excuse to buy sappy cards. He lured me into a false sense of security, actually, as I never expected what would come next. He surprised me in my last class of the day, right in the middle of it, with a bouquet of flowers and a card "To my best friend... We'll always be there for each other." It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for me. Later that night, he asked me out and well...
we all know how that ends.
In the many years we've been together, he has always been the sweetest, most courteous person in the world. Every once in a while, he'd say something like "Not that work isn't a GREAT motivator [obviously sarcastic], but loving you is the only thing that really gets me out of bed in the morning." He lived to love his family and friends, and even when all is gone after his death, that love will live on forever.
Greg affected me the way I'm sure he affected most of you. That quick wit and charm of his immediately drew you in and the depth and openness of his heart kept you. His smile and loving personality made your heart warm, even in the coldest of nights, and his disposition almost always reflected that. He gave his everything to all of his friends, and often said that he got back more from each and every one of them than he could ever give himself. Because of that, he was only pushed to give more.
He cherished every one of us, and loved each of us uniquely and profoundly. I am privileged to have been able to spend the better part of my life with this man, and will constantly be in gratitude for everything he has given, and subsequently taught me. He'll forever be in my heart and the heart of all of his family. His son, his daughter, and his three grandchildren. I'm sure he'll always be with us.
We love you, Greg. We always will.
I remember the first time we met. I was sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria at our high school and he came over and introduced himself as 50%, the new hot rapper, because he "only had to rhyme half the time. The other half was just gunshot sounds on the track." He asked me to be in his next video "Stanky Thug, feat. 50%" as a backup dancer and I knew from that day forward that we'd be fast friends.
A few weeks later, I was in a bit of a bad mood because of some issues I had with my parents and he sat and talked me through it. He reassured me and told me everything would be okay and gave not only credible advice, but the biggest hug when I was finished.
Another time, on Valentine's Day, he spent the whole lunch period complaining about "Hallmark Holidays" and how much he despised the corporate aspect of an excuse to buy sappy cards. He lured me into a false sense of security, actually, as I never expected what would come next. He surprised me in my last class of the day, right in the middle of it, with a bouquet of flowers and a card "To my best friend... We'll always be there for each other." It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for me. Later that night, he asked me out and well...
we all know how that ends.
In the many years we've been together, he has always been the sweetest, most courteous person in the world. Every once in a while, he'd say something like "Not that work isn't a GREAT motivator [obviously sarcastic], but loving you is the only thing that really gets me out of bed in the morning." He lived to love his family and friends, and even when all is gone after his death, that love will live on forever.
Greg affected me the way I'm sure he affected most of you. That quick wit and charm of his immediately drew you in and the depth and openness of his heart kept you. His smile and loving personality made your heart warm, even in the coldest of nights, and his disposition almost always reflected that. He gave his everything to all of his friends, and often said that he got back more from each and every one of them than he could ever give himself. Because of that, he was only pushed to give more.
He cherished every one of us, and loved each of us uniquely and profoundly. I am privileged to have been able to spend the better part of my life with this man, and will constantly be in gratitude for everything he has given, and subsequently taught me. He'll forever be in my heart and the heart of all of his family. His son, his daughter, and his three grandchildren. I'm sure he'll always be with us.
We love you, Greg. We always will.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
On Protesting, Revolution, and the So-called Counter Culture.
Having recently been invited to a slew of protests against everything from the war to banning gay marriage, I've decided to expound a bit on why I haven't gone (despite my position on the event).
I will give a light disclaimer to begin, as it's important to note that I am not just being lazy, and I do realize that by not going I am effectively doing nothing for my cause. Therefore, I feel it unnecessary for any discussion to be raised on that particular point.
The protest, as a form of social change, has itself changed drastically over the years. In --and of course predating-- the 1920s, we had the riots of varied workers' groups and alternative government agencies (Anarchists, Socialists, Unions, etc.), as well as some peaceful protests. These gave birth to the next stage, the 1960s Civil Rights era. More peaceful forms of protest were rearing their heads, though we still did have, to a large extent, riots, violence, and other more "graphic" forms of expressing dissatisfaction in the same vein as some of the earlier era's precedents. Today, we've accepted a more peaceful approach, and violence has become a less dominating force in the sort of "vigilante" movements we see today, as well as our old friends the rights organizations and anti-war protesters.
There is, however, a big difference that goes largely unnoticed nowadays: Protesting is in vogue. The Industrial Revolution era social movements were excellent examples of this difference. In the earlier days, and even up to the '60s, when the swing of purposes began, there would be a protest or rally when a group felt that they could really cause some change immediately and show proof of the power that they, the people, had. The Anarchists protested because they felt the government was a fallacious institute of control that served no purpose but to dominate an unknowing mass of people. They were vocal. They were violent. They made noise and were recognized. Despite more gritty tactics, they gained recognition in the social spectrum (though they obviously didn't succeed on the political spectrum), and their numbers grew. The symbolism was there, and it was effective.
In the 1960s, we had people united under one belief marching the streets, doing sit-ins, making human chains, etc. to directly stand up to the "Man" for what they believed in and against the one thing that was blocking them from achieving their goal. Progress was an obvious motif. Even the violent protests and rallies, reminiscent of some of the more brutal incidents in the Industrial Revolution, were effective in gaining the attention they strove for. There was a certain sense of hunger and desperation. "If not now, never." People needed to see an immediate result, and with their varied means, got one.
The protest itself, however, was changing through its people. The actions developed and grew, but as we moved towards the modern era, we realized that not only could we stand up for what we believed in with our friends, we could be shown on TV. We could look like George Clooney. We could each go into a protest with our own goal of being recognized. Seeing people we knew. Feeling important. The protest became a place to make yourself feel good in as many ways as possible. If you went and stood in that crowd with your sign, you could feel like you were really making a difference, and that's where we are today. People go to protests now, not because they want to cause change, but because they want to feel like they're causing change. It's an opiate. People protest the war in droves all over the world, and yet we've only had a troop surge in recent months. Protests rarely make anything but the traffic report any more, with people telling us where to drive to avoid the mess that is 200,000 "angry" college students and baby boomers in the streets. There is no longer any purpose to the protest but to pacify and placate the people who participate in them.
I pose a question to you, my humble audience: How many people in every metropolitan area every year band together to "protest" the War in Iraq? Millions. Millions of people gather at varied points in varied places to feel like they are the difference. They will tip the scales toward peace by holding a sign.
I now pose a second question: How many Representatives in Congress voted for the total pullout of Iraq when it was suggested? Did the person who originally HAD the idea vote for it? The respective answers to those questions is 3 and no. There has been little political response to the social spewings of protesters and rally participants who, instead of debating, throw hate speech and threats at all those who disagree.
The protest is insignificant to the political scale because it no longer holds a symbol like it once did. It no longer stands up to anyone. Its message is convoluted and distorted, and because of this, it lacks the ability to change anything. Millions protest varied causes every year to say that they support a cause, but unless they really take action, their support is unverified.
Now, the wiliest of reader may note that this has been nothing but a long, wordy rant that offers no solution, and to you I respond "Oh yeah? Wanna fight about it?" I also offer you my solution.
There are two general ways to "fix" protesting. The first would be a reversion to the old style. More violence, I suppose. It would weed out the less committed protesters that corrupt the spectacle. This means, however, would be largely useless, though for the simple fact that anyone who performed a violent act at a protest would be labeled a terrorist and arrested. Also, it would alienate the more peaceful of the true supporters to condone a violent act. It'd be hard to keep the groups unified, thus rendering that particular movement ineffective.
The second way is, in my mind, much more effective. Drop protesting all together and instead, do one of the following: Advocate an individual movement, in which you yourself perform some act that directly counteracts the institute one may be fighting. Alternatively, one may combine every movement that strives for the same thing (all equality movements come together, etc.) and produce mass literature and education in support of one's newly expanded cause, effectively leading a revolution of knowledge that will cause the change by changing the society's viewpoint as a whole. The merits of each action can be debated to great ends, but in my analyses, these two have the least downfalls and are therefore, despite their vast differences, the most powerful means of change.
Revolution does not come easily. One may revolutionize oneself, thereby changing the world around him/her through the means of perspective, creating within that, a change in advocacy of the world in a sort of domino effect of "I see this this way, which causes it to function this way, which causes this event to unfold in relation to it, etc." One may also revolutionize the world around oneself through his/her perspectives. Egalitarian movements should actively support not the most symbolic causes, but the best ones. If a white, straight, male is the best candidate for president and running against minorities and females, they should advocate the original candidate for being the best. That is egalitarianism AND revolution. Combine the movements and choose the best solution to every problem. This may take the movement in a direction never before considered, educating, revealing, and inevitably enlightening those who come into contact with the message, which, inevitably is the goal of any movement anyway.
Therefore, if one wants to change the way the world works, one must first abandon the failed status quo's method of social action. It's as ineffective as voting. One must instead revolutionize and rearrange everything in order to achieve anything. Change is possible, but will it ever come?
"Protest songs in response to military aggression/ Protest songs, try to stop the soldier's gun/ Protest songs in response to military aggression/ Protest songs, try and stop the soldier's gun/ But the battle raged on." - Against Me!, "White People for Peace", New Wave
I will give a light disclaimer to begin, as it's important to note that I am not just being lazy, and I do realize that by not going I am effectively doing nothing for my cause. Therefore, I feel it unnecessary for any discussion to be raised on that particular point.
The protest, as a form of social change, has itself changed drastically over the years. In --and of course predating-- the 1920s, we had the riots of varied workers' groups and alternative government agencies (Anarchists, Socialists, Unions, etc.), as well as some peaceful protests. These gave birth to the next stage, the 1960s Civil Rights era. More peaceful forms of protest were rearing their heads, though we still did have, to a large extent, riots, violence, and other more "graphic" forms of expressing dissatisfaction in the same vein as some of the earlier era's precedents. Today, we've accepted a more peaceful approach, and violence has become a less dominating force in the sort of "vigilante" movements we see today, as well as our old friends the rights organizations and anti-war protesters.
There is, however, a big difference that goes largely unnoticed nowadays: Protesting is in vogue. The Industrial Revolution era social movements were excellent examples of this difference. In the earlier days, and even up to the '60s, when the swing of purposes began, there would be a protest or rally when a group felt that they could really cause some change immediately and show proof of the power that they, the people, had. The Anarchists protested because they felt the government was a fallacious institute of control that served no purpose but to dominate an unknowing mass of people. They were vocal. They were violent. They made noise and were recognized. Despite more gritty tactics, they gained recognition in the social spectrum (though they obviously didn't succeed on the political spectrum), and their numbers grew. The symbolism was there, and it was effective.
In the 1960s, we had people united under one belief marching the streets, doing sit-ins, making human chains, etc. to directly stand up to the "Man" for what they believed in and against the one thing that was blocking them from achieving their goal. Progress was an obvious motif. Even the violent protests and rallies, reminiscent of some of the more brutal incidents in the Industrial Revolution, were effective in gaining the attention they strove for. There was a certain sense of hunger and desperation. "If not now, never." People needed to see an immediate result, and with their varied means, got one.
The protest itself, however, was changing through its people. The actions developed and grew, but as we moved towards the modern era, we realized that not only could we stand up for what we believed in with our friends, we could be shown on TV. We could look like George Clooney. We could each go into a protest with our own goal of being recognized. Seeing people we knew. Feeling important. The protest became a place to make yourself feel good in as many ways as possible. If you went and stood in that crowd with your sign, you could feel like you were really making a difference, and that's where we are today. People go to protests now, not because they want to cause change, but because they want to feel like they're causing change. It's an opiate. People protest the war in droves all over the world, and yet we've only had a troop surge in recent months. Protests rarely make anything but the traffic report any more, with people telling us where to drive to avoid the mess that is 200,000 "angry" college students and baby boomers in the streets. There is no longer any purpose to the protest but to pacify and placate the people who participate in them.
I pose a question to you, my humble audience: How many people in every metropolitan area every year band together to "protest" the War in Iraq? Millions. Millions of people gather at varied points in varied places to feel like they are the difference. They will tip the scales toward peace by holding a sign.
I now pose a second question: How many Representatives in Congress voted for the total pullout of Iraq when it was suggested? Did the person who originally HAD the idea vote for it? The respective answers to those questions is 3 and no. There has been little political response to the social spewings of protesters and rally participants who, instead of debating, throw hate speech and threats at all those who disagree.
The protest is insignificant to the political scale because it no longer holds a symbol like it once did. It no longer stands up to anyone. Its message is convoluted and distorted, and because of this, it lacks the ability to change anything. Millions protest varied causes every year to say that they support a cause, but unless they really take action, their support is unverified.
Now, the wiliest of reader may note that this has been nothing but a long, wordy rant that offers no solution, and to you I respond "Oh yeah? Wanna fight about it?" I also offer you my solution.
There are two general ways to "fix" protesting. The first would be a reversion to the old style. More violence, I suppose. It would weed out the less committed protesters that corrupt the spectacle. This means, however, would be largely useless, though for the simple fact that anyone who performed a violent act at a protest would be labeled a terrorist and arrested. Also, it would alienate the more peaceful of the true supporters to condone a violent act. It'd be hard to keep the groups unified, thus rendering that particular movement ineffective.
The second way is, in my mind, much more effective. Drop protesting all together and instead, do one of the following: Advocate an individual movement, in which you yourself perform some act that directly counteracts the institute one may be fighting. Alternatively, one may combine every movement that strives for the same thing (all equality movements come together, etc.) and produce mass literature and education in support of one's newly expanded cause, effectively leading a revolution of knowledge that will cause the change by changing the society's viewpoint as a whole. The merits of each action can be debated to great ends, but in my analyses, these two have the least downfalls and are therefore, despite their vast differences, the most powerful means of change.
Revolution does not come easily. One may revolutionize oneself, thereby changing the world around him/her through the means of perspective, creating within that, a change in advocacy of the world in a sort of domino effect of "I see this this way, which causes it to function this way, which causes this event to unfold in relation to it, etc." One may also revolutionize the world around oneself through his/her perspectives. Egalitarian movements should actively support not the most symbolic causes, but the best ones. If a white, straight, male is the best candidate for president and running against minorities and females, they should advocate the original candidate for being the best. That is egalitarianism AND revolution. Combine the movements and choose the best solution to every problem. This may take the movement in a direction never before considered, educating, revealing, and inevitably enlightening those who come into contact with the message, which, inevitably is the goal of any movement anyway.
Therefore, if one wants to change the way the world works, one must first abandon the failed status quo's method of social action. It's as ineffective as voting. One must instead revolutionize and rearrange everything in order to achieve anything. Change is possible, but will it ever come?
"Protest songs in response to military aggression/ Protest songs, try to stop the soldier's gun/ Protest songs in response to military aggression/ Protest songs, try and stop the soldier's gun/ But the battle raged on." - Against Me!, "White People for Peace", New Wave
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