Reapplication

Whatever it is that makes us as people, also makes us impossible to understand. What is it that makes us so complex that we ourselves cannot decide what decides our actions? I have always had a hard time understanding the part of life where we make decisions based on limited our even totally unfounded means. How often have we said that we have done things "because we felt like it", regardless of age or status? I find it increasingly difficult to manage this idea within my own mind as there is no practical basis (obviously) for this element of being human.

It should be noted that I am not promoting that people do not follow their feelings and that we should all obey the laws of common sense at all times.

My question is, why is it do we feel things that sometimes defy all explanation, even in our own minds and hearts?

Is this a question of psychology, where we can psychoanalyze ourselves until some hidden past leads us to the point where we can see why our minds have spat out a thought or feeling? If so, is this the human experience as an intangible reaching out to us as a collective and testing our ability to maintain a semblance of "normality" among thoughts of the truly bizarre?

Are we all slowly going insane?

I have thought that perhaps these are not the thoughts of an overworked (or under worked) brain, but of the immense complexity of what it is to be human, which is a question for another time. If you want to call it a question of the soul, that's fine, but I prefer to leave that sort of intangible without a name, because attaching an often-used label does bring unwanted assumptions with it. Perhaps one day we will be able to see what chemicals in ourselves give us a reason to think, but I would hate to think that we would find that there would be nothing to it in the end.

Would it be a shame if our deepest thoughts and emotions were the products of us being alive, rather than the works of a greater meaning to our lives?

Decay

Does anyone out there have any idea where all the great fiction writers went? It's pretty obvious that we live in a time where the content of literature matters less than the ability for it to sell, but there are typically a few that remain unfortunately unnoticed. Is literature really the same anymore? Do we really have to rely on the next Chuck Palahniuk book to provide with validation for how we feel about our fellow man?

It should be expected I suppose as on a basic level the idea of writing as a form of creative expression is continuously oppressed, and twisted into a horrible parody of itself. There is a natural human need to grind every once of worth from anything, or to latch onto the things that bring us the most joy and accentuate them until you alienate everyone but yourself. I believe this is why poetry has become such a modern joke. But it applies to modern fiction as well. In the same way that poetry is now an pillar of self-validation for ultra-cool coffee shops and underground beatnik clubs, fiction has become an endless conveyor belt of souped-up glamour novels filled based on 16th century Europe.

Whatever happened to realistic fiction as a commentary on modern life? Is there not room on the shelves next to the 10,000th book about how the Iraq war is bad for a statement on the ridiculous construction of American society? I am beginning to think that people are failing to understand the difference between entertainment and learning. As if reading about the standard operating procedure for a billion dollar company will teach them anything about their own lives and the world they live in.

I have always believed that fiction writing was the cry of the unappreciated. Thus, my theory is that we (and I'm not sure if this is America or just natural human society) treat everything as if it the most important and cherished thing ever created by man. Do we really have standards for literature that are so low we have to publish anything that comes though the doors to soothe the egos of the already rich and self important? I know there are great writers out there, what I don't understand is why they are not given a fair shot when the non-fiction celebrity trash remains a constant.

Provocation

Welcome to Post Revolution.

I'd like to start out by saying that I want this blog to be an expression of people, not individuals. We're all in this, and if you think that you are something unique and interesting you're probably right, but as someone once told me a long time ago; "You are not special." Humility is the most underrated virtue.

I like to listen to people. Specifically, their observations of life in the modern world. I'm fascinated by the evolution of people within their own lifetimes, their lives, their foibles, their interests, their mistakes, and the effect they have on the world. If you have a story, a observation, a thought, a life, Post Revolution is the place for you.