It’s times like this that I wish I could record my entries in audio format—if not video. That way I could begin this entry by heaving a sigh and go through it wearing my heart on my sleeve and remove any doubt as to my sincerity.
Because subtext, it seems, has become a problem.
Say what you will about the Youtube phenomenon of Chris Crocker, but he’s not that good an actor. He really does want you to leave Britney alone. Of that there can be little doubt.
This morning Monika and I were watching the news, as we always do. A press conference had been arranged by a group called—I believe—The Friends of Burma.
Now, you have to have had your head in a hole the last couple of weeks not to know what’s going on in Myanmar (colloquially referred to as “Burma” by those that originate from there) but, for the sake of bringing everyone up to speed, let me engage you with a short explanation:
Recently Burmese monks have been leading regular protests against the military junta that currently controls Myanmar. The most basic demand being made is that the junta give up power and bring in democratic elections.
The military government—as juntas are wont to do—has refused and has silenced the demonstrators. According to the Myanmar government, only a handful of monks were killed. According to journalists, the junta has hands big enough to hold thousands of bodies.
At any rate, these Friends of Burma asked the Canadian government today to divest from Myanmar and to impose economic and trade sanctions. It seems like a reasonable solution—very little to ask for in the grand scheme. Take your money and trade elsewhere. If Stephen Harper is willing to join George Bush on his witch hunt in the Middle East, why not take a few minutes (and a few less lives) to bring democracy to people who are actually asking for it?
Why hasn’t every country in the world already done this simple task?
But I digress…
Now, I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I commented on the fact that all the speakers at the press conference were minorities—a French Canadian woman, a Burmese gentleman and so on—and said that Stephen Harper would not listen to them. Whatever I said precisely doesn’t matter. What matters is that Monika heard me opine, essentially, that they ought to give up. She was under the impression that what I meant was that, because they were a group of minorities, they would get nowhere.
This is a negative way of reacting to the situation. What I’d meant was to highlight the deeper problem—the inherent racism in the Harper government—rather than legitimize it by suggesting hopelessness. Because it is true that the Harper government, and all democratically formed governments, answer only to the people who elected them. Harper won’t listen to leftist minorities who won’t vote for him anyway. If you want Harper to divest from Myanmar you have to get the people who elected him (and who may re-elect him) to request it.
Get some Alberta ranchers and oil tycoons to make the request tomorrow morning and Harper will have pulled every Canadian dollar out of Myanmar by lunchtime.
But this is one of the many flaws of democracy.
And what I’ve learned in the last twenty-eight years is that to point out things like this, apparently, is negative.
I have been accused of negativity all my life. Because I am angry and cynical and my irony is often misunderstood, I am left holding the bag for all things cruel and hopeless. I am called a nihilist when I am in fact an existentialist. I am accused of being consumed with rage when I am actually indignant. I am called just plain negative when I believe I am being most positive.
But positive and negative are relative terms.
Some people see anger as a negative emotion. They see cynicism and scepticism as bad things. But where would the world be without cynics and doubters? Cynicism and doubt foster thought, and they cause questions to be asked.
In a world without cynics we would still believe the earth to be flat. In a world without doubt and anger minorities all over would have been eradicated. Without indignation and a willingness to make an obstacle of oneself we would never have had women’s lib, never would have seen the civil rights movement and I’d hate to think of what would have happened in Vietnam.
Without cynics and sceptics, forget science. Forget technology. Forget advancement and ecology and everything good the human race has accomplished.
Some people—people who like to think of themselves as “positive”—prefer to put a happy face on everything. They want to make lemons out of lemonade and put a good spin on a bad situation. And it’s nice that they want to do that. I know I do it from time to time to keep myself working, writing and living. I’m glad those people are out there because they make me smile when I need it most.
But to do it all the time is to delude oneself. And I doubt you could do a greater disservice to yourself or your fellow human beings than to accept that sort of delusion.
The reality is that sometimes when life gives you lemons you don’t want lemonade—so sometimes when life gives you lemons you give life the finger.
But it’s okay. It’s fine. If you’d prefer to make lemonade every time, go ahead. I won’t stop you. Just remember when you put your glass down and you still have your freedoms and your rights and funny, interesting books to read and exciting music to listen to and new gadgets to play with; when you still have breathable air and drinkable water; don’t forget to thank one of those awful cynics. No matter how you define the terms “negative” and “positive”—cynics and doubters are on your side, doing important things.
Please, don’t misunderstand me. I wouldn’t want to live in a world without “positive” people. But it’s important that I make it clear that I believe “negative” people are just as important because someone has to be critical of the things we see and hear. And “positive” people are almost never critical thinkers. “Critical” is just such a negative sounding word, after all.
You know, I’ve heard that an artist has jumped the shark when he or she starts to explain his or her work. I should just put my words in front of you and let you deal with them. Unfortunately I feel the need, just this once, to make certain that I’m being understood.
I don’t think of myself as negative. I don’t feel negative and when I react to things in a negative way I know it and dislike the way it makes me feel. When I don the mantle of bitter irony, when I’m being cynical and catty and mean, I’m trying to challenge you or make you laugh (or both).
But if you don’t like it then stop reading me. If you don’t like to have your perfect little world threatened by the strains of harsh reality; if you don’t like to be challenged then by all means, go pick up a Mitch Albom book, stick your head back in the sand and keep pretending that everything is hunky dory.
But don’t call me negative for acknowledging the imperfections of this world and pointing them out. Because only in pointing them out can we begin to talk about solutions and change things for the better.
Your mother was wrong: bullies won’t just go away if you ignore them. Reality works the same way, reality is a bully.
Even the title of this blog has been called negative. “The Thinking Person’s Guide to Suicide? Couldn’t you have called it something a little more cheerful? It’s just so negative.”
Well, I’m sure it seems that way. But I guess this where subtext becomes a problem. Maybe it’s true that we as a culture don’t understand irony anymore. Maybe we’ve lost the intellectual ability to examine the things we read critically—as a matter of fact, I’d say it’s almost a sure thing.
The irony exists, my friends, in that the rules I lay forth for the Thinking Person in their exploration of suicide are all the things I DON’T WANT ANYONE TO DO. The rules for committing suicide as a Thinking Person are not the sort of thing a Thinking Person should, or would, do!
Get it? It’s funny in a sad, bittersweet sort of way.
So no, of course, I don’t want the Friends of Burma to give up hope. Hope is all we have in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. Hope is what keeps us alive.
The eighth rule in the Thinking Person’s Guide to Suicide is this:
When the sign reads, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here” do as it says. You won’t die right away, but you might as well have. You’ve been negated.
Because subtext, it seems, has become a problem.
Say what you will about the Youtube phenomenon of Chris Crocker, but he’s not that good an actor. He really does want you to leave Britney alone. Of that there can be little doubt.
This morning Monika and I were watching the news, as we always do. A press conference had been arranged by a group called—I believe—The Friends of Burma.
Now, you have to have had your head in a hole the last couple of weeks not to know what’s going on in Myanmar (colloquially referred to as “Burma” by those that originate from there) but, for the sake of bringing everyone up to speed, let me engage you with a short explanation:
Recently Burmese monks have been leading regular protests against the military junta that currently controls Myanmar. The most basic demand being made is that the junta give up power and bring in democratic elections.
The military government—as juntas are wont to do—has refused and has silenced the demonstrators. According to the Myanmar government, only a handful of monks were killed. According to journalists, the junta has hands big enough to hold thousands of bodies.
At any rate, these Friends of Burma asked the Canadian government today to divest from Myanmar and to impose economic and trade sanctions. It seems like a reasonable solution—very little to ask for in the grand scheme. Take your money and trade elsewhere. If Stephen Harper is willing to join George Bush on his witch hunt in the Middle East, why not take a few minutes (and a few less lives) to bring democracy to people who are actually asking for it?
Why hasn’t every country in the world already done this simple task?
But I digress…
Now, I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I commented on the fact that all the speakers at the press conference were minorities—a French Canadian woman, a Burmese gentleman and so on—and said that Stephen Harper would not listen to them. Whatever I said precisely doesn’t matter. What matters is that Monika heard me opine, essentially, that they ought to give up. She was under the impression that what I meant was that, because they were a group of minorities, they would get nowhere.
This is a negative way of reacting to the situation. What I’d meant was to highlight the deeper problem—the inherent racism in the Harper government—rather than legitimize it by suggesting hopelessness. Because it is true that the Harper government, and all democratically formed governments, answer only to the people who elected them. Harper won’t listen to leftist minorities who won’t vote for him anyway. If you want Harper to divest from Myanmar you have to get the people who elected him (and who may re-elect him) to request it.
Get some Alberta ranchers and oil tycoons to make the request tomorrow morning and Harper will have pulled every Canadian dollar out of Myanmar by lunchtime.
But this is one of the many flaws of democracy.
And what I’ve learned in the last twenty-eight years is that to point out things like this, apparently, is negative.
I have been accused of negativity all my life. Because I am angry and cynical and my irony is often misunderstood, I am left holding the bag for all things cruel and hopeless. I am called a nihilist when I am in fact an existentialist. I am accused of being consumed with rage when I am actually indignant. I am called just plain negative when I believe I am being most positive.
But positive and negative are relative terms.
Some people see anger as a negative emotion. They see cynicism and scepticism as bad things. But where would the world be without cynics and doubters? Cynicism and doubt foster thought, and they cause questions to be asked.
In a world without cynics we would still believe the earth to be flat. In a world without doubt and anger minorities all over would have been eradicated. Without indignation and a willingness to make an obstacle of oneself we would never have had women’s lib, never would have seen the civil rights movement and I’d hate to think of what would have happened in Vietnam.
Without cynics and sceptics, forget science. Forget technology. Forget advancement and ecology and everything good the human race has accomplished.
Some people—people who like to think of themselves as “positive”—prefer to put a happy face on everything. They want to make lemons out of lemonade and put a good spin on a bad situation. And it’s nice that they want to do that. I know I do it from time to time to keep myself working, writing and living. I’m glad those people are out there because they make me smile when I need it most.
But to do it all the time is to delude oneself. And I doubt you could do a greater disservice to yourself or your fellow human beings than to accept that sort of delusion.
The reality is that sometimes when life gives you lemons you don’t want lemonade—so sometimes when life gives you lemons you give life the finger.
But it’s okay. It’s fine. If you’d prefer to make lemonade every time, go ahead. I won’t stop you. Just remember when you put your glass down and you still have your freedoms and your rights and funny, interesting books to read and exciting music to listen to and new gadgets to play with; when you still have breathable air and drinkable water; don’t forget to thank one of those awful cynics. No matter how you define the terms “negative” and “positive”—cynics and doubters are on your side, doing important things.
Please, don’t misunderstand me. I wouldn’t want to live in a world without “positive” people. But it’s important that I make it clear that I believe “negative” people are just as important because someone has to be critical of the things we see and hear. And “positive” people are almost never critical thinkers. “Critical” is just such a negative sounding word, after all.
You know, I’ve heard that an artist has jumped the shark when he or she starts to explain his or her work. I should just put my words in front of you and let you deal with them. Unfortunately I feel the need, just this once, to make certain that I’m being understood.
I don’t think of myself as negative. I don’t feel negative and when I react to things in a negative way I know it and dislike the way it makes me feel. When I don the mantle of bitter irony, when I’m being cynical and catty and mean, I’m trying to challenge you or make you laugh (or both).
But if you don’t like it then stop reading me. If you don’t like to have your perfect little world threatened by the strains of harsh reality; if you don’t like to be challenged then by all means, go pick up a Mitch Albom book, stick your head back in the sand and keep pretending that everything is hunky dory.
But don’t call me negative for acknowledging the imperfections of this world and pointing them out. Because only in pointing them out can we begin to talk about solutions and change things for the better.
Your mother was wrong: bullies won’t just go away if you ignore them. Reality works the same way, reality is a bully.
Even the title of this blog has been called negative. “The Thinking Person’s Guide to Suicide? Couldn’t you have called it something a little more cheerful? It’s just so negative.”
Well, I’m sure it seems that way. But I guess this where subtext becomes a problem. Maybe it’s true that we as a culture don’t understand irony anymore. Maybe we’ve lost the intellectual ability to examine the things we read critically—as a matter of fact, I’d say it’s almost a sure thing.
The irony exists, my friends, in that the rules I lay forth for the Thinking Person in their exploration of suicide are all the things I DON’T WANT ANYONE TO DO. The rules for committing suicide as a Thinking Person are not the sort of thing a Thinking Person should, or would, do!
Get it? It’s funny in a sad, bittersweet sort of way.
So no, of course, I don’t want the Friends of Burma to give up hope. Hope is all we have in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. Hope is what keeps us alive.
The eighth rule in the Thinking Person’s Guide to Suicide is this:
When the sign reads, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here” do as it says. You won’t die right away, but you might as well have. You’ve been negated.
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