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Peter Peringer-Batten
18 February 2009 @ 09:34 am
This seems to be a topic of concern, one that many of us have experienced often lately in one form or another. My analysis may seem like cold comfort, to be sure, but I've wanted to write about it after my extensive meditation whilst recovering from surgery over the past week.

Aristotle divided all actions as those creating pleasure and those creating pain - it was a simplistic method of attempting to explain human interaction, from which he went into his lengthy discussions on virtue, and how we must train ourselves to make just actions pleasurable actions. His is a very interesting and useful theory to be sure, if adapted to more modern theories, but it simplifies pain into a purely negative thing, which I must take issue with.

Pain is not purely negative. In fact, pain is quite useful. Pain brings with it many things, and if one pays attention to all of them, the discomfort becomes quite small and insignificant. Pain brings recognition: something often sorely lacking in our lives, and something supremely important to true survival, advancement, well-being, and ethical action.

Pain brings one back into their own body, and forces one to recognize it. You are forcefully made aware of every slight movement, every creak, and muscle, and obviously every aspect of the portion of your body in pain. In a sense, pain makes one aware of the self. We often lose touch with our own bodies, our own special places and if one loses touch with one's own special place, they have little chance of identifying with any other place. Thusly, a crisis of identity occurs. Pain can bring back identity, or at least bring back recognition of it or the distance from it.

Pain brings about very clear recognition. We recognize our own suffering very clearly, and that can be a step towards recognition of many other things: When we recognize out own pain, we may recognize the pain of others who may be in the same predicament. This recognition is essential for true human achievement and advancement: when one recognizes another, that is a step towards true empathy. Being sympathetic is not, in many cases, true recognition of someone's pain. Many people of the world do not ask for sympathy: they simply want to be recognized for who they are, or what they've done. They want someone to understand their pain.

Pain is very real, and mostly an unavoidable part of life. I, for one, am glad for it. Unfortunately I can speak no further on the subject due to lack of time, but I hope it's been interesting.

 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
17 February 2009 @ 02:29 pm
I return! I apologize for the lack of posts, or comments, or anything really.

I recently had surgery to remove all of my wisdom teeth, so I have been out of commission for the past week. Given that I was still recovering and had not slept or eaten in a week (still haven't really) I did not do anything for Valentine's Day, obviously. I hope everyone had a somewhat more interesting one.

My recovery is going smoothly, and I am slowly regaining strength. I hope to see everyone soon after an absence that felt so long!

To make up for a lack of posts for a full two months, here's a little something that needs editing, and that I might expand upon in a possible collection of "Conversations with a Self." Some of it is kind of inside jokes based on an exercise me and my coworkers were doing at the time: we picked random phrases and word combinations out of a jar (or in my case, a sort of easter egg-type thing) and used them in a piece of writing. Anyway, hopefully enjoy:

"This is really awful, you know."

"Shut up, Peter, I'm trying."

"No, you're not. 'The wine, obtained from Morocco, made her have all the courtesy of a highly sophisticated beast?' What the hell does that even mean? Sounds like you pulled random phrases out of a goddamned egg."

"I thought the juxtaposition of disparate images might--"

"There you go again with the high and mighty academic bullshit. All sound and fury, signifying nothing."

"There is meaning there, dude! Even if a statement is weird, and even if the reader doesn't entirely get it, if they enjoy it, there's an accomplishment right there. Even if the understanding comes later, it will come at some point as long as they enjoy the writing and it sticks in their mind, as long as they enjoy the taste of the buttermilk, so to speak."

"'The buttermilk?' The fucking buttermilk? Now you're not even writing, and you're still spewing shit! Even if they do understand it, it will probably take them until after you're dead just to get through bullshit like 'the buttermilk, so to speak.' Writing like that comes with the risk of a lonely, shivery death, my friend."

"Well . . . maybe it would be worth it, just to send some message - like, I don't know, the importance of non-violence."

"Well that would be pretty hypocritical, given that it's a pretty strong act of violence to make someone read your crap, Peter."

"Shut up, Peter."
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
21 December 2008 @ 11:47 pm

So, I went to a friend's house for dinner for Hanukkah tonight. Given I don't drive a car, I had to take a bus over to Rohnert Park.

Hilarity ensued, as usual.

When I was sitting at the bus stop, I heard strange sounds.

"KAYOOOO FUCKYEEUUWWWW!"

I looked over to see a man standing in the middle of the street, shouting this shit over and over, making strange gestures. Everyone stared straight ahead in attempts to not make eye contact, either out of fear or extreme apathy. After doing this for a few minutes, the guy walked right over and sat on a bench not too far from me.

He launched into a discussion about Jesus, of all people. I could barely contain my laughter as he stated, "You know, all people are scum. But Jesus was cool!"

This was directly after he punctuated a sentence about how awesome Jesus was with, "I wish I was a cat."

My bus finally arrived, and much as I was amused by the crazy fucking dude and his love of Jesus, I was glad to be rid of him. Or was I?

NOPE. The guy joined us on the bus with a raucous yell of "YEEEAAAAAAHHHH BUS RIDERS!"

He continued to shout and yell and sing random bits of pop culture tunes while on the bus, until the driver literally told him, "We're gonna play the quiet game now. Let's see how long we can all stay quiet!"

When the man left the bus with a "Jesus loves you all!" the driver used the speaker system to tell everyone, "That's why we call it public transportation." Doesn't entirely work on paper, but we all got the joke anyway, and the entire bus laughed. Good times!
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
18 December 2008 @ 10:33 am

Holy shiiiiiii I think my panel proposal for the NCWCA Conference just got accepted. WHAT NOW BITCHES, HEADIN' UP A SIX PERSON PANEL DISCUSSION, THE WORLD WILL KNOW THE WORD OF PETAR, BYAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
16 December 2008 @ 05:10 pm
ANTS ARE BACK AND THEY'RE CRAWLIN' ALL OVAH THE PLACE FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
14 December 2008 @ 07:41 pm
Urgh. Everyone has been suffering a good bit lately (myself included). I suppose it's to be suspected with finals rolling around, but it still sucks. It reminds me of a story that I thought I should tell:

A long time ago, the son of a king of Persia was raised alongside the son of the grand vizier, and their friendship was legendary. When the prince ascended to the throne, he said to his friend: "While I attend to the affairs of the kingdom, will you please write me a history of men and the world, so that I can draw the necessary lessons from it and thus know the proper way to act."

The king's friend consulted with the most famous historians, the most learned scholars, and the most respected sages. Five years later he presented himself proudly at the palace.

"Sire," he said, "here are thirty-six volumes relating the entire history of the world from creation to your accession."

"Thirty-six volumes!" cried the king. "How will I ever have time to read them? I have so much work administering my kingdom and seeing to my two hundred queens. Please, friend, condense your history."

Two years later, the friend returned to the palace with ten volumes. But the king was at war with the neighboring monarch. He wa found on a mountaintop in the desert, directing the battle.

"The fate of our kingdom is being played out as we speak. Where would I find the time to read ten volumes? Abridge your history even further."

The vizier's son left and worked three years on a single volume that gave an accurate picture of the essence. The king was now caught up in legislating.

"How lucky you are to have the time to write quietly. While you've been doing that, I've been debating taxes and their collection. Bring me tenfold fewer pages - I'll spend an evening mining them."

Two years later, it was done. But when the friend returned, he found the king bedridden, in dreadful pain. The friend himself was no longer young; his wrinkled face was haloed by a mane of white hair.

"Well?" whispered the king with his dying breath. "The history of men?"

His friend gazed steadily at him and, as the king was about to die, he said:

"They suffer, Majesty."
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
08 December 2008 @ 12:16 am
EPIC  
Alright, what if . . . WHAT IF . . . what if Prospero from The Tempest fought Gandalf from Lord of the Rings in a duel?

Things to consider: whether Prospero's spirits get to join in the brawl, whether it's book Gandalf or movie Gandalf, would Gandalf's crazy staff flashlight thing work on Ariel or those brutal spirit dog things?

Discuss.
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
07 December 2008 @ 11:34 am
Argh. My Xbox has been red ring'd. The good ol' three red lights of death. I think my warranty expired a few months ago, and given I already had to spend $600 on one goddamn pointless class over the break, looks like a new shittily crafted game machine will have to wait a bit. Anyone know if there's anything that could be possibly done to fix this thing's shitty, probably melted and fused cooling system (lookin' at you Shelbster)?

Also, I just went to a beautiful choir performance at a Catholic Church. Has anyone else felt like they're sneaking into somebody's secret club house? All the symbols and banners and decoder rings kind of gave me the vibe, I dunno. I found out they have made these nifty pad thingies for when they kneel, so their knees aren't bleeding by the end of a service! Neat.
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
30 November 2008 @ 10:23 pm

Wow, it's been a hell of a long time since I posted anything other than responses to others' posts. Shows how interesting I think my own life is, eh?

If anyone really cared, (I wouldn't) things go as they have for a while now, nothing very exciting. I've studied up a lot more on the ethical theories of Aristotle and Buddhism, and on modern lifespan developmental psychology. Fun stuff. I've made great headway in my job at the Writing Center: One of the Lead Tutors mentioned (half-jokingly, of course, but still) that they should change the policy of only allowing grad students into the position of Lead Tutor for me. UUUNNNGGH.

Anyway. On to (hopefully) more interesting things. I have written more poetry! It follows. If you didn't know I posted poetry before, I posted some a long time ago, I think on my very first post actually (being that narcissistic). Anyway, here they are: most of them are pretty much unfinished, and shitty, but enjoy nonetheless.

Writer’s Block

Aw shit I cannot think of what to write

And if I write, a piece of shit will come:

Some crap I’d never want to bring to light

The likes of which would make one say, “It’s dumb,

A piece of shit, a terribad and gross

Assumption that a fool could even try

Attempting anything I would not toss…”

Oh what the fuck, that didn’t rhyme! I’ll cry

And scream before this slanted crap is written,

And don’t forget a messed up meter,

Trochees that never get the ladies smitten

With fools who penned them like sad Peter.

Oh. Wait a tick. This isn’t all that bad.

The poem’s done! I guess I should be glad.

 

Convalescence

I walked from bright sunlight into the stillness,

Staleness, silence, hanging in the air where,

Overwhelmed by sights of a thousand lifetimes

A cacophony of emotions screamed within me, without me

The strangest mix of unknown dread and happiness

Of sublime fear and love untold was felt

The pallid, sunken faces of the abandoned looked up at me

Those who are given the utmost care stared

A dog approached, pacing the halls

Known by all – he is lord and master of this place

His lion’s mane shifted with a regal air

As he surveyed his kingdom of peace and love

Of death and order

He is not long for this world, nor are his subjects

They have lived life most lively, seen terrors most terrible

They have known much, and have much to tell

They’ve had enough. They are done.

These people will die in heaven, rather than live in hell.

 
Untitled

This strange, unknown sound…

What is it? Where is it? Why do I hear it?

I cannot know: it drones behind closed doors,

Pours from some unknown source

Amidst a cacophony of cackling people’s

Unconscious chatter on unknown subjects.

I try, I try, I try to hear! I try to know!

I fail. It drones on. It makes me sick.

Its inexplicability rises in my gullet,

Swims in my head, filling it to bursting,

Making it pulse; I want to hurl upward, outward

This strange, unknown sound…

 

The Tree

A great tree lies in the center of a courtyard.

 

There, the stillness is infinite.

 

The silence is omnipresent, the serenity absolute.

 

Nothing will stir, nothing will make a sound.

 

One’s voice is taken away in the full, empty air.

 

It is ultimate order.

 

It is chaos all-consuming.

 

No birds chirp, no frogs call out,

No people scream in terror, anger, ecstasy,

Madness like this devouring stillness

That eats up all movement, all sound,

All chaos, all life consumed by

The outstretched boughs of this saintly monument to

 

Order.

 

 

The Wind and the Rain

I see my birth in the morning,

With beloved family beside,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain

I see my wonder at the dark,

With strange sounds filling fantasy,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain

I see comfort through my sad times,

With gentle breeze and soothing pour,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain

I see solace in the chaos,

With quiet whistling through the leaves,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain

I see my death in the evening,

With beloved family beside,

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain

 

 

Forums!

Oh how wonderful to be a forum troll!

I must admit it seems rather droll

To be spouting obscenities in angry, angry caps

To people half your age reading porn in their laps!

Oh how wonderful it must be to lurk!

To hide from sight, be you saint or jerk!

You have a lot of interest, and maybe many opinions

But unfortunately you fear the admin’s minions.

Oh how wonderful to be a forum flamer!

To never settle for anything that’s tamer!

Over any disagreement, you’re sure to stir up shit!

You’ll bring Nazis into arguments just for the sake of it!

On so many forums, I’ve taken every role

All these forum posts are certainly taking their toll

Where my soul once was there’s now a gaping, empty hole

Oh how wonderful to be a forum troll!

 

The Ghoul

You see me still, yet you know me not!

I am no longer cast in with your living lot!

As you can see, the flames took their toll

It was the crone who did claim my soul

It was she who gave me renewed unlife

All that she asked was that I cause strife!

The only catch is to be consumed by fire,

Forever ablaze with what engenders my ire.

I am her soldier, her ghoul: Don’t cross her path!

Or I’ll burn out your eyes with my fiery wrath!

Hatred and anguish would fuel the deed…

To all who would listen, to this lesson, take heed:

No wealth, no power, no trappings of state

Could ever give worth to this sorry fate.

Let go of your passions, your hatreds, your zest

Let ashes go to ashes, take your deserved rest!

 
Untitled

My poems are so dreary, dreadful, and dire

They inspire me not to laugh, but to woefully weep,

To sleep, perchance to dream of the dead

And other dreadful things. Where is my happiness?

That sappiness that let me look on all things

As if on puppet strings, so that everything big and small

Made me lawl?

 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
27 September 2008 @ 11:10 pm

Recent research into psychology (Erik Erikson's stages of psychosocial development in the life cycle to be exact) I've become somewhat . . . depressed.

I must emphasize "somewhat" however. It's not a big deal. I've further affirmed my sense of identity, and feel good that I really do know what I want to do with my life, but with enough leeway that many opportunities, surprises, twists and turns await me. For the most part I really have moved on from adolescence (it sounds simple and like everyone has, but really, that's not the case). However, I'm utterly failing at adulthood.

Adulthood starts off with a search for intimacy. This makes a lot of sense: having already discovered my vocation and career path and such, I've shifted my attentions to the more romantic side of things (not Romantic, though that's always on the mind. KEEEAAAAATS). And I've totally been gunning for Captain of the fail boat. I've been single for years, never had a very stable or healthy relationship at all to begin with, and I doubt I have any prospects. I'm fucking diabetic as well, and that makes me feel like I'm running out of time. Other people may be able to dick around until they're 30, but that may be my halfway point. I want to be around at least until my kids are out of college.

Being quite important to me both from my point of view and apparently also from the point of view of highly notable psychologists, I think the matter bears close inspection. What the fuck have I been doing wrong? There must be huge amounts of things. I've had women actively pursue me before who were annoying, dull, shallow, to be frank, just dumb. I've also ditched out on women who I "haven't been able to communicate with actively enough." Are my standards way too high? Should my expectations be way lower? Lowered expectations in everything else in life have worked out pretty well (ie everything sucks, so when something cool happens it's hella awesome and surprising).

But that seems like a terribly dismal way of going about it. I should be able to attract a good, smart woman. What else is it? Am I too needy? clingy? Calling people a few times a week doesn't seem all that terrible, but maybe I'm wrong? The unfortunate thing is, I'm completely out of touch in such matters. According to everyone I've talked to, I apparently live in the Stone Age, when great woolly creatures roamed the earth, and men opened doors and took ladies out for dinner. And they paid for it! WTF?

Is this the problem? Am I not enough of an asshole? This seems very counter-intuitive. But according to almost all observations, women become strangely attracted to dudes acting like total dicks and morons. Do I need to switch off my morals, and get totally piss drunk whenever I meet a lady? Maybe then I'd be totally what the girls are into. Stop me if this starts sounding like a fucking pissy rant.

So, there it is. Some possible ideas as to why I suck at relationships in general, sprinkled with whining and bitchiness. Any pointers? Ideas? Concurrence with said sucking?
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
16 September 2008 @ 07:47 pm
I got inspiration to write a monologue for a rough character idea while I was in Philosophy today (My professor was repeating himself a lot so I had time). I guess I'd name him "Unnameable Dread" for the moment (psychology wut). Spot the logical fallacies!

"We all have goals. What does that mean, exactly? Few people would ask such a simple-sounding question. I think it's one worth asking, however. I have a goal. A goal, itself, is a sort of ideal. It's a state of the world that does not exist now, but could exist if one takes action. Ah, action! There it is. There's the 'having' part. To 'have' a goal is to take action to make that ideal state of the world exist. But why do we have goals, anyway? Why do we want that ideal world to exist? Because we think it's better, honestly. The current world is not good enough. Did you notice that word there? We want the world to be good! So, I have the goal of killing you. To kill someone is a major act of preferment. Clearly, I prefer myself over you. Clearly, I believe that the world would be far more ideal without you, and that I could do far more good without you than could be done by both of us being alive. A fairly large assumption, to be sure! But hey, like all heroes, I'm willing to take such a risk for this ideal world. So, buck up! I'm achieving my goal. We're changing the world for the better! Now hold still...."

What do you think? What kind of character do you picture? Is he ridiculous, scary, weird, dumb, boring?
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
02 September 2008 @ 06:48 pm
Today was my first true day of tutoring, when I actually spent four straight brutal hours of appointments rather than sitting around waiting for drop-ins.

I fucking loved it.

I got to know some awesome students, I got apathetic ones to get interested, and I worked with a couple on some awesome assignments. One girl didn't think she was good or prepared enough to finish her assignment? BAMS MOFO YA'LL GOT CONFIDENCE. One guy had no idea what he was going to write about for his assignment? BAMS BITCH YA'LL HAVE ALL KINDS OF IDEAS, and he came up with them all by himself. UUUUUNNNNNNNGGGGHHHHH.

So, after a flurry of work I ended the day in tired, ecstatic satisfaction. This is the greatest job I've ever had, and I'm lovin' every minute of it motherfuckers.
 
 
Current Location: Teh libary
Current Mood: ecstatic
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
18 August 2008 @ 10:17 pm
 I guess I can safely say I'm a strange person, so one might want to keep that in mind if reading this post. Ahem.

People have their churches, their temples. Holy places where they may renew their faith, find their god, bring understanding and happiness in their lives, excitement in the dull monotony. Usually these places happen to actually be churches or temples of some kind. For me, one of those places is the redwood forests. The other one, the one I go to most often and derive solace and happiness from, is probably quite unexpected to most.

It's the bus! Yup, the regular ol' city bus. I made a visit to the temple earlier today, and had a wonderful experience that I had to write about. I'm probably going to turn it to verse at some point as well. I walked to the bus stop to encounter patrons already sitting there: A husband and wife with a little girl. The man could be described as your basic douche by most accounts. However, it was clear that he had much love for his wife, and he treated his little daughter with the utmost kindness and care. They both doted on her, which is how I discovered that not only was she a good girl about safety (When riding a bike was mentioned she took care to tell everyone that they must wear a helmet) and dental hygiene, but she was also going to school for the first time! The scene was adorable, and I could not help but simply sit with the largest smile upon my face. I looked at the sky where the trees swayed in a gentle breeze, and the birds flew in graceful formation. The man kindly stood up from his seat to allow an elderly lady to rest her feet as she approached. Yes, the bus could take its time. I could wait.

The bus arrived late, and I really didn't care. As it approached, a gleam of recognition and then excitement arose in the child's eyes. "JOHN!" she shouted to the bus, as the doors opened to reveal a kindly man whom she and I both knew well. I have known this man for years; a somewhat odd man, he has long white hair he keeps up in a ponytail. He knows many of the people who frequent his route, chatting with anyone who cares to, no matter what "disability" they may have. The girl danced with joy to see our kindly shepard, who greeted me with a knowing wink (as to what he knows, I know not; he has seen and heard everything). I eased into a seat (hard and with little padding, yet comfortable for reasons I cannot fathom) and felt and heard the familiar rumbling as the bus started toward our destinations.

It is ironic to say so, but I am most comfortable there, on the bus, feeling the gentle rocking and stirring, bathed in gentle rays of the sun through the window, gazing out at the beauty of the world, surrounded by one of the holiest of things: (to me) humanity. It is everywhere: the elderly and the disabled, looked after and helped on to the bus, given the most comfortable and easy to use seats; strangers stirring up conversations; everyone trying to find their way, going to predetermined destinations on a larger patch we cannot fathom; and this darling family.

I've felt down, and depressed, like anyone does at least from time to time. But I look at something like this, like a little girl being taken about town by adoring parents, going off to school and excited about it, so ready to learn . . . and everything is alright. It's going to be okay. If I should die, when I should die, it will be alright. The world won't end. It'll still be there, with all its wonder and beauty and greatness, and she'll be there to look after it. And she'll do a damn good job. Ah, humanity! Ah, the universe! Isn't it fucking grand?
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
04 August 2008 @ 10:05 am

I just found an old poem I wrote back in High School. It doesn't follow any rhythm or meter as I hadn't really learned anything like that, so it's all free verse. It's based on a real event in my back yard, after which I immediately had to write the whole thing. That was one of my few moments where I was really inspired, and I think it still holds up somewhat (I may have to tweak it a bit, I dunno).

Mister Rat

 

I spied a familiar face on my path one day,

When I saw a little rat, bathing lazily in the sun.

I had often seen him scurry this way and that

Yet now he had not a care in the world.

“How are you, Mister Rat?” I asked him.

He responded with a twitch of his nose,

Flashing long, dark whiskers in the sunlight.

He responded with a simple stare,

Bright little eyes that shined with

Knowledge, wisdom, experience, life,

That had seen many things, and gone to many places,

That had peered at me many times, through grass, glass, and grate.

Now the energy I saw in youth was gone,

Replaced with tempered patience and simple pleasure.

His gray mane moved about as he shifted,

Attempting to find a position of comfort

In the fading light of the sun upon the warm cement.

Fear had left Mister Rat.

He paid no mind to any danger that would pass

As he lay in the open, hiding no longer.

He would not hide from cats, from birds,

From me, as I sat before him, meeting his gaze.

He knew much of life, knew that all must pass,

Knew that he must pass, and his time had come.

As I looked upon his tail, lengthened with the passing years,

At his fur changed from brown to gray to white,

Memories of his youth passed through my mind,

Of his victories, of his defeats, along with my own.

I rose to my feet, as light fell to shadow,

And bid farewell to my old dear friend,

Whose life, experience, and wisdom he had given to me.

He responded still with a simple stare.

When the sun arose in the sky once again,

I returned to my friend as he lay still on the cement,

And looked upon the steady, shining, unyielding, unflinching gaze

Of Mister Rat.

-Peter

 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
26 July 2008 @ 05:31 pm
So, I just recently finished reading a lil' book entitled Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. It's a novel originally published in 1990 about the end of the world, and all the angels and demons and crazy stuff involved in said end of the world.

In short, it's goddamned good.

If you haven't read this book, do so! You won't regret it, even if you don't like the occasional British reference (there actually aren't that many, and they're sometimes even explained to American readers). Both authors are incredibly good and funny writers, and you can see they stuck to their respective strong points. The novel introduces a wealth of eclectic characters, and they're all interesting and not hard to identify with in some way. The mood is funny, sad, strange, epic, tense, exhilarating, and calm when it needs to be.

There were many points where I'd just have to stop and marvel at a particular line that was really funny, or epic, or just cool, that just stood out on its own as being a really good and well-written line. I laughed out loud quite often (I never do this alone) and at one point I put down the book and sat there laughing for maybe a minute straight. It felt good.

I've mentioned a couple times that this book can be epic. It really is at moments, and it's also badass. There were a number of times where I had Megadeth's Blessed Are the Dead stuck in my head, so you could say this book is pretty fuckin' metal too.
 
 
Current Music: Blessed Are the Dead
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
23 July 2008 @ 08:22 pm
I don't often mention the fact that I was once an Economist of sorts, mainly because whenever I do I inevitably fall into a dark spiral of anger and end up ranting for half an hour (if you're lucky) about the state of the field in the public eye, in politics, and at the academic level. Wait a minute. Aw, shit. I already mentioned it.

Put on yer helmets, boys and girls. Time for a crash course in one of the most (currently) retarded fields of academic study around.

Most would assume by this point that I'm one of those people.  You know, that student who gets into a field of study, but turns out to be really terrible at it, fails their classes and then harbors a grudge against the entire field of study forever (there are plenty of people like that where Economics is concerned). Thankfully I can say I did alright in my classes back in the day.

Anyway, so what is my deal? Why am I so pissed at Economics? Well, Economics is supposed to be about a few things. It's the study of how humans deal with scarce resources. Any resource is scarce and finite in at least some way, because if that weren't the case we wouldn't really ever have any problems, would we? Economics deals with how resources are accumulated and divvied up and such. The logical point of this is it's the study of how society may maximize efficiency and utility of its scarce resources for the betterment of all.

This all sounds pretty awesome, doesn't it? It really should be. The only problem is, the way Economics is taught in school and the way Economics is portrayed by media and supposed Economics "experts" the whole field looks like fucking Business.

Business is a really retarded field, and most people with a degree in Business unfortunately have a degree in Bullshit or alternatively Being a Drain on Society (oddly enough I know a lot of cool people who are Business majors). Business majors learn a lot of the same things that Economists do, except for with kind of opposite goals. They seek to maximize profit, not efficiency, with the major goal of basically having one human being (you) drain as much resources from the rest of society as possible. Thus, I find it really odd and infuriating that the field of study that I had loved is not really being taught anymore. Instead, the sound of morons can be heard in classrooms throughout the country, as people give really imaginative reasons for why minimum wage and taxes on the wealthy are bad, and why businesses operating with long term plans are run by suckers.

Well, enough of my nerdy moaning and bitching. I'm an English major now! The world can deal with such incredible masterminds of Economics as John McCain and Milton Friedman wannabes (shudder and double shudder).
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
15 July 2008 @ 11:22 pm
Back in High School a couple of friends were making a movie as part of a project for our Arthurian Legend class (it was basically a cooler senior english class).   I tagged along to help them out, mainly by holding the camera while they played the roles. It was this crazy flick where for some reason Mordred came back from the dead in the present time, resurrected by Merlin in twig form (he was turned into a tree by Nimue). By the way, Merlin was played by one of us wiggling a stick with a picture of Gandalf's face plastered to it in front of the camera while they did an impersonation of basically Sean Connery.

Merlin informs Mordred that he was brought back to do battle with the King once again, who happens to be the Burger King this time around (played by one of us wielding a lightsaber wearing a burger king mask). We filmed the whole thing around Annadell, and it was pretty entertaining just trying not to laugh while a stick is being waved around with one of Gandalf's funnier looks on it. At one point one of my friends thought we were done shooting scenes with one particular picture of Gandalf (er, Merlin) and threw him into the river, at which point I screamed "GANDAAAAALF!"

At one point, we decided to cross the river by climbing across this fallen tree, mainly because we were too lazy to go find a bridge that probably wasn't that far away. I was the last to cross, and nearly fell off of it while holding the precious camera holding all of our work. I hung on to dear life, skimming the water with my feet, and managed to haul myself back up and get across, which somehow earned me the title of "River Wrangler" (this ended up being my official title in the credits).

Man, good times. Though probably a pretty boring story in hindsight. You had to be there, man.
 
 
Current Music: Final Boss music in Super Mario RPG. Don't tell me you never played that game
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
14 July 2008 @ 03:29 pm
 I suppose it's not generally known that I sometimes get depressed like anyone else. I don't know why I do, usually I guess it's just a combination of everything that sometimes just gang up to bring me down. I tend to act crazy and silly in an attempt to hide it and not drag anyone else down, and it helps to focus my mind on trying to be funny.

Why am I writing about this? I don't know, sometimes I just like to be a bit truthful now and then. You should probably queue some real emo music right about  now to get you in the mood, like The Cure or something. Then picture me draped in black clothes that I don't own with my hair dyed black, tears streaming down my face, poised on the brink of suicide because of course it would be so intense and everyone would be so sad and man would it make a big difference in the world because I'm just that awesome, it totally wouldn't be selfish at all.

Well! Good to get that out of the way with some self-deprecating humor. Now for something completely different. Did anyone ever play either of the Disgaea games for PS2? They dominate so hard. Just wanted to mention that. :P!!!!!!!!!!!
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
09 July 2008 @ 11:51 pm
One time, when I was pretty sleep deprived, I had fixated on my computer monitor until 3 AM, at which time, with my labors finally finished (Yes it might have been a WoW raid back when Kara was difficult) it flickered into darkness.

I sat there, exhausted but content, alone in nothing but blackness. It seemed to me that endless void stretched before me, and it was there that I stared.

It seemed that I stared at nothing for a long time. But eventually, I discovered something. Something at the edge of my faltering vision and consciousness emerged; it was small and barely recognizable at first. But the longer I stared, the more I saw.

It was swirling colors in the black. It was chaos. Out of the infinite order and simplicity of this void, an underlying chaos and madness emerged. But even within this there seemed to eb patterns, and thus an order of its own. It was like seeing something that I had always known, but had truly only guessed. The utter simplicity and complexity of this small vision of the universe astounded me.

Shelby later told me that I was seeing a cell in the back of my eye doing something. I guess I just have really weird and crazy interpretations of things. Did you know I argue with myself in my head? I can be a real asshole sometimes, I tell you what.

-Pete
 
 
Peter Peringer-Batten
08 July 2008 @ 11:52 pm
I meet some pretty weird people.

One night, me and my buddy Steve were hanging out at Scott's house. 1 AM rolled around, so we decided to call it, and Steve was kind enough to give me a ride. A heavy downpour had started, and as we drove down the street we felt this weird rumbling. Well, it turned out Steve had a flat tire. Rather than be smart, and simply park there and ask Scott for a ride home given he was like 50 feet away, we slowly crawled our way to a gas station on the messed up tire, watching for cops given we were going at most 5 miles per hour down the road.

When we made it to the gas station, Steve got the idea to use a little air pumping station and see if that would tide the tire over. When we approached the station there was another car parked there. A girl popped out and extended greetings which we awkwardly returned (I suppose we didn't feel very sociable in pitch darkness and pouring rain). The girl dashed into a nearby phone booth, and Steve left to go get some change for the air.

"HEY! You like remote controlled cars?"  a man suddenly asked me. He was large and muscled, but somewhat fat as well. He had the look of being perpetually unshaven. His eyes seemed glazed over.

"Um, well, I haven't used one in ages, so I guess I don't like them anymore," was my really really awkwardly muttered response.

Steve returned. "You wanna buy an RC car?" the man grilled his new potential customer.

Before Steve could say "What?" (I assume that was going to be his response) the girl emerged from the phone booth. "They don't like RC cars!" she interjected, casually standing in the thundering rain.

Steve and I exchanged quizzical looks (mine also probably looked a bit like hey we're probably going to die you know) and returned to our task of attempting to refill the tire with air, while the man attempted to entice us to give him money for "gas." The girl wandered around aimlessly with the same glazed-over eyes as the man, then suddenly turned to us with an air of excitement, purpose even.

"Were you guys doing crazy turns on curbs or something?" she asked, a gleam in her eye as she stared at the tear in Steve's tire.

"Uh, no, we were just hanging out at a friend's house," I answered with continued awkwardness and confusion.

A pause followed, until an idea dawned on the girl: "Let's go to a casino!"

Neither of us could think of a proper response. When the man discovered neither of us had money to spare for strange strangers at a gas station at 2 AM, they loaded into their car and sped off into the blackness, leaving us to our exceedingly soggy and dreary work.
 
 
 
 

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