Hitchhikers Disappear some more

This is the final version of my vanishing hitchhiker story for class purposes, I'm thrilled to be done with it for a few weeks. Any thoughts?

Personal Note

I feel there are certain facets of my life that I should share with you, friends. First, finals time is approaching, which means I'm becoming more polarized than usual. When happy, I am happy, and when sad, I am sad. There is no middle ground. When feeling introverted, I really want to be left alone, and when feeling extroverted, I will make or find a party.

Second, my knee is alternating between hurting like a motherfucker with every step and hurting only when I twist it. I need to get this checked. Hasn't happened yet.

Finally, I pretty much have the best cast ever for this one-act, and can't remember ever enjoying semi-legit theatre so much, except MAYBE Antigone.

How are you? What are you up to?

This is hard!

Okay, not really. It's actually quite easy, but I'm finding that I have trouble remembering to think of things to write about. So I'm just going to inanely babble about my life for a while. Is that a way to become a famous blogger? Well, no, probably not.

But I don't want fans. I like friends.

Before the babble, though, there's one more element of the horror story to discuss: Status. Have you noticed that macho guys like watching scary movies with girls? Yeah, it's because we like reaffirming that we possess one of those ancient greek ideals. Manliness or something. And because you want the girl to snuggle up next to you.

Horror stories are the same way. The jumpy guy loses status. The cool-headed guy gains status. Oh yeah, sure, I'm sure all you alpha males out there are getting indignant, so let me clear something up: You can say that you're testing yourself, or you like the suspense, or that you're preparing your nerves for a real situation. That's fine, you're lying to yourself, too. You enjoy your ephemeral superiority.

Shifting gears.

I've been using this "skype" thing for a day or so. It's okay. Free phone calls? Sweet, I'm on board. chat program? Also cool. It's just redundant for me, since I have google voice. Same capabilities. But fewer of my friends have it. So NYAAAH. Farts on you, friends, for not using google.

Plus facebook chat, which is I think my most commonly used method of communication. Yay for friends using that.

Unrelatedly, if you know a girl in Romania, give her a hug.

I'm out of things to say.

A digression from horror

This is a quick break from my discussion on horror, because I wrote a 19 page paper on it, and don't want to think about the subject for a while. Instead, let's talk about male relationships, shall we? I don't mean hot guy-on-guy action, here, so stop picturing that.

Last night, my roommate and I were watching Sherlock Holmes, and we realized two things: First, Bartitsu is the manliest and silliest looking of all martial arts. Second, at any given moment, our relationship was exactly like the relationship of Holmes and Watson. Is that normal? It's certainly normal for me. I have the same type of friendship with Jonathan that I do with Jake, Bob, and Matt. Sorry ladies, I adore you all, but it's a different kind of friendship.

So, gentlemen, what say you? Does that seem like a pretty normal friendship for you? Ladies, is there an equivalent sort of friendship in your gender?

Also, if you missed the subtext, you should watch Sherlock Holmes. It's awesome.

Part Two

It's now time for the second installment of our conversation, friends. You might be wondering "Why, Scott, are you telling us about horror stories?" Well, this semester has revolved around creepiness for me. A class on American Gothic Literature, a Cognitive Science research project on the Uncanny Valley, and a Folklore research project on Boy Scout Campfire Stories, all in one delightful semester of mindfucks.

So what has this taught me? First, all the stories I told at camp this summer sucked, with maybe one exception. Second, I seem to have more of a fascination with the creepy and scary than most people.

Let's consider one winner I've collected in multiple forms over the years, called Green Hands.

Native American Brave out hunting, sees a beautiful girl, gets to know her, returns to his tribe. Finds out she's the daughter of the chief of a tribe with whom they compete for resources. Brave continues to seek out girl, and is one day caught by the opposing tribe. He's killed and buried in a shallow grave, where his hands are left above ground because they got him into trouble. His hands putrefy and rot, still sticking out of the earth. The spirit of the hands still roam the earth, looking for his love. When you feel a cold chill, or a touch when nobody is around, those are the brave's hands.

I first heard this at a scout camp. You know Boy Scouts, those teenage guys that are at the perfect age to sneak out at night as an act of defiance, and starting to get pretty interested in girls? And is there anyone who hasn't felt something brush their arm, or gotten a cold chill when they're walking around the woods at night?

You see the sinister agenda of camp counselors, now, don't you?

Bump in the Night

I've been away for a while. Sorry about that. This is the start of an ongoing series that will discuss horror, so please stay tuned, and stay patient.

My folklore class this semester has discussed two technical terms that I've been using in daily conversation since middle school: The Mindfuck, and The What-The-Hell. For those who aren't into the idea of technical jargon, you can call the same feeling "Cognitive Dissonance." The feeling is what's at the heart of gothic and horror. It comes from the unexpected, chaotic beauty of the sublime, the inhuman humanity of the grotesque, and the un-homelike things that are called uncanny.

So what is the mindfuck? It's getting someone to expect one thing, and then snatching it out from beneath their feet. Goodnight, children. Sweet dreams.

So I lied

In my last post I said I would be updating this a little more frequently. Based on the fact that I said that a month ago, I think it's safe to say you all figured out that I didn't manage to do that. I realized that most of my papers, while perfectly in line with the language part of this blog, have very little to do with what I've really tried to do here: Talk to you about things that I really think matter.

So yes, I'll continue writing here occasionally, and no I won't be posting often enough to gain much attention. I like it that way. Most of you get these updates through Facebook Notes, so you'll still get my occasional supplementary content like viral quizzes.

So what do I think matters? Doing what feels right. The easiest way to discern that is by when we're happy and when we aren't. That's not the only way, but it is an easy way. This is going to be another post related to "I Win," so for those of you who are really familiar with the idea of synthetic happiness, you can probably go get a drink and stop reading very carefully.

There is some good in everything. My car broke down sixty miles away from home, and only though the help of strangers did I get it into Springfield. That was last Friday. I've been without a car all week, but I've still been connected to the world enough to be happy. Going out with friends, talking to people on Facebook, keeping conversations running through text messages. When have I been really happy? When I've been talking with people. When I've been getting new ideas, or hearing old ones, or sharing thoughts with the people I consider friends. How many of you have had the same experience? Feeling like you're going crazy because you're out of touch with your friends? I'm betting I'm not the only one.

So why does this make me happy? Because it's easy for me. It isn't always the path of least resistance. People often disagree with what I say, which makes me think about it, and consider things that I might have otherwise missed. I often disagree with my friends as well. That's how it works. If we were all the same, there would be no reason to share thoughts.

For me, conversation is right. My post about conversation as the art of humanity should be a dead giveaway on that. For other people making things is right. Or helping others. Or any number of other things. But for me, conversation is right. Find what's right for you. Do what you're meant to do. Dare to be happy.