itookthepillyougaveme

Tag: mental-health

  • Activity #8- anyspaceiwant

    I open it again. Flip forward until it’s blank. Yes. Spit it out. The page is lonely; colourless, not neglected no, just not discovered yet. Waiting to say, “hello, aren’t you the prettiest little fuck-up” . An Icarian Fall.

    Dimensions: about three inches by six. 3/4 inch thick. Red. Like a shitty rose.

    It’s important understand that this space is not for you. It’s mine. It does, however, bleed into my life, obscuring my eyes, guiding them with a lens of madness, of unremorseful appreciation. Know this; if it’s italic, it’s direct from the red space. Lucky you, fuck you think?

    As Max says “Dude what if we were dogs” Bro’s so real.

    a page from the space.

    Real, not tantalizing, close, not the brilliant illumination of ideals, but real. Truly real. What is? Whatever I allow, only what I allow to be.

    Forward 10 pages. A brilliance I receive beyond my power to make. Suddenly I know I have passed to a shore where I do not live. I see now, what I thought was part of the light, is part of the dark.

    It’s far too easy to get lost in here. I visit it everyday, and I still find myself slipping down the wrong hallway, sliding into one of the flooded rooms, the ones where the bulbs are burnt out. Most of what you find here is text, partially recognizable characters scribbled up and down the lines- 23 per page. You are often directed to a external work, one that does not exist within this space. Look! Go read The Industrial Society and it’s Future! Sink deeper into the depravity of this world under the false moniker of intellectualism. If you’re lagging behind the class, this space is a book, or rather an empty book waiting to be filled with text. It exists anywhere I exist, tagging along in my back pocket, chomping at the bit when any predicament or experience comes my way, eager to catalogue and commentate.

    Look closer, and you will find surprisingly deep pools of sorrow.

    Check out Hannah Arendt

    Lost again. Flip back to the beginning. Reread it. This time you’ll understand, this time you’ll enact it.

    Max and I with our hazy IPAs, we sit in the beargrass, admiring the lichen, discussing the whys of what has been, and the prospects of things to come. There you are. That is the start. Of this space. It’s really the middle of this chapter, however for our purposes that’s all you need know. It flits between the tangible and that which is only applicable in the mind, it exists because you will it to, you prune it and cherish it all whilst fearing what it reminds you of- yourself.

    This is not inclusive, nor is it exclusively selective. This space exists so that you may tamper with yourself in the safety of language. A third space only in ideals. This special issue.. blah blah blah… does whatever you want it to do. That’s why it’s not a third space. It’s more personal, more intuitive, a leper of fantastical notions.

    Are you there? You must be with me. There are pages, it is red, you know how many lines per page, you know there things that have been written. You do not know what they mean. You are not me. This is not your space. Sometimes, it barely feels like mine. Whatever this has meant to you, try to replicate the negligence of it’s nuance in your own way. Build your own little space of everythings and nothings. Collect your things too dear to speak aloud, and tuck them with purpose, hide them from all that ails, so that you may one day become what you hold so dearly.

    If found: Contact XXX-XXX-XXXX

    Reward: A spliff and a hug

    a hyperlink within an image, an
    image from a page of the space

  • Activity #9- Disclosure

    -Magnets

    Kershbaum

    Disability disclosure-the ins and outs of there being no real proper way to enact the public’s understanding of a predicament only truly understood by the plagued. An act of disclosure becomes a “dance of perturbation and response,” meaning the writer puts something into the world, and the world responds, often unpredictably. I enjoyed her matter of fact tone, not one to beat about.

    Kershbaum underlines three main purposes for disability disclosure(academically).

    -Building Community

    -Illustrating Theory

    -Claiming Identity

    Upon ingesting this piece, I became wrapped up in the infinity of nuance one must undergo when attempting to disclose their disability, without marring their message, image, or composure. The idea that you could disclose it flawlessly, with a smooth, collected action, only to be met with a coagulation of condescending responses(half conscious, half subconscious) is a bit disheartening. So is our world, is it not?

    The format did make me feel. Surprised. Taken aback. Flummoxed. This isn’t fair.

    Mannivannan

    Now. Different format of expression, addressing an adjacent facet of the same umbrella phenom: discrimination.

    So, a Twine game, basically. I found this one to depict the jarringly marginal nature of the healthcare system very well due mostly to it’s format, and partially to the nature of the language used. It certainly is structured to resonate with the reader in a tangible fashion, one which drives the message home deeper. Although perhaps a bit less well rounded than Kershbaum’s in terms of in depth explanations, it offered more soul to the reader. Also, it’s a game, so naturally, higher retention is almost a definite.

    Now, in tandem please.

    Obviously, the intention of each piece was to invite discussion on what it means to disclose personal events and struggles that frame a larger issue, and whether they’re effective at doing so. The personification of society’s pitfalls; a very common form of expression. One’s ability to utilize agency is displayed, then questioned, then deployed again. I’m not going to sit here and reach out to try and corroborate these pieces to past items, as they all share traits, as everything in our world does. it is certain that all pieces used this semester have been different modes of rhetoric, all trying to persuade, to teach, to entertain, hiding behind the facade of their topics being “morally just” or “progressive”. At the end of the day, they are all simply varying forms of propaganda, just as the words you read now are. And that’s okay. I do enjoy discourse upon agency, why some have more and some have less, why we are afforded different privileges based on false sequitives.

    And so, in that way, I know that such works are important, as what do we have, if not the agency to discuss, to disagree, and the right to utilize the machine’s rhetoric to our favour. Exploration through dissemination.

    this is a hyperlink to the FARS system.

  • Activity #5- Visual Ventricle

    Symbols are rhetoric. Rigggght. So is everything else. Right.

    Here’s my ‘moodboard’. The intention behind this is rooted in depicting the falsities we are preached as a society. Adherence is only necessary if everyone else adheres. Adhere to some degree to achieve some degree of success. Anyways, that’s irrelevant. Just remember to work hard in high school so you can go to a good university so you can get a good job so you can have a big, pure family so you’re able to lock yourself behind your white picket fence while the world around you burns. It’s simple.

    this is something i drew. it's a dystopian depiction of our world(not so far from today) it shows the pressure of the GRIND, propogated by our industry and popular culture, and how people are starting to wake to the notion that the eternal GRIND might just not be the end all be all.

    Let that seep in. Pure artistic expression. Sheesh.

    I applied both the usage of visual elements such as representation through colour, as well as brief symbol usage(the no sleeping signs).I’d say this is a depiction of a dystopian reality except that is basically how we currently exist. Think about it. Pretty simple isn’t it. Text is utilized in order to make the message more consumable, as well as to plant some propaganda seeds in your little mind. (your mind only exists in relation to this.) The gushing metallic heart of capitalism continues to pump, sending clanker reinforcements anywhere but where they’re needed. Leaches. In paradise. Sucking the life out of you while you smile, clapping your hands in front of your brand new financed (monthly through blackrock subsidiaries) HD colourpop9000™️ 72-inch television set, drooling just a bit onto your pet labubu(which you’re still paying off yet have an insatiable hankering for a new one). Truly, and beautifully content in your squalor. Like a good American. Don’t be ashamed. Go on. Go buy another. Yes, because you want it, sure. Because you can. What else could pacify you if this is your world….. right?

    Nothing’s ever good enough. More. I need more.

  • Blog #4- Charismatic Cabal

    It’s important to define what we will be referring to when the term “culture” is used. That is, what it means in this context. Culture is dynamic, not static. It exists more so as a vector for people, politics, economics, geographies, that sort of stuff. Its constantly evolving in relation to these factors, dependent on which is more adjacent at any given time. So, to preface this, let’s try to paint over our own stagnation. Or we can continue to hold terms up upon their false stability. Easier that way.

    So, let’s go up in my little reality that is deemed to be real. Workplace culture is an idea, that can be static in it’s normative definition, yet is still constantly evolving and being bent to align with specific jobs, employees, times of day. All factors, right.

    A certain level of something is expected of establishments in general. Of course, that is why people attend, as they endorse some of the ideals that the business intends to portray. When one pops out for a cheeky beverage, they gravitate towards whatever vibe they want to be pushed to embody, whatever scene they want to peruse, they immerse themselves in it. Service is dripping with cultural cues. Everything from decor to the music played. So here’s the story.

    At the bar. The one tourists go to. Where pretty girls go with pretty girls, where pretty girls take their dates. So there he was, existing on his little stage behind the sweeping curve of the granite countertop Whether he liked it or not, he was on display. New Couple at B11/12. The immediate unconscious, yet somehow mandatory profiling of them had begun. “Y’all know what you’d like to get started with?” Mhm. “Gin or Vodka. Right, do we have preference? Swell, straight up, dirty, or perfect?” Filthy. Will he put it on a leash? Of course. Dry? Extra Dry? “Would you like that up, or on a big rock?” Twists of citrus, olives, different types of olives. Pick your poison. Swell. That’s just one drink.

    Patron’s personal preferences communicate identity. Of course, only to some degree. What is frivolous to someone, can be a shower of information to him. And vice versa. Cocktails are a fascinating way of pigeonholing people. Nothing uttered says so much. Too much uttered also says a lot.

    Milagro. Silver. Neat.

    Ah, no lime.

    “Tracks”

    People are always so taken aback, insulted even. Especially when they’re correctly profiled. Fuming because they know they look like they drink well bourbon. Double. Neat. Every time. That’s the thing. Pattern recognition isn’t sadistic. It’s inherently human. His brain is trained to identify reoccurring instances and map them out so he can predict and anticipate similar instances into the future. It’s evolution. Beverages are a great example of how items can be seen as status symbols. A martini becomes more than a drink, it’s an expression of what that individual wants to portray. When it boils down to it, formatting presumptions is part of his job. People want to be told what they want when they’re unsure. They want to be interpreted correctly. It’s human to want to be understood, even on a level that’s perceived as superficial. It’s all still a part of who they are.

    He gets his own language too. However minimal. Sharp. Behind! Heard that. Five all day.

    Blabbering perfunctories spewed from his coworkers on the regular. The weight that becomes placed upon things not due to their importance, but simply due to their consistence presence. Abhorrently engaging when you do exist in that world. He opted to 86 that shit.

    Such things began to seep into his life, the one he carried externally. Prioritization of a profession that fueled him, yet was only a step in the staircase to something better. The flashing colour, so bright and oh so animated was lifestyle it pushed upon him, yet he knew how it burned. When he looked at his friends who were gradually driving themselves into the ground, using this industry of service as their vessel, there was no envy in his eyes. What he truly wanted lied outside of the madness and beauty of alcohol adjacent professions. And it became important to remember, to remind himself, of what he said to bar guests on the regular.

    “Hey man, I just work here.“

  • Blog #3: Gamification of Everything

    Every digital interface is lilted with components designed to engage every sense of it’s user, to drag them in and maintain their control, doing the most to avoid relinquishing their grasp on your psyche. Attention is time, time is power. The clankers have obtained our most valuable resource with such an efficiently constricting grasp.

    Now, pivoting back to the realm of De Certeau. If interaction with your environment(in this case walking) lets us bend space in small acts of resistance, playing a video game can feel similar—sometimes finding hacks, sometimes being utterly strangled by it’s design. Either or, it’s evident that the power retained through agency isn’t purely an abstract concept. Submerged in stoplights, lurking in street names, even harbored in controller buttons. Or this keyboard. In my mind it’s difficult to escape the notion that we are all slaves to the technology we benefit so dearly from. A leach to both ourselves and this world.

    I personally never play video games. I never possessed a system when I was younger, nor did my friends. This resulted in my never figuring out how to use a controller properly. Due to that, I still avoid playing them today. Admittedly, I despise the things. My hatred for video games is seated in my upbringing, my ecocentric mentality, the ideals that being outside and active will always be better. For you, and for your reality. Not to mention that your tangible interaction with the world IRL will always be closer to being real in my mind. Of course, it’s all just a differing of views within an infinite amount of constructs, so it doesn’t really matter. I can appreciate what video games can do for certain individuals. Complete creation of their own world, utilizing their own rhetoric to craft an entity that means something to them.

    a film photograph I took of a young lad getting cuffed on the sidewalk, shirtless, and liquored up.

    Go get drunk and watch shirtless kids get arrested for engaging in a liquor-fueled jousts instead of sitting in your basement. As with everything, this is purely my opinion, my interpretation of my world.