NEW SONG: Wretched Stigma

 

It's about time that we got some fucking music onto this blog. But before you listen, I'm going to give you some background. You're free to skip past it if you don't care about it.

This song deals with a subject I've had on my mind for quite some time now, that being humanity's (and religion's) persecution of those who are different from the norm, especially those whose existence begins to threaten that norm. Acting as the metaphors driving this theme are two differing events from two different points in time. One is documented in history. The other is documented in the Bible.

Our first event is the European "Great Hunt" of the late 16th and early 17th century, A.K.A. one of the longest-running series of witch hunts in human history. (Said hunts included the Basque Witch Trials, which made up the single largest witch hunt in human history.) The number of people executed, all or close to all of which have been recognized to have been innocent well after the fact, numbered in the tens of thousands. Countless theories have been put forth as to what actually spurred these witch hunts on (since, rather understandably, not many people believe that the trials were motivated by what they seemed to be on the surface), but regardless of one's stance on why they happened, the fact remains that the Great Hunt was a widespread tragedy that was fueled by superstition and fear of the unknown. One of the trials was even caused by a king's personal fear that he was targeted by witches, stemming from the fact that he had to endure storms during his travels to Denmark in 1590. (Yes. People were ultimately killed in late-16th century Scotland because the king had to deal with thunder and lightning while traveling.)

The fact also remains that many of those killed were either forsaken or outright turned against by those who knew them beforehand. Society effectively threw them away the moment their involvement in witchcraft became a possibility.

Our second event is, of course, the trial and crucifixion of Jesus Christ. Those of you who have actually read the Bible⁠—⁠and I perfectly understand your reasons for not wanting to if you haven't—will know that Jesus' trial was a result of a political agenda fueled by anger, fear and paranoia. Jesus' entire existence was a threat to the Sanhedrin's rule and their way of life. His beliefs and opinions were in direct conflict with theirs, and the deeds, miracles and acts of kindness he performed gave him sway over the people during a time in which there was great unrest. Upon being arrested after his betrayal at the hands of Judas, his trial was a rushed and sloppily-rigged mess that would make even the most astounding kangaroo courts in history look tame by comparison. During that trial, the people who had followed him up to that point eventually turned on him; his disciples deserted him, and the people who praised him at the beginning of the trial were shouting for his crucifixion by the end of it.

Obviously, there are some major differences between the two events if you actually know the context of both. But there are plenty of parallels as well, and they paint a shockingly similar narrative. People in positions of religious power reacted with pure hostility and fear towards perfectly innocent individuals they perceived as threats, calling for torture and death to be administered in response. Hastily tried and hurried along to their own executions, these individuals were killed not for what they did, but for what the powers of the time feared they were capable of. And in the end, they died alone, abandoned by those who knew them.

But, as I noted at the beginning of this little essay, those two events and the parallels they share aren't the primary subject of this song. They're allegorical metaphors for the song's theme, used to paint a picture of social abandonment and victimization. Because when you strip the imagery and specifics away, that's what the song deals with; society's swiftness in rejecting, abusing and vilifying those who are at odds with the established ideal.

Alright, alright. I'm getting off my soapbox now. Click the Play button and listen to the song already.

Needlespit · Wretched Stigma

On Praise and Criticism, from a Creator's Standpoint

 

I realize there is a certain amount of irony in writing a short essay that criticizes people for how they go about criticizing people. All it does is make me want to write this more. Perhaps it will even self-demonstrate the point of the question I'm trying to ask.

That question being, is there such thing as too much praise or criticism in one place, constructive or not?

 Tell me if you've seen this one before; a critic or reviewer states at the top of the review their primary opinion on the work they're reviewing, spends several paragraphs detailing all of the points that contribute to that primary opinion, skims over a few points that mitigate said opinion, then closes out the review by effectively restating the primary opinion with a different set of words. I'm willing to wager that, if you've read enough reviews before, there's at least one review you can think of that fits into that pattern. It's a very common formula that critics default to, sometimes (seemingly) without thinking about it beforehand.

The problem with that formula is that, if taken to its extreme (which it often is), it paints an incomplete picture of the work in question. By spending several paragraphs on positives and barely addressing potential negatives, you give the impression that you saw nothing that would discourage people other than yourself from enjoying the thing you're talking about, and that there is next to nothing for the creator to work on or improve. Likewise, by spending several paragraphs addressing negatives over potential positives (which is a much more common practice, I've found), the inevitable takeaway is that the thing you're reviewing has nothing or next to nothing good about it, and the creator is given no indication that they've done anything right or that they've done much of anything other than "fuck up". The latter scenario is especially bizarre in situations where the critic or reviewer doesn't find the work they're reviewing to be all bad as, more times than not, it sends the message that the creator should scrap everything they've done and go back to the drawing board completely. (When, more times than not, they've done plenty of things right that just happen to be overshadowed by the things they've done wrong.)

It bothers me that this is such a prevalent issue in reviewing in general. From such missteps in journalism are careers ended before they can truly begin. As if there aren't enough things in the world that discourage people from pursuing creative work.

People

 

There's a reason I don't especially like being around people most of the time.

It has nothing to do with me actually disliking the act of socializing. Truth be told, one of my favorite things to do is just sit and talk with others, whenever I can find a good conversation to have and an engaging person to have it with. It also has nothing to do with anxiety, although I would be lying if I said that I'm fine with having conversations while my anxiety is acting up.

No, the reason I don't like being around people is because, as much as I don't like to say it, many of them are not healthy to be around. Some are vapid, purposefully limited creatures who don't like to think very hard, and will actively shun those who do. Others are actively closed-minded and intolerant, refusing to accept anything that doesn't fit into their view of what should and shouldn't be. Others still are backstabbing, scheming wretches who willfully manipulate people and situations around them in order to further their own agendas, and yet still others are delusional victim-players who operate under the assumption that the world owes them everything they want and that anyone who believes otherwise is the enemy.

And then you have the majority which, I've found, are a combination of at least two of the above.

I'm not unaware, however, of the many virtues that people can have as individuals, or of the fact that at least 50% of the people in the world (yes, even those who fall into most of the above categories) don't actively approach the world around them with ill intent. I don't think that all people are bad, and I also don't think that the groups of people mentioned above are incapable of doing any good in their lives. They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and if I am being perfectly honest, many people in the world do have good intentions.

That doesn't mean that many of them can be trusted, though. If anything, it makes trusting those with seemingly good intentions even harder. Not because those intentions could be false (although they very well could be), but because those intentions can lead them down terrible roads down which I have no interest in following them.

Unfortunately, the dark side of that coin is that I find myself questioning my own thoughts and actions for the same reason that I question those of the people around me. The more I expose myself to others, the harder it is to be sure that my own behaviors and the ways in which I approach my life are any less backwards than the people I have trouble putting my faith and trust in. I sometimes look back on my own behaviors and see a reflection of the worst aspects of other people I've come in contact with, and I wonder suddenly whether or not I've lost my own way. And though I find it necessary to remind myself of those behaviors (so as not to repeat them), I always subsequently contemplate whether or not those worse choices I've made are behaviors unconsciously adopted from others, or behaviors that would have sprung from within myself no matter what. After which I find myself re-evaluating all of the people I've chosen to interact with. And that's never fun no matter how many times I do it.

But I digress. I would very much be fine with the idea of being able to trust my interactions with everyone around me, if that were feasible. But it isn't, and because of that, I frequently find myself preferring not to interact at all, so as not to fall down any of the rabbitholes that come with speaking to people who may or may not serve as a detriment to me if I allow them into my life for longer than the briefest seconds. If companionship is unreliable, then nine times out of ten, I would rather be alone. It's easier for me to be by myself, both in the sense of being able to evaluate my own problems more clearly and in the sense of not having more problems added to the list.

I only wish that someday, perhaps, this can no longer be the case.