What is the sound of one mind snapping?

     I know I left the title question hanging without an answer, and I know I'm digressing right from the start, but this needs to be said. There was this movie made a few years back, “A Serbian Film”. It was one of those movies, like the August Underground flicks or “Human Centipede,” where plot and substance take a back seat while the gimmicky idea drives the movie, drunk on shock value. Hell, forget the back seat; in movies like that, plot and substance are bound and barely alive in the trunk.

     I've digressed enough in this digression, so I'll give a brief run-down of “A Serbian Film”. Milos is a semi-retired porn star who was renown for being able to get “in the mood” whenever he needed. One day, this mysterious man invites him over for a proposal: if Milos makes one last “art-house” porno, the man will financially set his family up for life. Milos thought about it for a day before saying yes. Things just get awful when he does, though.

     One part that sticks out in my mind is when Milos films a snuff-porn scene, and he's covered in bodily fluids, dehumanized, and debased, and the director walks out of the shadows and onto the set, slowly clapping with glee, saying “Bravo, Milos!”

     After watching Milos try again and again to figure out his situation, the line between his flashbacks and reality become more blurred. I saw this movie once, but after the events of this past year, I couldn't help but think about Milos.

     For nearly the past four years, I worked for a company that will not be named in this blog entry, but friends know exactly who it was. I started off part time, spending the mornings keeping individual people with disabilities busy, helping them around the community, reading the news and weather with them, and having lunch with them.

     After most of my one-on-one individuals left the company, and I established a good rapport with one of them, I was transferred to the higher-functioning residential department, to his house in the Spring of 2011. I was doing just fine. But after a while, we were moving around from one house to another, and behaviors increased because there was no stability as the hectic situation caused staff to leave. Spring of 2013 was when I started working 50 hours or more per week, with only the occasional reprieve. Behaviors increased, and some residents started showing disdain for me, calling me a nigger to my face, telling supervisors they didn't like the fact that a black person was there, etc. Due to the fact that I'm more often mistaken for anything but a mixed race person, I was less offended by this behavior, and more impressed with the fact that they guessed my race right. I was also less offended because I understand that this behavior stems from impressionable people who cling to the values of their upbringing because that's the only way they can see the world, and a revolving door of staff could never compete with family.

     So, when residents mistreat staff, what is the company's solution? Is it implementing a behavioral support plan? No. Just move the staff. So, in December of 2013, I was transferred to the lower-functioning group home department. Instead of one or two staff having their attention concentrated on three or four residents who were mildly disabled, two or three (if we were lucky) staff have their attention spread out among eight residents who were severely disabled. Even after I transferred, my old department became more lower-functioning without changing their staff numbers.

     As much as I grew to love the people under my care, nights being in locked away with people I could not hold a conversation with took a psychological toll on a social person like me. It's unexplainable, how I felt when morning staff would come in; people to talk to! After a while, I felt detached from the rest of the world. I go through a seasonal mood at the end of winter and the beginning of spring, when the snow starts to melt. I knew the residents needed me, but I couldn't help the crying jags when I got home or had a moment to myself during the night. Music is important to me; and I'm a firm believer in music already being the soundtrack to the already present mood. I listened to Nine Inch Nails for a day – the Downward Spiral album and the song “Every Day is Exactly the Same” were two favorites, and I was inspired to create my latest tattoo: a musical staff wrapping down my forearm, with the notes from the Downward Spiral featured in the songs “Heretic,” “Closer,” and the title track. My mood started to improve within hours of sitting in that chair and getting inked. Each time I brushed it against anything, it'd be irritated, but I'd smile and sigh. It became a physical reminder of an emotional time.

     As time rolled on, more seasoned staff would tell me that things always fluctuated between ups and downs, and the company would always stay afloat. What I noticed, however, was that the peaks were shorter and shorter while the valleys became deeper and deeper. I knew about the universal law of entropy – the tendency of a system to destabilize and eventually fall apart. And my observations told me that the company was circling the drain, and I was both scared and fascinated by the prospect that I would watch it fall apart. I had the nerve to think that I could weather the storm, to touch the event horizon, but I didn't. In the middle of September this year, I was taken off the schedule, and after they avoided my calls, I was finally told that I was to meet with the head of HR one late afternoon.

     I was told that I was making cumulative mistakes – mistakes that anyone would make after working for a year and a half for 50 hours a week at what I would describe as a nursing home job without the CNA pay, given only a week of vacation.

     I found a new job before officially losing my old one, but with the sudden upheaval, I was at my wits' end. I felt scared and vulnerable. Even with this new job, I still feel scared. After my mind was racing to the point where I started talking to myself and answering back, I said to myself “They've done their worst, they can't kill you.” So, when they had me come in to meet with HR, and showed up for the show down. What follows is what I remember from the exit interview.

     The first thing they wanted to talk about was the fact that I was doing the dishes and found a half-cup of juice in a pitcher, so I killed it and washed it. No big deal. During overnights, I'd make a pitcher of coffee or tea and drink it right from there. But I guess they wanted to make a fuss over it. This set me off. What fanned the flames was that they exaggerated everything and singled me out. For instance, one of our residents went to day programming one morning with cereal in her hair. I'm not the one who transported her, and I wasn't the only staff there that morning, but I was the one they wanted to blame for it, then they acted like it happened all the time.

     So, there I was, about to tell them off, when the head of HR said "Would you like to let me go over this?" She was referring to her paperwork.

     I'm like "That'd be nice, but my say is more important."

     She nods and goes "O.K."

     I said "I mean, does it really matter why I'm in this office? I'm here, anyway. By the way, thanks for putting me in suspense over why I was being pulled from the schedule, which wrecked my sleep, and put me in a lucid dreamlike state all day. That was really kind of you. Love when you people do that."

     She said "That's not what we were trying to do. We tried to pass along that there were concerns we wanted to discuss, but I guess they didn't tell you. We didn't mean to ruin your sleep. We're really sorry about that."

     I said "Yeah, I bet. That's what ended up happening. It's like arresting someone and not telling them what they're charged for. And I really feel the need to tell you how I feel."

     She said "We've always wanted you to."

     I said "That's not how I felt from you guys. I've been the timid scaredy cat around you guys for four years, terrified of being punished, well no more. I'm going to tell you how it is."

     She proceeded to tell me that I was racking up all these complaints.

     I told her that every time they had a problem with me, I fixed it so I didn't have that problem again. I also said that I made it to the meeting because I wanted to find out whether or not I was going to get my vacation pay. While she was checking on that at the computer on the other side of the room, I told her that my experience with the company has shown me that DSPs should unionize, because the company epitomizes exploitation of labor. After she checked my banked vacation hours, she came back to the table, and I said to her "Remember, during a meeting, when you said that we are the face of the company when we're out an about, even when we're off-duty?"

     She said "Yeah."

     I said "Well, remember, each person you overwork and kick to the curb can potentially become a scar on the face of this company."

     She said "Well, that's why I was wanting to meet with you. We really hope we could talk things out so that you can speak well of your experience here."

     I said "I'm sorry. I have no choice but to be another scar. A big scar. Can you really blame me? It's like what Anton Lavey said 'Do not complain about anything to which you need not subject yourself.' You keep grinding your workers then throwing them away, what can you realistically expect?" After a pause, I said "None of my coworkers complained about what I did."

     She said "What matters is that your supervisors did."

     I said "My supervisors, the people who really haven't seen me work? They get more of a say than the people witnessing what I do?" She said nothing, but shrugged, as if she didn't expect a lowly peon to point out the obvious.

     I would like to say that, although I opened this narrative by talking about a movie about porn and torment, I never took part in, nor know anyone who took part in, any type of abuse or exploitation of residents at staff hands for the years I was with the company. However, exploitation of residents and staff did occur at the hands of the company.

     The stated goals of the company are decent – to assist in integrating into the greater community individuals with developmental disabilities. We get them out, we get them working, we work with them on their interests, and we assist them at home. We are what stands between them and a state hospital or nursing home.

     The unstated goals of the company aren't so decent. For every person they house, they get more money from the state. No matter how dangerous a resident is, how often they injure staff, or how much they need to go a long-term medical facility, the company keeps them there. These people lived in a place that was set up to be a residential rehab facility, but turned into a nursing facility, as a revolving door of staff came in half-trained and not knowing what to expect. Upper management was so far removed from the homes that if they saw a resident have a behavior, they acted like it was totally new. Both staff and residents were put in harm's way so the company could make more money. That is a prime example of exploitation of both residents and staff.

     So, since there was no actual abuse and torment going on, why did Milos come to mind? What was it about that fucked up movie that caused it to pop into my mind? For starts, overtime was overtime, and we were drawn in by the increased pay. But, after a while, the point and substance of our lives were all but lost. Our ability to get in the mood each day was weakened. And the part that often sticks out in my mind, when the director applauds Milos, contrasts with the lack of appreciation I felt; at the end of a shift, we're covered in bodily fluids, dehumanized, and debased, but no one walks out of the shadows to heartily applaud us and cheer for us. Yeah, at meetings, they claimed they appreciated us, but it's a rubber stamp.

     Scared of losing benefits and pay if I spoke out, I stuck with it. I learned to make the most of the precious few hours I had off. But even still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was in a constant dream state.

     So, back to the titular question. What is the sound of one mind snapping? Think about all those “sound-words.” Spell them out, forwards and backwards.

My philosophical journey

     I've been doing a lot of self-evaluating, as far as my spiritual path. Actually, or a more of a philosophical outlook.
     I was raised in a semi religious home. It was semi religious because we had some relatives who were non religious, and others who were super Christian.
     I didn't understand the concept of original sin, which necessitates a savior. I thought, if God is forgiving and fair, wouldn't we be responsible for our own sins?
     After a while, Islam made more sense to me. God is fair and forgiving, and forgave Adam and Eve in the first place, so there was no original sin.
     But I started questioning things. Why did miracles stop after people developed recording technology? If Satan were the bad guy, why does he punish people for going against God? If God wanted to make His presence known, why select a handful of people?
     Sooner or later, I started to see all the religions as a control system. They have less to do with the natural order of things, and more to do with mortal ambitions and herding the masses.

     I came to the conclusion that I needed to make my own path. And I find it ridiculous for anyone to confine their philosophy to one ideological dogma. The facets of life should be expressed with various philosophies.
     My belief in God is deistic. But, it's a lot like what George Carlin said about the Big Electron. It's a higher order of the universe that doesn't reward or punish; it just is.
     My view of humanity is a mixture of evolutionary psychology - we come from a line of social pack creatures who look out for themselves as well as the group, transhumanism - we have the ability to direct our evolution beyond what we are now, and secular Luciferianism - we must bring the light of intellectual development to the world so we can advance as a people, and not be bogged down by anti-intellectual authoritarianism or dogma.
     My code of personal conduct is drawn mostly from modern Satanism. I found a lot of agreement and re-inspiration in reading The Book of Satan and The Book of Lucifer, and I like the poetry of The Book of Leviathan. I'm also fond of quoting the 11 Rules of the Earth.
     To explain the differences, I like to say that Luciferianism focuses on uplifting the species. Whereas modern Satanism focuses on uplifting the individual. In the secular view of each, the Adversary is merely a symbol of both of these things.

     Some would ask how I get in touch with a higher consciousness. Well, I haven't prayed for divine intercession ever since I've declared myself my own messiah. I meditate to attune myself with the multiverse and nature. Some could say I have a bit of a quantum mystic outlook on my divinity.

     So, what would one call my philosophical outlook? Well, since it relies on getting in touch with our true nature as a way of improving ourselves and each other, I am stuck between "The Way of the Sentient Ape" or "The Path of the Sentient Ape."

Year in review, and plans for 2014.

     Regular readers of my blog would note that this annual wrap-up entry is a few days late. Sorry, I just haven't gotten around to writing it until now.
     Workwise, changes happened, and some things went wrong. But, I recovered, and I'm still well-respected in the work place. I've expanded my social circle therein, and I look to do so further in 2014.

     I started getting things together for a bottle garden. I found out about them on Facebook, and I want to start one of my own. It's like a world of its own in a quaint little space.

     I started working out, and I enjoy it. I use it as time to catch up on Neil DeGrasse Tyson's podcast while I walk the treadmill. Treadmills are easier for me, because open streets and parkways are too lumpy and stick-and-stone-ridden for my weak left ankle.

     I got my sixth tattoo, and as somewhat of a resolution, I plan on doubling my number of tattoos to 12. Various ideas include a diagram of the Nine Hells, with the Latin caption "Liberated from Hell;" a bottle garden (the whole "world of one's own" idea); a melting clock draped onto my shoulder; a d20, with the caption of "Chaotic Neutral;" a Darwin fish colored with the bisexual pride colors, as a way of saying "Sexuality is natural;" the blue and black mana symbols in a 'yin-yang' formation; and a spider with an eye on its back, for good measure.

     I've made headway in adapting Pathfinder into my role-playing game. It's now primarily Pathfinder, with things from D&D 3.5 added in.

     I've kept the car up and running, and I've been travelling more. I even went to Virginia, albeit on a bus. I visited my flirt-buddy, AKA "my little doll." There, I made friends with her boyfriend and his mom. I even drove to Northern Indiana and visited a college friend. I'm looking forward to more travelling.

     My writing has progressed. I'm laying a good foundation for my own science fantasy setting. I've written quite a few fanfiction stories based on Vampire: The Masquerade. I'd also like to blog more. This "every now and again" thing isn't something for an aspiring writer to do. Well, we'll see how it all turns out.