Art from the soul

Tattoos have fascinated me for a while now, and I have always been very interested in getting one. Except I can't decide on just one; classically indecisive of me. So I would like to get three for sure, perhaps more if the inspiration arises. First: I absolutely love the written script of the Indian (that's India, not Christopher Columbus' gross miscalculation) language, Sanskrit. I would get a tattoo of the words "guard well" (can't tell you exactly what those words mean for me personally, it's just something I can't disclose) on the inside of my left forearm. Second: a pair of exceptionally detailed angel wings stretching across my back. One would be white, and the other would be black; the significance here would be to remind me that the way I go through life is always a matter of choices. Whether it be my outlook on things, the actions I take, or just the way I carry myself, there is always a side of light (optimism, love, responsibility, other positive stuff) and dark (negativity, self-destructive thinking, irresponsibility, hatred, etc.). Third: a black lotus flower blooming in the center of my chest. I mentioned the symbolism I have for the black lotus flower in my super-huge introduction. Beyond those three, I don't have any other concrete ideas. Let me know what you think, if it strikes you.

Sign of the Apocalypse 3/29

Often when I see something or hear of something that makes me think, "That's completely ridiculous," I liken it to yet another humorous sign of the apocalypse. Kind of like Sports Illustrated does weekly, but without the sports restriction. So I figured it would be the ideal tidbit to add regularly to my blog.

Sign of the apocalypse 3/29/09: Joan Rivers (of cosmetic surgical mutilation infamy) is releasing a line of watches on QVC called the "Boardroom Collection," named after her recent appearance on Celebrity Apprentice.

Honestly, do they think we're stupid?

The other day I was listening to to only progressive radio station available here in Western Washington, AM 1090 (such a godsend in a world dominated by the mass media blowhards who only seek to cater to fear and costernation). One of my favorite talk show hosts, Mike Maloy, mentioned a recent USA Today/Gallup poll which they published in their pseudo-newspaper. The poll question was: "Who is most responsible for the AIG bonuses being paid?" The possible answers were: a) President Obama; b) Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner; c) Congress; or d) AIG executives. I completely forgot what the results of the poll were, because I was so incensed that USA Today omitted former President Bush and his cohorts as an option, and therefore from any judgment of responsibility. The media must think we're a conglomeration of brain-dead consumer vegetables, because it was President Bush and his partners in crime (including the inept Hank Paulson and Ben Bernanke) who pushed the blasted $700+ billion bill through to these companies such as AIG without any stipulations or oversight for its use. Bush used his one final opportunity to drive the country further into the cesspool of destruction he has cultivated, and the idiots at USA Today, CNN, Fox News, etc. continue to look the other way, thus removing W from the eyes of the public and their critical judgment. I will allow that a large majority of the American public must make some effort to seek their own perspective and make their own judgments instead of simply lapping up whatever the major news networks and publications feed them. But when the majority of the material present in the media today consistently leaves out vital components, components of truth, then how can people be expected to question it if they are being bombarded with messages that distort what actually happened?

'Ye usually makes me feel upbeat, but...

So I bought Kanye West's album 808s & Heartbreak and listened to it today, and I was particularly struck by "Welcome to Heartbreak." West speaks of feeling as though his whole life has been misguided towards the things that truly matter little in life, instead of realizing that people and relationships are what makes life an experience worth having. I reacted by thinking about my own life. By my own estimation, I don't feel as though I have accomplished much. Okay, I've graduated from high school with a 3.9 GPA, 1300 SAT (before they changed the format), 2 years of undergrad work at a prestigious school, 3 months in inpatient treatment, and countless appointments with my psychologist in the midst of enough suffering and strife to make your head explode. Right now, I'm too overwhelmed by worrying about what my body looks like, what other people think of me and what I've done in my life, micromanaging my food, and being disconnected from any friends I had. The refrain contains the lines "And my head keeps spinnin', I can't stop havin' these visions, I gotta get wit' it." Even though it's the truth that I am sick, just as anyone with cancer or heart disease is sick, I forget that. I tell myself I should get with it and deal. I want to be the person I think I really am inside; someone who is extroverted and values himself, knows what his beliefs are, cares about others, and can impact the world. Someone who will forge friendships to last a lifetime. Someone who will find the woman who is the love of my life, someday. Someone who will be remembered. But I'm not that person, not right now anyway. And I won't be able to find him alone.

Neophyte-itis

Finally starting a blog has actually been quite a step for me. Let me explain: I spent three months in an inpatient treatment center sequestered in a "unit" (basically like half of your average dorm room floor or apartment complex) which specialized in treatment for eating disorders. While there, my primary therapist helped me make an interesting revelation about myself. I am reluctant to try new things because I'm afraid I won't be good at them. Being such a zealous and self-chastising perfectionist, I can't stand the idea that I won't be good enough in any way. My therapist called this "neophyte-itis," or a fear of being new at something. My mental illness is interesting in that while part of my mind logically knows things, but my emotional mind is so overwhelming and powerful that it overrides most rational thinking about myself. Example: I know that I can't judge my blog immediately and expect to have hundreds of readers right away, but I fear that no one will ever read what I have to say. So until now, I have never started. The same cycle occurs in many things I consider doing, because I fear being vulnerable. I fear that I won't be accepted. Much of my time these days is spent alone. I have already completed two years of undergraduate study at a liberal-arts university here in Washington; I think back nostalgically at who I was then in comparison to who I am now. I was a completely different person then. Confident, social and fun-loving, I had many friends; I was even in a fraternity (as weird as that seems, judging from the way I've described my contemporary self). I've lost touch with all of them in such a short span of time, and it hurts. Sometimes when I'm at my lower points, I think of myself as someone who "fades in and out of peoples' lives," because of the way in which I seem to have drifted away from all the friends whom I genuinely care about. And so, stricken by neophyte-itis, I worry that my life will be one of loneliness. I desperately want to have people I can really be myself with, but I can't bring myself to open up to anyone beyond my family and my psychologist. I hate to strike a chord of "woe is me," but I can't help it sometimes...

Introducing myself

I'm a complicated guy. I am also sure that thousands of people say the same things about their own lives. Believe me, after reading this, I think you'll agree.

First of all, I suppose it's important for me to say that while everything I write in my blog is and will be completely authentic, my name is not really Ilan Mathis. Because many of the things I will write about are of very personal nature, I decided to use a pen name for the sake of privacy. But hey, everyone knows Mark Twain, right? Well, Mark Twain was his pen name, and it's still the name everyone knows him by. So I would like anyone who reads and responds to call me by my given name.

I'm a 21-year-old university student, and I have lived in Western Washington my entire life. My world at this moment is a challenging one. I am a man, and I have been anorexic for about two years now. I have also had obsessive-compulsive disorder since I was about 12.

When I think about it, the path my life has taken thus far really set me up for all of this. Growing up through elementary school, middle school, and high school, I never had a lot of friends. I don't really know why; I wasn't a jerk or a problem child. I was always the smart kid, the one who could be counted on for answers to the latest homework assignment because if I didn't provide them, my peers saw fit to exclude and degrade me. About anything. What I wore, my physical appearance, my desperation to fit in, anything. I was an average kid with considerably above-average academics, with some athleticism mixed in. I didn't do anything to anyone that warranted this kind of treatment, but it happened. Hence, I developed low self-worth almost immediately. I won't go into much detail, and I pledge that I am not simply being bitter; I'm not very bitter about any of that stuff anymore. I just think it's important to know in seeing the ugly parts of the portrait of my life to understand the whole. Subsequently, I had trouble making friends, and serious trouble when it came to girls. I was a social wreck who developed a mistrust for everyone.

For those who immediately doubt, or think to themselves: "This guy can't possibly be for real. I mean, come on. A male anorexic with OCD who got made fun of a lot growing up? Sounds like someone's trying to paint his problems in a different color, or just wants some attention," I ask: Do you honestly think I would be sick and twisted enough to make something like that up? If you seriously think that I would possibly WANT to lie about such suffering, you're an idiot. Take me for my word, because I know what the pain feels like, and I know it's inescapable.

I have always been insecure, and self-esteem has always been an issue for me, but please don't hesitate to respond to me or ask me questions! I am not so fragile that one negative comment about my blog will send me into some crazed tailspin!

Obsessive-compulsive disorder sucks. Anorexia sucks. Having them both at once is hellish. It's tough to get through some days, or find something positive to think about instead of something negative when your brain is wired to be hateful towards yourself. When you come to the realization that as soon as you get out of bed in the morning you feel like you're slogging though each day and that your life is a physical, mental, and emotional chore, it can feel very bleak indeed.

But the most important thing is not to give up. Because somewhere within the context of my life and my experiences and my perspectives (and certainly within all of yours as well), life is not as wholly bleak and nightmarish experience of suffering. There are always things to live and fight for regardless of circumstance, and that extends beyond the realms of mental illness. Family, friends, passions, hopes, dreams, even the appreciation of simple everyday pleasures are all fruits of life.

I want to express myself regardless of how I fare each day. I will not filter out the bad experiences and write as if I were a naive optimist (believe me, nothing could be farther from the truth), nor will I brood and stew online as if I were an emo-kid. I want my portait to be holistic, both as a therapeutic tool for expressing myself and to represent to others what the world of mental illness is really like.

But I don't plan to write solely about myself and the rollercoaster that is my life. Nothing makes me feel more alive than expressing and sharing my passions, interests, and beliefs. I've been too scared about what people think (more often it's just what I think people think about me) for far too long. The things I love to know, do, and talk about are sometimes overarching to think about all at once. I love to learn and discover new things about world history, politics, humanities, religions of the world(I am particularly fascinated by Buddhism, and you are likely to find me writing about Buddhist ideas and concepts that resonate with me), sports, contemporary culture, and even video games. (Please note that the only games which really hold any interest for me at all are games with depth and substance, with characters and stories which are rich and emotionally palpable in their development, like several of the Final Fantasy series, VII in particular(!!!). Sure, I'm a nerd, but I don't regard that label as a derogatory one, nor do I compartmentalize myself into a different world completely.)

I guess I'll go ahead and explain two examples of symbolism represented in my profile picture and more importantly, the title of my blog. First, the profile pic: I chose a picture of the character Squall Leonhart from Final Fantasy VIII, for those unfamiliar with that. I chose Squall because I resemble him closely in appearance (honestly, I'm not being narcissist) and nature (a similar reluctance to trust others and ultimately, oneself; and a fear of being completely alone in the world). Also: the weapon he uses, the gunblade, is extremely difficult to use but devastating in the hands of an expert; I consider it the weapon of a perfectionist. (Obviously this is all in the context of the game's canon as neither Squall nor a functional gunblade exist. But if anyone DOES know if an actual working gunblade exists, let me know because that would be sick, wickedly cool.) Squall's gunblade is a representative of my own perfectionism, which is particularly vicious, coming from OCD and anorexia. But when I will myself to accomplish something or challenge my personal demons with enough courage and desire, the results are extremely fulfilling for me.

I call my blog the Black Lotus for several reasons. The lotus flower is a multifaceted symbol. Growing in areas of muck and filth, it is a gorgeous reminder of what good can come from even the bleakest of circumstances. Each night, it folds itself inward and submerges beneath the water, and at each daybreak, it rises again and unfolds itself again in all its beauty. I compare this to the idea that each day is a new beginning with new opportunities, and one should always live moment by moment to appreciate the subtleties of life. As far as I know (and I am no botanist), a black lotus flower does not exist. Also, the color black is imperceptible in depth. Thus I am likening a black lotus flower to myself and my life; I feel like I am a singularly unique individual who can be wonderful to know if one tries hard enough to get past my insecurity. But I also fear that myuniqueness will be an imperturbable wall for others and that I will ultimately be alone in life, hence the nonexistence of the black lotus. The Black Lotus (flower and blog) are both representations of myself and my spirit.

Enough metaphors for you? Thought so!

This is meant to be an ongoing record of my life, my experiences, and the things that really move me and resonate with me.

If you have experienced similar travails in your life as I have, if you share a passion for anything I love, if my writing invokes anything within you, or if you simply have a question or response to any of my content, please don't hesitate to comment! I am an open-minded person, and all perspectives are welcome (unless they are deliberately inflammatory).

I hope I haven't been too terribly long-winded, and I hope whoever reads this and my future entries will read and reply to me, and hopefully do so often! Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you around the blogosphere.

P.S. I really enjoy seeing what others have to say as well! Don't hesitate to drop me a line plugging for your own blog if it's relevant to any of the stuff I write about, but leave a comment while you're at it!