This week, the pretentious and purposeless American Film Institution released its annual “Top 100 Films” List. This year’s topic was the top 100 most inspirational American films of all time. The results were about as surprising and inspiring as reading in the paper that the New York Yankees have bought another World Series Pennant. Steven Spielberg’s name was sprinkled all over the results like poppy seeds on a muffin, garnering three of the top ten spots alone! But the most inspirational film was a film that almost everyone I know likes, which is actually one of my least favorite films of all time; “It's a wonderful life,” starring Jimmy Stewart. It’s not that I’m incapable of being inspired by Christmas, it’s just that there’s nothing inspirational about a man who hits his ultimate low, and is rescued by his Guardian Angel, because, let’s face it, if this actually happened to someone today, a team of lawyers would sue the guardian angel for prior negligence in his profession, nearly causing a suicide death, and then a class action lawsuit would be filed against all Guardian Angels by the prescription medication companies and the mental health profession for creating an unbeatable monopoly, since an emergence of Guardian Angels would render their professions useless.
But I guess I could find inspiration in a massive layoff by the manufacturers of Prozac and Zoloft. So what does inspire the average American, and what inspires you, besides the artificial benefits derived from chemical drugs? I’m not really sure what is supposed to inspire me, but it certainly is not the iconographic imagery of a man being nailed to a cross until he bleeds to death, nor is it the image of several soldiers dodging bullets in order to keep a flag waving amidst bombs, sand bags, and the not-so-sweet scent of death. Sure, we find solace in sharing inspiration, because it makes us feel like we’re all achieving something together, but when you think about it, does the singing of the Star Spangled Banner excite you because it marks the beginning of a sporting event, or is it because it recalls the valiant efforts of your former countrymen to defeat other nations in the ‘game’ that we call War? I think that as a culture, we try too hard to share our inspirations, and in this process, we ignore the critical, pivotal personal moments of inspiration that attack us from all sides, every day. I’m ‘speaking’ of things like beautiful sunsets, humming birds, fresh fruit, and bottomless bowls of tortilla chips and a bathtub full of salsa and guacamole; you know, the naturally occurring, free of charge wonders of the world.
Growing up, I picked some piss-poor role models from which to draw my musical inspiration. By the age of eleven, I was obsessed with John Lennon, of the Beatles, Jim Morrison, of the Doors, and Kurt Cobain, of Nirvana. In 1972, Jim Morrison passed out, drunk, in a bathtub in Paris and choked on his own vomit. In December of 1980, a confused and obsessed psycho shot John Lennon dead in front of his own apartment building, and In April of 1994, Cobain successfully shot his own head off with a shotgun. Since then, I’ve learned not to have idols, and, if I need inspiration, I try to read literature on Gandhi or Mother Teresa, because Gandhi was good at dieting, and Mother Teresa probably went a long time without getting laid, but she sure looked happy doing it! One of my friends is inspired by the prospect of free doughnuts at weekend garage sales, to the extent that she will wake up early on her days off just to hit up garage sales before most people get there, just in case the free doughnuts are going to run out. And she’s not shy about asking for an extra doughnut or two, if she actually buys something at the sale.
I find it hard to find the inspiration to work for a living. Now I’m sure there is nothing shocking about a white male, college graduate in his mid twenties announcing that he doesn’t like to work, because I am a representative of the ‘sarcastic generation,’ and we’re so lazy that the Oxford English Dictionary is going to have to create a new word to describe our ‘off the charts apathy.’ My generation is currently helping to steer America’s reputation away from that of a nation full of hard working, self-sacrificing dreamers to its rightful place as a nation of lazy, over-privileged whiny babies who expect everyone else in the world to do their hard work for them, and then to earn interest off of those hard workers’ efforts. (Someone, if you enjoy this, then please pay me to publish it, while I sit back and do nothing**). But seriously, what part of the prototypical American dream is supposed to motivate me? It’s hard to dream about white picket fences and green grass when I have friends that are hooked on booze, friends who from minute one were given no support by their families, and friends stalking the desserts of Iraq. It’s hard to find inspiration amidst all this chaos, uncertainty, and bad role models.
I have trouble finding inspiration in my fellow man when it seems to me that no matter where I live, if a washer and dryer are to be shared by the tenets of a building, no one ever seems to clean out the lint trap of the dryer when they have finished using it. I don’t understand why people have so much trouble remembering to do this, but I think that people who don’t bus their tables at fast food and self service restaurants, are in the same boat; they share a lack of a unselfish awareness that enables them to ignore the fact that when you don’t ‘have to’ tip, it’s your own job to clean up after yourself.
Apparently, it was god who inspired Bush to give up drinking, and run for politics. This is the first time in my life that I’ve wanted to have a little chat with god, and my baseball bat. I mean, god, what in Heaven were you thinking? God’s inspiration has continued to propel Bush beyond the state of Texas, and straight into the white house. God continues to inspire this crazy man to the extent that ‘in god he trusts’ to guide and lead him to guiding and leading our nation to the lengths and tolls we’ve already been ‘guided to’. All I have to say on the subject of religion, in so far as it inspires people, is that anything that inspires you to hurt, maim, injure, or hate other people is probably not functioning as a healthy inspiration, so if your inspiration tells you to disdain others for their personal behavior, such as promiscuous sex, drug abuse, or even just sleeping in late, then it seems to me that you have the inspiration problem, and the aforementioned ‘uninspired people’ aren’t really hurting anyone – so leave them, and their lack of inspiration, alone.
In college, I majored in English Literature and Film Studies, while I concentrated in philosophy. I am a therefore a bachelor of arts in the art of conversation and analysis. But that’s about all. I find most of my inspiration from reading books written by men and women who are now deceased, but who saw the same humor and misery in life that I see nowadays. Literature helps to ease the pain and suffering of watching the way that war has become modern sport, a spectacle to be discussed in the newspapers and on television. But via literature, it’s appropriately humiliating to find out that our culture and its modern problems are nothing new, and that since the dawn of storytelling, a common moral and theme has been found: power corrupts. It’s refreshing to read stories from different epochs that remind us that we’re not really special, and that what comes around, usually goes around, and when it doesn’t, it sucks to be you: so enjoy the ride.
Here in Portland, we have a lot of four way stops where you can’t see clearly into the intersection, so in order to proceed on your journey, you just have to step on the gas, edge out a bit, and pray to the god you may or may not believe in that there are not any cars headed at you. So you get a better view, and then step on the pedal, gun it, and go…but there could always be a car just out of sight, about to hit you…I think this experience accurately reflects how I feel about turning 25 years old this week – it’s awkward, a little bit scary, but I’m here, and I just gotta gun it, and go. I suppose I find this inspiring.
Recently, I’ve moved into a house with three girls and another dude. (I’m not a boy, I’m not a man, I’m a dude, that’s what you are if you’re male, and under the age of 35, in my book). Living with girls inspires me to be cleanlier, and less lazy. These girls are awesome, they come home from the bars, and I’m pretty sure that they’re as inebriated as I am, yet they will proceed to water and tend to our tremendous garden, cook fantastic stir fries and pasta dishes, and even wash their clothes (pillow sheets and bed sheets too!). I’ve even caught them washing other tenant’s dishes – but I fear that they don’t clean out the lint from the dryer, and I suspect this, because I’m like a secret shopper, constantly watching and subsequently rating all my housemates on their housekeeping performance.
I think there are signs out there that may lead you to realizing that you are improperly motivating yourself and others. If you are one of my friends who emails me, writing, “Mike I never hear from you anymore, how are you doing, please write me back!” and then I reply with a four page response, and never hear from you again, then you’ve failed to inspire me as a friend. And if you are one of those people who is obsessed with writing your name in concrete, because you think it’s a way of leaving your mark on the world, then I think you might want to do some more thinking, because it’s really not that cool to leave your mark in the pompous monstrosity that is mankind’s so called progress: concrete. Yeah, nothing lasts longer than our inventions, right? The human race will race against itself until it erases itself, leaving only three things behind as evidence of our ‘superiority:’ nuclear waste, which will be wrapped in concrete, and your name with “was here” at the end, and if that inspires you, then you’ve got a leg up on me! At the end of the night, as I lay my head down to rest, I find that two things inspire me: love and curiosity. The latter precludes the former, but I wouldn’t have the latter without having tasted the former, meaning that I’m inspired by a sense of confusion and wonder. Someone please inspire me by answering the following questions, (I was born in 1981): what is leaded gas, why do we not have the option of purchasing leaded gas anymore, and if I could use it, would my car get better mileage? Also, do you remember the early 90’s ad campaigns that went: “Why ask why? Try Bud Dry.” What is Bud Dry? Is dry beer like ultra light beer, a silly trend that will not last, or was it a failure from the start, like New Coke? And what happened to New Coke? Now they have invented Coke and coffee, and to me, that’s ‘last-straw’ inspiration to move to Canada: We’ve gone too far!