Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Whats on your mind?
Well, alot of things.
Usually I have alot to look forward to, going to Disneyland being at the very top of my list. But recently nothings been very inspiring. Its like I've got writers block.
Sometimes you need something that'll wake you up every morning making you want to go-go. Something that'll give you hope. I've been told that I should have faith.
But in what?
Makes me want to quote Drew Barrymore from Music and Lyrics - "I need inspiration, not just another negotiation."
Last night I dreamt that we shifted to somewhere in South ex, a small rectangular white house with two HUGE gardens upfront and in the back. I think I was unhappy about it, but then slowly I realized that I would get -
a) A terrace. (Doesn't EVERYONE want a terrace?!)
b) Two gardens in DELHI.
c) Amazing smelling air, somehow.
Three things I don't have in my current house.
It was honestly beautiful. There was a fountain in the back. I was sitting alone at night time, staring at the stars... And everything smelt like perfume :|
Why doesn't anyone appreciate how amazing clouds are?
Theres a certain time of the year when they move incredibly fast... and watching them move like that makes me feel closer to a god that I don't believe in.
The first thing I do when I get out of my house is stare up to check if there are any at all. When there aren't any - I sulk for hours on end.
Blogging is a bit like writing in a diary - only its public... and so I wont be using names.
I've been thinking about someone for a while now. Its so difficult to get to know you, to get you to open up. Its so hard to know what you're really thinking.
I think you should be okay with it if you figure that people might not like you for who you really are. Life becomes alot easier after that. And I think you should get to know me. I know nothing about you, and it kills me everyday, because I really want to.
Sometimes you sit down trying to think about what kind of person you wanna be. Are you the funny guy, the smart guy? The relaxed guy, the intuitive guy? I've always wanted to be the girl who breaks the awkward silence. Its not very easy, but once you become that person, people are automatically drawn to you.
Its a talent, being good with people. Being funny.
When you don't like someone, either you can keep shut about it, or say it straight to their face. Either you can be diplomatic, or straightforward.
The thing with me is that I've always been straightforward. Maybe its for that reason, and that reason only that no-one usually has the guts to say anything to my face.
But recently that changed - and I realized how small you can make someone feel just by being blunt.
I'm going to mend my ways.
They're leaving. They're finally going. It hasn't hit me yet. And the amazing part about this is that I won't let it - even later. See, someone once gave me a brilliant bit of advice on dealing with problems.
Thats it. Just don't deal with it. Don't even think about it.
I've done this alot, and it actually works. Life goes on.
I suppose I like the people in my batch enough to stay happy for another year :)
Motivation
Usually I have alot to look forward to, going to Disneyland being at the very top of my list. But recently nothings been very inspiring. Its like I've got writers block.
Sometimes you need something that'll wake you up every morning making you want to go-go. Something that'll give you hope. I've been told that I should have faith.
But in what?
Makes me want to quote Drew Barrymore from Music and Lyrics - "I need inspiration, not just another negotiation."
Strange Dreams
Last night I dreamt that we shifted to somewhere in South ex, a small rectangular white house with two HUGE gardens upfront and in the back. I think I was unhappy about it, but then slowly I realized that I would get -
a) A terrace. (Doesn't EVERYONE want a terrace?!)
b) Two gardens in DELHI.
c) Amazing smelling air, somehow.
Three things I don't have in my current house.
It was honestly beautiful. There was a fountain in the back. I was sitting alone at night time, staring at the stars... And everything smelt like perfume :|
Clouds
Why doesn't anyone appreciate how amazing clouds are?
Theres a certain time of the year when they move incredibly fast... and watching them move like that makes me feel closer to a god that I don't believe in.
The first thing I do when I get out of my house is stare up to check if there are any at all. When there aren't any - I sulk for hours on end.
Sadly this makes sense to no-one :(
Someone
Blogging is a bit like writing in a diary - only its public... and so I wont be using names.
I've been thinking about someone for a while now. Its so difficult to get to know you, to get you to open up. Its so hard to know what you're really thinking.
But I think the reason you don't let anyone in is because you're scared you won't live upto their expectations - which are indeed, quite high.
I think you should be okay with it if you figure that people might not like you for who you really are. Life becomes alot easier after that. And I think you should get to know me. I know nothing about you, and it kills me everyday, because I really want to.
Awkward
Sometimes you sit down trying to think about what kind of person you wanna be. Are you the funny guy, the smart guy? The relaxed guy, the intuitive guy? I've always wanted to be the girl who breaks the awkward silence. Its not very easy, but once you become that person, people are automatically drawn to you.
Its a talent, being good with people. Being funny.
Hello Cynic
When you don't like someone, either you can keep shut about it, or say it straight to their face. Either you can be diplomatic, or straightforward.
The thing with me is that I've always been straightforward. Maybe its for that reason, and that reason only that no-one usually has the guts to say anything to my face.
But recently that changed - and I realized how small you can make someone feel just by being blunt.
I respect myself and anyone else who cares enough to tell the truth - but sometimes being polite is just the way to go.
I'm going to mend my ways.
The 12thies
They're leaving. They're finally going. It hasn't hit me yet. And the amazing part about this is that I won't let it - even later. See, someone once gave me a brilliant bit of advice on dealing with problems.
"Don't."
Thats it. Just don't deal with it. Don't even think about it.
I've done this alot, and it actually works. Life goes on.
I suppose I like the people in my batch enough to stay happy for another year :)
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Frequency#
Someone once asked me what I think love is?
This isn't going to be some corny paragraph displaying my high expectations from men, along with roses, chocolates, good looks and all that.
See.. I have a theory.
It isn't a new thought, because there are just way too many people out there who feel the same way that I do. I still take pride in thinking that I was the only one able to put it into words this way.
Love to me is what you don't say.
When you're speaking to someone, and before you know it - you're instantly in sync. Isn't that what life is basically all about?
The line spectra. I have a frequency, and so do you.
Have you ever met someone who instantly connects with you?
You haven't been their "person" for a million years, you just know them.
So you're having two conversations, one with words, and one without.
Both of you know it, but no-one has to say it.
Theres something so overwhelming in knowing that there is a certain someone who can see right through you, right through all the masks you wear.
Without even trying, they've understood you - and vice versa.
Have you ever felt that way?
Love to me is overwhelming. It's talking to that person.
Has that ever happened to me?
I guess when you come so close to getting what you want, sometimes you screw it up.
But the wonderful (and terrible) thing about the world is that there are just way too many people out there who feel the same way that I do.
Perhaps one day I'll stumble upon someone whose just as strange as I am.
Um. If possible.
This isn't going to be some corny paragraph displaying my high expectations from men, along with roses, chocolates, good looks and all that.
See.. I have a theory.
It isn't a new thought, because there are just way too many people out there who feel the same way that I do. I still take pride in thinking that I was the only one able to put it into words this way.
Love to me is what you don't say.
When you're speaking to someone, and before you know it - you're instantly in sync. Isn't that what life is basically all about?
The line spectra. I have a frequency, and so do you.
Have you ever met someone who instantly connects with you?
You haven't been their "person" for a million years, you just know them.
So you're having two conversations, one with words, and one without.
Both of you know it, but no-one has to say it.
Theres something so overwhelming in knowing that there is a certain someone who can see right through you, right through all the masks you wear.
Without even trying, they've understood you - and vice versa.
Have you ever felt that way?
Love to me is overwhelming. It's talking to that person.
Has that ever happened to me?
I guess when you come so close to getting what you want, sometimes you screw it up.
But the wonderful (and terrible) thing about the world is that there are just way too many people out there who feel the same way that I do.
Perhaps one day I'll stumble upon someone whose just as strange as I am.
Um. If possible.
"I've seen it happen in front of me over and over again. You feed on the weak and the powerless, make them stand up till their knees and then push them back down where they belong..one at a time. They're all replaceable. They dont mean anything to you. You..take only what you came for; Nothing more, nothing less. It's scary, yet somehow very attractive. Yeah, I admire people with no consciousnesses. Cold, logical, calculating people who'll, eventually, be the ones running things."
THAT ^ gave me goosebumps.
Seriously, Aneesh.
THAT ^ gave me goosebumps.
Seriously, Aneesh.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Broken (T_T)
Ipod nano.
Ipod shuffle.
Guitar.
Yamaha.
Korg.
Home theatre system.
My earphones.
My headphones.
My cellphone.
My glasses.
My microwave.
Ipod shuffle.
Guitar.
Yamaha.
Korg.
Home theatre system.
My earphones.
My headphones.
My cellphone.
My glasses.
My microwave.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Hans Zimmer = God on earth
Aashna, me and Aastha were talking about what song goes with who best.
They chose "Another way to die" from Quantum of Solace and "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne for me. (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I love you guys!!)
I thought alot about it, and in the end I chose Time by Hans Zimmer.
Confused? Try the Inception soundtrack xD
They chose "Another way to die" from Quantum of Solace and "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne for me. (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I love you guys!!)
I thought alot about it, and in the end I chose Time by Hans Zimmer.
Confused? Try the Inception soundtrack xD
Did anyone else feel like a badass after walking out of the movie hall with this song stuck in their head?
Monday, November 15, 2010
Thematic Apperception Test
To me, it looks like a young mother mourning the lack of time she has left with her son, as he has just been diagnosed with a fatal disease. His father died a long time ago, leaving his mother all alone - only too soon. After that he got busy - always travelling for work - and he never had time for his poor, lonely mother. When he found out that he was soon to die, he chose to spend his last days with her in order to make amends and give them both some closure. The whole setting took place in the 1950's, somewhere in Britain. Its cold outside, but its warm inside the house. There are candles lighting up their rooms, a grand piano in the living room, maybe they even have a few pet cats? She's walking back into her room so she can cry herself silently to sleep, perhaps even read a little. She is lost, devastated, dissapointed, but already used to such great amounts of pain. She believes that she cannot do anything to fight back. She is calm, but only because she's already given up hope.
He is a rich, cocky, pompous ass who wants to be forever young. He spend 6 years searching madly for someone with special powers to keep him that way - until he met this old hag. He now tricks children on the street into walking down into dark alleys with him, only to be trapped and robbed of their youth. He is bitter and jealous. His mother never approved of him. His romantic interests always found him too arrogant and egocentric to be tolerable. His only companion is the hag, who will - at the end of this transaction - ultimately use him to her own advantage. She is the devils advocate. The man is but a young boy, greedily drawn towards the most delicious pastry ever - willing to betray even those whom he loves for attention and power. (Narnia ref.)
Monday, November 8, 2010
Dexter.
Debra Morgan: "Hey, Dex. Where are you off to?"
Dexter Morgan: [thinking] Kill the guy you're looking for. Save a kid. Remember to pick up diapers.
- Dexter episode 4.1
"I like to pretend I'm alone. Completely alone. Maybe post-apocalypse or plague... Whatever. No-one left to act normal for. No need to hide who I really am. It would be... freeing. "
- Dexter episode 1.5
Rita Bennett "Deb must be a mess. I mean falling for a serial killer?"
Dexter Morgan: "What are the odds?"
- Dexter last episode, Season 1
" There are moments when I feel the mask is slipping."
- Dexter episode 1.02
"I chose Rita because she is, in her own way, as damaged as me."
- Dexter episode 1.01
"I dream I'm floating on the surface of my own life, watching it unfold."
- Dexter episode 1.02
"Somehow it's reassuring knowing I'm not the only one pretending to be normal."
- Dexter episode 1.05
"Sometimes you just want to forget who you are altogether."
- Dexter episode 1.04
"Normal people are so hostile."
- Dexter episode 1.01
Sunday, November 7, 2010
100
Heres to -
41. How much fun gay people are, seriously I LOVE you guys more. <3
42. Harry Potter Theme music.
43. Love the way you lie, for being an awesome song.
44. New ipods.
45. A freezer stuffed with a variety of meats.
46. The "Fuck it" approach to life.
47. Lenses.
48. White sand and crystal clear sea water.
49. Gloomy weather.
50. People who have enough time to make good road mixes.
1. Utorrent for all the television that helps you survive.
2. Winter.
3. Mustard Tuna Subs.
4. The part of your brain that helps you forget about horrible people.
5. An adorable fat dog.
6. The way Delhi looks like Disneyland on Diwali.
7. Questioning your dad about life.
8. Sticking your head out of the car window while listening to clocks.
9. Loving your younger brother more than everything else.
10. Having a party through the phone.
11. Zombies. No seriously, I've seen like 54 zombie movies this year.
12. Hillarious youtube videos.
13. Roadside chicken momos and kulfi.
14. That chick at the next stall who keeps reminding you of you.
15. Criminal psychology.
16. Sitting with your mom while all of your closest friends are getting drunk on a roof.
17. Not getting a call back, and not caring.
18. Learning to be happy on a daily basis, and to be thankful for the little things.
19. Keeping your room way too clean.
20. Paulo Coelho, I don't understand half of what you've written but you're awesome.
21. Shoving good marks in your skeptical teachers face.
22. Pretty clothes, retail therapy, window shopping's a bitch.
23. WHERE THE FUCK ARE ALL THE PEOPLE I KNOW?!
24. Taping your glasses together because you sat on them.
25. Pretending to like someone just for the heck of it.
26. Weird alpha brain music, and colour therapy.
27. Not sleeping until 7 in the morning.
28. Dreaming about college days and how much fun its going to be when you FINALLY go.
29. Having a perpetual cold.
30. Crying during artificial intelligence.
31. EVERYTHING thats broadcasted on discovery, national geographic, and that travel channel that keeps playing reruns of fat men eating meat and cheese. Bastards.
32. Strange hair and make up.
33. Nightly introspection.
34. Your oldest best friend who never moved on with her life.
35. BACON FOR BREAKFAST D:
36. David Ambrose and his insane books.
37. Cartoons like Dexters Lab, The powerpuff girls, Jimmy Neutron, Spongebob Squarepants, Inuyasha, etc.
38. The oldest memory still stuck in your head - chasing my dog around the table in the front yard.
39. Forgiving and forgetting.
40. The Dexter OST. WOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW <3
41. How much fun gay people are, seriously I LOVE you guys more. <3
42. Harry Potter Theme music.
43. Love the way you lie, for being an awesome song.
44. New ipods.
45. A freezer stuffed with a variety of meats.
46. The "Fuck it" approach to life.
47. Lenses.
48. White sand and crystal clear sea water.
49. Gloomy weather.
50. People who have enough time to make good road mixes.
1. Utorrent for all the television that helps you survive.
2. Winter.
3. Mustard Tuna Subs.
4. The part of your brain that helps you forget about horrible people.
5. An adorable fat dog.
6. The way Delhi looks like Disneyland on Diwali.
7. Questioning your dad about life.
8. Sticking your head out of the car window while listening to clocks.
9. Loving your younger brother more than everything else.
10. Having a party through the phone.
11. Zombies. No seriously, I've seen like 54 zombie movies this year.
12. Hillarious youtube videos.
13. Roadside chicken momos and kulfi.
14. That chick at the next stall who keeps reminding you of you.
15. Criminal psychology.
16. Sitting with your mom while all of your closest friends are getting drunk on a roof.
17. Not getting a call back, and not caring.
18. Learning to be happy on a daily basis, and to be thankful for the little things.
19. Keeping your room way too clean.
20. Paulo Coelho, I don't understand half of what you've written but you're awesome.
21. Shoving good marks in your skeptical teachers face.
22. Pretty clothes, retail therapy, window shopping's a bitch.
23. WHERE THE FUCK ARE ALL THE PEOPLE I KNOW?!
24. Taping your glasses together because you sat on them.
25. Pretending to like someone just for the heck of it.
26. Weird alpha brain music, and colour therapy.
27. Not sleeping until 7 in the morning.
28. Dreaming about college days and how much fun its going to be when you FINALLY go.
29. Having a perpetual cold.
30. Crying during artificial intelligence.
31. EVERYTHING thats broadcasted on discovery, national geographic, and that travel channel that keeps playing reruns of fat men eating meat and cheese. Bastards.
32. Strange hair and make up.
33. Nightly introspection.
34. Your oldest best friend who never moved on with her life.
35. BACON FOR BREAKFAST D:
36. David Ambrose and his insane books.
37. Cartoons like Dexters Lab, The powerpuff girls, Jimmy Neutron, Spongebob Squarepants, Inuyasha, etc.
38. The oldest memory still stuck in your head - chasing my dog around the table in the front yard.
39. Forgiving and forgetting.
40. The Dexter OST. WOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW <3
Friday, November 5, 2010
Criminal Minds
So I was thinking today, I'm so confused about career options. Then I calculated and speculated the facts.
A) I like blood. I like disecting things, cutting things up.
B) I can't stick with anything unless I find it interesting enough to be worth it.
C) I'm manipulative and I think way too much, which kind of gives me reason and time enough to understand people and why they do what they do.
D) I tend to lean towards a career option that people can really respect me for, or remember me by.
So I was thinking, with the subjects I've got (Biology, Chemistry, Physics, Psychology) why not look into criminalistics? I read a paragraph on the same and found it bloody interesting.
— Edmund Kemper
Where does this urge come from, and why is so powerful? If we all experienced this urge, would we be able to resist?
Is it genetic, hormonal, biological, or cultural conditioning? Do serial killers have any control over their desires? We all experience rage and inappropriate sexual instincts, yet we have some sort of internal cage that keeps our inner monsters locked up. Call it morality or social programming; these internal blockades have long since been trampled down in the psychopathic killer. Not only have they let loose the monster within, they are virtual slaves to its beastly appetites. What sets them apart?
Serial killers have tested out a number of excuses for their behavior. Henry Lee Lucas blamed his upbringing; others like Jeffrey Dahmer say that they were born with a "part" of them missing. Ted Bundy claimed pornography made him do it. Herbert Mullin, Santa Cruz killer of thirteen, blamed the voices in his head that told him it was time to "sing the die song." The ruthless Carl Panzram swore that prison turned him into a monster, while Bobby Joe Long said a motorcycle accident made him hypersexual and eventually a serial lust killer. The most psychopathic, like John Wayne Gacy, turned the blame around and boasted that the victims deserved to die.
They must be insane — what normal person could slaughter another human, for the sheer pleasure of it? Yet the most chilling fact about serial killers is that they are rational and calculating. As the "British Jeffrey Dahmer" Dennis Nilsen put it, "a mind can be evil without being abnormal."
Before we look at who they are, we must first describe what they are. The FBI defines serial murder as:
•A minimum of three to four victims, with a "cooling off" period in between;
•The killer is usually a stranger to the victim — the murders appear unconnected or random;
•The murders reflect a need to sadistically dominate the victim;
•The murder is rarely "for profit"; the motive is psychological, not material;
•The victim may have "symbolic" value for the killer; method of killing may reveal this meaning;
•Killers often choose victims who are vulnerable (prostitutes, runaways, etc.)
Statistically, the average serial killer is a white male from a lower-to-middle-class background, usually in his twenties or thirties. Many were physically or emotionally abused by parents. Some were adopted. As children, fledgling serial killers often set fires, torture animals, and wet their beds (these red-flag behaviors are known as the "triad" of symptoms.) Brain injuries are common. Some are very intelligent and have shown great promise as successful professionals. They are also fascinated with the police and authority in general. They have either attempted to become police themselves but were rejected, worked as security guards, or served in the military. Many, including John Gacy, the Hillside Stranglers, andTed Bundy, have disguised themselves as law enforcement officials to gain access to their victims.
Mask of Sanity
Because of their psychopathic nature, serial killers do not know how to feel sympathy for others, or even how to have relationships. Instead, they learn to simulate normal behavior by observing others. It is all a manipulative act, designed to entice people into their trap. Serial killers are actors with a natural penchant for performance. Henry Lee Lucas described being a serial killer as "being like a movie-star ... you're just playing the part." The macabre Gacy loved to dress up as a clown, while the Zodiac suited up in a bizarre executioner's costume that looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland. In court, Bundy told the judge, "I'm disguised as an attorney today." Bundy had previously "disguised" himself as a compassionate rape crisis center counselor.
The most coveted role of roaming psychopaths is a position of authority. Gacy was an active, outgoing figure in business and society; he even became a member of the Jaycees. Many joined the military, including Berkowitz, who was intensely patriotic for a time. Playing police officer, however, is the most predictable. Carrying badges and driving coplike vehicles not only feeds their need to feel important, but also allows them access to victims who would otherwise trust their instincts and not talk to strangers.
Yet, when they are caught, serial killer wills suddenly assume a "mask of insanity" — pretending to be a multiple personality, schizophrenic, or prone to black-outs — anything to evade responsibility. Even when they pretend to truly reveal themselves, they are still locked into playing a role. What nameless dread lies behind the psychopath's mask?
"What's one less person on the face of the earth anyway?" Ted Bundy's chilling rationalization demonstrates the how serial killers truly think. "Bundy could never understand why people couldn't accept the fact that he killed because he wanted to kill," said one FBI investigator.
We believe that we have control over our impulses — no matter how angry we get, there is something that stops us from taking our aggressions out on others. Do serial killers lack a moral safety latch? Or are they being controlled by something unfathomable? "I wished I could stop but I could not. I had no other thrill or happiness," said Dennis Nilsen, who wondered if he was truly evil. Serial killers are undeniably sick, and their numbers seem to be growing. Are we in the midst of a serial killer "epidemic," as Joel Norris describes it? If this is a disease, what is the cure?
Are They Insane?
Are serial killers insane? Not by legal standards. "The incidence of psychosis among murderers is no greater than the incidence of psychosis in the total population," said psychiatrist Donald Lunde. The legal definition of insanity is based on the 19th century McNaghten Rules: Does the offender understand the difference between right and wrong? If he flees or makes any attempt to hide the crime, then the offender is not insane, because his actions show that he understood that what he was doing was wrong. Yet what person in their right mind would filet young children and write letters to the parents, rhapsodizing over what a fine meal their child made? In the case of Albert Fish, the jury found him "insane, but he deserved to die anyway." Only a few, including the dimwitted Ed Gein and sadistic Peter Sutcliffe have successfully pleaded insanity.
Always looking to manipulate, serial killers will do just about anything to convince the authorities of their insanity. Being declared "legally insane" means avoiding death row, and if the criminal can convince his keepers that he has fully recovered, there is the hope of actually being released.
"Acid Bath Murderer" John Haigh drank his own urine in front of a jury to convince them of his insanity, but only served to repulse them more. William Hickman was stupid enough to put in writing his intention to convince the jury he is crazy: "I intend to throw a laughing, screaming, diving act before the prosecution finishes their case. ... " (He closes this letter to a fellow inmate with "P.S. You know and I know that I'm not insane however."
According to Elliot Leyton, in his book Hunting Humans, serial killers are "not alien creatures with deranged minds, but alienated men with disinterest in continuing the dull lives in which they feel entrapped. Reared in a civilization which legitimizes violence as a response to frustration, provided by the mass media and violent pornography with both the advertising proclaiming the 'joy' of sadism and the instruction manual outlining correct procedures, they grasp the 'manly' identity of pirate and avenger."
Conclusion
When Do They Stop? When does a serial killer stop? Either when they are caught or killed. Very few have turned themselves in. Only Ed Kemper called the police to confess, and waited at a phone booth to be picked up. Recently, a Humboldt county truck driver walked into a police station with a female breast in his pocket as proof of his deeds. Some plea to be caught, yet coyly disappear before the cops arrive to arrest them. William Heirens wrote his memorable message ("For heavens sake catch me before I kill more I cannot control myself") in bizarre, red lipstick cursive on the wall, while his victim lay dead, shot and stabbed in the neck. If there are any serial killers who quit because they were satiated or bored, we cannot know because they are not in captivity.
Some claim that if they could they would have indulged in mass destruction. The "Vampire of Dusseldorf" Peter Kurten said "the more people the better. Yes if I had the means of doing so, I would have killed whole masses of people — brought about catastrophes." When Carl Panzram wasn't fantasizing about poisoning towns with arsenic, he spent his time plotting a grand scheme to incite war between the British and the Americans. "I believe the whole human race should be exterminated, I'll do my best to do it every chance I get," he told a jury before their deliberation (they sentenced him to death in less than a minute.)
Are There Any "Reformed" Serial Killers?
Fortunately, our society is not willing to risk the opportunity to find out by releasing them. In fact, one of the most outspoken critics of "reform" is a serial killer himself, the unrepentant Carl Panzram: "I have no desire to reform myself. My only desire is to reform people who try to reform me. And I believe that the only way to reform people is to kill em. My Motto is, Rob em all, Rape em all and Kill em all."
"A person was a blank"
In the end, all we can conclude is that serial killers are human black holes. That they are so normal, so generic, so invisible, they terrify us because they mirror us. Henry Lee Lucas grimly proclaimed that "All across the country, there's people just like me, who set out to destroy human life." Many of them describe themselves as having a piece missing, something dead within, or as Bundy said, a void inside. Not only are the victims "a blank" to the killer, as Lucas put it, they are blank to themselves. "What I wanted to see was the death, and I wanted to see the triumph, the exultation over the death. ... In other words, I was winning over death. They were dead and I was alive. That was a victory in my case," mused Ed Kemper. In other words, "Get a life" becomes "Take a life."
Killing others is not an attempt to fill the void, but to spread the void. To make the other into a lifeless object mimics the killers own lifelessness. "It didn't mean nothing, it just didn't mean nothing." said DeSalvo. "It was so senseless that it makes sense, you know?"
The serial killer lives on the other side of our social boundaries. He is an embodiment of the darkness, desire, and power that we must repress within ourselves. He is not a creature of reason, but of excess and transgression and voracious appetites - selfish, carnal desire. He breaks the social rules that confine the rest of us- our outrage keeps the boundaries intact, while our curiosity can explore the dark recesses of our own repressed desires from a safe distance. He crosses the line into a world of mayhem and depravity. We recoil at their bloody antics, but remain transfixed.
A) I like blood. I like disecting things, cutting things up.
B) I can't stick with anything unless I find it interesting enough to be worth it.
C) I'm manipulative and I think way too much, which kind of gives me reason and time enough to understand people and why they do what they do.
D) I tend to lean towards a career option that people can really respect me for, or remember me by.
So I was thinking, with the subjects I've got (Biology, Chemistry, Physics, Psychology) why not look into criminalistics? I read a paragraph on the same and found it bloody interesting.
"It was an urge. ... A strong urge, and the longer I let it go the stronger it got, to where I was taking risks to go out and kill people — risks that normally, according to my little rules of operation, I wouldn't take because they could lead to arrest."
— Edmund Kemper
Where does this urge come from, and why is so powerful? If we all experienced this urge, would we be able to resist?
Is it genetic, hormonal, biological, or cultural conditioning? Do serial killers have any control over their desires? We all experience rage and inappropriate sexual instincts, yet we have some sort of internal cage that keeps our inner monsters locked up. Call it morality or social programming; these internal blockades have long since been trampled down in the psychopathic killer. Not only have they let loose the monster within, they are virtual slaves to its beastly appetites. What sets them apart?
Serial killers have tested out a number of excuses for their behavior. Henry Lee Lucas blamed his upbringing; others like Jeffrey Dahmer say that they were born with a "part" of them missing. Ted Bundy claimed pornography made him do it. Herbert Mullin, Santa Cruz killer of thirteen, blamed the voices in his head that told him it was time to "sing the die song." The ruthless Carl Panzram swore that prison turned him into a monster, while Bobby Joe Long said a motorcycle accident made him hypersexual and eventually a serial lust killer. The most psychopathic, like John Wayne Gacy, turned the blame around and boasted that the victims deserved to die.
They must be insane — what normal person could slaughter another human, for the sheer pleasure of it? Yet the most chilling fact about serial killers is that they are rational and calculating. As the "British Jeffrey Dahmer" Dennis Nilsen put it, "a mind can be evil without being abnormal."
Before we look at who they are, we must first describe what they are. The FBI defines serial murder as:
•A minimum of three to four victims, with a "cooling off" period in between;
•The killer is usually a stranger to the victim — the murders appear unconnected or random;
•The murders reflect a need to sadistically dominate the victim;
•The murder is rarely "for profit"; the motive is psychological, not material;
•The victim may have "symbolic" value for the killer; method of killing may reveal this meaning;
•Killers often choose victims who are vulnerable (prostitutes, runaways, etc.)
Statistically, the average serial killer is a white male from a lower-to-middle-class background, usually in his twenties or thirties. Many were physically or emotionally abused by parents. Some were adopted. As children, fledgling serial killers often set fires, torture animals, and wet their beds (these red-flag behaviors are known as the "triad" of symptoms.) Brain injuries are common. Some are very intelligent and have shown great promise as successful professionals. They are also fascinated with the police and authority in general. They have either attempted to become police themselves but were rejected, worked as security guards, or served in the military. Many, including John Gacy, the Hillside Stranglers, andTed Bundy, have disguised themselves as law enforcement officials to gain access to their victims.
Mask of Sanity
Because of their psychopathic nature, serial killers do not know how to feel sympathy for others, or even how to have relationships. Instead, they learn to simulate normal behavior by observing others. It is all a manipulative act, designed to entice people into their trap. Serial killers are actors with a natural penchant for performance. Henry Lee Lucas described being a serial killer as "being like a movie-star ... you're just playing the part." The macabre Gacy loved to dress up as a clown, while the Zodiac suited up in a bizarre executioner's costume that looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland. In court, Bundy told the judge, "I'm disguised as an attorney today." Bundy had previously "disguised" himself as a compassionate rape crisis center counselor.
The most coveted role of roaming psychopaths is a position of authority. Gacy was an active, outgoing figure in business and society; he even became a member of the Jaycees. Many joined the military, including Berkowitz, who was intensely patriotic for a time. Playing police officer, however, is the most predictable. Carrying badges and driving coplike vehicles not only feeds their need to feel important, but also allows them access to victims who would otherwise trust their instincts and not talk to strangers.
Yet, when they are caught, serial killer wills suddenly assume a "mask of insanity" — pretending to be a multiple personality, schizophrenic, or prone to black-outs — anything to evade responsibility. Even when they pretend to truly reveal themselves, they are still locked into playing a role. What nameless dread lies behind the psychopath's mask?
"What's one less person on the face of the earth anyway?" Ted Bundy's chilling rationalization demonstrates the how serial killers truly think. "Bundy could never understand why people couldn't accept the fact that he killed because he wanted to kill," said one FBI investigator.
We believe that we have control over our impulses — no matter how angry we get, there is something that stops us from taking our aggressions out on others. Do serial killers lack a moral safety latch? Or are they being controlled by something unfathomable? "I wished I could stop but I could not. I had no other thrill or happiness," said Dennis Nilsen, who wondered if he was truly evil. Serial killers are undeniably sick, and their numbers seem to be growing. Are we in the midst of a serial killer "epidemic," as Joel Norris describes it? If this is a disease, what is the cure?
Are They Insane?
Are serial killers insane? Not by legal standards. "The incidence of psychosis among murderers is no greater than the incidence of psychosis in the total population," said psychiatrist Donald Lunde. The legal definition of insanity is based on the 19th century McNaghten Rules: Does the offender understand the difference between right and wrong? If he flees or makes any attempt to hide the crime, then the offender is not insane, because his actions show that he understood that what he was doing was wrong. Yet what person in their right mind would filet young children and write letters to the parents, rhapsodizing over what a fine meal their child made? In the case of Albert Fish, the jury found him "insane, but he deserved to die anyway." Only a few, including the dimwitted Ed Gein and sadistic Peter Sutcliffe have successfully pleaded insanity.
Always looking to manipulate, serial killers will do just about anything to convince the authorities of their insanity. Being declared "legally insane" means avoiding death row, and if the criminal can convince his keepers that he has fully recovered, there is the hope of actually being released.
"Acid Bath Murderer" John Haigh drank his own urine in front of a jury to convince them of his insanity, but only served to repulse them more. William Hickman was stupid enough to put in writing his intention to convince the jury he is crazy: "I intend to throw a laughing, screaming, diving act before the prosecution finishes their case. ... " (He closes this letter to a fellow inmate with "P.S. You know and I know that I'm not insane however."
According to Elliot Leyton, in his book Hunting Humans, serial killers are "not alien creatures with deranged minds, but alienated men with disinterest in continuing the dull lives in which they feel entrapped. Reared in a civilization which legitimizes violence as a response to frustration, provided by the mass media and violent pornography with both the advertising proclaiming the 'joy' of sadism and the instruction manual outlining correct procedures, they grasp the 'manly' identity of pirate and avenger."
Conclusion
When Do They Stop? When does a serial killer stop? Either when they are caught or killed. Very few have turned themselves in. Only Ed Kemper called the police to confess, and waited at a phone booth to be picked up. Recently, a Humboldt county truck driver walked into a police station with a female breast in his pocket as proof of his deeds. Some plea to be caught, yet coyly disappear before the cops arrive to arrest them. William Heirens wrote his memorable message ("For heavens sake catch me before I kill more I cannot control myself") in bizarre, red lipstick cursive on the wall, while his victim lay dead, shot and stabbed in the neck. If there are any serial killers who quit because they were satiated or bored, we cannot know because they are not in captivity.
Some claim that if they could they would have indulged in mass destruction. The "Vampire of Dusseldorf" Peter Kurten said "the more people the better. Yes if I had the means of doing so, I would have killed whole masses of people — brought about catastrophes." When Carl Panzram wasn't fantasizing about poisoning towns with arsenic, he spent his time plotting a grand scheme to incite war between the British and the Americans. "I believe the whole human race should be exterminated, I'll do my best to do it every chance I get," he told a jury before their deliberation (they sentenced him to death in less than a minute.)
Are There Any "Reformed" Serial Killers?
Fortunately, our society is not willing to risk the opportunity to find out by releasing them. In fact, one of the most outspoken critics of "reform" is a serial killer himself, the unrepentant Carl Panzram: "I have no desire to reform myself. My only desire is to reform people who try to reform me. And I believe that the only way to reform people is to kill em. My Motto is, Rob em all, Rape em all and Kill em all."
"A person was a blank"
In the end, all we can conclude is that serial killers are human black holes. That they are so normal, so generic, so invisible, they terrify us because they mirror us. Henry Lee Lucas grimly proclaimed that "All across the country, there's people just like me, who set out to destroy human life." Many of them describe themselves as having a piece missing, something dead within, or as Bundy said, a void inside. Not only are the victims "a blank" to the killer, as Lucas put it, they are blank to themselves. "What I wanted to see was the death, and I wanted to see the triumph, the exultation over the death. ... In other words, I was winning over death. They were dead and I was alive. That was a victory in my case," mused Ed Kemper. In other words, "Get a life" becomes "Take a life."
Killing others is not an attempt to fill the void, but to spread the void. To make the other into a lifeless object mimics the killers own lifelessness. "It didn't mean nothing, it just didn't mean nothing." said DeSalvo. "It was so senseless that it makes sense, you know?"
The serial killer lives on the other side of our social boundaries. He is an embodiment of the darkness, desire, and power that we must repress within ourselves. He is not a creature of reason, but of excess and transgression and voracious appetites - selfish, carnal desire. He breaks the social rules that confine the rest of us- our outrage keeps the boundaries intact, while our curiosity can explore the dark recesses of our own repressed desires from a safe distance. He crosses the line into a world of mayhem and depravity. We recoil at their bloody antics, but remain transfixed.
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