Scribbled in my notebook, earlier today

I'm currently sitting on a bench in the Museu de Arte de Sao Paulo (MASP), exploring an exhibit of Spanish art (with a few exceptional anomalies--Renoir, Manet, etc.--included in the mix). An hour ago, I was touring the 2008 World Press exhibit, dozens of photos from around the globe, chosen as the year's "best."

What a fascinating juxtaposition of these two displays.

Almost all of the photos in the World Press gallery were images of death, destruction, war. There was one wall featuring shots from the day of Benazir Bhutto's assassination (December 27, 2007). First, the former Prime Minister of Pakistan is shown speaking at a rally, her back turned to the camera. Then, she's in her vehicle, protruding through the sunroof with her arms spread wide and a smile spread across her face. Then, a blurry shot streaked with orange flames; debris and dust cloud the scene; a body lies face-down on the pavement. Last, there is a man standing in the road after the bomb exploded. Pools of blood have begun to spread around the fallen bodies; chunks of flesh are spattered near the charred skeleton of Bhutto's car. Like Bhutto, the man is posed with his arms spread wide. But there is no trace of a smile. I have never seen such an expression of anguish, of disbelief, of utter hopelessness, captured in a still image. I couldn't tear myself away. And I imagine that a similar expression may have been reflected in my eyes.

And yet, now wandering through this building filled with paintings, sculptures, and ornate pottery, I see the beauty that human beings are capable of producing; this stunning artwork must have been inspired by feelings comparably intense to those of the bombers who killed Bhutto and at least twenty others last December.

So why, then, do we express ourselves with bombs and rifles, instead of with paints and clay? How can there possibly be so much art in this room, and at the same time so much hate and violence out in the world? And why?

I think I see the world differently than most people do. I don't believe in God, but I do believe in the value of life. Life is all we have! And at this point, I'm fairly positive that I'm going to spend the remainder of my years trying to preserve life, however I can. What's the point of this fancy Ivy League education if I can't change the world?

I think I know why I'm depressed.
The world is just so fucked up.
What have YOU done about it??