Many have calculated that the potential rewards of religious belief are infinite, and thus decided not to become atheists. But to what extent can you control belief? If I chose to believe in the existence of, say, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, I suppose I could kid myself into momentarily thinking it was possible, and I could certainly say I believed. That wouldn't mean I would believe in it, though. Because deep down, I would never truly accept that the Flying Spaghetti Monster existed. I could say I believe that 2+2 equals 1,895, but of course I know that's not true. If you don't belive in something, why even pretend to? It's almost worse than flat-out not believing, because you aren't even allowing yourself to have that opnion.
As far as religion goes, I don't have a very concrete belief. I'm having a harder and harder time convincing myself that there is a god. I don't discount the possibility, but I want to stop trying to believe in something I don't really have faith in. What good does it do to say you believe when you are, in reality, skeptical at best?
I was talking to my mom about this earlier today and was surprised by what she said. Though she teaches Sunday school and forces us all to attend church, she told me she doesn't really believe the Bible is true. I was further shocked when she said Jesus was most likely just some guy out for a scam and that science could easily explain the miracles he (He) performed. But she goes to church just in case, as well as to placate my fanatically religious Catholic grandmother (she's wonderful and eccentric, but even the fact that we go to a nondenominational church has put her on edge). I don't want to have to pretend like that. Belief should be genuine, not obligatory, or not at all.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Little Dorrit, a book by Charles Dickens, contains many insights that are still relevant today. Its characters are multifaceted and relatable, if a bit caricatured. It tells the story of Amy Dorrit, a young woman who has grown up in debtor's prison because of her family's ineptitude with money. She meets a man named arthur Clennam, and the book chronicles the ups and down of thir relationship.
The message that resonated the most with me had to do with one of the supporting characters, John Chivery. John is the sweet, friendly son of the prison gatekeeper. He has known Amy all of his life and loves her immensely. He asks her to marry him, but she thinks of him only as a good friend and declines in the hopes of Arthur Clennam falling in love with her.
Throughout Amy and Arthur's increasing relationship, John is heartbroken. However, he is extremely respectful, kind, and accomodating to both Amy and Arthur. He has multiple opportunities to stop their relationship and humiliate them. He never does, though. He sees that Amy is happy, and he believes that is more important than his well-being. He puts on a brave face so she won't feel guilty.
To me, this was the most definitive act of love demonstrated in the whole book. It showed the true depth of John's love for Amy that he would do anything that would make her most happy, even if that involved denying himself of the future he had always dreamt of. It's sad, but John accepts it.
The message that resonated the most with me had to do with one of the supporting characters, John Chivery. John is the sweet, friendly son of the prison gatekeeper. He has known Amy all of his life and loves her immensely. He asks her to marry him, but she thinks of him only as a good friend and declines in the hopes of Arthur Clennam falling in love with her.
Throughout Amy and Arthur's increasing relationship, John is heartbroken. However, he is extremely respectful, kind, and accomodating to both Amy and Arthur. He has multiple opportunities to stop their relationship and humiliate them. He never does, though. He sees that Amy is happy, and he believes that is more important than his well-being. He puts on a brave face so she won't feel guilty.
To me, this was the most definitive act of love demonstrated in the whole book. It showed the true depth of John's love for Amy that he would do anything that would make her most happy, even if that involved denying himself of the future he had always dreamt of. It's sad, but John accepts it.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
The roadmap...of life
I am so disappointed by how ignorant people are regarding history. It seems like no one cares about the past anymore, which is saddening. I COULD go on a rant about all the examples of this I've heard at school, but I'll refrain for the sake of my health.
Anyways, I would liken history to a roadmap. If you don't know where you've been, how can you possibly know where you're going? You wouldn't be able to predict the obstacles along the road ahead, either. You would be driving blindly, never knowing when the road might curve or what detour to take if there's a proverbial tree in the middle of the road.
People in the past have worked so hard to get us where we are today. Isn't it a shame not to give them credit?
Anyways, I would liken history to a roadmap. If you don't know where you've been, how can you possibly know where you're going? You wouldn't be able to predict the obstacles along the road ahead, either. You would be driving blindly, never knowing when the road might curve or what detour to take if there's a proverbial tree in the middle of the road.
People in the past have worked so hard to get us where we are today. Isn't it a shame not to give them credit?
John Lennon
Today, everyone remembers John Lennon, as they remember Michael Jackson on June 25 or Kurt Cobain on April 5. Every news channel is doing a special tribute story, and Facebook is littered with "rip john lennon your amazing" statuses. The funny thing is, most people don't even think about John Lennon the other 364 days of the year. My sister was about to make her Facebook status a similar tribute to him, and I asked her to name one John Lennon song. Her response? "...Hey Jude?"
It is a pretty significant day in the history of music, but if he had lived, would people still be making a fuss about him? I bet no one does a tribute for poor Ringo's birthday. The fact that Lennon died young gives him a mysterious, tragically-heroic legacy. And I think he'd want to be remembered, but not for the fact that he died before his time. For his music, his philosophy, and not just on December 8.
John Lennon should not be defined by his death. He didn't plan it, he didn't work for it, it was totally unexpected. He had no say in it. So why not remember him for what he did have a say in?
And let's be honest about another celebrity: before Michael Jackson died, everyone knew him as a creepy weirdo who dangled his kid out a balcony. And then, miraculously, he was a hero! a martyr! a wonderful musician who was judged harshly by the world and couldn't help the way he looked!
It's just so...phony (Sorry for the Catcher in the Rye turn of phrase; I know today isn't exactly the best day to be referencing it). I'd rather see people remember celebrities for what they actually did, and remember them regularly, rather than use their deaths for emotional profit.
It is a pretty significant day in the history of music, but if he had lived, would people still be making a fuss about him? I bet no one does a tribute for poor Ringo's birthday. The fact that Lennon died young gives him a mysterious, tragically-heroic legacy. And I think he'd want to be remembered, but not for the fact that he died before his time. For his music, his philosophy, and not just on December 8.
John Lennon should not be defined by his death. He didn't plan it, he didn't work for it, it was totally unexpected. He had no say in it. So why not remember him for what he did have a say in?
And let's be honest about another celebrity: before Michael Jackson died, everyone knew him as a creepy weirdo who dangled his kid out a balcony. And then, miraculously, he was a hero! a martyr! a wonderful musician who was judged harshly by the world and couldn't help the way he looked!
It's just so...phony (Sorry for the Catcher in the Rye turn of phrase; I know today isn't exactly the best day to be referencing it). I'd rather see people remember celebrities for what they actually did, and remember them regularly, rather than use their deaths for emotional profit.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
The Avalanche
I honestly feel like the best thing to compare the workload in IB to would be an avalanche. For one thing, it's huge. There's no sense in trying to hide from it; it will just bury you. Sometimes, you stumble and have an extremely hard time trying to stay afloat and get back in front of it as quickly as possible. Like an avalanche, you can't just float on the surface of all the work-you either have to fight to stay above the surface or run as fast as you can just so it won't sweep you away. As you run, there are obstacles: the proverbial trees, rocks, snowdrifts, and chasms.
Right now, with these two English projects, French journal, math problems, bio reading, and actual life, I feel like the avalanche is right on my heels. And I'm no track star.
Right now, with these two English projects, French journal, math problems, bio reading, and actual life, I feel like the avalanche is right on my heels. And I'm no track star.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Hot Air Balloons
Whenever I listen to certain songs, I automatically think back to the first time I heard them. In some cases, that makes me like the song even more. In others, the associated memories are so negative that I can't listen to them. For example, I haven't listened to "Virus Alert" by Weird Al in several years because that's the song I was listening to in the hospital when my grandpa died. It's an automatic response-I can't get rid of the association because it keeps cropping up like one of those flashy, immortal pop-ups that appear on the computer.
Most of the associations create more meaning for the song. I first heard "Summertime Clothes" by Animal Collective on a very warm day in July at theater camp. I've been listening to that song more often now that it's getting colder because it reminds me of summer. Likewise, I listen to "Oh Comely" by Neutral Milk Hotel more often in the summer because it reminds me of snow.
First impressions of a song can really change your perspective on it. The first time I heard "Hot Air Balloons" by Owl City was at 3 a.m. in Chicago. One of my roommates on the Chicago trip had set her phone's alarm so we would wake up at the righ time. For some reason, I was the only one who woke up when the phone started blasting "Hot Air Balloons" at that ungodly hour. I turned it off, but it went off three more times. Eventually, groggy and unreasonable, I slammed the phone against the wall. When that didn't work, I decided the next logical thing to do would be to place the phone high on the bathroom shelf, smothered under a pile of towels. The sound of that phone was like the sound of the Telltale Heart to me-maddening.
And now, I can't stand the song "Hot Air Balloons". I hope I never have to hear it again. If I do, I will think back to that cold night in Chicago when I, exhausted, was nearly driven mad by a phone. And it won't be pretty.
Most of the associations create more meaning for the song. I first heard "Summertime Clothes" by Animal Collective on a very warm day in July at theater camp. I've been listening to that song more often now that it's getting colder because it reminds me of summer. Likewise, I listen to "Oh Comely" by Neutral Milk Hotel more often in the summer because it reminds me of snow.
First impressions of a song can really change your perspective on it. The first time I heard "Hot Air Balloons" by Owl City was at 3 a.m. in Chicago. One of my roommates on the Chicago trip had set her phone's alarm so we would wake up at the righ time. For some reason, I was the only one who woke up when the phone started blasting "Hot Air Balloons" at that ungodly hour. I turned it off, but it went off three more times. Eventually, groggy and unreasonable, I slammed the phone against the wall. When that didn't work, I decided the next logical thing to do would be to place the phone high on the bathroom shelf, smothered under a pile of towels. The sound of that phone was like the sound of the Telltale Heart to me-maddening.
And now, I can't stand the song "Hot Air Balloons". I hope I never have to hear it again. If I do, I will think back to that cold night in Chicago when I, exhausted, was nearly driven mad by a phone. And it won't be pretty.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
We stink!
According to our French teacher, French peopple think Americans smell bad.
You're probably laughing-"US? WE smell bad?"-but it's kind of true when you think about it. Right now, I smell like a myriad of products-rosemary, mint, lemon, vanilla, cocoa, almond, butterfly flower, and lavendar. And it smells weird. Americans use so many types of lotions and perfumes to make ourselves smell good that we often produce a heavy, cloying smell. People in the US say that people in other countries smell bad because they don't wear as much deodorant or perfume, but anyone who has ever smelled PINK perfume knows that the foreigners may be on to something.
I don't know why I felt the need to write this. I guess it's because I just took a shower and the smell of shampoo is following me everywhere.
You're probably laughing-"US? WE smell bad?"-but it's kind of true when you think about it. Right now, I smell like a myriad of products-rosemary, mint, lemon, vanilla, cocoa, almond, butterfly flower, and lavendar. And it smells weird. Americans use so many types of lotions and perfumes to make ourselves smell good that we often produce a heavy, cloying smell. People in the US say that people in other countries smell bad because they don't wear as much deodorant or perfume, but anyone who has ever smelled PINK perfume knows that the foreigners may be on to something.
I don't know why I felt the need to write this. I guess it's because I just took a shower and the smell of shampoo is following me everywhere.
Things That You Think
While writing my latest blog post, I kept on thinking about my abysmal EQ score (5/20) and how my memory might relate to that.
Maybe I'm not as robotic as the EQ test would suggest. For example, I am unable to let go of the past. Not because I don't want to let go, but because I can't. So yes, sadness naturally recurs over certain subjects, and when I see someone I don't like I can't help remember why I'm angry with them in the first place. "Once my sobs have been released", I do not feel great because I still remember so clearly why I was sad.
Also, I have a hard time dealing with others' grief because in the past, I've made things worse while trying to comfort people. It's funny, but I'm defined by my past. I guess that's why my EQ test was so skewed-I have emotions and I can handle them, but old emotions float up to the surface so often that I have too many of them and end up just ignoring them.
Stupid memory!
Maybe I'm not as robotic as the EQ test would suggest. For example, I am unable to let go of the past. Not because I don't want to let go, but because I can't. So yes, sadness naturally recurs over certain subjects, and when I see someone I don't like I can't help remember why I'm angry with them in the first place. "Once my sobs have been released", I do not feel great because I still remember so clearly why I was sad.
Also, I have a hard time dealing with others' grief because in the past, I've made things worse while trying to comfort people. It's funny, but I'm defined by my past. I guess that's why my EQ test was so skewed-I have emotions and I can handle them, but old emotions float up to the surface so often that I have too many of them and end up just ignoring them.
Stupid memory!
Memories
As anyone who knows me will tell you, I have an unusually poor memory in some cases but an astoundingly detailed one in others. For example, I rarely remember when I have a test or quiz. I'll walk into the classroom and say, "Wait, do we have test today?" and everyone else will groan. But I can remember random days from when I was as young as two. It makes no sense to me; I'd rather be prepared for class than know where I was on a random Wednesday seven years ago, but there's nothing I can do.
I should clarify that my long-term memory is selective; I can't remember every day of my life, but for some reason I can remember large bits and pieces. So I can remember:
"When we went to Grandma's birthday party when I was three, we went to a restaurant in Akron. It had vegetable-themed decorations, and we sat between a large asparagus pillar and the far right corner, slightly elevated. It was a buffet, and I had mashed potatoes. After that, we went to the art museum to see a display of glass sculptures and modern art."
Yeah, that memory is weird, but it's true. But I can't remember:
"We have a test this Thursday."
When we went to Chicago last February for a class trip, I kept recognizing places. No one believed me because I hadn't been to Chicago in over ten years, but I looked through old pictures and it turned out I was right. It wasn't just the Pier or the museums that I recognized, it was weird stuff like food courts and streets.
I would consider this type of memory to be more of a curse than a blessing. Even if you can remember things doesn't mean you should, or want to. I can't forget the past; I remember deaths, betrayals, and other unpleasantries equally vividly as good memories.
Plus there's the fact that no one believes me anyway, or really even cares what I did on the second day of summer break in 2003. I would rather be able to remember short-term things. My cramming technique for studying would be a lot more effective if I could actually remember the information, rather than my mind going completely blank when I don't have that information in front of me.
I should clarify that my long-term memory is selective; I can't remember every day of my life, but for some reason I can remember large bits and pieces. So I can remember:
"When we went to Grandma's birthday party when I was three, we went to a restaurant in Akron. It had vegetable-themed decorations, and we sat between a large asparagus pillar and the far right corner, slightly elevated. It was a buffet, and I had mashed potatoes. After that, we went to the art museum to see a display of glass sculptures and modern art."
Yeah, that memory is weird, but it's true. But I can't remember:
"We have a test this Thursday."
When we went to Chicago last February for a class trip, I kept recognizing places. No one believed me because I hadn't been to Chicago in over ten years, but I looked through old pictures and it turned out I was right. It wasn't just the Pier or the museums that I recognized, it was weird stuff like food courts and streets.
I would consider this type of memory to be more of a curse than a blessing. Even if you can remember things doesn't mean you should, or want to. I can't forget the past; I remember deaths, betrayals, and other unpleasantries equally vividly as good memories.
Plus there's the fact that no one believes me anyway, or really even cares what I did on the second day of summer break in 2003. I would rather be able to remember short-term things. My cramming technique for studying would be a lot more effective if I could actually remember the information, rather than my mind going completely blank when I don't have that information in front of me.
I'll get to it...EVENTUALLY!
Today, on this lovely Sunday, I find myself in a place I've been many times, and will probably continue to find myself for years to come: at the computer, doing homework because I forgot about it until now or procrastinated. Actually, let's be honest: I just procrastinated.
I wish I could stop putting things off, but at this point it doesn't seem likely to happen. Truthfully, it's a lot more motivating to get something done when it's 11:00 rather than 3:00. It's obviously not a very healthy study system, but it works for now. I tend to underestimate the amount of homework I have, leading to the "I can do it after dinner" mentality I'm stuck in. And after that, the hours just fly by in a mad dash to get everything done. That's without a wrench being thrown into the system, such as the printer being out of ink or my computer freezing up. When that happens, all hell breaks loose and then I put off solving my problem until the morning.
In the morning, I usually get ready first, then do homework and fix computer issues, then eat if I'm lucky. And then when I get to school, I brag about how late I stayed up and how early I woke up. We really will brag about anything.
But hey, at least I'm being proactive today. I'm doing some of my homework before dinner. Small victories.
Amanda Show-Procrastination-This is so me.
I wish I could stop putting things off, but at this point it doesn't seem likely to happen. Truthfully, it's a lot more motivating to get something done when it's 11:00 rather than 3:00. It's obviously not a very healthy study system, but it works for now. I tend to underestimate the amount of homework I have, leading to the "I can do it after dinner" mentality I'm stuck in. And after that, the hours just fly by in a mad dash to get everything done. That's without a wrench being thrown into the system, such as the printer being out of ink or my computer freezing up. When that happens, all hell breaks loose and then I put off solving my problem until the morning.
In the morning, I usually get ready first, then do homework and fix computer issues, then eat if I'm lucky. And then when I get to school, I brag about how late I stayed up and how early I woke up. We really will brag about anything.
But hey, at least I'm being proactive today. I'm doing some of my homework before dinner. Small victories.
Amanda Show-Procrastination-This is so me.
Monday, November 22, 2010
I Am A Proud Grammar Geek
The one thing I find most irritating about Facebook, texting, Twitter, and computers in general is how they have apparently made grammar and spelling go right out the window. Are people that lazy or that strapped for time that they just neglect some of the most basic elements of the English language?
To a lot of people it may not seem that important, but eventually it will add up. Many say that it's actually beneficial, but I just think it makes people sound stupid. I'm not talking about writing "its" instead of "it's" or not capitalizing words. I mean consistently misspelling simple words like "friend", "what", and "does". As a grammar freak, it really bothers me. I hope I'm not the only one.
"omg liek wuts rong wit spelin lik diss? im not stupidd so dont pertend 2 b all smartr n beter thn me! if anythin i m th smarter perssn her"
Yeah. Real quote (not directed at me). My eyeballs nearly popped out of my sockets when I read this. And it does make you seem stupid. Like, really, really stupid.
Idiocracy-Wikipedia
To a lot of people it may not seem that important, but eventually it will add up. Many say that it's actually beneficial, but I just think it makes people sound stupid. I'm not talking about writing "its" instead of "it's" or not capitalizing words. I mean consistently misspelling simple words like "friend", "what", and "does". As a grammar freak, it really bothers me. I hope I'm not the only one.
"omg liek wuts rong wit spelin lik diss? im not stupidd so dont pertend 2 b all smartr n beter thn me! if anythin i m th smarter perssn her"
Yeah. Real quote (not directed at me). My eyeballs nearly popped out of my sockets when I read this. And it does make you seem stupid. Like, really, really stupid.
Idiocracy-Wikipedia
Life Without IB (Shoutout to Tori)
So Tori's latest post is about what her life would be like without IB. I kind of stole that topic from her. Anyways, my life with out IB would be:
?
I don't really know what I would be doing if I weren't in IB. It's been pretty much decided since I was a freshman. I guess I'd be in AP classes. I feel like if I hadn't done IB, I wouldn't be as motivated as I am now. If you had told me last year, "You are going to spend your entire afternoon working on this English paper. Then you will have to do two pages of math. After that, you can either work on that history essay or do some syllabus statements for bio. Don't forget to read and do your journal for French. No, you can't watch TV," I would have said, "Screw this. I'll just tell my teachers I forgot to do the homework," and kick back with a bowl of popcorn to watch a movie. I still want to do that, but it's like it's not even an option. I like and respect my teachers too much to do that. I mean, I've always respected my teachers, it's just that it's a lot harder to slip by unnoticed when there are nine people in your class.
If I weren't in IB, I probably wouldn't be friends (not to be presumptuous, but it's true) with most of the people in our IB class. Or we wouldn't be as good of friends. Despite the fact that it's easy to get annoyed or bored, I think that having classes with all the same people is my favorite part of IB. Now I don't have to socialize or meet new people at all! A socially awkward person's dream come true!
Life without IB might be less stress-free but I'm told it's like a dress rehearsal for college. Imagine, for all you people in theater, if you were told to perform a play without having rehearsed it. I imagine that wouldn't go very well at all. It's giving us all a dose of stress now so we won't have to have as much later.
?
I don't really know what I would be doing if I weren't in IB. It's been pretty much decided since I was a freshman. I guess I'd be in AP classes. I feel like if I hadn't done IB, I wouldn't be as motivated as I am now. If you had told me last year, "You are going to spend your entire afternoon working on this English paper. Then you will have to do two pages of math. After that, you can either work on that history essay or do some syllabus statements for bio. Don't forget to read and do your journal for French. No, you can't watch TV," I would have said, "Screw this. I'll just tell my teachers I forgot to do the homework," and kick back with a bowl of popcorn to watch a movie. I still want to do that, but it's like it's not even an option. I like and respect my teachers too much to do that. I mean, I've always respected my teachers, it's just that it's a lot harder to slip by unnoticed when there are nine people in your class.
If I weren't in IB, I probably wouldn't be friends (not to be presumptuous, but it's true) with most of the people in our IB class. Or we wouldn't be as good of friends. Despite the fact that it's easy to get annoyed or bored, I think that having classes with all the same people is my favorite part of IB. Now I don't have to socialize or meet new people at all! A socially awkward person's dream come true!
Life without IB might be less stress-free but I'm told it's like a dress rehearsal for college. Imagine, for all you people in theater, if you were told to perform a play without having rehearsed it. I imagine that wouldn't go very well at all. It's giving us all a dose of stress now so we won't have to have as much later.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
I Have Confidence! Oh wait no I don't...
Yesterday started out hectic. I was freaking out about Academic Challenge; I was so unbelievably nervous. More nervous than I had ever been at Power of the Pen, probably because this time I had other people relying on me, and I felt I would disappoint them if I gave a wrong answer. Plus it would be caught on camera.
I was shaking spastically as I sat down at the desk. I've done so many rounds of Quiz Bowl that you'd think I would stop getting so nervous, but no. I tried to look confident in the hopes that I could trick myself into feeling more confident, but the second the cameras staarted rolling, it was back to square one.
Technically I'm not supposed to divulge how we did, but I can say that I learned to trust myself more. I am rarely confident; the message that I can trust that I know the correct answers never seems to sink in. No matter how many times I get questions right, I still fear that the next question I answer will be the one that I get wrong. This isn't just in Quiz Bowl, either, it's in all aspects of my life. I am just never confident, no matter how much I may look the part. I know that that will keep me from earning a Darwin Award, but it will probably hinder me a lot too.
I was shaking spastically as I sat down at the desk. I've done so many rounds of Quiz Bowl that you'd think I would stop getting so nervous, but no. I tried to look confident in the hopes that I could trick myself into feeling more confident, but the second the cameras staarted rolling, it was back to square one.
Technically I'm not supposed to divulge how we did, but I can say that I learned to trust myself more. I am rarely confident; the message that I can trust that I know the correct answers never seems to sink in. No matter how many times I get questions right, I still fear that the next question I answer will be the one that I get wrong. This isn't just in Quiz Bowl, either, it's in all aspects of my life. I am just never confident, no matter how much I may look the part. I know that that will keep me from earning a Darwin Award, but it will probably hinder me a lot too.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
V for Vendetta
I'm watching V for Vendetta right now, and I just thought I'd write down some thought-provoking quotes. If you haven't seen it, it's a really good movie and could potentially raise a lot of discussion (maybe we could watch it in TOK...?).
"Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneathn this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof."
"Artists use lies to tell the truth, and politicians use them to cover the truth up."
"There are no coincidences, Delia, only the illusion of coincidence."
"People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people."
"Truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look in a mirror."
"Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneathn this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof."
"Artists use lies to tell the truth, and politicians use them to cover the truth up."
"There are no coincidences, Delia, only the illusion of coincidence."
"People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people."
"Truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look in a mirror."
John Wayne Gacy, Jr
How do some people go so terribly awry? I'm going to use serial killers as my example. How on earth was John Wayne Gacy Jr. able to live with himself after killing twenty-seven people? He did it without any emotion-he knew it was wrong, which didn't motivate him to stop; he was just more careful. I think what disturbs me most about serial killers is their lack of repentance-they rarely seem to show any guilt or even emotions. Most people seem more upset when they hear the name "Jeffery Dahmer" than the actual Jeffrey Dahmer seemed at his trial.
It's not as simple as locking them up or executing them. It won't make any difference to them. Because what defines right and wrong? Who are we to refute someone else’s reality and replace it with our own? Just because I believe killing animals is wrong does not mean you do. Is my sense of morality more valid than yours, and if so, why? Can our realities coexist without one having to trump the other, even though, by nature, one cannot really exist while the other does? Serial killers’ minds seem to be governed by a different set of parameters than those of most people. But that’s their reality-a reality which may seem just as upside-down to us as ours may seem to them. And it’s just as real to them as ours is to us. So how can we say that they were wrong-we are invalidating their reality and replacing it with one we deem acceptable. It’s putting a square peg in a round hole and expecting it to fit. Even though there are more round pegs we can't pretend those square pegs don't exist.
I guess what I'm trying to say is not that serial killers are normal or right, but that they live in a world that is not governed by the same rules of right and wrong as that in which most people live. I know Tori will probably jump in with a psychological reason for serial killers, but this is more from a philosophical standpoint.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
A Reflection on my Absolute Squeamishness
If I could change one thing about myself, it would not be my hair. It would not be my nose, nor my eyes or my height. It wouldn't be my personality or my work ethic.
It would be my irrational, pathological, all-encompassing fear and/or hatred of blood and the body in general. It's really my biggest weakness. And the problem is, I know it shouldn't be. Many people view bodies as amazing biological machines; I view them as squirm-inducing sacks of organs. I'm not afraid of spiders, snakes, bats, rats, dogs, water, darkness, or even death; I'm afraid of something I will never be able to escape-my own body.
It wouldn't be nearly so bad if there had been a terrifying moment in my childhood involving blood. But no-I just remember always hating it. When I was two I had to get surgery, and the first thing I did when I woke up was go berserk and rip the IV cord out of my arm. For weeks I refused to even look at my leg, which was where the stitches were. When I was five, I escaped out of the doctor's office when it was time to get a shot; five nurses had to prise my hands off a scale and hold me to a chair while I got the shot. I still want to do that now, but I'm usually too weak at the knees to consider putting up such a fight.
It's more than just a fear-I have absolutely no tolerance for it. I can't take my pulse. I can't have my blood pressure taken. I sometimes even turn off music if the drums sound too much like a heartbeat. And forget about IVs, shots, and even remotely medical TV shows. I don't even know what I'll do when we have to dissect animals in Biology-I will say or do literally anything to get out of that. The Bodies Exhibit was bad enough. And what happens if I ever have to give blood? What if I have a heart disease? I don't know what else I can say to convey the fact that everything related to the body is intolerable to me. It's not necessarily fear, but that's the easiest way to phrase it. It's more like my mind simply cannot stand the thought of it and will do anything to get away.
The only good thing that has come of this is that I don't laugh at other people's fears. On TV, you always see people who are deathly afraid of peaches or cotton balls going on shows. The host invariably pulls out a peach or whatever it is the person is afraid of, and the audience laughs at the person's terrified reaction. I think that simultaneously scaring and humiliating the person would just make it worse. I mean, I could put my hand on my neck and count my pulse for hours, but that wouldn't make each second any less torturous.
This is going to sound really melodramatic, but I wish every day that I will suddenly be cured, that I will be able to learn about the kidneys without flinching, that I will be able to watch Band of Brothers without cringing and turning it off. But I know it's not going to happen.
And yeah, I did get kind of squeamish while writing this post.
It would be my irrational, pathological, all-encompassing fear and/or hatred of blood and the body in general. It's really my biggest weakness. And the problem is, I know it shouldn't be. Many people view bodies as amazing biological machines; I view them as squirm-inducing sacks of organs. I'm not afraid of spiders, snakes, bats, rats, dogs, water, darkness, or even death; I'm afraid of something I will never be able to escape-my own body.
It wouldn't be nearly so bad if there had been a terrifying moment in my childhood involving blood. But no-I just remember always hating it. When I was two I had to get surgery, and the first thing I did when I woke up was go berserk and rip the IV cord out of my arm. For weeks I refused to even look at my leg, which was where the stitches were. When I was five, I escaped out of the doctor's office when it was time to get a shot; five nurses had to prise my hands off a scale and hold me to a chair while I got the shot. I still want to do that now, but I'm usually too weak at the knees to consider putting up such a fight.
It's more than just a fear-I have absolutely no tolerance for it. I can't take my pulse. I can't have my blood pressure taken. I sometimes even turn off music if the drums sound too much like a heartbeat. And forget about IVs, shots, and even remotely medical TV shows. I don't even know what I'll do when we have to dissect animals in Biology-I will say or do literally anything to get out of that. The Bodies Exhibit was bad enough. And what happens if I ever have to give blood? What if I have a heart disease? I don't know what else I can say to convey the fact that everything related to the body is intolerable to me. It's not necessarily fear, but that's the easiest way to phrase it. It's more like my mind simply cannot stand the thought of it and will do anything to get away.
The only good thing that has come of this is that I don't laugh at other people's fears. On TV, you always see people who are deathly afraid of peaches or cotton balls going on shows. The host invariably pulls out a peach or whatever it is the person is afraid of, and the audience laughs at the person's terrified reaction. I think that simultaneously scaring and humiliating the person would just make it worse. I mean, I could put my hand on my neck and count my pulse for hours, but that wouldn't make each second any less torturous.
This is going to sound really melodramatic, but I wish every day that I will suddenly be cured, that I will be able to learn about the kidneys without flinching, that I will be able to watch Band of Brothers without cringing and turning it off. But I know it's not going to happen.
And yeah, I did get kind of squeamish while writing this post.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
I Want To Be Well
So during that little chat we had on Tuesday, one point the speaker made- that suicide is for weak cowards and drunks- was, to me, shocking, inappropriate, and offensive. Suicide cannot be simplified to that. It can be the result of years of mental anguish at the hands of bullies. Death is no more appealing to people considering suicide than it is to people who are not. It just seems preferable to the life the individual is leading, which is incredibly sad.
Many people who commit suicide are mentally ill and it boggles my mind that someone would even begin to suggest that they are weak, irresponsible, or delusional. That’s just plain ignorant, even if it’s intended to be motivational. This attitude is the reason victims of bullying or mental illness often feel so stigmatized-the “it’s-your-problem-take-it-like-a-man-and-deal-with-it” mentality that many people have. But it’s not as black-and-white as that. There’s always a choice, yes, but if the pain of living is that unbearable, how can you blame someone when he or she ends it? People like Jack Kevorkian* get blasted for advocating doctor-assisted suicide for terminally ill patients, but I doubt the critics realize how degenerative and physically excruciating these diseases are, as opposed to being able to peacefully die after wrapping up all loose ends. Are people wrong in wanting that? It's a valid question to be pondered, and I think it's difficult for people to think about the possibility of choosing the vast unknown of death over the ups and downs of life. It opens up a whole Pandora's Box of ethical dillemmas, too: should doctors help people commit suicide? Who has the right to even control that? Are there any other options for these people?
Suicide is not committed by the weak; it is committed by those who feel they have exhausted all other options. It is not when some drunk guy falls over the edge of a balcony. If someone who commits suicide has been drinking, chances are they were doing to work up the nerve. The speaker seemed to be suggesting that people get drunk and commit suicide for kicks and giggles. I'm just hazarding a guess here, but I don't think that's true. If more was done to help people prevent suicide by preventing bullying and diagnosing mental illness, we might have fewer suicides to worry about.
I just want to say that this post does not promote suicide, but neither does it dismiss it as a drunken idiot's solution to life's problems. It's heartbreaking for everyone involved, but isn't the unbearable pain some people have to live with equally terrible?
*Jack Kevorkian (1928-) is a doctor and proponent of doctor-assisted suicide. He advocates euthanasia in cases where the patient has no chance of survival, and a large chance of being in extreme pain. Kevorkian is also well-known for videotaping such an instance and sharing it on TV. He spent eight years in prison for second-degree homicide as a result of his actions.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
To Travels and Trunks
To Travels and Trunks-Hey Marseilles
Last year, my family took a trip to England and France. It was, as expected, extremely stressful.
Being the history nerd I am, it was immensely gratifying to be able to finally see the places I had read about for years. My dad (who I take after quite a bit) and I would go to cathedrals and museums while my sisters and mom waited outside, complaining about how much time we could have spent shopping instead. They (my sisters, not my mom) failed to marvel at Gothic architecture, yawned at classic art ("It's really crowded by the Mona Lisa; we should just not bother."), and gave me annoyed looks when I tried to tell them more about D-Day. It should be said that my youngest sister was eight at the time, but still.
Unfortunately, this trip also required me to constantly accost random French strangers for directions and the like, which turned me into a nervous wreck by the end of the trip. I almost invariably chose women with children to ask for directions in the hopes that they would not laugh at me in front of their children. I don't know why I expected people to be that way-everyone was friendly and helpful-but I did. And like David Sedaris in Me Talk Pretty One Day, I went to great lengths to avoid grammar mistakes, sometimes ordering multiple units of food items so I wouldn't have to decide whether it was masculine or feminine.
This trip, though, confirmed my belief that people are simply not given enough credit. From the kind hotel manager to the hundreds of people gathering to witness the liberation of the Gurkhas*, everyone seemed to genuinely care about other people. Granted, we weren't visiting the worst parts of the big cities we went to, but we weren't visiting the best parts, either, and people were nice.
I'm trying not to sound like a pretentious snob, but it was a great trip in retrospect. Hopefully someday I'll be able to visit these places more in-depth, maybe even live there. It's a pipe dream for now, but there's always a chance...
*The Gurkhas are Nepalese soldiers who fight in the British army. They are a dedicated special unit and have fought with the likes of Prince Harry. Their training and base camp is near Folkestone, England; up until June 2009 the town was segregated. Also, they were unable to gain British citizenship until that time; before that they were simply deported back to Nepal after serving Britain. There was a ceremony going on the day we were in Folkestone, right outside our hotel. Nearly every Folkestone citizen had come to see the desegregation of the town-and they were all overjoyed.
Last year, my family took a trip to England and France. It was, as expected, extremely stressful.
Being the history nerd I am, it was immensely gratifying to be able to finally see the places I had read about for years. My dad (who I take after quite a bit) and I would go to cathedrals and museums while my sisters and mom waited outside, complaining about how much time we could have spent shopping instead. They (my sisters, not my mom) failed to marvel at Gothic architecture, yawned at classic art ("It's really crowded by the Mona Lisa; we should just not bother."), and gave me annoyed looks when I tried to tell them more about D-Day. It should be said that my youngest sister was eight at the time, but still.
Unfortunately, this trip also required me to constantly accost random French strangers for directions and the like, which turned me into a nervous wreck by the end of the trip. I almost invariably chose women with children to ask for directions in the hopes that they would not laugh at me in front of their children. I don't know why I expected people to be that way-everyone was friendly and helpful-but I did. And like David Sedaris in Me Talk Pretty One Day, I went to great lengths to avoid grammar mistakes, sometimes ordering multiple units of food items so I wouldn't have to decide whether it was masculine or feminine.
This trip, though, confirmed my belief that people are simply not given enough credit. From the kind hotel manager to the hundreds of people gathering to witness the liberation of the Gurkhas*, everyone seemed to genuinely care about other people. Granted, we weren't visiting the worst parts of the big cities we went to, but we weren't visiting the best parts, either, and people were nice.
I'm trying not to sound like a pretentious snob, but it was a great trip in retrospect. Hopefully someday I'll be able to visit these places more in-depth, maybe even live there. It's a pipe dream for now, but there's always a chance...
*The Gurkhas are Nepalese soldiers who fight in the British army. They are a dedicated special unit and have fought with the likes of Prince Harry. Their training and base camp is near Folkestone, England; up until June 2009 the town was segregated. Also, they were unable to gain British citizenship until that time; before that they were simply deported back to Nepal after serving Britain. There was a ceremony going on the day we were in Folkestone, right outside our hotel. Nearly every Folkestone citizen had come to see the desegregation of the town-and they were all overjoyed.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
My Girls
My Girls-Animal Collective
It's annoying how, when you're little, you don't remember things that end up being very important to you later in life. I, for example, wish I knew what my first words to my two best friends-we'll call them "Madison" and "Nolee"-were. Probably something stupid like, "Hi, my name is Katie", but still.
I actually really wish I knew that because our friendship was so puzzlingly random. Nolee was loud and opinionated, Madison was quiet and nice, and I was show-offy and weird. We were all in Mrs. Radtke's fourth-grade class, and by the end of the year we had become best friends. I suppose it was because we were all slightly eccentric: rather than, say, play tag at recess, we would pretend to be character from Little Women. Oftentimes, we would just walk around the playground, talking about our thoughts and problems.
Over the years, I have come to realize that I am blessed with two indispensable friends. We can exchange one look and know exactly what the other is thinking. We easily finish each other's sentences. The best part is that there's never been problems with two ganging up on another; it just seems to work. And somehow, even after seven years, we never run out of things to talk about.
We've been through a lot. Madison's fear of abuse, my fear of blood. Backing each other up in fights. Comforting each other about bombed tests and boy troubles and bullies. We've had to sacrifice sometimes, but our friendship has made up for it.
We're still as weird (in a good way) as ever-we like to just sit around and watch random TV shows. We have a series of codenames and symbols so we can talk freely about whatever we want without anyone knowing. In short, we've reached BFFL status.
Thanks, "Nolee" and "Madison" for always being there.
It's annoying how, when you're little, you don't remember things that end up being very important to you later in life. I, for example, wish I knew what my first words to my two best friends-we'll call them "Madison" and "Nolee"-were. Probably something stupid like, "Hi, my name is Katie", but still.
I actually really wish I knew that because our friendship was so puzzlingly random. Nolee was loud and opinionated, Madison was quiet and nice, and I was show-offy and weird. We were all in Mrs. Radtke's fourth-grade class, and by the end of the year we had become best friends. I suppose it was because we were all slightly eccentric: rather than, say, play tag at recess, we would pretend to be character from Little Women. Oftentimes, we would just walk around the playground, talking about our thoughts and problems.
Over the years, I have come to realize that I am blessed with two indispensable friends. We can exchange one look and know exactly what the other is thinking. We easily finish each other's sentences. The best part is that there's never been problems with two ganging up on another; it just seems to work. And somehow, even after seven years, we never run out of things to talk about.
We've been through a lot. Madison's fear of abuse, my fear of blood. Backing each other up in fights. Comforting each other about bombed tests and boy troubles and bullies. We've had to sacrifice sometimes, but our friendship has made up for it.
We're still as weird (in a good way) as ever-we like to just sit around and watch random TV shows. We have a series of codenames and symbols so we can talk freely about whatever we want without anyone knowing. In short, we've reached BFFL status.
Thanks, "Nolee" and "Madison" for always being there.
He Who Must Not Be Named
He's been in my life since I was six.
He taught me how to read.
He made me love books.
He was the reason I stayed up until four in the morning after waiting outside for six hours.
He's been there for me in times no one else was.
He's had the same struggles as anyone growing up has had.
He's an inspiration.
He's not real.
I'm talking, of course, about Harry James Potter.
I can't say I remember the first time I picked up a Harry Potter book. It was, I'd estimate, around August 2001, when my mom was on bedrest, pregnant with my little sister. She decided to read the Harry Potter books, and I assume I just took one and started reading. It may sound hokey, but that was one of the best decisions I've made.
Let me explain. If it weren't for the Harry Potter series, I'm not altogether confidant that I would be such a reader-and that's something that has opened countless doors for me. It inspired me to want to write. Some of my best friends have been made over this common interest. I can't really think of any other decision I made at the age of six that are still affecting me today. It's shaped who I am in some respects. I truly feel like I've grown up with Harry; to me he's more like a person than just a character in a book. And it extends to all the characters besides Harry-I bawled my eyes out when Dobby died, cheered Neville on as he stood up to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, boiled with rage as Umbridge belittled Hagrid.
I sometimes got a little carried away, though. Once, when we were eight, my friend and I tried to make flying broomsticks by rubbing lavendar on a couple of brooms. We were forced to stop after attempting to jump out of a tree. And in July before I was eleven, I still half-thought I might get a Hogwarts letter (I thought maybe they'd do some sort of foreign-exchange program). Reluctantly, I was forcd to admit that Hogwarts is not physically real.
Even so, it will always be a little bit real to me.
Thanks for all the awesome years, Harry.
He taught me how to read.
He made me love books.
He was the reason I stayed up until four in the morning after waiting outside for six hours.
He's been there for me in times no one else was.
He's had the same struggles as anyone growing up has had.
He's an inspiration.
He's not real.
I'm talking, of course, about Harry James Potter.
I can't say I remember the first time I picked up a Harry Potter book. It was, I'd estimate, around August 2001, when my mom was on bedrest, pregnant with my little sister. She decided to read the Harry Potter books, and I assume I just took one and started reading. It may sound hokey, but that was one of the best decisions I've made.
Let me explain. If it weren't for the Harry Potter series, I'm not altogether confidant that I would be such a reader-and that's something that has opened countless doors for me. It inspired me to want to write. Some of my best friends have been made over this common interest. I can't really think of any other decision I made at the age of six that are still affecting me today. It's shaped who I am in some respects. I truly feel like I've grown up with Harry; to me he's more like a person than just a character in a book. And it extends to all the characters besides Harry-I bawled my eyes out when Dobby died, cheered Neville on as he stood up to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, boiled with rage as Umbridge belittled Hagrid.
I sometimes got a little carried away, though. Once, when we were eight, my friend and I tried to make flying broomsticks by rubbing lavendar on a couple of brooms. We were forced to stop after attempting to jump out of a tree. And in July before I was eleven, I still half-thought I might get a Hogwarts letter (I thought maybe they'd do some sort of foreign-exchange program). Reluctantly, I was forcd to admit that Hogwarts is not physically real.
Even so, it will always be a little bit real to me.
Thanks for all the awesome years, Harry.
God Hates _____
So. Religion. It's quite a polarizing topic. I'm not talking about the "Does God exist" debate, but the "Why do we need religion" debate. This is a fairly neutral subject for me for the following reasons:
Pros
-It brings people of the same faith together.
-It can provide hope for people in desperate situations, and thereby give them the resolve to go on.
-Religious organizations give away billions of dollars worth in charitable donations, such as food banks, homeless shelters, and volunteer time. 34% of US volunteers have a religious affiliation.
-Makes people feel as if life has meaning.
-Almost all religions preach tolerance and love.
Cons
-Religions with conflicting beliefs are often at odds.
-It is very difficult to seperate religion from politics and government.
-There is a lot of bias against followers of many religions because of misconceptions and extremists.
-Religions often impede the spread of new ideas.
For me, it seems as if the pros work best on a small scale, with the cons representing a whole. Religion can be extremely helpful for many individuals, but when applied to a country, the extremists begin to crop up. Every religion has those. Here are some examples:
-Christianity-Westboro Baptist Church (though they don't cause any physical harm), the KKK
-Islam-Al-Quaeda
-Judaism-The Kahane Movement
-Hinduism-Suicide bombers
Of course there are more religions, but those are the most well-known cases of religious extremists to people in the US. The problem is, they cause everyone of that religion to be stigmatized. Why do many Americans hate Muslims? A tiny percentage of them are terrorists. It's easy to forget that Muslims in the Middle East often suffer just as much, if not more. And I can't think of a single Christian who would condone the actions of the WBC. Or the KKK, for that matter.
Religion has its ups and downs. The good can't be undermined just as the bad can't be overlooked. I have a feeling, though, that this discussion will never end.
Pros
-It brings people of the same faith together.
-It can provide hope for people in desperate situations, and thereby give them the resolve to go on.
-Religious organizations give away billions of dollars worth in charitable donations, such as food banks, homeless shelters, and volunteer time. 34% of US volunteers have a religious affiliation.
-Makes people feel as if life has meaning.
-Almost all religions preach tolerance and love.
Cons
-Religions with conflicting beliefs are often at odds.
-It is very difficult to seperate religion from politics and government.
-There is a lot of bias against followers of many religions because of misconceptions and extremists.
-Religions often impede the spread of new ideas.
For me, it seems as if the pros work best on a small scale, with the cons representing a whole. Religion can be extremely helpful for many individuals, but when applied to a country, the extremists begin to crop up. Every religion has those. Here are some examples:
-Christianity-Westboro Baptist Church (though they don't cause any physical harm), the KKK
-Islam-Al-Quaeda
-Judaism-The Kahane Movement
-Hinduism-Suicide bombers
Of course there are more religions, but those are the most well-known cases of religious extremists to people in the US. The problem is, they cause everyone of that religion to be stigmatized. Why do many Americans hate Muslims? A tiny percentage of them are terrorists. It's easy to forget that Muslims in the Middle East often suffer just as much, if not more. And I can't think of a single Christian who would condone the actions of the WBC. Or the KKK, for that matter.
Religion has its ups and downs. The good can't be undermined just as the bad can't be overlooked. I have a feeling, though, that this discussion will never end.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Darkness
Darkness-Robert Francis
So today I was telling Tori and Emma about how the scariest thing to wake up to, apart from an axe murderer or finding yourself lit on fire, is a bat flapping around your room. I don't have a problem with bats, it's just that, at 3 a.m., it's extremely terrifying to hear a noise and see a huge black blur flying methodically around the ceiling. Extra scary points if there is no light and you have awful eyesight. When I woke up that night, I was not thinking clearly and turned on the light, which made the bat go into even more of a frenzy. I rolled out of bed and army-crawled so as not to get hit in the head by the bat (one of the only good things about having a small bedroom is that it takes very little time to crawl from your bed to the door). I ran out into the hallway and slammed the door, wide-eyed from my harrowing encounter with the bat.
But I wasn't really afraid of the bat. I was afraid because it was dark, I was near-blind, and there was this ghostlike thing flying around my room. There has to be some sort of symbolism in that, but who knows. You tell me.
So today I was telling Tori and Emma about how the scariest thing to wake up to, apart from an axe murderer or finding yourself lit on fire, is a bat flapping around your room. I don't have a problem with bats, it's just that, at 3 a.m., it's extremely terrifying to hear a noise and see a huge black blur flying methodically around the ceiling. Extra scary points if there is no light and you have awful eyesight. When I woke up that night, I was not thinking clearly and turned on the light, which made the bat go into even more of a frenzy. I rolled out of bed and army-crawled so as not to get hit in the head by the bat (one of the only good things about having a small bedroom is that it takes very little time to crawl from your bed to the door). I ran out into the hallway and slammed the door, wide-eyed from my harrowing encounter with the bat.
But I wasn't really afraid of the bat. I was afraid because it was dark, I was near-blind, and there was this ghostlike thing flying around my room. There has to be some sort of symbolism in that, but who knows. You tell me.
To Kill A Mockingbird
To Kill A Mockingbird Theme
The other day I heard some girl in the hallway say (paraphrasing), "Ugh. We have to read To Kill A Mockingbird for English class. It's so stupid. There's, like, no point. They all talk weird and it's not even, like, good." I was appalled. The English nerd in me wanted to run up and give this girl a long lecture about how wrong that statement was. Even if I were bold enough to actually confront this girl, I thought-
What's the point? When I was a freshman I would argue with YouTube trolls for weeks about why the Holocaust most definitely happened. It was very clear that they were not going to change any more than I was. I have the tendency to argue ferociously on subjects I am passionate about, and will not stop until the argument has beaten into the ground and I am declared the winner. I doubt I have ever once actually changed someone's mind this way, only made them angry, uncomfortable, and exasperated.
I guess I just have trouble accepting the fact that, though I may indeed be right, other people are entitled to their opinions if it is not doing anyone physical harm. In a way, it makes me frustrated because I argue because I think I'm making a difference, making the world better by enlightening someone, when in reality it is just polarizing us more. If I were to have gone up to that girl and corrected her, she would probably have said, "Whatever. All of the people who like that book are opinionated losers who get all defensive," rather than, "Gee, thanks! I never thought of it that way! To Kill A Mockingbird is great!". It takes hands-on experience to truly change someone's mind. You can't beat stubbornness with stubbornness.
On a side note, I think I'm going to go to law school.
The other day I heard some girl in the hallway say (paraphrasing), "Ugh. We have to read To Kill A Mockingbird for English class. It's so stupid. There's, like, no point. They all talk weird and it's not even, like, good." I was appalled. The English nerd in me wanted to run up and give this girl a long lecture about how wrong that statement was. Even if I were bold enough to actually confront this girl, I thought-
What's the point? When I was a freshman I would argue with YouTube trolls for weeks about why the Holocaust most definitely happened. It was very clear that they were not going to change any more than I was. I have the tendency to argue ferociously on subjects I am passionate about, and will not stop until the argument has beaten into the ground and I am declared the winner. I doubt I have ever once actually changed someone's mind this way, only made them angry, uncomfortable, and exasperated.
I guess I just have trouble accepting the fact that, though I may indeed be right, other people are entitled to their opinions if it is not doing anyone physical harm. In a way, it makes me frustrated because I argue because I think I'm making a difference, making the world better by enlightening someone, when in reality it is just polarizing us more. If I were to have gone up to that girl and corrected her, she would probably have said, "Whatever. All of the people who like that book are opinionated losers who get all defensive," rather than, "Gee, thanks! I never thought of it that way! To Kill A Mockingbird is great!". It takes hands-on experience to truly change someone's mind. You can't beat stubbornness with stubbornness.
On a side note, I think I'm going to go to law school.
Best Imitation of Myself-Ben Folds Five
When we were in fourth grade, my three best friends and I were obsessed with Little Women. Or, rather, we were obsessed with figuring out which of the four March sisters we would be. I was Jo. We did the same thing with Mean Girls when we saw it (I was Cady), and with Ferris Bueller's Day Off (Cameron) and any other movie we watched from then on. I did the same thing in many different subjects: which animal I would be if I were one (a cat); which MyScene doll I would be (Chelsea); and which of my pets I would be (Ink the cat). I hope I'm not the only one who's ever done this. It just made everything so much more interesting, living vicariously through one of your alter-egoes. It's also easier when you're trying to find out who you are: "Hmm...I love books, I have brown hair. I'm sensible, reliable, and restrained. But I can still be funny and emotional...That would make me Hermione." Plus, if you were watching a movie with friends, it was almost like being able to gossip about them without actually hurting anyone's feelings ("Katie, I can't believe you just failed that math test to get Aaron to like you!"). But as fun as it is, it becomes hard to seperate yourself from whatever it is you're being compared to. I am not Cameron Frye, I am not Jo March or Cady Heron or Hermione Granger. I am Katie Clark, my own person.
When we were in fourth grade, my three best friends and I were obsessed with Little Women. Or, rather, we were obsessed with figuring out which of the four March sisters we would be. I was Jo. We did the same thing with Mean Girls when we saw it (I was Cady), and with Ferris Bueller's Day Off (Cameron) and any other movie we watched from then on. I did the same thing in many different subjects: which animal I would be if I were one (a cat); which MyScene doll I would be (Chelsea); and which of my pets I would be (Ink the cat). I hope I'm not the only one who's ever done this. It just made everything so much more interesting, living vicariously through one of your alter-egoes. It's also easier when you're trying to find out who you are: "Hmm...I love books, I have brown hair. I'm sensible, reliable, and restrained. But I can still be funny and emotional...That would make me Hermione." Plus, if you were watching a movie with friends, it was almost like being able to gossip about them without actually hurting anyone's feelings ("Katie, I can't believe you just failed that math test to get Aaron to like you!"). But as fun as it is, it becomes hard to seperate yourself from whatever it is you're being compared to. I am not Cameron Frye, I am not Jo March or Cady Heron or Hermione Granger. I am Katie Clark, my own person.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
From the Mouth of Gabriel
From the Mouth of Gabriel-Sufjan Stevens
It's no fun to be tricked.
When I first got an iPod three years ago, I vowed to never download any Christian music on it. All of the Christian rock I'd ever listened to sounded hokey and out-of-place. It all just sounded like Nickleback singing lyrics written by a televangelist with people holding candles and swaying and singing along.
Flash forward one year. I was on iTunes looking at Genius reccommendations and came across a musician named Sufjan Stevens. "Hmm," I thought. "That's a peculiar name." But I bought a song by him-"Chicago"-and it grew on me after a few days. Then I bought the whole album, then another album, and so on. I did some research about Sufjan Stevens and was slightly shocked.
Turns out I'd missed some serious clues alluding to the fact that Stevens is a devout Chrisitan...who sings mainly Christian music. I was torn: religious music had always made me feel uncomfortable, yet here I had been listening to it for a year, enjoying it and feeling totally at ease.
So I decided to go with it. It's not shoving religion in my face, it's exploring it, questioning it, marvelling at it. Not all the songs are like that, either. There are many songs that seem like APUSH set to music: Adlai Stevenson, the Lincoln-Douglas debates, the Columbian Exposition, Andrew Jackson, and more all make appearances. It's less religious than spiritual, which I like. I could relate to what we read in class about Lincoln: I can't always accept religion, but I am mesmerized by it.
For the first time, I am saying, "My second-favorite music is Christian and I'm proud!" And I can say this because I set aside preconceived notions for just long enough to open my mind to something out-of-the-ordinary.
It's no fun to be tricked.
When I first got an iPod three years ago, I vowed to never download any Christian music on it. All of the Christian rock I'd ever listened to sounded hokey and out-of-place. It all just sounded like Nickleback singing lyrics written by a televangelist with people holding candles and swaying and singing along.
Flash forward one year. I was on iTunes looking at Genius reccommendations and came across a musician named Sufjan Stevens. "Hmm," I thought. "That's a peculiar name." But I bought a song by him-"Chicago"-and it grew on me after a few days. Then I bought the whole album, then another album, and so on. I did some research about Sufjan Stevens and was slightly shocked.
Turns out I'd missed some serious clues alluding to the fact that Stevens is a devout Chrisitan...who sings mainly Christian music. I was torn: religious music had always made me feel uncomfortable, yet here I had been listening to it for a year, enjoying it and feeling totally at ease.
So I decided to go with it. It's not shoving religion in my face, it's exploring it, questioning it, marvelling at it. Not all the songs are like that, either. There are many songs that seem like APUSH set to music: Adlai Stevenson, the Lincoln-Douglas debates, the Columbian Exposition, Andrew Jackson, and more all make appearances. It's less religious than spiritual, which I like. I could relate to what we read in class about Lincoln: I can't always accept religion, but I am mesmerized by it.
For the first time, I am saying, "My second-favorite music is Christian and I'm proud!" And I can say this because I set aside preconceived notions for just long enough to open my mind to something out-of-the-ordinary.
Foux de Fafa
Foux de Fafa-Flight of the Conchords
Looking back, I think the most interesting class I've taken was French I. It was two years long...years that were equally filled with hilarious mishaps, excruciating embarassment, and grudging camraderie. For those of you who took French class, the following anecdotes will seem all too familiar...
-The air-conditioner. At least ten times a day, someone would cross the room and turn on the air-conditioner. Two minutes afterward, someone else would be obliged to go turn it off. It was incredibly disruptive for those of us sitting near the air-conditioner, but having to hold down your papers for fear of them blowing away really added that competitive edge.
-Mr. Frankmann. Need I say more? I don't think I've ever had a teacher who would stand up on students' desks as regularly as he did.
-Strange projects. A fashion show set to music. A puppet show starring ill-made puppets so angular they cut a student's hand. And let's not forget the countless skits.
-Penpals. I think French penpals are their own particular brand of weird ("I am wearing white trousers now.") One penpal that stands out in my memory was Marin, who wrote "I am a boy/ a girl." Ooookay.
-Last but not least, the Bon Voyage book and movies. They tastefully explored French culture with Manu, Vincent, Chloe, Christine, Amadou, and Madame LeGrande as our guides. As anyone who watched these videos knows, they are a masterpiece of French film. And who could forget that theme song?
Looking back, I think the most interesting class I've taken was French I. It was two years long...years that were equally filled with hilarious mishaps, excruciating embarassment, and grudging camraderie. For those of you who took French class, the following anecdotes will seem all too familiar...
-The air-conditioner. At least ten times a day, someone would cross the room and turn on the air-conditioner. Two minutes afterward, someone else would be obliged to go turn it off. It was incredibly disruptive for those of us sitting near the air-conditioner, but having to hold down your papers for fear of them blowing away really added that competitive edge.
-Mr. Frankmann. Need I say more? I don't think I've ever had a teacher who would stand up on students' desks as regularly as he did.
-Strange projects. A fashion show set to music. A puppet show starring ill-made puppets so angular they cut a student's hand. And let's not forget the countless skits.
-Penpals. I think French penpals are their own particular brand of weird ("I am wearing white trousers now.") One penpal that stands out in my memory was Marin, who wrote "I am a boy/ a girl." Ooookay.
-Last but not least, the Bon Voyage book and movies. They tastefully explored French culture with Manu, Vincent, Chloe, Christine, Amadou, and Madame LeGrande as our guides. As anyone who watched these videos knows, they are a masterpiece of French film. And who could forget that theme song?
Monday, October 18, 2010
Creep
Creep-Scala and Kolacny Choir
I know what your trip to New York was like.
I know your mom's maiden name.
I know that you got your driver's license yesterday.
I know what you got on your last math test.
I know what you did last night.
I know when you got a haircut.
I know your cat's name.
I know your favorite line of your favorite movie.
I have honestly never met you.
Sounds pretty stalker-ish, right?
Thanks, Facebook.
I know what your trip to New York was like.
I know your mom's maiden name.
I know that you got your driver's license yesterday.
I know what you got on your last math test.
I know what you did last night.
I know when you got a haircut.
I know your cat's name.
I know your favorite line of your favorite movie.
I have honestly never met you.
Sounds pretty stalker-ish, right?
Thanks, Facebook.
A Case of You
A Case of You-Joni Mitchell
As anyone who has ever been to Canada knows, Canada is freakin awesome. They have nice people, maple candy, cool colorful money, and poutine (fries with cheese curds and gravy; the only real poutine can be found in Quebec). Canada has produced great musicians (Joni Mitchell, Neil Young), actors (Michael J. Fox!), and directors (James Cameron). Canada is both our best friend and a cheerful scapegoat. They don't mind-they know they've got it going on.
Actually, it seems that every other country is more interesting than America. What could normally be a mundane experience, such as going to the laundromat, becomes at least a hundred times better ("I'm at the laundromat...IN FRANCE!"). You could do something as simple as buy a pack of gum in another country, and it would be cooler than, say, going to the movies here. It's all about perspective. Most people like to go to new places because they're so exotic-or seem that way-that they make everything seem exciting and fresh. Even so, it's always nice to go home, because otherwise, faraway places will begin to seem boring. If nothing else, home is a control group upon which to base your expectations.
As anyone who has ever been to Canada knows, Canada is freakin awesome. They have nice people, maple candy, cool colorful money, and poutine (fries with cheese curds and gravy; the only real poutine can be found in Quebec). Canada has produced great musicians (Joni Mitchell, Neil Young), actors (Michael J. Fox!), and directors (James Cameron). Canada is both our best friend and a cheerful scapegoat. They don't mind-they know they've got it going on.
Actually, it seems that every other country is more interesting than America. What could normally be a mundane experience, such as going to the laundromat, becomes at least a hundred times better ("I'm at the laundromat...IN FRANCE!"). You could do something as simple as buy a pack of gum in another country, and it would be cooler than, say, going to the movies here. It's all about perspective. Most people like to go to new places because they're so exotic-or seem that way-that they make everything seem exciting and fresh. Even so, it's always nice to go home, because otherwise, faraway places will begin to seem boring. If nothing else, home is a control group upon which to base your expectations.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Redundant
Redundant-Green Day
People complain so much about the American school system. We should, theoretically, be ahead of all other countries given how fortunate we are to have so many resources at our disposal. But we're disproportionately far behind. American schools don't put enough emphasis on competitive subjects like math and science, instead choosing to review the American Revolution every other year.
I really don't like math and science. But I think if I was exposed to them more, I'd have to learn how to like them. If it were up to me, I'd just cut out math and science completely. Unfortunately, this seems to be the outlook of most American students; we ignore our problems in the hope that they'll go away, and then we fail math and hate it even more.
Now, I'm all for studying history, arts, and languages. They're essential to understanding ourselves the way science is essential to understanding the world around us. I just think they're too repeptitive. As much as I enjoy learning about the Constitiutional Convention, it has sort of lost its luster the fifth time around. This redundancy is inefficient for those who have the memory retention to be able to move on froma subject after the first time. The American school system has the potential to produce students who can hold their own against the best and brightest of other countries. We just have to rethink our priorities.
People complain so much about the American school system. We should, theoretically, be ahead of all other countries given how fortunate we are to have so many resources at our disposal. But we're disproportionately far behind. American schools don't put enough emphasis on competitive subjects like math and science, instead choosing to review the American Revolution every other year.
I really don't like math and science. But I think if I was exposed to them more, I'd have to learn how to like them. If it were up to me, I'd just cut out math and science completely. Unfortunately, this seems to be the outlook of most American students; we ignore our problems in the hope that they'll go away, and then we fail math and hate it even more.
Now, I'm all for studying history, arts, and languages. They're essential to understanding ourselves the way science is essential to understanding the world around us. I just think they're too repeptitive. As much as I enjoy learning about the Constitiutional Convention, it has sort of lost its luster the fifth time around. This redundancy is inefficient for those who have the memory retention to be able to move on froma subject after the first time. The American school system has the potential to produce students who can hold their own against the best and brightest of other countries. We just have to rethink our priorities.
As Time Goes By
As Time Goes By-Frank Sinatra
Looking back at my old school pictures and home videos, I realized that my personality has not changed one bit since I was little. Of course now my behavior is a lot different-I would no longer steal someone's shoes at recess and chuck them over a hill any more than I would attempt alchemy-but I am still the same person I have always been. I've always had a short fuse and always will. I will always be a bit arrogant and hate being wrong. And once I love something-be it book, movie, or band-I am obsessed with it and will defend it tooth and nail.
It's so hard to change who you are, really. Your actions can be affected by your upbringing, but I think the basic themes of everyone's personality are independent of that. I guess I just like to think that my personality is not a result of anyone else's actions. If it is, my parents inadvertantly chose a strange combination of traits for me.
The way we were when we were little is probably the purest version of ourselves we will ever be. We were all unafraid to be ourselves up until middle school, a mean teacher, or peer pressure pounded that out of us. The trick is to be able to peel away the layers of cynicism and doubt and be who you are and always will be.
Looking back at my old school pictures and home videos, I realized that my personality has not changed one bit since I was little. Of course now my behavior is a lot different-I would no longer steal someone's shoes at recess and chuck them over a hill any more than I would attempt alchemy-but I am still the same person I have always been. I've always had a short fuse and always will. I will always be a bit arrogant and hate being wrong. And once I love something-be it book, movie, or band-I am obsessed with it and will defend it tooth and nail.
It's so hard to change who you are, really. Your actions can be affected by your upbringing, but I think the basic themes of everyone's personality are independent of that. I guess I just like to think that my personality is not a result of anyone else's actions. If it is, my parents inadvertantly chose a strange combination of traits for me.
The way we were when we were little is probably the purest version of ourselves we will ever be. We were all unafraid to be ourselves up until middle school, a mean teacher, or peer pressure pounded that out of us. The trick is to be able to peel away the layers of cynicism and doubt and be who you are and always will be.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Oh Well, Okay
Oh Well, Okay-Eliott Smith
I just realized that, in every blog post I have written so far, I have posted a disclaimer. "Now, that's not always true..." or "I realize that not all...". Why do I even do this? Shouldn't I feel free to voice my opinions on my own blog? Well, I guess I don't.
It's hard to be confident in your own opinions. I have "retracted" things I've said on many occasions because I was afraid of offending someone. I was at a fair a few months ago with a friend, talking about how we didn't like Justin Bieber, when a large group of preteen girls affronted us about it. I immediately backpedaled, mumbling that I didn't really think Justin Bieber was all that bad, that I actually liked some of his songs (all of it, of course, was complete nonsense. I doubt I will ever like any of Justin Bieber's music). I was really angry at myself later for not saying, "Yeah, that's right. I DON'T like Justin Bieber. It's my opinion."
So from now on, no more disclaimers. I'll try to speak my opinions and not waffle back and forth like I usually do.
I just realized that, in every blog post I have written so far, I have posted a disclaimer. "Now, that's not always true..." or "I realize that not all...". Why do I even do this? Shouldn't I feel free to voice my opinions on my own blog? Well, I guess I don't.
It's hard to be confident in your own opinions. I have "retracted" things I've said on many occasions because I was afraid of offending someone. I was at a fair a few months ago with a friend, talking about how we didn't like Justin Bieber, when a large group of preteen girls affronted us about it. I immediately backpedaled, mumbling that I didn't really think Justin Bieber was all that bad, that I actually liked some of his songs (all of it, of course, was complete nonsense. I doubt I will ever like any of Justin Bieber's music). I was really angry at myself later for not saying, "Yeah, that's right. I DON'T like Justin Bieber. It's my opinion."
So from now on, no more disclaimers. I'll try to speak my opinions and not waffle back and forth like I usually do.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Levi Johnston's Blues
Levi Johnston's Blues-Ben Folds and Nick Hornby (unedited)
If you really think about it, it would be incredibly irritating to have a famous parent (or parents). Sure, it would be fun-you'd enjoy perks that wouldn't be available to most people. But you would most likely pay for that with your privacy. There would be a huge magnifying glass over your head that other kids would never have to deal with.
Take, for example, Bristol Palin. I can't say I'm a fan of her mother, but I certainly think people should have respected her privacy a bit more. Thousands of teenage girls get pregnant every year, and apart from the few who opt to be on reality TV shows, they can live a private life. Bristol Palin was seventeen, and the media ripped her apart the way they would tear apart a scandalous politician. She made a mistake, and life was probably hard enough without hearing about said mistake in every tabloid on the shelves. If I were in that position I would be mortified. And then it turned out her husband/boyfriend/whatever he is wasn't exactly what one would call a gentleman. I think Levi Johnston really screwed Bristol Palin over by exploiting their relationship for his own benefit. All in all, it's probably led to a lot more pain than it was worth.
I know that not all celebrities' children have negative experiences because of their parents' fame. But it certainly wouldn't make life any easier: they might be celebrity kids, but they're still kids.
If you really think about it, it would be incredibly irritating to have a famous parent (or parents). Sure, it would be fun-you'd enjoy perks that wouldn't be available to most people. But you would most likely pay for that with your privacy. There would be a huge magnifying glass over your head that other kids would never have to deal with.
Take, for example, Bristol Palin. I can't say I'm a fan of her mother, but I certainly think people should have respected her privacy a bit more. Thousands of teenage girls get pregnant every year, and apart from the few who opt to be on reality TV shows, they can live a private life. Bristol Palin was seventeen, and the media ripped her apart the way they would tear apart a scandalous politician. She made a mistake, and life was probably hard enough without hearing about said mistake in every tabloid on the shelves. If I were in that position I would be mortified. And then it turned out her husband/boyfriend/whatever he is wasn't exactly what one would call a gentleman. I think Levi Johnston really screwed Bristol Palin over by exploiting their relationship for his own benefit. All in all, it's probably led to a lot more pain than it was worth.
I know that not all celebrities' children have negative experiences because of their parents' fame. But it certainly wouldn't make life any easier: they might be celebrity kids, but they're still kids.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Let It Be
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9SgDoypXcl
Sometimes I wonder: will there ever be a band or a singer bigger than the Beatles, at least in our lifetime? People might say that some have come close-the Rolling Stones, Lady GaGa, etc., but they just haven't stuck around in the gigantic way the Beatles have. And from what I can tell, most people in the 60s and 70s liked the Beatles. People still love them. My grandparents like them. My aunts and uncles like them. My cousins, whether they are twelve or seven or twenty-eight, like them. Maybe this is just a Zaremba family thing, but I kind of doubt it.
I think when someone pioneers a genre of anything-books, movies, music-it becomes very, very hard to erase their influence from future artists of that genre. It's hard to then admit that someone could be better or more popular than these pioneers, so we keep them elevated, away from competition-forever the best until some talented new artist forces everyone to grudgingly pass on the torch.
Now, I'm not saying that I want that to happen to the Beatles. I know it will though, eventually.
In many years, people will forget about the Beatles. They won't see what was so great about them, how new their sound was. Music that was influenced by them will be forgotten as well. Then there might be a band that is bigger than the Beatles. I hope it's not in my lifetime. That would just be kind of saddening, regardless of how great the new band would be. It's hard to let something go when it's part of your past, your present, and your identity.
Sometimes I wonder: will there ever be a band or a singer bigger than the Beatles, at least in our lifetime? People might say that some have come close-the Rolling Stones, Lady GaGa, etc., but they just haven't stuck around in the gigantic way the Beatles have. And from what I can tell, most people in the 60s and 70s liked the Beatles. People still love them. My grandparents like them. My aunts and uncles like them. My cousins, whether they are twelve or seven or twenty-eight, like them. Maybe this is just a Zaremba family thing, but I kind of doubt it.
I think when someone pioneers a genre of anything-books, movies, music-it becomes very, very hard to erase their influence from future artists of that genre. It's hard to then admit that someone could be better or more popular than these pioneers, so we keep them elevated, away from competition-forever the best until some talented new artist forces everyone to grudgingly pass on the torch.
Now, I'm not saying that I want that to happen to the Beatles. I know it will though, eventually.
In many years, people will forget about the Beatles. They won't see what was so great about them, how new their sound was. Music that was influenced by them will be forgotten as well. Then there might be a band that is bigger than the Beatles. I hope it's not in my lifetime. That would just be kind of saddening, regardless of how great the new band would be. It's hard to let something go when it's part of your past, your present, and your identity.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Human of the Year
When I was in preschool, we were going to have a really huge concert and a party afterwards to celebrate the end of the school year. Needless to say, I was pretty excited. The big day came and I was ready to sing.
My parents never showed up. I haven't forgotten how upset I was. I cried my eyes out and probably called my parents terrible. I'm sure they felt awful.
That was the only time anything like that happened, though. The only time in my life my parents have forgotten about something like that, and I still remember it more than I remember all the time they were there for me. I guess It's pretty easy to take good memories for granted. It's easy to take parents for granted, too: to complain when your mom isn't around to make dinner or help you with homework because she's working late, when in reality she's just trying to make enough money so that you'll have food to eat. Parents sacrifice a lot more than kids sometimes realize. I know I don't always think about it.
I guess that's why I don't really want to have kids. I'd be worried that what I'd gain would be less than what I would give up. Almost any parent will tell you differently, but I don't know if I buy that. I mean, I know my parents are halfway insane with three kids--my grandma had seven kids and she's definitely snapped*. It's not like I don't like kids or anything-in fact, I think they're wonderful-but I couldn't be around a baby for more than twenty-four hours if I had to care for it.
Sorry. That was kind of a rant.
*Just kidding. My grandma's not psycho or anything, but she's close. I'll save that for another post.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Scenic World
[Note: in order to inspire myself to think outside the box, I'm going to make the title of each post a random song from my iPod. I'll post a link to it if possible; this is my way of incorporating my need for some sort of structure as well as my love of music. It might lead to some weird posts, but oh well.]
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MH6Ed4V3tpo
I think sometimes we don't give ourselves enough credit as human beings. We're quick to mistrust and doubt ourselves and others. Call it idealistic, but I agree with Anne Frank when she said, "I believe, in spite of it all, that people are really good at heart."
Despite my veneer of cynicism, I believe that all humans are born with an innate sense of right and wrong. Concepts of honor, loyalty, and respect have been beaten into us since birth. It’s in out genes, really; these ideas have been around for thousands of years, outlasting civilizations, technology, even entire races. These ideas are evident in every religion on this earth. It stands to reason that they are humans’ way of articulating concepts that are abstract, but certainly felt or sensed in the heart. Languages and cultures change, but these do not.
I guess what I'm trying to say is to have a little faith in your fellow humans. They're really not all that different from you. Chances are, if you left your wallet somewhere it will be returned to you, if you come up short at the cash register someone will help you. Also have faith in yourself-ordinary people can accomplish and endure so much if they only have the right attitude.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MH6Ed4V3tpo
I think sometimes we don't give ourselves enough credit as human beings. We're quick to mistrust and doubt ourselves and others. Call it idealistic, but I agree with Anne Frank when she said, "I believe, in spite of it all, that people are really good at heart."
Despite my veneer of cynicism, I believe that all humans are born with an innate sense of right and wrong. Concepts of honor, loyalty, and respect have been beaten into us since birth. It’s in out genes, really; these ideas have been around for thousands of years, outlasting civilizations, technology, even entire races. These ideas are evident in every religion on this earth. It stands to reason that they are humans’ way of articulating concepts that are abstract, but certainly felt or sensed in the heart. Languages and cultures change, but these do not.
I guess what I'm trying to say is to have a little faith in your fellow humans. They're really not all that different from you. Chances are, if you left your wallet somewhere it will be returned to you, if you come up short at the cash register someone will help you. Also have faith in yourself-ordinary people can accomplish and endure so much if they only have the right attitude.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Caring is Creepy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hhxthxhwk0
In our world, you're supposed to care. You're supposed to care about the environment, human rights, and your community. If you don't recycle or give to charity, you're a Bad Person, capital letters and underlined.
But on the flipside, you can't care too much. It's weird if you go out and collect trash, or go to political rallies, or join PETA. I'm not saying that PETA goes about protesting in the most effective, "sane" way, buy hey, at least its members care about something. It's better than going about life as a vapid blank slate, drifting in and out of what's popular. I think people don't want to care because it means having that much more to lose.
I mean, it's even weird if you like your favorite band too much. Do one too many school projects about it, and you're "that weird obsessed kid" for the rest of your high school career. That's why it takes so much courage to show what you care about, to stand up and say, "I really love _____ and I'm proud!" What if people think it's stupid? They might judge you. They might laugh. But if you care about that one thing enough, it won't matter.
In our world, you're supposed to care. You're supposed to care about the environment, human rights, and your community. If you don't recycle or give to charity, you're a Bad Person, capital letters and underlined.
But on the flipside, you can't care too much. It's weird if you go out and collect trash, or go to political rallies, or join PETA. I'm not saying that PETA goes about protesting in the most effective, "sane" way, buy hey, at least its members care about something. It's better than going about life as a vapid blank slate, drifting in and out of what's popular. I think people don't want to care because it means having that much more to lose.
I mean, it's even weird if you like your favorite band too much. Do one too many school projects about it, and you're "that weird obsessed kid" for the rest of your high school career. That's why it takes so much courage to show what you care about, to stand up and say, "I really love _____ and I'm proud!" What if people think it's stupid? They might judge you. They might laugh. But if you care about that one thing enough, it won't matter.
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