Sorry for the hiatus, folks, but I'm back at school and fighting the hectic currents of school, work, friends, and family.
This last week I had to write a mini-essay over the definition of freedom and what I think it is. At first, I tried to be funny about it. It's the kind of essay prompt you give to elementary school kids, not college students. At least, traditionally. While I don't think that second graders should seriously be contemplating freedom instead of learning history and English (how will they really understand what freedom is if they don't learn about the past and where and what we came from?), that's how it usually goes. Despite how good of an exercise this could have been, I hated it.
So, like I said, I tried to have a sense of humor, but the assignment just seemed all wrong. Is "freedom" really only worth 1 1/2 pages? Dissertations have been written on it, and I was expected to sum up what freedom means in a page and a half? It seemed like a cheap assignment. Then again, I don't know what's more telling: that we were only to write 1 1/2 pages on something so fundamental to the American way of life, or the trouble I had writing it.
It's not that I can't define freedom. I can think of many ways to do so. The problem is that I can't really grasp how my definition of freedom can be anything but a regurgitation of Webster. In my sorry paper, I went ahead to say that I was a product of freedom (I fall into a combination of "minorities", "statistics", and "exploited" groups that have received some sort of freedom, limited or otherwise), but that's as personal as I could get. It's hard to define freedom in the U.S. What we perceive as injustice and unfairness is often nitpicking, and what the majority perceives as what is right and fair is often where the real infringements are. I relied on that majority vision of freedom. Otherwise, it would have been a moody, stupid paper.
But I did go so far as to say that a free country would not allow the beliefs and ideals of one social group dictate the laws and limits of the American people. Was that a shot at evangelicals? Yes. If I had to choose one social group in the United States that has an ultimate agenda with a planned tangible outcome, evangelicals - especially those who dabble in the political arena - would be it. In fact, Huckabee, the champion of those whom I have accused, said this on January 14 before the Michigan primaries:
"I have opponents in this race who do not want to change the Constitution. But I believe it's a lot easier to change the Constitution than it would be to change the word of the living God. And that's what we need to do, to amend the Constitution so it's in God standards rather than try to change God's standards so it lines up with some contemporary view of how we treat each other and how we treat the family."
In a roundabout way, here is my point: I can't define what freedom is until I've pointed out all that I believe freedom isn't. What Huckabee describes, what many Americans feel is right and free, is exactly what I'm scared of and what I don't want and what I believe freedom not to be and what I wish people could see as no different than the unjust indoctrination of communism, fascism, or any other -ism. What Huckabee proposes is what I wanted to relate to my professor in my 1 1/2 pages as exactly what this country was meant to stand against, not for. But, instead, I took my shot at evangelicals and ran away from it like it was radioactive. For the most part, that's because I can't read my professor, and I don't know whose "side" she's on. But there is a small part of me that desires civility to cheap shots - that I've got to give everyone the elbow room they need to pray, punch, or "apathize" without my meddling. In other words, I don't want to make myself a target by being so openly critical of any and everyone around me.
In the end, the assignment made me learn something powerful about myself: I'm just as susceptible to the politics of fear as anyone else. I'm willing to go with "the other guy" as long as "the other guy" isn't directly threatening me. But what does that say about me? That I'd rather fly blind than knowingly get in a plane with a faulty engine? It just means I'm an ignorant sheep, and not as critical as I should be of what's going on around me.
Geoengineering the next frontier? "Scientists have come up with extreme -- some might say crazy -- schemes to counteract global warming. This year saw the most radical geo-engineering ideas yet: man-made volcanoes, orbiting mirror fleets and ocean re-engineering to cool the planet and absorb carbon dioxide." It's awesome how creative we can be.
Though this organization has been around for a while, it's recently made news with its focus on designing energy efficient cars. One of the front runners going for this prize is a company in California that is planning on releasing 300 MPG hybrid within the next two years. They are the organization to be watching in the future.
I'm a regular donor to the WWF and a lover of the Golden Compass (as you all know), so this site is very exciting. Don't forget about animals in the coming year. While I don't believe that humans are a privileged kind among the animal kingdom, I do believe that we have a responsibility that comes with our intelligence and that we must work toward saving all creatures. This world would be a lonely place with just us, wouldn't it?
Some of the advancements on this list are absolutely amazing (regeneration? cyborgs?) Some are also very troubling (embryo manufacture? non-lethal beam weapons?). It's worth a look. If you're like me, you'll be shaking your head in disbelief of how far we've come (and how far we've yet to go).
I'm going to be leaving soon for St. Lou-ay to see Wicked (yes, I'm excited). So instead of laboring in what time I left between today and tomorrow morning to put up another heartfelt blog entry, I'll leave you with filler (and maybe a Firestarter) that will have to tide you over until I get back on Friday, if not Saturday. This is another article from Helium. Since the Iowa caucus will happen in the time that I am gone, I thought I would offer up a voting-themed entry.
Anyway, here's wishing you a Happy and Safe New Year! Many blessings upon all of your families. Enjoy!
Q: Is eighteen too young to vote?
A. No.
Eighteen is just old enough to die for God and country without parental consent. I don't understand why they can't vote for the people who would send them off to war for causes not necessarily their own. This isn't something as simple as full driver's licenses and being able to buy cigarettes. This is something much much larger than that, and it cannot be underestimated.
I understand the arguments. Teenagers don't really keep up with politics. That demographic is one of the lowest in the voting ranks. They are not really old enough to take full responsibility for themselves. Those who are going to college haven't had enough education to vote responsibly, and those who aren't going to college haven't had enough real world experience to understand what it means to vote and how it affects them.
Somehow, the millions of adults who don't vote, don't have experience, and don't have an education get whittled down to a bunch of kids who are about to graduate high school. When less than a third (compared to over 95% of France in their last election) of eligible voters are going to the polls, I think it's private interest that would rather see the voting age raised to exclude idealistic 18-year-olds. What else would please old despots and oligarchies more than to cut out new ideas and young minds.
Honestly, this isn't about Republicans and Democrats, Capitalists and Communists. This is about democracy and the rule of the people. It's long been held that 18 is the threshold that young girls and boys walk through to become strong women and men. So what does 18 become without the right to vote? It becomes a somewhat destructive milestone because it means cigarettes, gambling, driving, and military service. Make that age synonymous with responsibility and duty to one's country. Make it worth more than a pack of Marlboro Reds and a trip to the casino.
Coming of age should most certainly mean more than that, and the right to vote is one of the most positive ways to plant the seeds of responsible citizenship into the soil of the mind. Taking that away creates an entire class of disenfranchised youths who have the potential to give so much back to the world. Taking away the right to vote takes too much from those who haven't really had a chance to impact the world yet. If anyone deserves the right to be taken away, it's those who have never voted and are old enough to have done so many times. They've squandered their rights. Give the 18-year-olds a chance to prove that they won't do the same with theirs.
Remember that house that had lights flashing to Trans-Siberian Orchestra music? Well, this is the same thing... except a lot more of it. Scroll your mouse across the window and 21 videos pop up. Enjoy!
Welcome to Part II of my lovely little Christmas story. Are you comfortable? Good. Got some eggnog? Eggnog's always good. Right. Onward we go.
[Friday]
So the man who was towing my car took it to the Dodge place in Hot Springs rather than the place where I got it. I drove my mom's car to work (it's not in very good shape, so I was secretly wondering if I'd have to get it towed later on) and was constantly calling people trying to find out something about my car. I told the dealership they would be waiting on my car. I called Wal-Mart to make sure they knew where it was going so they could send an adjuster, but I found out I needed to call at 11:00 (it was 8:30). I got a call from the dealership. The man said he had gotten my car and that "the engine won't even turn over." Well, great. It had completely locked out. I finally got a hold of the person I needed to at Wal-Mart after being transfered six times and then being dropped. I told the manager where my car was, and he said that he'd be sure to send someone to the right place. I found out later that that person was him. The next time I talked to him, he said the insurance company would be talking to me soon and that I "definitely need a new engine." He also said that they had put the wrong filter on my car, and that's why all the oil drained out of my car. Oh, literacy. How you have been underrated.
He also said that he told them not to touch my car until they had been contacted by the insurance agent. Since I was contacted around 4:00 that afternoon, I'm guessing they didn't talk to the dealership until afterward - maybe not until today or Wednesday. I was given a reservation number for a rental car. I was supposed to go ahead and call Enterprise to make sure they had a car for me. I called and they said they would have something available for me at the time I wanted to come in. I said 11:00.
[Saturday]
My grandmother was to be my chauffeur, and she wanted to leave about an hour early because of bad weather. Sure enough, as soon as we rolled into Hot Springs, the rain was coming down in sheets. We went to Enterprise, hoping to get my car and get out. When I told the person my reservation number, he said that they didn't have me coming in at all. He said they only had one vehicle left. A full sized Ram pick-up truck.
Oh, happy day.
So, to finally end a story that's far too long, I' m driving a full-size pick up until Wednesday, when I can change it out for a smaller car (post-Holiday season means more cars, I guess). Me in a huge truck. It's funnier than it sounds. My family, especially my grandparents, always opted out for vans and big trucks. I had a '95 Toyota Tercel for nearly five years, and just recently got an '05 Dodge Stratus. I still have trouble adjusting to driving a larger car. Now I've got that beast of a truck until they get my car fixed. Which will surely be next July.
Moral of the Story: Try to go somewhere besides Wal-Mart. Sometimes the convenience isn't worth it.
Merry Christmas to all those celebrating it, and Happy Holidays to all those who aren't. May you take this time to express how much you love and care for those around you. Including your (hopefully) not-busted car.
Oh my. Look at the time! Gotta go to bed so I can get up early to open presents. Huzzah!
Every once in a while it doesn't matter what you pay, because incompetence comes in all shapes, forms, and bill sizes.
Let me tell you the first part of a two part story concerning my recent "relations" with Wal-Mart.
[Wednesday]
Once upon a time, my car needed an oil change.
My car was a tad over on mileage (a tad being a smidge of an understatement), but my car was burning no oil and I had put in a liter to make sure that I would have enough. I'd not been putting it off so much as I couldn't go - I was under the assumption that Wal-Mart's auto service closed at 6:00, and I was working late with classes in the morning. So I was on may way home, and decided that once and for all I would stop and get the damn thing serviced.
I stopped at a place that proclaimed "30 MINUTE OIL CHANGE" on the side of its hanger-sized shop (should have been my first clue). Someone met me as I was walking to the office and told me that they only serviced semis. Of course. So I get back on the road and decided to go to the Wal-Mart in Benton, but there's a three car line that doesn't look it will move any time soon. Finally, I decided to stop at the Wal-Mart in Malvern, which is the closest one to my house on my way home.
Reluctantly, I tell the guy all of my information, just knowing that I was going to be at Wal-Mart forever (believe it or not, shopping at Wal-Mart was not something I could afford). So the guy took all my information and I went inside to "shop" - here meaning I looked longingly at all the things I wanted to buy. A familiar feeling, right? At any rate, I bought Flat Earth apple chips (which were really good) and cajun tuna (I wanted fish, dammit), and went to the back to check out. I waited about 10-15 more minutes for my car and then it was ready. I got in it and it was all ready to go - nothing perceivably wrong. I congratulated myself on keeping my car maintained voluntarily before something went wrong, and drove it home.
[Thursday]
The next morning, I left around 8 for work, an hour late. No hitches, no bumps. Around 3:30 that afternoon, I started home. That's when the trouble started.
It started with a rapid clicking noise coming from under the hood. I knew that wasn't right, but when I revved my motor and the sound went away, I thought it was gone. When the RPMs fell back down, the clicking got louder. I was in a wreck - a very small one (less than 5 MPH) - nearly two months ago, but it shifted my radiator up. I thought that my engine was vibrating and making the radiator move and rattle. It was a logical explanation.
I started driving on I-30 on the way home. I was in the left lane when my dashboard lights started coming on. Less than 10 seconds later, my engine cut off. I was going 60 MPH. I coasted my way over to the right line and pulled over. I let the car rest for a minute, racking my brain for the rhyme and reason. I started the car again, and proceeded at about 35 or 40 MPH, trying to get somewhere where I could pull over safely.
It wasn't long at all before the lights came on again. This time I saw the oil light come on first, and the only thing I could think was "surely not." My engine cut off again, and I coasted off onto the Colonel Glenn exit and stopped. I popped the hood, the whole time telling myself "It's definitely not the oil. Not the oil. Not the oil." I checked the oil and, sure enough, it was completely bone dry. Oh, I was angry. I flash-boiled. I called my mother and told her what happened, and that I needed someone to come get me. It would be a full hour before they would even be able to reach me, and that was without traffic.
My mother called my grandmother, who called the wrecker. My mom told me she was on her way. I waited.
I was listening to an NPR review of Sweeney Todd (I thought it was hilarious that the reviewer feared that Depp's singing voice would turn "Sweeney Todd" into "Sweeney Manilow") when my mother called me and told me to call Wal-Mart. Cue hilarious exchanges.
Note: I had calmed down around two minutes after I realized what happened, so I was particularly calm.
I call the Wal-Mart number on my receipt from the oil change.
Customer Service: Hello. Thank you for calling Wal-Mart. How may I direct your call? Me: Ah, yes. I need to talk to a manager. I came in yesterday to get an oil change, and my car stalled while I was driving it. Now I have no oil in my car and I'm stranded. Customer Service: Oh my... Let me transfer you. I wouldn't know anything about it! [nervous laughter] --Hold Music for two seconds before the automotive department picked up.-- Auto Service: Hello, thank you for calling Wal-Mart automotive service and parts [or whatever the hell it's called]. We sell tires for less. This is _____. Me: Ahhhhh... yes. I was in yesterday for an oil change. My engine stopped running while I was driving it, and when I pulled over to see what was the matter, I had no oil in my car. And I'm stranded right now. Auto Service: OH MY LORD. Let me get the manager. [Phone clicks as it's laid on the counter. Cashier screams, "DAVID!" and relates to him in a very jumbled way why I want to talk to him. The phone clicks as someone picks up the phone.] David: This is David. How can I help you? Me: Hello! I was in yesterday for an oil change. Today on the way home my engine stopped running while I was driving. When I pulled over, I had no oil in my engine- David: OhmyGod. Me: -and I'm stranded. David: [audible deep breath] Where are you? Me: I'm in Little Rock, but I have a tow truck coming for me. That's been taken care of. David: Where are you having it towed to? Me: My parents wanted me to have it towed to Wal-Mart. David: Okay. That would be good. Let me have your name and phone number.
As soon as I got off the phone with David, a man pulled over ahead of me and stuck his head out the window. "Are you alright?" I nodded and told him I had a tow truck coming. He told me he just wanted to check and I thanked him. I called my grandmother and my mother back (as they had both called me in the five minutes I was on the phone), and found out that the guy that we called to come tow my car was stuck in traffic nearly 75 miles away, and that I would have to wait on him to give him the key to my car. Lovely. I called my best friends and got no answer, so I settled in for a pleasantly unplanned reading of Slaughterhouse Five.
The tow truck guy called and tried to make sure of where I was. One my best friends called me back. My mother and my grandmother called me again. An army soldier stopped and checked on me. A state trooper stopped and checked on me. He told me my license plates didn't match my car, but this turned out to be his error. Then he became really jovial and told me to make a paper airplane of the warning ticket he had to write. All in all, I read about 10 pages of my book.
My mom and sort-of-stepdad (long story) came and got me, and we met the tow truck at Benton to give him the key to my car. We went out to eat for dinner, and my grandmother called me and told me that the man who was towing my car suggested that I not take it to Wal-Mart, because they could "fix" whatever it was and claim it wasn't their fault. He said he had seen it before, and would hate for it to happen to me. So we decided he would lock it up for the night and that the next morning take it to the dealership where I bought it. Then we changed the plan and decided to take it to the dealership for the car maker (Dodge) instead of the dealership where I bought it (Ford).
Part II of this riveting epic due before Christmas! I know you're waiting anxiously.
I'm starting a new post-type. We've got the regular kind, the filler kind, and now the "Firestarter" kind. These are links to articles, research, pictures, videos, products - you name it - that caught my interest. If you have anything to add or something you'd like to see on the site, then done hesitate to reply to one of these posts.
Be sure that this will be gathering attention in the next few weeks if it actually happens. It's a curious step that al-Zawahiri is making, and it will be quite interesting to see where this goes.
Greg Brotherton has a self-described "passion for all types of design." It certainly shows. He has some amazing pieces of art in the online gallery. I found it on a Wired.com list on steampunk, which had some really cool stuff.
I was in Denver recently and saw Martray's work, which is an odd but very interesting in its execution. Besides, she has a work named after Miyazaki's Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. She's apparently up to a lot more than just painting, too.
It's a sad day for environmentalists. It's just another case that's indicative of our (meaning "the world's") inability to a) plan ahead, b) accept the consequences of our past actions, c) accept that it takes suffering of people in the present to guarantee the future, and d) realize that standing up for the right thing often means losing favor with someone, somewhere.
Well, it might, but the results are ambiguous and don't lean either way (sex education or abstinence only) in the great sex ed battle. Funnily enough, the goal is to get kids to wait until age 15. Does that seem like a high standard to anyone?
So I'm feeling some leftover aggression from this past semester, and since I don't want to blog over 15 different topics in one post, I'll settle for a really unimportant article that happened to pick a bad moment for me to read it.
For some reason, I take it upon myself to read a half-sports half-public opinion piece in the New York Times. My curiosity was piqued by the title "Fledgling 'Fire Isiah' Movement Takes to the Streets". I had no idea who Isiah was or why people were starting a movement to get him fired, and was immediately interested, considering how topsy turvy the world news has been lately.
Can't say I was surprised when I found out that the Isiah mentioned was Isiah Thomas, "coach and President" of the Knicks, whose record is apparently a sore spot for fans. I knew nothing of this, and kept reading because I have an insatiable desire to be on top of things - whether I care about all of them or not (you never know what's going to come up in casual conversation!).
But I stopped dead at this (bold/italics are mine):
The hour-long rally appeared peaceful. Fans gathered to sign Nathan’s petition, an eight-foot pink slip that was taller than even a N.B.A. center. Several police officers monitored the event, most of them with bemused smiles on their faces.
There are times when I slip up and use a word incorrectly without thinking about it, or misspell things - you know, typical errors. Yet there is a crucial difference between me and Joe LaPointe. I don't have an editor.
In case you're still in the dark, I'll let Dictionary.com do the honors.
Bemused –adjective
1.
bewildered or confused.
2.
lost in thought; preoccupied.
And that's precisely the point. I'm almost absolutely sure that the officers weren't a) struggling to wrap their minds around was going on, or b) daydreaming. It's a common mistake because it sounds the same as what was probably meant - amused. I would have been amused by an eight-foot-tall petition as well. But I'm almost certain - almost completely positive - that they weren't bemused by it.
I'm not particularly upset that it happened, because it was a mistake I made a long time ago. It just bothers me because it's one of those words that people have allowed to lapse in meaning, becoming another synonym that the hefty English language doesn't need. It seems more of a sign of laziness than anything else.
Oh there is so much I want to say here, because many things have come up in recent news that I would like to blog about. Yet time doesn't permit it. My bedtime has past, and I must be at work very early in the morning. However, finals are over (though they may bite me still). You will hear from me very soon.
Here's one of my higher rated articles on Helium. Enjoy.
Q. Should collegiate athletes receive payment for competing in college athletics?
A. No.
The first and foremost reason a person should go to college is for an education. At the college I attend, men and women's university sports take up to six hours of practice per day. This leaves little time for studies and social interaction, but it is something they choose. Why? Because they get a full scholarship.
Yet so many feel that an education isn't enough - that there has to be cash money involved for it all to be worthwhile. Suddenly, expense-free education isn't a payment - it's a perk. This issue goes far beyond the actual athletic side of things. This is about cost-benefit ratio between education and money-efficiency.
In many small towns around the U.S., kids are given an ultimatum: either the child does well in sports, gets a scholarship, and goes on to become something better, or the child can stay in the small town and follow in the footsteps of those before him or her. In cities across American, poor children and their families are given the same option. Sports are important - not just because they provide physical activity and social situations, but because so many view them as a ticket out of an undesirable situation.
Making college synonymous with big money isn't a desirable image. It changes the focus of the university, layers doubt on credibility, and destroys the trust amongst students, administration, and athletes. College shouldn't be a business. Paying students for sports devalues the education process and turns the whole thing into halfway house for those moving between high school and professional sports.
Also, where would the money come from? Tuition fees under "Athletic Salary"? Or from taxes? It doesn't make sense to put athletes on payroll for anything other than - at most - a free ride. Let's not forget why all students are meant to go to college to receive. Sliding greenbacks under the table and a diploma over the top isn't going to improve a collegiate experience, and pretending that it really is that way will only seek to demean those serious students, faculty, and administrators forced to go along.
This semester has been rough. Really rough. The marathon paper turned out not so well. "Not so well" means "B+", but it bothered me a lot that what I thought was one of my best papers ended up being... well... not so much. My thesis is defunct, quite officially. I'm looking at three B's if I don't pull up my shoelaces. And... school just sucks in general.
Part of it has to do with the expectations of my professors. I'm not particularly upset that they exist, but I am rather flustered with it on both sides of the coin. My professor's expectations with me are either higher or nonexistent in comparison with my own. One of my professor's teaches a class of twenty people and doesn't know a single one of our names. This same professor apparently didn't notice that about 50% of our class has been missing for the majority of the semester, because he told us that our attendance had been really good. However, my language teacher is constantly pushing and making the students learn. Her expectations are very high, but I feel like this is fair because of how she works with us. On the other hand, another professor uses classtime as a tribute to his own ego (most of our assigned readings have been things he has written). His expectations of me are high, but I don't think it's fair because I always feel like he asks the wrong questions in response to things I write - meaning I think that he has the wrong impression of my paper when he finishes it.
Move on to my thesis tutorial class where there are such high expectations with no direction from any of my superiors, and you've found where the disconnect between school and me begins. I feel pathetic and weak because I'm not able to fight my own discontent and lack of desire to have a fulfilling education this semester, but I also feel like it would be as helpful as punching, kicking, and screaming would be to keeping afloat in the middle of the ocean. So I've decided to tread water while I can.
Not that treading doesn't have its consequences. I've know people who have been doing so since they got to college (and are still doing so afterward). But I feel that my life has become so fast-paced and determined by those outside myself that "treading water" - even for half of one semester - is a euphemism for "drowning." The dates pass me by, the times hit me in the face, the people pull me down. I've put myself into this position, and I'm not complaining that I've done so, per se. I enjoy my responsibilities and I have a desire to do my duties. But I also feel like I've allowed myself to be tied and gagged without possibility of escape for a future I'm not even sure of yet. Are my sacrifices of self too great? Have I done too much? Or am I just too lazy? I don't quite know that, but I do know that I still feel compelled to do what I've promised to do, and that I love being able to offer my services at their demand. I really think my lack of motivation is a byproduct of a really rough semester. And you know what they say about rough times?
This too shall pass.
...or at least it better. I've got a year and a half left.
