***WARNING: Some explixit language used.***
I am not one of those people who are adamantly against all cursing. However, some things just bother me. For example, the phrase “fuck my life,” popularized by the website fml.com, is overly used and used in the wrong context, which grates on my last nerve. First of all I don’t think people who utilize the phrase really have problems worthy of such a strong statement. Also I am fairly certain people do not fully understand the context of it. I shall explain in further detail.
Why do people usually say “fuck my life?” In my experience with people, the common situations that invoke such obscenities are: a missed class, a bad hair day, a failed test, a friendship on the rocks, a significant other’s infidelity, falling flat on your face in front of a large group of people, etc. While these situations are regrettable, undesirable, and possibly embarrassing, they don’t, in my opinion, deserve an outburst of “fuck my life.” Really, people, your life is not that bad. In fact, if you use FML frequently your life is probably pretty well-off. Those people who really have terrible lives and suffer greatly don’t use that phrase. They deal with the problems that life throws their way and don’t sit there complaining. They do something to try to get out of their inopportune predicament.
News flash, life isn’t easy. If someone told you that, they were either lying or injecting their bodies with substances of a less than legal nature. The fact is, Cupcake, that you’ve been fighting a battle ever since you were a sperm swimming upstream (please excuse the graphic image, but it’s true). So get a helmet. You’re going to need one, because there are rougher roads ahead still.
Additionally, I have a problem believing that people really know and mean what they are saying when they say “fuck my life.” Let’s break it down. The verb “to fuck,” which is the profane term for copulation, is used in this phrase as a command. However, I assume that "fuck my life" is not a petition to be reproduced or cloned. Therefore, we shall also assume that when you are using this phrase that you are angry about some disappointing aspect of your life. That being said, it appears as though by ordering someone to fuck your life, you wish to inflict harm on it. The violent connation of the verb “to fuck” is “to rape;” ergo when you say FML, what you are really saying is that you want someone to rape your life. Personally, I think that this is both an extreme and ineffective request. You only have one life, why harm it anymore? Cursing your life to make it worse off is certainly not going to help your predicament. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that people do not really mean “fuck my life.” Instead, I offer a slightly altered rendition which I believe they really want to say. This phrase is “my life is fucked” (Or "Fucked my life is"). You can see the resemblance and how the latter phrase could have morphed into the former due to the laziness of repeated use.
Once again I am back at my original point: people who use the phrase don’t have lives that are that bad. What they should say is “That rots,” “That’s unfortunate,” “I’m angry,” etc. Of course if you don’t feel those words are strong enough, then it’s time to expand your vocabulary. With over 350,000 words in the English language, I’m sure you’ll find something that suffices. Even more offensive is the abiliity of this phrase to give otherwise amiable, rational people the semblance of an ignorant, classless fool who is only a step above a child by not throwing a tantrum because life isn’t going as planned.
And that concludes my tirade. Thank you for your attention. :-)
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Happy November! All Saints Day
Happy November!!!
This month is going to fly by. I can feel it now. Currently, I am endeavoring to write a story for my art history project. I think I have a good start and I actually know where I will be going with the plot, which is a first. Finally, I have more than just descriptions to write about. I won't be posting it until after I finish the course in case they check for plagerism on the internet and this blog pops up. But I promise that I will post it at some point.
Lots going on. I will be busy. One positive thing my mind is clearer today and I analyze and categorize my problems much better...for today at least.
Chao!
This month is going to fly by. I can feel it now. Currently, I am endeavoring to write a story for my art history project. I think I have a good start and I actually know where I will be going with the plot, which is a first. Finally, I have more than just descriptions to write about. I won't be posting it until after I finish the course in case they check for plagerism on the internet and this blog pops up. But I promise that I will post it at some point.
Lots going on. I will be busy. One positive thing my mind is clearer today and I analyze and categorize my problems much better...for today at least.
Chao!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The Epic of Dramamine
O, Muse, guide my fingers as I attempt
To retell the courageous and intrepid event
Of three young women you have not yet seen,
To find the elusive elixir of Dramamine.
O, Muses fair, grant me your grace
As I now, without further ado, retrace
Past events of a most curious case.
The Three of whom I speak hailed from the
Same town dedicated to the Lord, the
King, most High. They were disciples at a
University and traveled that day
To the capital city of their nation.
They began early without hesitation
Ready to see great sights and have some fun,
Even though the clouds covered the morning sun.
The journey was not too long before,
Not due to any fault they might have bore,
To our dear, sweet heroines trouble came
When cruel Inertia decided to tame
Their excitement by attacking one poor
Girl. The others avowed to find the cure
For Inertia’s curse and have fun despite,
And thought it would be fun to try to fight,
Evil Inertia’s plan to have all men
Follow her laws of gravity. So when
Their ship arrived at the temple of the
Muses, they surely knew the cure must be
In one of the temples in the city.
Nevertheless, they thought it a pity
To be in the city and not visit
Abraham in his temple where he sits
In his enormous, white throne to ask
For luck on their quest because his great task
For the country had, too, been of a great
Significance. While their quick, sure gait
Led them to Abraham, the gods did side
With Inertia, so to slow their deft stride,
They commanded rain to fall from the sky
At such a force that they couldn’t get by
If they hadn’t come prepared with magic boots.
These boots kept them dry so they stayed en route
To their destination. On the way, they
Danced in the rain and they began to play.
Finally, at the temple, they looked at
Abraham and thought him to be at that
Moment quite grand. They then asked him about
This elusive Dramamine. He said, “Out
Of the Mall you need to go to the CVS.”
“Where do we find that,” said they in distress,
Because they were not familiar with the
Layout of the city and, of course, the
Angry gods would be unleashing their flood.
“Fear not, young ones, be brave and true. Your blood
Will not be shed. It is an adventure
And I’m sure you will do just fine. Venture
Out now. The rain has thinned. You should go toward
My old palace, nearby you’ll find your reward
For your seeking the precious Dramamine.”
They thanked Old Abe and left, running between
The rain drops above in the gray-lit sky.
Dashing through the streets while cars passed by
They spotted Abe’s old palace lawn and found
The street they needed which lead the three down
To the shrine of the Dramamine. In they
Went and found their prize and went on their way.
The rest of their trip was all fun and games.
They returned to tell their tale, stake their claims
On the bus, and road happily homeward.
With Inertia vanquished peace was restored.
Note from the poet:
I now have a newfound respect for Homer, Chaucer, and Moliere. Rhyming couplets are hard, especially if you attempt to place them in iambic pentameter. I know this poem is sort of silly and its structure is probably weak, but I feel a bit proud of myself for actually completing it. So I hope you enjoy!! :-)
To retell the courageous and intrepid event
Of three young women you have not yet seen,
To find the elusive elixir of Dramamine.
O, Muses fair, grant me your grace
As I now, without further ado, retrace
Past events of a most curious case.
The Three of whom I speak hailed from the
Same town dedicated to the Lord, the
King, most High. They were disciples at a
University and traveled that day
To the capital city of their nation.
They began early without hesitation
Ready to see great sights and have some fun,
Even though the clouds covered the morning sun.
The journey was not too long before,
Not due to any fault they might have bore,
To our dear, sweet heroines trouble came
When cruel Inertia decided to tame
Their excitement by attacking one poor
Girl. The others avowed to find the cure
For Inertia’s curse and have fun despite,
And thought it would be fun to try to fight,
Evil Inertia’s plan to have all men
Follow her laws of gravity. So when
Their ship arrived at the temple of the
Muses, they surely knew the cure must be
In one of the temples in the city.
Nevertheless, they thought it a pity
To be in the city and not visit
Abraham in his temple where he sits
In his enormous, white throne to ask
For luck on their quest because his great task
For the country had, too, been of a great
Significance. While their quick, sure gait
Led them to Abraham, the gods did side
With Inertia, so to slow their deft stride,
They commanded rain to fall from the sky
At such a force that they couldn’t get by
If they hadn’t come prepared with magic boots.
These boots kept them dry so they stayed en route
To their destination. On the way, they
Danced in the rain and they began to play.
Finally, at the temple, they looked at
Abraham and thought him to be at that
Moment quite grand. They then asked him about
This elusive Dramamine. He said, “Out
Of the Mall you need to go to the CVS.”
“Where do we find that,” said they in distress,
Because they were not familiar with the
Layout of the city and, of course, the
Angry gods would be unleashing their flood.
“Fear not, young ones, be brave and true. Your blood
Will not be shed. It is an adventure
And I’m sure you will do just fine. Venture
Out now. The rain has thinned. You should go toward
My old palace, nearby you’ll find your reward
For your seeking the precious Dramamine.”
They thanked Old Abe and left, running between
The rain drops above in the gray-lit sky.
Dashing through the streets while cars passed by
They spotted Abe’s old palace lawn and found
The street they needed which lead the three down
To the shrine of the Dramamine. In they
Went and found their prize and went on their way.
The rest of their trip was all fun and games.
They returned to tell their tale, stake their claims
On the bus, and road happily homeward.
With Inertia vanquished peace was restored.
Note from the poet:
I now have a newfound respect for Homer, Chaucer, and Moliere. Rhyming couplets are hard, especially if you attempt to place them in iambic pentameter. I know this poem is sort of silly and its structure is probably weak, but I feel a bit proud of myself for actually completing it. So I hope you enjoy!! :-)
Romance Novels
Ok so I bought two romance novels. I'm averaging about 100 pages a day. I know, I know they're silly and written on a 5th grade reading level, but sometimes I need a break from my scholastic and deep, thought-provoking pursuits. It's a guilty pleasure I suppose.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
A Surprisingly Relevant Homily
Oddly enough today's homily was quite pertinent to what's going on in my life. In fact, it related to my last post. Father David spoke about interviewing and feeling as though we need to do more and the difficulty of knowing when you have done enough. He also briefly mentioned promoting your skills during an interview. He said to look at it not from an egotistical sense but from an sense in assurance of what you have accomplished. This made me feel a bit better but still I don't know which accomplishments are really pertinent. Additionally, he cautioned the congregation not to fall into the trap of comparing yourself to other people to think you need to be exactly like someone else to be successful.
Lot's to think about. Now on to researching for my interview tomorrow.
Lot's to think about. Now on to researching for my interview tomorrow.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Thoughts about Interviewing I Had on Friday
Apparently, I have a problem selling myself. This is a problem, since interviews need to be a promotion of one's best characteristics or an embellishment of one's mediocre attributes into something with a semblance of importance. For some reason, this present both a mental and moral dilemma for me. First, my life and experiences have not been that exciting. Therefore, I am one of those people who are forced to make mountains out of the proverbial molehills that I possess for experiences. Secondly, I have a moral problem with "selling myself." To me, it borders the idea of prostitution too closely. Rather than a bargain of flesh, there is a selling of the soul. Additionally, I was always instructed to act with modesty. Modesty does not entail telling people how wonderful I am and what I can do to help you that no one else can do. I suppose I have a bit of an insuperiority complex. I know I am not the best person for the job. There are thousands, if not tens of thousands, of people more well-suited for the position than me. Therefore, i feel neither comfortable nor confident about lying to an interviewer and telling them that I am the next best thing for their organization; because, in truth, I am not.
I have been advised that promoting myself is a necessity as well as a fact of life I need if I wish to be successful. Those sources are of the mindset of "why not me," as if the world owes them something. The world owes me nothing for I have done nothing for the world. Hence, my problem...
I have been advised that promoting myself is a necessity as well as a fact of life I need if I wish to be successful. Those sources are of the mindset of "why not me," as if the world owes them something. The world owes me nothing for I have done nothing for the world. Hence, my problem...
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The Economics of Love
Love is one of life’s funny paradoxes. Everyone wants to be in love even though logic would probably advise against it. In a purely economic sense, that is the measuring utility or happiness, being in love is probably inefficient.
The Economics:
***It is important to note that these observations only hold true under the assumption of ceteris paribus that is “all things being equal.” Therefore, I restrain from taking into account the many different religious views of love where simply loving your neighbor should give you sufficient happiness. In the current model, I am using man as if he is in some very unrealistic testing facility to try to simplify this complex working of human social interactions.***
Let’s look at a simple supply and demand curve, which is a basic model for all economic theories. On the y-axis we have our Price of our good which is how much love you give to the world. On the x-axis is the Quantity which is how much love you receive.
Our personal demand curve for love is downward sloping. The downward slope shows that we would all like to be loved with none or very small amount of work like when people want love at first sight. However, we know that this is all very nice in principle, but it is not very practical. Love takes work: as the old saying goes “You have to give love to get love.” At first demand for love is pretty inelastic. Elasticity means you still want a constant amount even though the price increases. But as you have to give more and more, the less you are going to want it. For example, many people would not go as far as to kill off the enemies of their beloved just to gain approval. That is too extreme of a sign of devotion.
Following the demand curve, comes the supply curve. Our supply curve is upward sloping which shows that people would rather give the most of their love if they are receiving love in return. For example, if no one is nice to you, you are less apt to be nice to others. Conversely, if everyone is nice to you, you would be more apt to be nice to them. This is just human nature.
Let us also assume that the more love you receive the happier you are and you are better off for it. Therefore, if you are supplying a large quantity of love and your actions and sentiments are not being returned in at least the same amount of you supply, then your loving of that person is irrational and inefficient because you are not maximizing your utility. Just as a reference, you maximize utility where your supply and demand curves intersect. That point is called the equilibrium point.
The Life Application:
Most of the time love gives you heartache. Heartache does not pertain to simply romantic love, which the Greeks named eros, but also philos, brotherly love between family and friends. How often do your friends and family give you anxiety because you are concerned for their wellbeing or because you wish to be in their good graces after an argument? Your worry and concern shows your output of love. If your loved one doesn’t seem to care then it would appear as though they are not giving you the same amount of love. Yet, we still go on loving even though those we love can make our lives miserable.
As for romantic love, it lends itself to more pining, angst, and less utility than its sister philos. For those of you who have experiences unrequited love, why is it that the person you love never seems to share the mutual affection? Additionally, for the one person who does like you, why don’t you have interest toward that person? Seriously, why does love always seem to form a sordid love triangle that continues on and on in a vicious cycle which has no end in sight? No one in this situation is maximizing and giving their love in the most efficient way possible.
Eventually, some escape and find the elusive “one” who is the second half of their soul and the two half souls are united ad they become a whole soul. The infamous “they” inform us that in this love there is true happiness which makes all the waiting, heartache, and strife worth it. Apparently, that love is so highly valued and potent that the utility, happiness, is like no other. I sure hope it is, because I’m one of many people still waiting for love and that elusive Prince Charming, whose lateness has definitely exceeded fashionable and has now moved on to rude.
But I digress…
In spite of all of these problems why would we rational people still willingly opt to drive ourselves crazy in the pursuit of love? To this question I can postulate only one logical answer: True love must truly be greater than all of the pains of getting to it. For eros, the cost of finding that perfect person is worth the love they end up receiving in return. For philos, the companionship and friendship must be worth more than the angst to justify its being efficient. This is the reason why we keep on loving.
The Economics:
***It is important to note that these observations only hold true under the assumption of ceteris paribus that is “all things being equal.” Therefore, I restrain from taking into account the many different religious views of love where simply loving your neighbor should give you sufficient happiness. In the current model, I am using man as if he is in some very unrealistic testing facility to try to simplify this complex working of human social interactions.***
Let’s look at a simple supply and demand curve, which is a basic model for all economic theories. On the y-axis we have our Price of our good which is how much love you give to the world. On the x-axis is the Quantity which is how much love you receive.
Our personal demand curve for love is downward sloping. The downward slope shows that we would all like to be loved with none or very small amount of work like when people want love at first sight. However, we know that this is all very nice in principle, but it is not very practical. Love takes work: as the old saying goes “You have to give love to get love.” At first demand for love is pretty inelastic. Elasticity means you still want a constant amount even though the price increases. But as you have to give more and more, the less you are going to want it. For example, many people would not go as far as to kill off the enemies of their beloved just to gain approval. That is too extreme of a sign of devotion.
Following the demand curve, comes the supply curve. Our supply curve is upward sloping which shows that people would rather give the most of their love if they are receiving love in return. For example, if no one is nice to you, you are less apt to be nice to others. Conversely, if everyone is nice to you, you would be more apt to be nice to them. This is just human nature.
Let us also assume that the more love you receive the happier you are and you are better off for it. Therefore, if you are supplying a large quantity of love and your actions and sentiments are not being returned in at least the same amount of you supply, then your loving of that person is irrational and inefficient because you are not maximizing your utility. Just as a reference, you maximize utility where your supply and demand curves intersect. That point is called the equilibrium point.
The Life Application:
Most of the time love gives you heartache. Heartache does not pertain to simply romantic love, which the Greeks named eros, but also philos, brotherly love between family and friends. How often do your friends and family give you anxiety because you are concerned for their wellbeing or because you wish to be in their good graces after an argument? Your worry and concern shows your output of love. If your loved one doesn’t seem to care then it would appear as though they are not giving you the same amount of love. Yet, we still go on loving even though those we love can make our lives miserable.
As for romantic love, it lends itself to more pining, angst, and less utility than its sister philos. For those of you who have experiences unrequited love, why is it that the person you love never seems to share the mutual affection? Additionally, for the one person who does like you, why don’t you have interest toward that person? Seriously, why does love always seem to form a sordid love triangle that continues on and on in a vicious cycle which has no end in sight? No one in this situation is maximizing and giving their love in the most efficient way possible.
Eventually, some escape and find the elusive “one” who is the second half of their soul and the two half souls are united ad they become a whole soul. The infamous “they” inform us that in this love there is true happiness which makes all the waiting, heartache, and strife worth it. Apparently, that love is so highly valued and potent that the utility, happiness, is like no other. I sure hope it is, because I’m one of many people still waiting for love and that elusive Prince Charming, whose lateness has definitely exceeded fashionable and has now moved on to rude.
But I digress…
In spite of all of these problems why would we rational people still willingly opt to drive ourselves crazy in the pursuit of love? To this question I can postulate only one logical answer: True love must truly be greater than all of the pains of getting to it. For eros, the cost of finding that perfect person is worth the love they end up receiving in return. For philos, the companionship and friendship must be worth more than the angst to justify its being efficient. This is the reason why we keep on loving.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
O Muse, How Fair Thou Art!
I found this picture online while looking through fine arts posters. If I may be so bold, I would like to offer up the opinion that the girl in this painting resembles me slightly in profile. Of course now my hair is shorter and not straight like it is in my picture, so in currently I probably resemble the painting more than my own picture.
This painting, Juliette, was painted in 1898 by an English painter John William Waterhouse, who is one of my all-time favorite artists of the Pre-Raphaelite Era. After further research I discovered that Waterhouse was actually born in Italy and lived there for a few years in the mid to late 19th century. Just to make things interesting, I will note that I still had ancestors in Italy around that time.
So I suggest that since the image in this picture closely resembles me and seeing its Italian subject, Juliette was from Verona, I’d like to propose that the model for this image is a distant relation of mine. Of course this is completely fictitious and has no historical evidence to back up my claim, but nevertheless, I would like to create a small history in pieces for her.
The sun was low in the sky that morning as I head out with my older sister Maria to the market. The humidity in the air clings to our clothing as the fog has not yet been cleared by the awakening sun. The city is already awake as we enter the main thoroughfare. Shopkeepers, merchants, farmers, and fishermen have their shops set up along both sides of the street. As Maria and I proceed down the road, the crowd thickened with people.
I like the hum of the streets. The smell of them not so much, but the movement and energy I love. There are so many things to see and hear. I would like to stop and look, but Maria drags me along next to her. Guided by Maria, I let my mind wander down pathways to the spice tents and over the seas to their birthplaces in the Far East.
We finally stop at our first destination, the Convent of Santa Cecilia, to drop off our packages to the nuns who dwell there. Our mother bakes about half a dozen loaves of bread. All of them go to the sisters of Santa Cecilia. Mama says that God smiles on those who give food to those who have little. God must have a huge grin for us, because everyday rain or shine, Maria and I make our pilgrimage to the convent to drop off the bread.
By all means, please do not think that I am being disrespectful. I have no qualms about bringing bread to the sisters. In fact, I enjoy the walk and the convent. Inside the walls, there are fountains and rose gardens to which the sisters tend. It is cool and refreshing, especially in the hot summer months when the entire city bakes in the cruel and unrelenting sun.
Today the roses are beautiful. Their sweet perfume permeates throughout the piazza. I bend over to smell one, taking a deep breath to draw in their scent. Then, as if evaporated from thin air, Sister Pietro Maria appears. Sister Pietro Maria never speak, she has taken a vow of silence like a few of the other nuns in the convent. Nevertheless, she is always kind to me and says more with a smile than many people can say in an hour long lecture, hint, hint Gianna Cavelli.
I would like to stay and walk with Sister among the roses for a bit, but my real sister is giving me that “come here now, we’re ready to go look” followed by much snapping and gesticulating for me to follow her. I sigh and shrug my shoulders at Sister Pietro who smiles a little knowing smile. Before I leave, she snips a rose from one of the bushes and gives it to me. I thank her and hastily pursue my extremely impatient sister.
We make the remainder of our stop around the city. Bargaining, buying, and trading with different merchants and shop owners. Around noon, we stop to rest near a wall that was once part of an ancient Roman building of some sort. As I stand, mulling things over in my mind smelling the rose that Sister Pietro gave me, I notice that I am being watched by a strange man. I look around to see if maybe he is looking at something else. But no, he is definitely staring at me. Apparently he does not know that it’s rude to stare. My eyebrows draw close together and my lips purse in displeasure. I mention the man to Maria. She doesn’t like him either, and we decide to move and continue our chores.
Later we return home to help Mama with dinner. Papa and our brothers come home from the shop. With them, they have a guest: it’s the man from the street who was so rudely staring at me today!
Fall Fashion
Okay, so this fall I am very much in love with suede boots. Call me crazy, but I'd really like high, high boot...dare I say over the knee?!? :-o I have this theory that with the right outfit I can transform them from Pretty Woman to classy. In the words of Tim Gunn, I could "make it work."
Tonight I really feel like overhauling my entire wardrobe. Having a credit card almost began my online shopaholic problem, but perhaps the finance major in me advised me agaisnt that decision. I don't know about that, but what I do know is that if I had an income of any sort right now, a pair of shoes would have been purchased tonight!!!
Tomorrow is going to have to be a mall day. I won't necesarily buy anything, but I do need to look and try stuff on.
Tonight I really feel like overhauling my entire wardrobe. Having a credit card almost began my online shopaholic problem, but perhaps the finance major in me advised me agaisnt that decision. I don't know about that, but what I do know is that if I had an income of any sort right now, a pair of shoes would have been purchased tonight!!!
Tomorrow is going to have to be a mall day. I won't necesarily buy anything, but I do need to look and try stuff on.
Level Update
Due to my observations and further reflecion interest level moves back to passe. Original excitement is calmed and logic rules once more.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Level Change
Interest Level Meter:
(Highest to Lowest)
1. Obsessed
2. Extremely interested
3. Very interested
4. Interested
5. Piqued
6. Slightly Piqued
7. Passe
Level changed from passe to slightly piqued.
Procedures are as follows:
-Observe
-Probe
-See if other party might be piqued.
-If other party shows signs of life, then move level to perhaps pique/interested. If not, move back to passe.
(Highest to Lowest)
1. Obsessed
2. Extremely interested
3. Very interested
4. Interested
5. Piqued
6. Slightly Piqued
7. Passe
Level changed from passe to slightly piqued.
Procedures are as follows:
-Observe
-Probe
-See if other party might be piqued.
-If other party shows signs of life, then move level to perhaps pique/interested. If not, move back to passe.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Death Comes Quickly
This morning a kid was reported missing since 3 am Saturday morning. No one heard from him after he left a frat party on campus. All day today police were searching for him, not knowing if he was kidnapped or killed. I saw the helicopters flying low over tree covered areas on the Northwest side of campus. Early this evening they found him, dead in a stairwell on campus. The police suspect no foul play; simply alcohol poisoning.
What a way to go! Falling down stairs or collapsing in a stairwell on a cool clear September night. So fast, so young, just 18. It really brings you back down to Terra firma. I don't have real problems like that.
Still something about this situation erks me. I don't know how to describe it, but I have a troubling sense of foreboding...
Anyway, RIP Joe Dado. You and your family are in our prayers.
What a way to go! Falling down stairs or collapsing in a stairwell on a cool clear September night. So fast, so young, just 18. It really brings you back down to Terra firma. I don't have real problems like that.
Still something about this situation erks me. I don't know how to describe it, but I have a troubling sense of foreboding...
Anyway, RIP Joe Dado. You and your family are in our prayers.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
Many Times I Have Played the Fool
A revelation has recently unveiled itself to me. In the past week, I have been surprised by people and my reaction to them. My surprise is a double-edged sword that is both bitter and sweat. On one hand, I discovered something very ugly about myself; yet on the other, I discovered something surprisingly beautiful about other people.
I will cast judgement on myself and admit that I have been a most intolerable, hypocritical bigot. I am guilty of judging the proverbial book by its cover. For that reason, I feel truly terrible about my thoughts.
I have always flattered myself by saying that I am fair and non-judgmental. However, as I discovered over the past few days, I do not always practice what I preach. Although it pains me to admit it, I have wrongly judged a person. Yet, at the same time, part of me is elated that I was wrong. This man, who I prematurely judged, killed all of the stereotypes in which I feared he would fall.
I am mortified about my thoughts and feel like an idiot. I will continue to be careful when judging people, but I shall no longer have a fine print in the back of my mind that states: "...and look out for this type of person, in particular." No. Now I will give the same severe caution to every person I meet, no exceptions.
Although this was a blow to my ego and self-righteousness, I also feel as though I have grown so much over the past few days. I have learned a lesson that cannot be fully conveyed in a mere classroom, seminar, or workshop. To reinforce this lesson, I happened to meet two other men of varying backgrounds and beliefs who have surprised me by their outlook on life and personality.
I can't believe that in two days I can be so surprised by people in a positive manner. Generally, I have been a pragmatist towards human behavior, well maybe a pessimist or a cynic would be a better word. But my experiences this week have shown me another side. It is my sincere hope that good surprises continue, rather than disappoint.
I will cast judgement on myself and admit that I have been a most intolerable, hypocritical bigot. I am guilty of judging the proverbial book by its cover. For that reason, I feel truly terrible about my thoughts.
I have always flattered myself by saying that I am fair and non-judgmental. However, as I discovered over the past few days, I do not always practice what I preach. Although it pains me to admit it, I have wrongly judged a person. Yet, at the same time, part of me is elated that I was wrong. This man, who I prematurely judged, killed all of the stereotypes in which I feared he would fall.
I am mortified about my thoughts and feel like an idiot. I will continue to be careful when judging people, but I shall no longer have a fine print in the back of my mind that states: "...and look out for this type of person, in particular." No. Now I will give the same severe caution to every person I meet, no exceptions.
Although this was a blow to my ego and self-righteousness, I also feel as though I have grown so much over the past few days. I have learned a lesson that cannot be fully conveyed in a mere classroom, seminar, or workshop. To reinforce this lesson, I happened to meet two other men of varying backgrounds and beliefs who have surprised me by their outlook on life and personality.
I can't believe that in two days I can be so surprised by people in a positive manner. Generally, I have been a pragmatist towards human behavior, well maybe a pessimist or a cynic would be a better word. But my experiences this week have shown me another side. It is my sincere hope that good surprises continue, rather than disappoint.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Adventures in Swing Dancing
Last night, my roommate and I went to swing dancing class. I saw a girl from my English class last semester. She happens to be the roommate of my roommate's friend. Once again: "It's a small world after all."
Anyway, the first step we learned was the rock step. It's easy enough. The rock steps later transitioned into inside and outside turns in both open and closed positions. After a bit of practice, I had a pretty good mastery of these basic steps.
During practice we rotated partners. There were tall partners and short partners. Fat partners and skinny partners. Stiff partners and spastic partners. For most of them, this was either their first or second time swing dancing.
After class, the floor was opened to free dancing. Guys asked girls and girls asked guys. At first, I danced with some of the guys in my class who were beginners. I felt like I was taking baby steps as the more experienced dancers whizzed, twirled, and hopped across the floor. But, then I was asked to dance by the more experienced dancers. That's when the real fun began.
The first experienced partners I dance with surprised me. My surprise was due to the fact that if you saw any one of them on the street, you would never have guessed that the danced. So when they began to move me around the floor, really feeling all the tones and accents in the music, I was taken aback. I now know what people mean when they say a good partner can make you look good. The better the partner I had, the more advanced steps I was thrown into and the more fun I had. At this point, I was thankful for my sixteen years of ballet training which taught me to pick up and follow steps quickly. All in all I must have danced with at least ten guys, three of which had serious ballroom training. Therefore, it is safe to say that last night I danced with more guys in half an hour than I've danced with at all of the school dances I've ever been to combined!!!
Needless to say, I will be returning to swing dance club in the near future.
Oh, on an entirely different note, that guy from my econ class of whom I spoke in my last post must have been joking with me. I saw him again today in class and he was very nice. After class he asked me for my e-mail so he could befriend me on FB. Additionally, the guy who sits next to him is really nice too. We had a lovely conversation about Florida before class.
I know that was useless info that you probably don't care about, but I thought I'd keep you posted since I previously mentioned it.
Anyway, the first step we learned was the rock step. It's easy enough. The rock steps later transitioned into inside and outside turns in both open and closed positions. After a bit of practice, I had a pretty good mastery of these basic steps.
During practice we rotated partners. There were tall partners and short partners. Fat partners and skinny partners. Stiff partners and spastic partners. For most of them, this was either their first or second time swing dancing.
After class, the floor was opened to free dancing. Guys asked girls and girls asked guys. At first, I danced with some of the guys in my class who were beginners. I felt like I was taking baby steps as the more experienced dancers whizzed, twirled, and hopped across the floor. But, then I was asked to dance by the more experienced dancers. That's when the real fun began.
The first experienced partners I dance with surprised me. My surprise was due to the fact that if you saw any one of them on the street, you would never have guessed that the danced. So when they began to move me around the floor, really feeling all the tones and accents in the music, I was taken aback. I now know what people mean when they say a good partner can make you look good. The better the partner I had, the more advanced steps I was thrown into and the more fun I had. At this point, I was thankful for my sixteen years of ballet training which taught me to pick up and follow steps quickly. All in all I must have danced with at least ten guys, three of which had serious ballroom training. Therefore, it is safe to say that last night I danced with more guys in half an hour than I've danced with at all of the school dances I've ever been to combined!!!
Needless to say, I will be returning to swing dance club in the near future.
Oh, on an entirely different note, that guy from my econ class of whom I spoke in my last post must have been joking with me. I saw him again today in class and he was very nice. After class he asked me for my e-mail so he could befriend me on FB. Additionally, the guy who sits next to him is really nice too. We had a lovely conversation about Florida before class.
I know that was useless info that you probably don't care about, but I thought I'd keep you posted since I previously mentioned it.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
"Something's Got To Go Wrong Cause I'm Feeling Way Too Damn Good"
As I might have alluded to in my past post, I've been on sort of a personal high over the past few days, feeling quite comfortable and pleased with myself. I was in my usual "no-one-can-touch-me," c'est la vie mode which I have cultivated well.
But like all good things, this high had to come to an end. You see, my balloon of happiness and self-satisfaction was becoming overly bloated. So I guess God decided that some air needed to be let out.
The blood leading occurred yesterday. Yesterday, began really well: Art history (really evolving into my favorite class to here a lecture in) and a relatively smooth diagnostic examination for Spanish.
Things went down a tiny incline in economics when a guy called me rude. I don't know if he was joking with me, or if I had really made a bad impression. You see before class, I was outlining art history, so I was sort of in a mental fog where my social acuteness (quickness of tongue?) becomes blunted and rather innocent. I was only half-listening to the conversation when the two guys in front of me asked me where I was from. I hesitated and then said it. For some odd reason, I thought that my answer was obvious and embarrassingly mumbled something about "forgetting where I was from." Don't ask, it confuses me too. But that little faux paux on my part isn't the problem. The problem came when I attempted to begin polite conversation and return the question. Apparently, the guy had already said where he was from three times. I honestly hadn't heard him because I was in my outlining zone. For this he said something to the effect of not listening as being rude and then repeated that he was from Washington, DC three additional times. I don't know if he was being serious or trying to be funny? Once again, I was in that odd brain fog of mental exersion after outlining, so I had a difficult time responding to and interpreting human interactions in said state.
Nevertheless, I recovered as best as I could, and as the lecture began I regained my usual public face of polite, unfazed passiveness.
The bigger blow came around 8:30 that night when my roommates and I received a knock on our apartment door. Four guys were at the door, holding beers. They said they lived in the building and were having "a meet the neighbors" party, and we should stop by for a beer. After they left, my roommates and I held a conference about whether or not we should go. We're not big party people, but it would be nice to meet new people. So after much debate, we decide to go and stay for a bit. We get there and their are a few people there. The hosts were surprised we came. Apparently, it really wasn't a meet the neighbors party. One of the guys lived in our apartment two summers ago and that's the reason they decided to invite us/ knock on our door.
At this point, I feel like an invader. They all know each other. Some of them don't even live in the apartment complex. After later thought, we concluded that they we also seniors, hence the keg and beer pong table. Don't get me wrong, they seemed like nice enough guys, even though they were drunk and even seemed disappointed when I gave my exit excuse after five very awkward minutes. One of them seemed legitimately sad when he learned we wouldn't be staying for an extreme game of flip cup. In his inebriated state, his eyes reminded me of a toddler when you tell him that he can't go to the park.
So away we fled "to rescue my lost and drunken friend," who in reality happened to be a 75 cent set of wooden spoons from Walmart. I felt sickened with regret from the whole experience. Why did we go in the first place? Why did we make such a lame exit? The answer to the former question: we would have been kicking ourselves if it had really been a neighbors' party. I wanted to push my self out of my normal comfort zone to reach new growth to enable me to "mingle" and "network" better. But as a result, the answer to the latter question arose: I was way, way, way TOO far out of my league.
Therefore, I failed at party mingling which lent itself to a subsequent three hour semi-panic about not being able to make new friends without the recommendations of others. However, there is nothing a shower, a hot cup of tea, and a night's rest filled with dreams of the successful, mid-twenty something me holding a rather witty tee-a-tee with Gerard Butler, while looking extraordinary fetching, can't fix. Therefore, needless to say, I'm out of my funk, but my guard is now raised which isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Time to move on with life.
But like all good things, this high had to come to an end. You see, my balloon of happiness and self-satisfaction was becoming overly bloated. So I guess God decided that some air needed to be let out.
The blood leading occurred yesterday. Yesterday, began really well: Art history (really evolving into my favorite class to here a lecture in) and a relatively smooth diagnostic examination for Spanish.
Things went down a tiny incline in economics when a guy called me rude. I don't know if he was joking with me, or if I had really made a bad impression. You see before class, I was outlining art history, so I was sort of in a mental fog where my social acuteness (quickness of tongue?) becomes blunted and rather innocent. I was only half-listening to the conversation when the two guys in front of me asked me where I was from. I hesitated and then said it. For some odd reason, I thought that my answer was obvious and embarrassingly mumbled something about "forgetting where I was from." Don't ask, it confuses me too. But that little faux paux on my part isn't the problem. The problem came when I attempted to begin polite conversation and return the question. Apparently, the guy had already said where he was from three times. I honestly hadn't heard him because I was in my outlining zone. For this he said something to the effect of not listening as being rude and then repeated that he was from Washington, DC three additional times. I don't know if he was being serious or trying to be funny? Once again, I was in that odd brain fog of mental exersion after outlining, so I had a difficult time responding to and interpreting human interactions in said state.
Nevertheless, I recovered as best as I could, and as the lecture began I regained my usual public face of polite, unfazed passiveness.
The bigger blow came around 8:30 that night when my roommates and I received a knock on our apartment door. Four guys were at the door, holding beers. They said they lived in the building and were having "a meet the neighbors" party, and we should stop by for a beer. After they left, my roommates and I held a conference about whether or not we should go. We're not big party people, but it would be nice to meet new people. So after much debate, we decide to go and stay for a bit. We get there and their are a few people there. The hosts were surprised we came. Apparently, it really wasn't a meet the neighbors party. One of the guys lived in our apartment two summers ago and that's the reason they decided to invite us/ knock on our door.
At this point, I feel like an invader. They all know each other. Some of them don't even live in the apartment complex. After later thought, we concluded that they we also seniors, hence the keg and beer pong table. Don't get me wrong, they seemed like nice enough guys, even though they were drunk and even seemed disappointed when I gave my exit excuse after five very awkward minutes. One of them seemed legitimately sad when he learned we wouldn't be staying for an extreme game of flip cup. In his inebriated state, his eyes reminded me of a toddler when you tell him that he can't go to the park.
So away we fled "to rescue my lost and drunken friend," who in reality happened to be a 75 cent set of wooden spoons from Walmart. I felt sickened with regret from the whole experience. Why did we go in the first place? Why did we make such a lame exit? The answer to the former question: we would have been kicking ourselves if it had really been a neighbors' party. I wanted to push my self out of my normal comfort zone to reach new growth to enable me to "mingle" and "network" better. But as a result, the answer to the latter question arose: I was way, way, way TOO far out of my league.
Therefore, I failed at party mingling which lent itself to a subsequent three hour semi-panic about not being able to make new friends without the recommendations of others. However, there is nothing a shower, a hot cup of tea, and a night's rest filled with dreams of the successful, mid-twenty something me holding a rather witty tee-a-tee with Gerard Butler, while looking extraordinary fetching, can't fix. Therefore, needless to say, I'm out of my funk, but my guard is now raised which isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Time to move on with life.
A Fresh Start: The New School Year
Well, I'm finally back at school, living comfortably in my new apartment. Moving in was much less stressful than last year. Now that I've been here half a week, I feel as thought the apartment is a home away from home. Unlike my dorm, I don't feel awkward or alone. Living here has really lowered the stress of being away from home.
For a more homey feel, my roommates and I have been cooking for ourselves. It's not too difficult. Tonight, we completed our second completely home-cooked meal: Greek-inspired chicken in a crock pot. The dish was good, even though it was a bit under-salted, a correctable miscalculation.
In regards to school itself, I have to say that I think I am going to enjoy my classes this semester. My Italian Renaissance Art class is interesting even thought I have to read SOOO much for it. I'm so interested in the lectures it makes me wonder why I'm not majoring in art history. My conversational Spanish class should be interesting. The professor is crazy, but believe it or not, I can actually understand her. My biggest fear: getting tongue-tied/brain fart. International economics should be okay. However, it's one of my classes in which I consciously yawn. Not as interesting as art history, but perhaps it will get better. Also, I have two science classes this semester. They will be the only science classes I will ever take in college. My two professors for those couldn't be more opposite. My meterology teacher is a young, doctoral grad-student, where as my energy and environmental enginnering teacher will be out of class next week because was called as an expert witness in a court case in Louisanna, or some state like that. I'm most anxious for my business law class because that's my tentative career path at this current moment. I hope that I do well in it and find it interesting. If not, there could be trouble...
Over the beginning few days of the week, I've been feeling really inspired and intrepid. For Spanish, I feel like really taking my learning to the next level by watching movies and reading novels in Spanish. I've been outlining most of my reading material. I want to join so many clubs too. Tonight, I may possibly join the swing dancing club, and in the beginning of next week the ballet club will hold its placement classes. I want to try to get into that again because I really miss the stage. However, as always, I fear that I'll have time commitment issues, an impediment that constantly halts most, if not all, of my extracirrcular illusions of grandeur. Decisions, decisions. Additionally, I have my business club and honor society to attend to. I should probably become more involved in one of them.
Oh, mentioning business reminds me that I have to revise my resume and coverletter and have them reviewed by Career Services before the Career Fair on Sept. 16. Also, I should probably research the companies where I might intern/work. I should do that this weekend, because the 16th is going to arrive quickly.
Time has been flying by lately. I don't know what it is. Maybe the reason is that I'm actually being productive after a summer of almost complete leisure? Who knows? At least I'm having fun.
For a more homey feel, my roommates and I have been cooking for ourselves. It's not too difficult. Tonight, we completed our second completely home-cooked meal: Greek-inspired chicken in a crock pot. The dish was good, even though it was a bit under-salted, a correctable miscalculation.
In regards to school itself, I have to say that I think I am going to enjoy my classes this semester. My Italian Renaissance Art class is interesting even thought I have to read SOOO much for it. I'm so interested in the lectures it makes me wonder why I'm not majoring in art history. My conversational Spanish class should be interesting. The professor is crazy, but believe it or not, I can actually understand her. My biggest fear: getting tongue-tied/brain fart. International economics should be okay. However, it's one of my classes in which I consciously yawn. Not as interesting as art history, but perhaps it will get better. Also, I have two science classes this semester. They will be the only science classes I will ever take in college. My two professors for those couldn't be more opposite. My meterology teacher is a young, doctoral grad-student, where as my energy and environmental enginnering teacher will be out of class next week because was called as an expert witness in a court case in Louisanna, or some state like that. I'm most anxious for my business law class because that's my tentative career path at this current moment. I hope that I do well in it and find it interesting. If not, there could be trouble...
Over the beginning few days of the week, I've been feeling really inspired and intrepid. For Spanish, I feel like really taking my learning to the next level by watching movies and reading novels in Spanish. I've been outlining most of my reading material. I want to join so many clubs too. Tonight, I may possibly join the swing dancing club, and in the beginning of next week the ballet club will hold its placement classes. I want to try to get into that again because I really miss the stage. However, as always, I fear that I'll have time commitment issues, an impediment that constantly halts most, if not all, of my extracirrcular illusions of grandeur. Decisions, decisions. Additionally, I have my business club and honor society to attend to. I should probably become more involved in one of them.
Oh, mentioning business reminds me that I have to revise my resume and coverletter and have them reviewed by Career Services before the Career Fair on Sept. 16. Also, I should probably research the companies where I might intern/work. I should do that this weekend, because the 16th is going to arrive quickly.
Time has been flying by lately. I don't know what it is. Maybe the reason is that I'm actually being productive after a summer of almost complete leisure? Who knows? At least I'm having fun.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Reflection On Today's Homily
Today, I've been thinking about many different things on various levels of life. My thoughts began today when I was in mass. The priest celebrating this morning is not my favorite. He's new to the parish. I realize that he is trying to fit in and make his homilies exciting and meaningful; however, I believe for most of his audience his approach is wrong. For example, he speaks in a condescending, if not patronizing, tone. He is one of those priest who likes "to preach to the choir," so to speak.
In the name of objectivity and fairness, I have admit that much of what he says is true, even if I am not inclined to agree with him. This admission appears to be an oxymoron, which is is the reason I decided to reflect upon this peculiar dilemma. How is it that I know that what this priest says is true and that I, myself, might even preach the same issue under different circumstances, yet when he voiced the very same opinion I was instantaneously angered by the notion?
To make the issue clearer, here is a topic mentioned: getting up in the middle of church to go to the bathroom.
In regards to the this issue, my first instinct was outrage. Not all people know they need to use a bathroom before mass begins. Sometimes those sort of things come abruptly or sometimes children don't bring the situation to there parents' attention until the eleventh hour. However, the more I thought about the issue, the more I realized that these must fall under his notion of an "emergency." Therefore, my only conclusion must be that he was scolding the people who decide to take a trip to the restroom to stretch their legs or out of sheer boredom. My mother used to teach CCD to eighth graders before their Confirmation. She said many of the kids used to need to "use the bathroom," but ended up dallying in the bathroom to kill time. Since telling the dalliers from the people who honestly need to relieve themselves is difficult, I suppose the priest decided to address the entire congregation as the guilty party. Naturally, this treatment is taken as an offense by those who are not the perpertraitors and who cannot conceive a reason for using the restroom for purposes other that their original intent. Thus, the priest's over-agressive tactic to right a wrong ironically backfired and won him little support and sympathy.
Using over-aggressiveness when trying to win understanding and support in dealing in religious matters is the second line of thought I would like to briefly speak about today. Although having passion is a good thing, it can often turn people away if it is not presented properly. Some people cannot at first believe certain religious truths just because the Bible and dogma says so. These situations need to be dealt with rationality, clear-mindedness, true understanding, and respect. If you want your thoughts to be respected, you cannot appear to be completely imperialistic in regard to what people should believe. Not that I'm saying one should give in to relativism either. Both extremes are no good. If you believe there is a definite set of truths that is great. However, if you want someone else to be persuaded to your side, strong arming them is not always the best route. Remember, in one of the stories in the Old Testament, I believe one with Joshua, God did not speak in the thunder or the earthquake, but in the gentlest breeze.
In the name of objectivity and fairness, I have admit that much of what he says is true, even if I am not inclined to agree with him. This admission appears to be an oxymoron, which is is the reason I decided to reflect upon this peculiar dilemma. How is it that I know that what this priest says is true and that I, myself, might even preach the same issue under different circumstances, yet when he voiced the very same opinion I was instantaneously angered by the notion?
To make the issue clearer, here is a topic mentioned: getting up in the middle of church to go to the bathroom.
In regards to the this issue, my first instinct was outrage. Not all people know they need to use a bathroom before mass begins. Sometimes those sort of things come abruptly or sometimes children don't bring the situation to there parents' attention until the eleventh hour. However, the more I thought about the issue, the more I realized that these must fall under his notion of an "emergency." Therefore, my only conclusion must be that he was scolding the people who decide to take a trip to the restroom to stretch their legs or out of sheer boredom. My mother used to teach CCD to eighth graders before their Confirmation. She said many of the kids used to need to "use the bathroom," but ended up dallying in the bathroom to kill time. Since telling the dalliers from the people who honestly need to relieve themselves is difficult, I suppose the priest decided to address the entire congregation as the guilty party. Naturally, this treatment is taken as an offense by those who are not the perpertraitors and who cannot conceive a reason for using the restroom for purposes other that their original intent. Thus, the priest's over-agressive tactic to right a wrong ironically backfired and won him little support and sympathy.
Using over-aggressiveness when trying to win understanding and support in dealing in religious matters is the second line of thought I would like to briefly speak about today. Although having passion is a good thing, it can often turn people away if it is not presented properly. Some people cannot at first believe certain religious truths just because the Bible and dogma says so. These situations need to be dealt with rationality, clear-mindedness, true understanding, and respect. If you want your thoughts to be respected, you cannot appear to be completely imperialistic in regard to what people should believe. Not that I'm saying one should give in to relativism either. Both extremes are no good. If you believe there is a definite set of truths that is great. However, if you want someone else to be persuaded to your side, strong arming them is not always the best route. Remember, in one of the stories in the Old Testament, I believe one with Joshua, God did not speak in the thunder or the earthquake, but in the gentlest breeze.
Friday, July 17, 2009
"A Jouney of A Thousand Miles Begins with Just One Step" : Chapter 2
Lucia’s childhood was a happy one. Her father owned a shipping company, so he was away on business most of the time. Her mother and grandmother raised her in their small house on the outskirts of a large port city. They were not extravagantly wealthy, but they were certainly on the way to becoming so. Lucia had many beautiful dolls and dresses as a child. When she was six years old, she began her schooling with the children of other prominent merchants in the port. She loved to read stories with lots of adventure, like Greek myths, tales of chivalry, and stories of pirates.
All of Lucia’s tutors said she was very clever. This was true; but she was not only book smart. Her grandmother, who was very old and a bit senile, always spoke her mind in an unrestrained and sarcastic way. If she was younger, she would have been regarded as coarse, yet because of her age, most people overlooked Lucia’s grandmother’s unchecked tongue. Lucia inherited her grandmother’s sharp wit and never ceased to amaze.
Therefore, she was a lively and interesting child of ten when tragedy hit. Within a month of each other, both her father and grandmother died and were quickly followed by her mother who died of a broken heart. So, Lucia was left under the guardian ship of an estranged uncle who took over her father’s business. Her uncle was an exceedingly dull man with no business sense. However, he had great taste for liquor and gambling, and as most men with such tastes was followed by legions of debt collectors.
When in dire straits, Lucia’s uncle sold her to a woman he once knew who owned a tavern. He felt he had done the right thing. For was it no fit and proper that a girl should be under the care and tutelage of another woman? And should not his niece help him with his debt? He did provide food for her for all of three months.
All of Lucia’s tutors said she was very clever. This was true; but she was not only book smart. Her grandmother, who was very old and a bit senile, always spoke her mind in an unrestrained and sarcastic way. If she was younger, she would have been regarded as coarse, yet because of her age, most people overlooked Lucia’s grandmother’s unchecked tongue. Lucia inherited her grandmother’s sharp wit and never ceased to amaze.
Therefore, she was a lively and interesting child of ten when tragedy hit. Within a month of each other, both her father and grandmother died and were quickly followed by her mother who died of a broken heart. So, Lucia was left under the guardian ship of an estranged uncle who took over her father’s business. Her uncle was an exceedingly dull man with no business sense. However, he had great taste for liquor and gambling, and as most men with such tastes was followed by legions of debt collectors.
When in dire straits, Lucia’s uncle sold her to a woman he once knew who owned a tavern. He felt he had done the right thing. For was it no fit and proper that a girl should be under the care and tutelage of another woman? And should not his niece help him with his debt? He did provide food for her for all of three months.
"A Jouney of A Thousand Miles Begins with Just One Step" : Chapter 1
The fridge air hit Lucia as she stepped from the warmth of the house into the night. Twenty steps to the fence and she would be free. She dreamed of escaping that life for three years. Finally, the dream was coming true and Lucia could not believe it. Hopping over a low fence, Lucia broke into a run toward the beach.
Icy water stung her legs, and with a yelp she backed up onto the dry sand. Collapsing in the sand, Lucia rested her tired body and gazed up at the night sky. It was a clear night. The sky was filled with a million stars. A million diamonds twinkling on a black velvet cloth. The night sky was a constant and welcome friend that comforted her on her worst nights.
This night, in particular, she needed a friend. She had escaped from her miserable life, but what now? Lucia had no place to go and nothing to do; nor did she know what she planned to do. So Lucia lay on the beach thinking and planning until an idea came to her: she would find him. She would stay on the beach for the night, and then maybe she would try to find him. He told her he would help her if she were ever to find herself in need of aid.
Yes, she thought, that is what I’ll do. I’ll find him. With that final thought, she fell asleep and dreamt of an oasis.
The ocean woke Lucia that morning. The tide came in before the sunrise and lapped at her toes. All the better, she thought, although not before cursing the chilly nipping at her feet. She could get off that beach before people might see her. Lucia walked to the main road and headed inland; those were the instructions he gave her to find him. She was to go to the town with two steeples, find the master coachman of the stable there. She was to tell the coachman that she was “a princess from the white castle and demand to be taken to Ruleshire orchard.” Although Lucia thought the phrase was quite ridiculous, the man explained that the master coachman would understand and know what to do.
Truthfully, Lucia did not remember the man’s name; she only remembered his kindness. At first, she doubted his sincerity. Many men had promised her things, but in reality those men only want one thing. Naturally, she figured that the man she was seeking was the same as the rest. However, after spending a few minutes in his company, she realized he was a very different sort of man. He was dressed the same as the majority of the men she had seen, but he was much more attractive. Attractive is the word she used to describe him, because he was not extremely gorgeous, but definitely handsome. However, his demeanor is what really separated him from the rest of the men she knew.
His words stayed Lucia after he left. Initially, she lent the words very little consideration, although she could never seem to forget them. As time progressed and her life grew worse, she began to think more about the things he had said. A year later, she clung to the memory which was the only light in her hopeless world of darkness.
Lucia had not always been in such a wretched state, but as is oft to happen life takes some unexpected and wanted turns. That is how Lucia at the age of twelve ended up working as a maid in a tavern. For the next three years, she endured endless had work and beatings from her unyielding mistress. Her mistress was crude, shrewd, and unscrupulous. She made Lucia’s life a living nightmare. The only blessing Lucia afforded for not to be sacrificed to the lust of some of the miscreant clientele that frequented the tavern. Her mistress would have none of that, being as Lucia was such a young girl.
However, now that Lucia was growing older, Lucia could tell that her mistress’s mind was beginning to toy with the idea of extra income to that decrepit establishment. Therefore, Lucia took this as prime time to make a quick and speedy exit. So, she decided to run away from the tavern and the madam who controlled her life. The man’s promise was the reason she could walk along the lonely road with slight assurance of a better life, as the sun’s rays peaked over the trees.
She spent most of her time thinking as she walked. Sometimes she would sing or hum, but most of the time she was silent. Lucia felt as if she had been walking for hours. She did not know how far the town was from the small port where she had lived for the past three years of her life. The town could be days away for all she knew. Stopping of a second, she wondered whether she should turn around and go back.
“No,” Lucia exclaimed aloud. Anything was better than her old life, and she would walk as far as she had to for a chance to live a new life.
As dusk neared, she approached a town that indeed had two steeples. She breathed a sigh of relief; she was exhausted from her journey and wanted to find that master coachman as quickly as her fatigued legs would carry her. Once in town, she asked a watch merchant if he could point her in the direction of the stables.
“Of course,” he replied, “it’s right next to the smithy…the chimney with the black smoke.”
“Thank you,” said Lucia, for she was truly thankful, the town was fairly large.
A stable boy, who was actually a very old man, answered the door when she knocked. He was a bit curt and skeptical of her, but finally he left to get the master coachman. A big, robust man with red jowls returned and asked her how he could be of service, also eyeing her with suspicion.
“I am a princess from the white castle and demand to be taken to Ruleshire orchard,” Lucia announced just as that man had told her.
Her statement had a profound effect on the master coachman. His eyes widened and then narrowed.
“Please come in,” he replied hastily. Backing away from the door let her into the office of the stable. She entered cautiously; she never trusted men, except the man.
The room was Spartan and contained a table, a few chairs, and some papers stacked in messy piles on a tall desk. There was a fire blazing in the hearth on the left side of the room that provided both light and warmth.
“What in blazes does Rulershire want with you?” inquired the coachman with slight impatience.
“And how did you become involved with his high and lofty self?”
Lucia began to feel uncomfortable; maybe this Rulershire and the coachman were no longer friends. It had been over since Rulershire gave her the instructions.
“I met him a year ago,” she replied carefully, “he said if I needed help, to contact you. He told me that you could take me to him.”
“Hmm…true enough,” the coachman mused, his angry, reddish complexion began to fade. “But where did you meet him?”
“At my shop.”
“Really?”
“Yes, sir.” Lucia added the “sir” because she knew it would sweeten his demeanor.
“What trouble did you get into, eeh? Kill anyone? Someone wants to kill you? Say you aren’t pregnant are you?”
“N-no!” responded a rather taken aback Lucia. His inquisitiveness had startled her. She had not killed anyone. To her knowledge, she had no enemies with strong enough hate to want her dead. And by the Good Creator, did she look pregnant! She always thought she was a bit too thin.
“I am certainly none of those! Not that it’s any of your business to know what my business is, she added, vexed by his rude accusations.
“It is my business since I’m his…oh never mind,” answered the coachman with a sigh of resignation. “I’ll take you to him tomorrow. He’ll know what to do with you, and he obviously told you to contact him for some reason. Why else would someone go running around that absurd message?”
“I was hoping we could leave right away?” implored Lucia.
“No, in the morning. It’s too late now. You can stay in the hay loft for the night.”
“Hay loft?”
“Yeah, I have no extra rooms. Go out those doors and climb the ladder and I’ll see you in the morning,” and then he added with a smile, “Get some rest as well. You look tired.”
“Thank you,” Lucia said as she took leave of the room. She did not stay and argue. It was very late and she was tired. After climbing the ladder, she settled in the soft hay. As she slept, she dreamt of an enormous black horse.
Icy water stung her legs, and with a yelp she backed up onto the dry sand. Collapsing in the sand, Lucia rested her tired body and gazed up at the night sky. It was a clear night. The sky was filled with a million stars. A million diamonds twinkling on a black velvet cloth. The night sky was a constant and welcome friend that comforted her on her worst nights.
This night, in particular, she needed a friend. She had escaped from her miserable life, but what now? Lucia had no place to go and nothing to do; nor did she know what she planned to do. So Lucia lay on the beach thinking and planning until an idea came to her: she would find him. She would stay on the beach for the night, and then maybe she would try to find him. He told her he would help her if she were ever to find herself in need of aid.
Yes, she thought, that is what I’ll do. I’ll find him. With that final thought, she fell asleep and dreamt of an oasis.
The ocean woke Lucia that morning. The tide came in before the sunrise and lapped at her toes. All the better, she thought, although not before cursing the chilly nipping at her feet. She could get off that beach before people might see her. Lucia walked to the main road and headed inland; those were the instructions he gave her to find him. She was to go to the town with two steeples, find the master coachman of the stable there. She was to tell the coachman that she was “a princess from the white castle and demand to be taken to Ruleshire orchard.” Although Lucia thought the phrase was quite ridiculous, the man explained that the master coachman would understand and know what to do.
Truthfully, Lucia did not remember the man’s name; she only remembered his kindness. At first, she doubted his sincerity. Many men had promised her things, but in reality those men only want one thing. Naturally, she figured that the man she was seeking was the same as the rest. However, after spending a few minutes in his company, she realized he was a very different sort of man. He was dressed the same as the majority of the men she had seen, but he was much more attractive. Attractive is the word she used to describe him, because he was not extremely gorgeous, but definitely handsome. However, his demeanor is what really separated him from the rest of the men she knew.
His words stayed Lucia after he left. Initially, she lent the words very little consideration, although she could never seem to forget them. As time progressed and her life grew worse, she began to think more about the things he had said. A year later, she clung to the memory which was the only light in her hopeless world of darkness.
Lucia had not always been in such a wretched state, but as is oft to happen life takes some unexpected and wanted turns. That is how Lucia at the age of twelve ended up working as a maid in a tavern. For the next three years, she endured endless had work and beatings from her unyielding mistress. Her mistress was crude, shrewd, and unscrupulous. She made Lucia’s life a living nightmare. The only blessing Lucia afforded for not to be sacrificed to the lust of some of the miscreant clientele that frequented the tavern. Her mistress would have none of that, being as Lucia was such a young girl.
However, now that Lucia was growing older, Lucia could tell that her mistress’s mind was beginning to toy with the idea of extra income to that decrepit establishment. Therefore, Lucia took this as prime time to make a quick and speedy exit. So, she decided to run away from the tavern and the madam who controlled her life. The man’s promise was the reason she could walk along the lonely road with slight assurance of a better life, as the sun’s rays peaked over the trees.
She spent most of her time thinking as she walked. Sometimes she would sing or hum, but most of the time she was silent. Lucia felt as if she had been walking for hours. She did not know how far the town was from the small port where she had lived for the past three years of her life. The town could be days away for all she knew. Stopping of a second, she wondered whether she should turn around and go back.
“No,” Lucia exclaimed aloud. Anything was better than her old life, and she would walk as far as she had to for a chance to live a new life.
As dusk neared, she approached a town that indeed had two steeples. She breathed a sigh of relief; she was exhausted from her journey and wanted to find that master coachman as quickly as her fatigued legs would carry her. Once in town, she asked a watch merchant if he could point her in the direction of the stables.
“Of course,” he replied, “it’s right next to the smithy…the chimney with the black smoke.”
“Thank you,” said Lucia, for she was truly thankful, the town was fairly large.
A stable boy, who was actually a very old man, answered the door when she knocked. He was a bit curt and skeptical of her, but finally he left to get the master coachman. A big, robust man with red jowls returned and asked her how he could be of service, also eyeing her with suspicion.
“I am a princess from the white castle and demand to be taken to Ruleshire orchard,” Lucia announced just as that man had told her.
Her statement had a profound effect on the master coachman. His eyes widened and then narrowed.
“Please come in,” he replied hastily. Backing away from the door let her into the office of the stable. She entered cautiously; she never trusted men, except the man.
The room was Spartan and contained a table, a few chairs, and some papers stacked in messy piles on a tall desk. There was a fire blazing in the hearth on the left side of the room that provided both light and warmth.
“What in blazes does Rulershire want with you?” inquired the coachman with slight impatience.
“And how did you become involved with his high and lofty self?”
Lucia began to feel uncomfortable; maybe this Rulershire and the coachman were no longer friends. It had been over since Rulershire gave her the instructions.
“I met him a year ago,” she replied carefully, “he said if I needed help, to contact you. He told me that you could take me to him.”
“Hmm…true enough,” the coachman mused, his angry, reddish complexion began to fade. “But where did you meet him?”
“At my shop.”
“Really?”
“Yes, sir.” Lucia added the “sir” because she knew it would sweeten his demeanor.
“What trouble did you get into, eeh? Kill anyone? Someone wants to kill you? Say you aren’t pregnant are you?”
“N-no!” responded a rather taken aback Lucia. His inquisitiveness had startled her. She had not killed anyone. To her knowledge, she had no enemies with strong enough hate to want her dead. And by the Good Creator, did she look pregnant! She always thought she was a bit too thin.
“I am certainly none of those! Not that it’s any of your business to know what my business is, she added, vexed by his rude accusations.
“It is my business since I’m his…oh never mind,” answered the coachman with a sigh of resignation. “I’ll take you to him tomorrow. He’ll know what to do with you, and he obviously told you to contact him for some reason. Why else would someone go running around that absurd message?”
“I was hoping we could leave right away?” implored Lucia.
“No, in the morning. It’s too late now. You can stay in the hay loft for the night.”
“Hay loft?”
“Yeah, I have no extra rooms. Go out those doors and climb the ladder and I’ll see you in the morning,” and then he added with a smile, “Get some rest as well. You look tired.”
“Thank you,” Lucia said as she took leave of the room. She did not stay and argue. It was very late and she was tired. After climbing the ladder, she settled in the soft hay. As she slept, she dreamt of an enormous black horse.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Ship
Yet another unfinished story...
The air was brisk and breezy as the large ship sliced through the water. The trade winds blew strongly, filling the great white sails, moving the ship quickly. The deck was in pristine condition; the captain would allow no less. A symphony of sounds could be heard: the sound of the sea, the bellowing of the sails, and the goings on of the crew as they managed the lines and cleaned the deck.
The destination of their plight was unknown to me. I was not part of that crew. In fact, I didn’t even belong on the rig, but somehow I had boarded it. I don’t remember how. All I remember is waking up to the brisk, fresh air and smell of the open sea. I lay in a pile of ropes in a corner of the ship. Numerous sailors passed the spot where I lay without a glance, perhaps because it was hidden in the shadow of the captain’s quarters. I didn’t yell or cry out in surprise of my current situation. I just lay there in the shadows. It seemed so surreal, almost dreamlike. For all I knew at that point it was a dream, a very bizarre dream.
So there I lay, watching the crew toiling along with their everyday jobs. It was all so peaceful, until out of nowhere this old, disfigured face loomed over me. It took me quite by surprise; I had never seen a man like him so close up before. His skin was like tan leather and was missing a few teeth; the ones he had left were rotten and yellowed.
“What ‘ave we ‘ere?” He said, smiling a sneering smile with his missing, rotten teeth.
I was about to scream, when he grabbed me by the arm with a hard, callused hard. He was incredibly strong for a man of his age. The old sailor proceeded to drag me out to the middle of the deck. I struggle as best as I could, but his grip was like iron.
Once in the direct sunlight, all commotion on the ship ceased. The focus of everyone’s attention was on me. Their gazes burned a hole right through me and at once I wished I could be anywhere but there. Voices began to buzz with conversations.
One or them shouted out, “Eh Bill, what’s an ol’ tar like you doin’ with a bloomin’ flower like that?”
“I found ‘er in the ropes. I think she's a stole away.”
This is not good I told myself. I was in the hands of a seemingly cranky old man, on a ship filled with a bunch of sailors.
“Give her to me old man,” said one with particularly greasy hair.
“Stand back, Porter,” yelled the old man, who I guessed must be Bill, “I’m takin’ ‘er to the cap’in.”
At the time, I took this as a brief relief; at least old Bill didn’t give me to greasy Porter. After the newly gathered crowd made a path for old Bill, he continued to drag me around the deck, until he reached a burgundy door that lead to the cabin. In transport, I happened to look up and saw a banner that I had not noticed before. It was all black except for the white skull and crossbones in the center. Although I had never seen the flag in my life, I knew exactly what it was and what it represented.
The Jolly Roger had graced the tales of my childhood. Tales of swarthy pirates and their adventurous, yet horrific, deeds broke through the dams of my mind, flooding it with memories.
We stopped in front of the door. Bill motioned for two of the men to come forward and restrain me, one on each side, their smiles broad and chuckling deviously. After straightening his dirty, old shirt, he proceeded to walk up to the door. Curling his big, gnarled hand into a fist, he gently knocked on the door. I was surprised just how gently the knock was. I expected him to pound on the door; instead he gave it three brisk taps.
The crowd of men had become suddenly silent, yet I still could not hear the response from inside the door. But there must have been one, because Bill in the politest voice answered,
“Beggin’ yer pardon capt’n, but we be needin’ yer…assistance on the deck. I think we ‘ave a stole away.”
After a few moments, that seemed like an eternity, the door opened, letting a bit of spiced air permeate on deck. The person who stepped out was not like the dread pirate captains I had heard about in stories. He was short, shorter than I am, and he was young, very young. His face was smooth and feminine, his lips hard and thin. His eyes, which where a deep brown almost black, were bright with cunning. His one eyebrow was piqued in a perfect arch of amusement. However, his amusement was short lived once he laid eyes on me. Briefly, as wave of annoyance washed over his exotic features, but only briefly, if you blinked you would have missed it. The annoyance was replaced by an icy, nonchalant glare.
“So this is the stole away,” he said unimpressed. He had an odd voice, high yet it purred with a lower undertone.
“Aye, capt’n.”
“So what do we do with a stole away?”
“We throw them over but…”
“Then I see no need to further this conversation. Go throw her over.” He said this almost scoldingly, like a mother. It then dawned on me: the captain wasn’t a man, she was a woman.
Poor Bill protested, “But capt’n she’s a lass.”
“I realize that, Bill. Do ya think I’m blind?”
That annoyance was coming back quickly. It was obvious she took no pity on me, and it became obvious that I was about to be thrown off a pirate ship into the middle of the ocean. Realizing the gravity of my position for the first time, I began to panic.
“Wait, don’t do it,” I begged.
I know it was a pretty bad come back, but as I said, I was in a panic and wasn’t at my sharpest. She snorted and raised that eyebrow again, as she smiled. It was a rather seductive smile, her white teeth flashed in the sunlight. Many men would have become entranced in it. As a matter of fact that is exactly what it did to the crew. They looked at her with devotion, reverence, loyalty, and love. I could not fathom how a woman could conquer the respect of a group of gangly pirates.
“Why,” she asked, “you are a stole away and of no apparent used to me. In fact, I find you as more of a hindrance really.”
She gave a curt sigh before she continued. “Quite frankly, you’re just another mouth to feed,” then she added as if it was common knowledge, “and you’ll be a disturbance to my crew.” She glanced at some of the men as she said this. Some looked down, while other laughed a bit.
She lifted her hand for hand for silence and once more flashed one of those fantastic smiles.
“What say you?” Her eyes boar down upon me, her was tone overly inquisitive.
What could I say? I couldn’t tell her to hold me for ransom, my family was poor; yet maybe he would…
“I-I…I could be your servant!”
“My servant? What do I need a servant for? But…” She rubbed her bottom lip as she considered my offer. I saw a crack in the wall, so I decided to pick at it.
“You know to do your dirty work, clean the cabin, cook your food.”
“I already have someone who does all of that; however, the food could be better, and I suppose you could cook…but how do I know you won’t poison it?” She accused.
“I’d never…” She raised a hand for silence.
“Before you start saying anything to sway my mind I’ll tell you my decision.”
She clasped her hands behind her back and began to pace. “I am a lady of leisure,” she began, “and as a lady of leisure, I am also a gentlewoman. And gentlewomen need maidservants.” Yes I thought. “therefore, you will be indentured to me for a year, under penalty of death. If you will please follow me, I shall write up our agreement.”
With a graceful gesture, she motioned my captors to being me forward. They released me right before the door and sort of pushed me in, before shutting the door behind me.
The room was cool and lit only by the daylight that flittered in through the solitary window on the left wall. There was not too many furnishing, but what there was were lavish and ornate. Covering the wooden floor was a Persian rug with an elaborate design. A trunk encrusted with gold, sapphires, and pearls lay next to the back wall.
A Reflection on Greatness--- 2006
"My life thus far has led to very little consequence. So far, i have found no great love, made no great innovation, nor changed the world in one way or the other. Yet, all life is interconnected. Therefore, in theory, all the little actions I have done have made a small difference. I do not know what they are, but in theory, they were done.
Another conclusion, that might have some validity is that all things have the potential for greatness. It is the choices we make and the actions we performs which may or may not lead to this certain destiny. All things can evolve to greatness, but no all do. In reality, less than a quarter probably do, or do they? Who decides what greatness is? Is it fame? Wealth? Power? Love? Greatness, I suppose, is like beauty in that --- though I hate to be cliche, I nevertheless must say it --- is in the eye of the beholder. Each person you ask will have a different opinion on who or what is great. Of course, there are some things that are generally accepted as universally great, and these are the exception to the rule.
Is greatness judged only by the good in a thing or can evil things also be great? Not necessarily "evil," I suppose that antagonistic would be a better word. Some villains have done extraordinary, yet evil, deeds and have won much infamy for it. Does that make them great?
Another conclusion, that might have some validity is that all things have the potential for greatness. It is the choices we make and the actions we performs which may or may not lead to this certain destiny. All things can evolve to greatness, but no all do. In reality, less than a quarter probably do, or do they? Who decides what greatness is? Is it fame? Wealth? Power? Love? Greatness, I suppose, is like beauty in that --- though I hate to be cliche, I nevertheless must say it --- is in the eye of the beholder. Each person you ask will have a different opinion on who or what is great. Of course, there are some things that are generally accepted as universally great, and these are the exception to the rule.
Is greatness judged only by the good in a thing or can evil things also be great? Not necessarily "evil," I suppose that antagonistic would be a better word. Some villains have done extraordinary, yet evil, deeds and have won much infamy for it. Does that make them great?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
On Spaghetti and Racing Stripes
With the sun shining and the temperatures on the rise for a change, summer appears to be finally here. Tonight was "date night" for my father and I. Recently, we have been having many opportunities for father-daughter bonding because both my mother and brother have been working in the evenings.
Tonight's date was at a downtown restaurant. It's a favorite of mine, quite possibly the best Italian restaurant in the entire Valley. Small and forever bustling, I doubt that the restaurant could fit more than twenty-five people. Therefore, we sat outside at a sidewalk cafe table.
There my father and I sat talking about this and that, watching the people walking up and down the main street. Casually, I observed the cigar store across the street which had set up a tent outside where its clientele could sit, smoking their cigars. As another Dean Martin ended, I felt the warm breeze tousle my hair and had a small epiphany: I was sitting in the exact kind of place I had always imagined myself sitting. A small but excellent cafe with al fresco seating options. The only difference was that in my many daydreams the restaurant was not in my former sleepy, ex-steel hometown, but in Manhattan, Paris, or Rome.
As my father and I were walking back to the parking deck, I pointed out a 90s model Camaro, my favorite American-made car. This lead to a conversation about the new Camaro which Chevy premiered last month. I like the new body type; it's a bit more muscle car than sports car. However, my father and I both agreed that the new body needs racing stripes to show-off the lines of the car. I then added that when I buy my Camaro, I have racing stripes added. I know racing stripes do not exude sophistications, but I think they are fun.
And that's my story for tonight.
P.S. RIP Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcit
Tonight's date was at a downtown restaurant. It's a favorite of mine, quite possibly the best Italian restaurant in the entire Valley. Small and forever bustling, I doubt that the restaurant could fit more than twenty-five people. Therefore, we sat outside at a sidewalk cafe table.
There my father and I sat talking about this and that, watching the people walking up and down the main street. Casually, I observed the cigar store across the street which had set up a tent outside where its clientele could sit, smoking their cigars. As another Dean Martin ended, I felt the warm breeze tousle my hair and had a small epiphany: I was sitting in the exact kind of place I had always imagined myself sitting. A small but excellent cafe with al fresco seating options. The only difference was that in my many daydreams the restaurant was not in my former sleepy, ex-steel hometown, but in Manhattan, Paris, or Rome.
As my father and I were walking back to the parking deck, I pointed out a 90s model Camaro, my favorite American-made car. This lead to a conversation about the new Camaro which Chevy premiered last month. I like the new body type; it's a bit more muscle car than sports car. However, my father and I both agreed that the new body needs racing stripes to show-off the lines of the car. I then added that when I buy my Camaro, I have racing stripes added. I know racing stripes do not exude sophistications, but I think they are fun.
And that's my story for tonight.
P.S. RIP Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcit
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Now that classes are done...
With my summer class finally over, I can now begin my summer vacation. Today, I got my hair re-highlighted and cut. Refreshing. My stylist asked if I wanted subtle or dramatic highlight. I thought You only live once so you might as well live big and went with the dramatic. Not a bad decision. At first, I thought to was too much auburn, but after it dried the color wasn't too intense and i am pleased with the results.
Later I met a friend for lunch. I ate a little more than I should; ergo I am ready to burst.
Otherwise, life is good. My cousin's wedding is in a week. That should be exciting. A big Italian-Irish wedding: what's not to love? Lot's of things to do between now and then. I have to pick out a hair style, go to the rehearsal dinner, and figure out how to dance the salsa. My cousin who is my partner in the bridal shower had this great idea to salsa into the reception. I'm a dancer, but I hate to tell him I'm limited to ballet. I guess I'll have to improvise with the assistance of YouTube.
I suppose that's all for now.
Later I met a friend for lunch. I ate a little more than I should; ergo I am ready to burst.
Otherwise, life is good. My cousin's wedding is in a week. That should be exciting. A big Italian-Irish wedding: what's not to love? Lot's of things to do between now and then. I have to pick out a hair style, go to the rehearsal dinner, and figure out how to dance the salsa. My cousin who is my partner in the bridal shower had this great idea to salsa into the reception. I'm a dancer, but I hate to tell him I'm limited to ballet. I guess I'll have to improvise with the assistance of YouTube.
I suppose that's all for now.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Observation on Pedicures and Manicures
Action: I just had a pedicure and manicure today.
Observation:
Observation:
- I am a woman who needs to be pampered.
- Tips are great for people like me who have terrible natural nails.
- Tips complete my hands and lengthen my lines.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Night At the Drive-In
Last night I partook in the long held American tradition of drive-in movie going. Around 7 o'clock, my group of friends piled into my friend's mother's Jeep and we were off to the movies. About half an hour later, we were parked in a big field in front of a large white wall, located a perfect distance from the snack bar. With our radio station set to the correct station and two humongous barrels of popcorn, we were ready for the movie to begin.
The movie itself was excellent; Ron Howard's newest adaptation of Dan Brown's novel Angels and Demons did not leave us wanting. Full of plot twists and incredible acting, my friends and I were lulled into the plot, forgetting the rest of the world as the screen melded into the night sky.
The credits broke our trance and we began to load up the car planning to leave before the next feature. We were just about to leave as my friend turned the key in the ignition and ...nothing. It appeared as though almost two and a half hours of radio listening had killed the battery in the car. Trying not to panic, we checked under the hood and everything looked okay. Then we tried to close the hood and it would not close. Faced with this dilemma, my friend called her parents as my brother and I hunted down a jumper cable and a willing battery. A half an hour later the car was running, but the hood still would not close completely. After much contemplating, we decided to drive home despite the fact that one side of the hood was not latched completely. By midnight we were home safely.
As frustrating and tense as this ordeal must have been, it turned out to be quite an adventure. This event I will keep with me for all prosperity for laughs and nostalgia. I realized last night as we were driving home that we handled the situation quite brilliantly. Stalled cars are adult problems, and we handled it without the immediate help from parents and without panicking.
Well, my dears, I believe we are actually growing up!
The movie itself was excellent; Ron Howard's newest adaptation of Dan Brown's novel Angels and Demons did not leave us wanting. Full of plot twists and incredible acting, my friends and I were lulled into the plot, forgetting the rest of the world as the screen melded into the night sky.
The credits broke our trance and we began to load up the car planning to leave before the next feature. We were just about to leave as my friend turned the key in the ignition and ...nothing. It appeared as though almost two and a half hours of radio listening had killed the battery in the car. Trying not to panic, we checked under the hood and everything looked okay. Then we tried to close the hood and it would not close. Faced with this dilemma, my friend called her parents as my brother and I hunted down a jumper cable and a willing battery. A half an hour later the car was running, but the hood still would not close completely. After much contemplating, we decided to drive home despite the fact that one side of the hood was not latched completely. By midnight we were home safely.
As frustrating and tense as this ordeal must have been, it turned out to be quite an adventure. This event I will keep with me for all prosperity for laughs and nostalgia. I realized last night as we were driving home that we handled the situation quite brilliantly. Stalled cars are adult problems, and we handled it without the immediate help from parents and without panicking.
Well, my dears, I believe we are actually growing up!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Thoughts On My Last Night of Freshman Year
Tonight is my last night in dorms. No more wearing flip flops in the shower. No more being woken up at 2:30 in the morning by drunks coming back from Thirsty Thursday festivities. Nevertheless, there is still a slight, momentary sadness in the whole ordeal. I feel as though I have just moved into this room, when in fact now I am packing my stuff for home.
Where did all of the nights go?
My first year of college was full of many experiences. I have definitely grown this year. College has exposed me to a plethora of new senses, people, and view points. Although in some ways, my first year of college left me feeling empty, in many ways this year has filled me with better insight into people and myself. I definitely appreciate many of the comforts of home much more than I did before living in a dorm. I have also learned to go with the flow. I learned to live harmoniously with a complete stranger.
All in all my experiences have been positive. Even though I feel overly ready for summer and a change of pace from the workload which college entails, I look forward to next year. Next year, I will have an apartment and already have friends to come back and meet at the beginning of the school year. I feel as though next year will offer new and more exciting experiences than this year.
Where did all of the nights go?
My first year of college was full of many experiences. I have definitely grown this year. College has exposed me to a plethora of new senses, people, and view points. Although in some ways, my first year of college left me feeling empty, in many ways this year has filled me with better insight into people and myself. I definitely appreciate many of the comforts of home much more than I did before living in a dorm. I have also learned to go with the flow. I learned to live harmoniously with a complete stranger.
All in all my experiences have been positive. Even though I feel overly ready for summer and a change of pace from the workload which college entails, I look forward to next year. Next year, I will have an apartment and already have friends to come back and meet at the beginning of the school year. I feel as though next year will offer new and more exciting experiences than this year.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Things To Accomplish Before I'm 30
1. Get an amazing internship/job in New York where I will be the queen of the office because I am so competent.
2. Graduate from Penn State.
3. Get into Law School.
4. Graduate from law school.
5. Get a job fresh out of law school that pays at $500/hr salary and deals with private international law.
6. Get season tickets to the Met.
7. Create necessary trade contracts to open markets and work with the UN to get a trade treaty passed.
8. Argue/promote cases for major multi-national firms in from of major governmental bodies, e.g. Congress, Supreme Court, Parliament, etc.
9. Have companies seeking my legal advice and iron-clad contracts.
10. Win the Nobel Peace Prize for my work with the aforementioned trade treaty.
11. Meet a gorgeous man who worships the ground I walk on and adores me.
12. Marry that man.
13. Have children, raise them with my husband while working from my office in my mansion modeled after a 19th century Georgian manor.
14. Travel the world and pick up art pieces for my manor.
2. Graduate from Penn State.
3. Get into Law School.
4. Graduate from law school.
5. Get a job fresh out of law school that pays at $500/hr salary and deals with private international law.
6. Get season tickets to the Met.
7. Create necessary trade contracts to open markets and work with the UN to get a trade treaty passed.
8. Argue/promote cases for major multi-national firms in from of major governmental bodies, e.g. Congress, Supreme Court, Parliament, etc.
9. Have companies seeking my legal advice and iron-clad contracts.
10. Win the Nobel Peace Prize for my work with the aforementioned trade treaty.
11. Meet a gorgeous man who worships the ground I walk on and adores me.
12. Marry that man.
13. Have children, raise them with my husband while working from my office in my mansion modeled after a 19th century Georgian manor.
14. Travel the world and pick up art pieces for my manor.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
It Cost How Much?!?!
Last night as I was relaxing, I went on the Tiffany & Co. website to ogle over engagement rings. A two karat diamond in the setting that I chose has a staring price of $38,000. Since I am not currently in a relationship, I decided to stop drooling over diamond rings and move on to other jewelry.
I found myself on the Mikimoto website. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Mikimoto, you should know that they are very expensive pearls. So expensive in fact that the least expensive thing on the site was a set of stud earrings for $350. The necklaces I was looking at ranged from a $30,000 to a mere $250,000.
My question: How can anyone afford that?!?! Apparently people do buy them or else economics tells us that Mikimoto would be out of business. I lamented over the price for a while, thinking of ways to amass some fortune to purchase such treasures. Other than winning the lottery or making it big in Las Vegas, I concluded that I'd have to find a job that paid well----correction, paid extremely, outrageously, disgustingly well! That might take some time, but it does provide me with inspiration to survive the upcoming finals week. If I get A's, I have a higher chance of getting a nice internship which will hopefully lead to a job that will supply me with the funds I need.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
The Pink Carnation Series
I have noticed that, thus far, I have done more complaining on this blog than anything else. Therefore, I have decided to write a glowing review about something I like.
Last night, I completed the fourth novel in Lauren Willig's Pink Carnation series. I love her books. They possess a lightheartedness and flirt on the lines of being a romance novel. However, I find them to be intriguingly written and fun.
Her novels take place in the early nineteenth century England and French around the time that Napoleon was in power. Willig found inspiration from Jane Austin and Baroness Orczy who wrote The Scarlet Pimpernel. Her plots are split into two stories. The first is filled with espionage, intrigue, murderous villains, and the dilemma of courtship amoung England's upperclass youth. The second follows a Harvard grad student in her search to find out more about the elusive English spy, The Pink Carnation.
I was glad to learn that Willig plans to write many more books in her series. I suggest them to anyone who enjoys romance, suspense, comedy, and historical fiction.
Novels published:
~The Secret History of the Pink Carnation
~The Masque Of the Black Tulip
~The Deception of the Emerald Ring
~The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
~The Temptation of the Night Jasmine
For more information visit: http://www.laurenwillig.com/
Last night, I completed the fourth novel in Lauren Willig's Pink Carnation series. I love her books. They possess a lightheartedness and flirt on the lines of being a romance novel. However, I find them to be intriguingly written and fun.
Her novels take place in the early nineteenth century England and French around the time that Napoleon was in power. Willig found inspiration from Jane Austin and Baroness Orczy who wrote The Scarlet Pimpernel. Her plots are split into two stories. The first is filled with espionage, intrigue, murderous villains, and the dilemma of courtship amoung England's upperclass youth. The second follows a Harvard grad student in her search to find out more about the elusive English spy, The Pink Carnation.
I was glad to learn that Willig plans to write many more books in her series. I suggest them to anyone who enjoys romance, suspense, comedy, and historical fiction.
Novels published:
~The Secret History of the Pink Carnation
~The Masque Of the Black Tulip
~The Deception of the Emerald Ring
~The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
~The Temptation of the Night Jasmine
For more information visit: http://www.laurenwillig.com/
A Continuation of "And A Warm Breeze..."
Amid the cacophony of daily business, a small figure with a dark brown shawl draped over its head weaved its way through the crowd. The figure passed unnoticed by the merchants, fishwives, and other customers of the market, as it traveled towards the docks.
However, high above the streets the figure had caught the eye of a man. The man had been waiting on the roof for hours: watching. He was still; the only movement came from his even breaths and scanning eyes. His eyes fixated on the figure as it evaded a clumsy cart of a rug merchant. Following the figure with his eyes, the man made a mental note of the figure’s last position before looking down the street.
As the man’s eyes traveled down the street, he saw more carts and merchants moving goods from boats docked in the harbor to the center of the market. A rather large ship in the middle of the harbor caught his attention. There she was…
Here is another attempt at possibly writing a short story of sorts. It begins with the description in the previous post, "And A Warm Breeze Swept Me Away To Places Beyond My Imagination." I have no idea where this is going or if it will continue. But with a warm breeze sweeping through my room, I felt like adding to the description. So, enjoy!
However, high above the streets the figure had caught the eye of a man. The man had been waiting on the roof for hours: watching. He was still; the only movement came from his even breaths and scanning eyes. His eyes fixated on the figure as it evaded a clumsy cart of a rug merchant. Following the figure with his eyes, the man made a mental note of the figure’s last position before looking down the street.
As the man’s eyes traveled down the street, he saw more carts and merchants moving goods from boats docked in the harbor to the center of the market. A rather large ship in the middle of the harbor caught his attention. There she was…
Here is another attempt at possibly writing a short story of sorts. It begins with the description in the previous post, "And A Warm Breeze Swept Me Away To Places Beyond My Imagination." I have no idea where this is going or if it will continue. But with a warm breeze sweeping through my room, I felt like adding to the description. So, enjoy!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
And A Warm Breeze Swept Me To A Place Beyond My Imagination
The smell of spices pervades the air, as the hot sun beats down on the people in the crowded market; the only shade in sight exists in a small garden located down a narrow alleyway. A warm breeze sweeps through the crowd providing little relief to wick the sweat from the merchants tanned brows. The streets pulsate with electricity. The city is a collective body breathing as one, the street performers’ providing a heartbeat with their drums…
I am feeling a bit exotic today. You know, the kind of feeling that makes you want to pick up belly dancing and buy plane tickets to Morocco. There is something seductive about the smell of spices, warm breezes, and Arabic music. They make for excellent romantic adventure novels or sequences of epic dramas.
Unfortunately, I am nowhere near an exotic destination. I am in a cold, rural county in America, the type of place with green pastures, cows, and farmers in plaid shirts. (No offense to farmers.) But every once in a while, a wanderlust for different lands overtakes me and I feel like using my small bank account to purchase a traveling wardrobe and a plane ticket to anywhere but where I am at the present moment.
Do you know the feeling?
I am feeling a bit exotic today. You know, the kind of feeling that makes you want to pick up belly dancing and buy plane tickets to Morocco. There is something seductive about the smell of spices, warm breezes, and Arabic music. They make for excellent romantic adventure novels or sequences of epic dramas.
Unfortunately, I am nowhere near an exotic destination. I am in a cold, rural county in America, the type of place with green pastures, cows, and farmers in plaid shirts. (No offense to farmers.) But every once in a while, a wanderlust for different lands overtakes me and I feel like using my small bank account to purchase a traveling wardrobe and a plane ticket to anywhere but where I am at the present moment.
Do you know the feeling?
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Twilight---Not My Fantasy
One of my favorite past times is reading. I enjoy many different genres and could very well read for hours on end. I like many classics, especially those during the Romanticism movement.
However, I do not like the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyers. I must first admit that I have never read one of her novels in its entirety, but the excerpts that I have read were enough to make me never want to read the rest. Her language and structure is adequate, but nothing remarkable. Her style is like many other authors who write for a teenage girl audience. Therefore, I do not understand draw to these books.
Additionally, I am not attracted to me of the elements of her books. For example, I am not into vampires. I understand that the point of the book is that more of a romance than vampirism; however, if I wanted to read an über cliché romance novel, I would read one of the cheap romance novels you can find almost anywhere. Additionally, I do not find vampires sexy, especially if they are 200 years old and still look as if they are 17 years old. Personally, my type of man is more masculine and muscular. Secondly, what is wrong with human males? Sure, they can be frustrating sometimes, but they do not have friends who want to kill you or suck your blood. Also, I would not want to have a child that would break my ribs and need me to consume blood, among other disturbing pregnancy side effects explained in Meyers’s last book.
Furthermore, silver Volvos are not my ideal automobiles. Do not misunderstand me; if I am ever in a car accident, I would be grateful for a Volvo’s steel cage. However, for a guy to pick me up for a date, a silver Volvo would not impress me. I would rather have a silver Aston Martin. You could say that I have higher and more refined standards when discussing that subject.
Another problem that I have with the Twilight series is that it is a pre-teen and teen cultish phenomenon. I am somewhat repulsed by such phenomena. For this reason also, I am not a huge fan of High School Musical. Generally, I am not a rebel, but in this case something makes me perturbed. Whenever I hear someone drooling over Edward Cullins, I feel like gagging and think to myself: he will never be able to touch some of the greatest literary heroes in the classics.
However, I do not like the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyers. I must first admit that I have never read one of her novels in its entirety, but the excerpts that I have read were enough to make me never want to read the rest. Her language and structure is adequate, but nothing remarkable. Her style is like many other authors who write for a teenage girl audience. Therefore, I do not understand draw to these books.
Additionally, I am not attracted to me of the elements of her books. For example, I am not into vampires. I understand that the point of the book is that more of a romance than vampirism; however, if I wanted to read an über cliché romance novel, I would read one of the cheap romance novels you can find almost anywhere. Additionally, I do not find vampires sexy, especially if they are 200 years old and still look as if they are 17 years old. Personally, my type of man is more masculine and muscular. Secondly, what is wrong with human males? Sure, they can be frustrating sometimes, but they do not have friends who want to kill you or suck your blood. Also, I would not want to have a child that would break my ribs and need me to consume blood, among other disturbing pregnancy side effects explained in Meyers’s last book.
Furthermore, silver Volvos are not my ideal automobiles. Do not misunderstand me; if I am ever in a car accident, I would be grateful for a Volvo’s steel cage. However, for a guy to pick me up for a date, a silver Volvo would not impress me. I would rather have a silver Aston Martin. You could say that I have higher and more refined standards when discussing that subject.
Another problem that I have with the Twilight series is that it is a pre-teen and teen cultish phenomenon. I am somewhat repulsed by such phenomena. For this reason also, I am not a huge fan of High School Musical. Generally, I am not a rebel, but in this case something makes me perturbed. Whenever I hear someone drooling over Edward Cullins, I feel like gagging and think to myself: he will never be able to touch some of the greatest literary heroes in the classics.
Friday, April 17, 2009
A Note About Following Your Convictions
There comes a time in everyone’s life when you have to stand by your convictions. On such occasions, temptations to stray from the policies you have held for a long time are abundant. Many times your view or ideal course of action will seem to be in opposition to what everyone else is doing. In such instances, temptation will be larger. If you refuse to follow the crowd, your road might appear very lonely. However, you must stay strong, lest you become a hypocrite.
I have a feeling that if your convictions persevere, something wonderful has to be waiting for you. Hope for future betterment and being true to yourself are the only things that I can offer as solace for any hardship that might be accrued. The path is difficult, but the course must be kept---the course must be kept in order for you to be truly satisfied with yourself. Friends may come and go, but you have to live with yourself and your decisions for the rest of your life. Although, there is always a yearning for camaraderie, you have an obligation to also respect yourself. If you cannot respect yourself, then you cannot respect others nor will others be able to respect you.
Therefore, some sacrifice might be necessary in order to be true to yourself. However, remember that, in reality, you probably are not as alone as you might believe. There are always other people who have gone through adversity. Take comfort in that fact. And remember the decisions you make today, no matter how insignificant they might appear to be, affect your future. You will have to live with the results for the rest of your life.
I have a feeling that if your convictions persevere, something wonderful has to be waiting for you. Hope for future betterment and being true to yourself are the only things that I can offer as solace for any hardship that might be accrued. The path is difficult, but the course must be kept---the course must be kept in order for you to be truly satisfied with yourself. Friends may come and go, but you have to live with yourself and your decisions for the rest of your life. Although, there is always a yearning for camaraderie, you have an obligation to also respect yourself. If you cannot respect yourself, then you cannot respect others nor will others be able to respect you.
Therefore, some sacrifice might be necessary in order to be true to yourself. However, remember that, in reality, you probably are not as alone as you might believe. There are always other people who have gone through adversity. Take comfort in that fact. And remember the decisions you make today, no matter how insignificant they might appear to be, affect your future. You will have to live with the results for the rest of your life.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Today's Weather
Rainy and cold. Sunny and pleasant. April is quite a volatile month weather-wise. The beginning of this week was incredibly nasty and wet. However, today is probably one of the most beautiful days of the year thus far. In fact, I decided to throw caution to the wind and read a most excellent novel outside.
I have a feeling that the extra Vitamin D from the sunny has positive effects on everyone walking outside. I, personally, feel more optimistic and wistful. Summer should be just around the corner with beautiful days with warm breezes.
I have a feeling that the extra Vitamin D from the sunny has positive effects on everyone walking outside. I, personally, feel more optimistic and wistful. Summer should be just around the corner with beautiful days with warm breezes.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
One of My Positions on Religion
Okay, so here is my first try at saying something of actual meaning in a note. I wrote this for my weekly journal in my English class and I thought it might also be interesting to post. It is a bit long so I understand if no one reads it. But it was on my mind last week and I needed a way to express myself. So like many who proceeded me, I decided to write (well type) what was on my mind. Here is the result.
I would like to take this opportunity to express some thoughts that have been causing some cognitive discords for me. I have wanted to speak out in class to add to some of our discussions; however, I am terribly ill-suited for arguing politics and religion without time to reflect upon what is said and where I stand in my beliefs. Additionally, I feel as though I am unqualified to express my political beliefs because they are not, as of yet, concrete, and because I am thoroughly inexperienced and ill-read in such topics. Therefore, my feelings towards politics are somewhat aloof and apathetic. Not that I am belittling the importance of politics in my life or in the life of society as a whole, for indeed politics and the decisions made as a result of them are extremely important.
However, I am a bit more passionate and well-equipped to discuss religion. My religion and corresponding belief system is a very important part of who I am as an individual. When people group all religion into one large unit of radical, antiquated fanaticism, I must admit that I am a more than a bit perturbed. I am by no means radical, irrational, or close-minded. Furthermore, the argument that religion is a destructive societal force that should be replaced by personal spiritualism alone also bothers me.
There is truth that religious differences have created catastrophic loss of life and intellectual freedom. I am not here to defend the crusades, the Inquisitions, or the jihads; however, I believe that some “intellectuals” like to remember only these occurrences. They forget that, even though religion is supposed to be above earthly quarrels, humans will always be humans. Humans generally fear the unknown and those who are different. True, suspicion is a learned trait; it is a trait that has been learned since the time of the caveman as a survival technique. Additionally, humans are competitive by nature. They want the right to hold the absolute truth in this world, whether it be religious truth, political truth, or societal truth. Therefore, wars and arguments have been fought over more things than just religion.
Nevertheless, opponents to religion seem to forget that the philosophies that they learn and the histories that they study are a direct result of religion. When the Roman Empire fell, who saved copies of histories and classical plays? When the barbarian clans came to rape, plunder, and pillage towns, to what did the people turn? When the oldest and most prodigious universities were erected, what funded and encouraged their growth. The answer: the Church, monasteries, temples, and mosques. Yes, during the Dark Ages of our histories, religion kept society in its delicate balance and out of total chaos. Therefore, religion was necessary in developing our society today.
However, in today’s society as in past societies, there exist extremist factions. Religious extremism is dangerous. Teaching children to hate others because of their beliefs is equally as wrong and contradictory to the true teaching of the religion they are trying to instill. However, just because there is a small, yet vocal, minority that teaches religious extremism, the world should not stop teaching all religion to its children.
Religion is what gives a person his or her morals. A person can attempt to claim that his or her moral code has not been affected by religion. If that is the case, then that person must be truly ignorant. Every moral code on this earth has in some way or another been shaped by a religious belief, whether it be Judeo-Christian, Islam, Hindi, Buddhist, monotheistic, or polytheistic. That person might claim that he or she follows a philosopher’s moral code rather than a religious code. But guess what? That philosopher had to create his moral code from some other belief. Unless that philosopher was born and raised in a vacuum without any human contact, he or she was affected by some sort of religious belief.
Additionally, children are unable to choose what to believe until they are older. I, personally, have a problem with children having a spiritually unguided childhood. Others may disagree with me. They might say that this is what needs to happen in order for a child to develop a completely unbiased decision about what religion to follow. To me, this approach seems rather cold. Once again it brings up the argument about learning morals and respect. A person’s beliefs form a very large part of who he or she is as a person. Beliefs affect how a person acts, thinks, walks, and talks. I feel that if we do not provide at least a basis of a belief system for our children, we are doing them a huge disservice in the future. I am perfectly fine, if a child would like to learn about different religions and eventually converts to a religion that is different than his or her original. That is a personal choice.
Additionally, sometimes I think we see ourselves too much as an island unto ourselves. We, personally, always know what is best for us as individuals. No one can tell us what is right and wrong, or how to act and how not to act. How dare someone else tell us what we are doing is immoral? How dare someone disagree with us? How dare someone try to judge us? That last question is a paradox. We as people are told not to judge or stereotype, but we do anyway. Even when we try not to judge, we still judge our neighbors. Why? Because we are human, we have opinions, and we just can’t help ourselves. Therefore, we need help from others. Religion can help guide people to form decisions.
Furthermore, many people believe that if a person follows a religion, he or she is not allowed to question authority. That statement is false. Having a religion does not mean you cannot question your beliefs. I cannot speak for all creeds, but I can speak from the understanding of mine. Questioning leads to knowledge and stronger faith. It necessitates a person to look beyond the obvious and find fuller truth and understanding. Sometimes questioning also humbles us if we cannot find the answers to our questions.
At that point when logic fails, faith comes into effect. Some people might criticize me for bringing up faith. They say that it is not logical, not scientific enough for today’s “advanced” society. For this argument, I must agree with them. Religion and faith is not scientific. Science is based on observation and experimentation. One can experience faith, but it is impossible to create a repeatable scientific test to prove faith’s legitimacy. But then again, that is was faith essentially is: belief without knowledge.
I know and understand that these are very difficult concepts to grasp, especially for this generation that is used to instant results. I grapple with these things every day. I question and doubt every day. Yet still, I hold on to my religion, despite its less celebrated accomplishments. I am human and I err. Religion, while divinely inspired, is a human institution, and therefore, is apt to make some mistakes. Government is also a human institution that makes mistakes and causes wars. In spite of that fact, most people do not promote anarchism. Therefore, I pose the question of why does society tend to pick on religion. I am still waiting for such “intellectual” minds to give me a “logical” answer.
I would like to take this opportunity to express some thoughts that have been causing some cognitive discords for me. I have wanted to speak out in class to add to some of our discussions; however, I am terribly ill-suited for arguing politics and religion without time to reflect upon what is said and where I stand in my beliefs. Additionally, I feel as though I am unqualified to express my political beliefs because they are not, as of yet, concrete, and because I am thoroughly inexperienced and ill-read in such topics. Therefore, my feelings towards politics are somewhat aloof and apathetic. Not that I am belittling the importance of politics in my life or in the life of society as a whole, for indeed politics and the decisions made as a result of them are extremely important.
However, I am a bit more passionate and well-equipped to discuss religion. My religion and corresponding belief system is a very important part of who I am as an individual. When people group all religion into one large unit of radical, antiquated fanaticism, I must admit that I am a more than a bit perturbed. I am by no means radical, irrational, or close-minded. Furthermore, the argument that religion is a destructive societal force that should be replaced by personal spiritualism alone also bothers me.
There is truth that religious differences have created catastrophic loss of life and intellectual freedom. I am not here to defend the crusades, the Inquisitions, or the jihads; however, I believe that some “intellectuals” like to remember only these occurrences. They forget that, even though religion is supposed to be above earthly quarrels, humans will always be humans. Humans generally fear the unknown and those who are different. True, suspicion is a learned trait; it is a trait that has been learned since the time of the caveman as a survival technique. Additionally, humans are competitive by nature. They want the right to hold the absolute truth in this world, whether it be religious truth, political truth, or societal truth. Therefore, wars and arguments have been fought over more things than just religion.
Nevertheless, opponents to religion seem to forget that the philosophies that they learn and the histories that they study are a direct result of religion. When the Roman Empire fell, who saved copies of histories and classical plays? When the barbarian clans came to rape, plunder, and pillage towns, to what did the people turn? When the oldest and most prodigious universities were erected, what funded and encouraged their growth. The answer: the Church, monasteries, temples, and mosques. Yes, during the Dark Ages of our histories, religion kept society in its delicate balance and out of total chaos. Therefore, religion was necessary in developing our society today.
However, in today’s society as in past societies, there exist extremist factions. Religious extremism is dangerous. Teaching children to hate others because of their beliefs is equally as wrong and contradictory to the true teaching of the religion they are trying to instill. However, just because there is a small, yet vocal, minority that teaches religious extremism, the world should not stop teaching all religion to its children.
Religion is what gives a person his or her morals. A person can attempt to claim that his or her moral code has not been affected by religion. If that is the case, then that person must be truly ignorant. Every moral code on this earth has in some way or another been shaped by a religious belief, whether it be Judeo-Christian, Islam, Hindi, Buddhist, monotheistic, or polytheistic. That person might claim that he or she follows a philosopher’s moral code rather than a religious code. But guess what? That philosopher had to create his moral code from some other belief. Unless that philosopher was born and raised in a vacuum without any human contact, he or she was affected by some sort of religious belief.
Additionally, children are unable to choose what to believe until they are older. I, personally, have a problem with children having a spiritually unguided childhood. Others may disagree with me. They might say that this is what needs to happen in order for a child to develop a completely unbiased decision about what religion to follow. To me, this approach seems rather cold. Once again it brings up the argument about learning morals and respect. A person’s beliefs form a very large part of who he or she is as a person. Beliefs affect how a person acts, thinks, walks, and talks. I feel that if we do not provide at least a basis of a belief system for our children, we are doing them a huge disservice in the future. I am perfectly fine, if a child would like to learn about different religions and eventually converts to a religion that is different than his or her original. That is a personal choice.
Additionally, sometimes I think we see ourselves too much as an island unto ourselves. We, personally, always know what is best for us as individuals. No one can tell us what is right and wrong, or how to act and how not to act. How dare someone else tell us what we are doing is immoral? How dare someone disagree with us? How dare someone try to judge us? That last question is a paradox. We as people are told not to judge or stereotype, but we do anyway. Even when we try not to judge, we still judge our neighbors. Why? Because we are human, we have opinions, and we just can’t help ourselves. Therefore, we need help from others. Religion can help guide people to form decisions.
Furthermore, many people believe that if a person follows a religion, he or she is not allowed to question authority. That statement is false. Having a religion does not mean you cannot question your beliefs. I cannot speak for all creeds, but I can speak from the understanding of mine. Questioning leads to knowledge and stronger faith. It necessitates a person to look beyond the obvious and find fuller truth and understanding. Sometimes questioning also humbles us if we cannot find the answers to our questions.
At that point when logic fails, faith comes into effect. Some people might criticize me for bringing up faith. They say that it is not logical, not scientific enough for today’s “advanced” society. For this argument, I must agree with them. Religion and faith is not scientific. Science is based on observation and experimentation. One can experience faith, but it is impossible to create a repeatable scientific test to prove faith’s legitimacy. But then again, that is was faith essentially is: belief without knowledge.
I know and understand that these are very difficult concepts to grasp, especially for this generation that is used to instant results. I grapple with these things every day. I question and doubt every day. Yet still, I hold on to my religion, despite its less celebrated accomplishments. I am human and I err. Religion, while divinely inspired, is a human institution, and therefore, is apt to make some mistakes. Government is also a human institution that makes mistakes and causes wars. In spite of that fact, most people do not promote anarchism. Therefore, I pose the question of why does society tend to pick on religion. I am still waiting for such “intellectual” minds to give me a “logical” answer.
Welcome to the Thought Forum: A Greeting and Introduction
Dear Reader,
I have created the Thought Forum to share my reflections and thoughts about my life and the current state of the world. I invite you to read and perhaps share your thoughts as well in an open and respecting manner. I understand that the world is full of differing opinions and many strong passions. As a society, we should be encouraged to embrace these difference and find growth. The topics discusses in this forum might be serious or completely facetious. Hopefully, the musings posted here will not offend you, for that is not their intent. They are just how I view the world from my current position in life.
Sincerely,
Francesca DeAngeles
I have created the Thought Forum to share my reflections and thoughts about my life and the current state of the world. I invite you to read and perhaps share your thoughts as well in an open and respecting manner. I understand that the world is full of differing opinions and many strong passions. As a society, we should be encouraged to embrace these difference and find growth. The topics discusses in this forum might be serious or completely facetious. Hopefully, the musings posted here will not offend you, for that is not their intent. They are just how I view the world from my current position in life.
Sincerely,
Francesca DeAngeles
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