A worldview is an intricate thing. No one definition can ever prove sufficient for this crucial aspect of a human being, because what it means to be a human being differs between every such being. What this term encompasses is nothing less than what comprises the very soul of a man: their experiences, their beliefs, convictions, and dreams. One cannot arbitrarily define and file away a concept so intertwined with a man's essence, no more than one can say what substance makes us a soul. This deep, embedded concept, however, is not only the lens through which a person sees the world, but the mirror that the world reflects off of into the eyes of others. One's perception of the vast, encompassing presence of Creation defines the person in both the most public and most intimate senses, for perception is the arbiter of thought and dreams.
The first thing that an infant receives into its senses when it enters the world is sensation, pure and uncolored. It feels the shock of cold hands upon flesh, the sharp pain of a blow upon the rear to bring forth the final, and the most essential sensation of all; it brings into its lungs the air of the Creation it is now a part of, tying itself to all else that lives. From this simple, elemental firing of nerves in the skin and throat, blossoms the essence of humanity; the soul. A man without a soul is not, as we picture him, a man who holds only himself precious; the soulless man is the one who sees but does not perceive. The soul and its power to perceive is the most personal and intimate possession that a man can ever claim; it is more innate than love, or lust, or dreams. The man without a soul is he who has felt the cold hands upon his newly born skin, absorbed the air which is both nourishment and oath, and yet has not taken the sensation into his spirit. The man incapable of painting his thought across what he sees must then rely upon the soul of his neighbor; he has forfeited his eyes and thought to that of another. There can be no greater abomination than this, for when a man ceases to see the world in terms of his own ego, he becomes a slave to it and anyone who might wish to claim him in his blindness by virtue of their sight.
Touch and sight are sensations of the physical, threads holding man to the tapestry of the world, but it is the weave of the soul that carries the truth of one's being. Even the most profound of the enlightened, when chanced upon the secret truths of the universe, cannot share it with his fellow being, for the expression of the sublime is constrained by the limitation of the physical: the albatross of language, meaning, and tongue hang around the man who wishes to express the personal truths that every soul experiences. Each person must discover their own truth, through introspection and consideration of their spirit's fabric. Therefore, it is this essential, personal essence that the soulless man lacks, for he who is capable of no introspection is unable to borrow the stuff of the spirit from others.
What one must keep in mind when he considers the state and nature of his own spirit, something that every human being must do at some point, is his preconceptions of the soul given to him by his culture. When one says "soul," most instantly conjure some religious representation of the soul. For some religions, the soul is taught to be a person's thinking, feeling essence, separate from the body. For others, it is an innate spirit which measures the individual's strength of will and presence. All these definitions, however, make a grievous error; they assign the soul to be a fully formed entity in itself, part of a person, but separate from all the others. This is erroneous because the soul cannot be measured by its interactions and movements; the soul has a part in every motion of a person's thought and spirit. The body and mind are suffused with the influence of the soul, for its power of perception influences the thought and emotion, from which all deeds come. To separate it from the rest of the body, tied to some certain parts of a man's brain or limbs is to deny the power that his nature and his past have upon his present and future.
One's soul is nothing less than the essence of what he is and feels, and the lens through which the world is perceived by our sensory organs. It is what moves our emotions to the call of music, the leap of the heart at the sight of a love long absent, and the joyful fluttering of the spirit at the taste of sweetness upon the tongue. When a man seeks the truth, he must seek it both within and through his own soul, which the soulless man is content to never discover. The soul and life are synonymous, for a life without the joy and movements of the soul cannot be but a life without light. Those who lack it are the most pitiful of creatures, for they lack the power to embrace Creation with the whole of their being.
__________________
Sorry for going essay mode on you, my dear readers. It started out as a post pointing out the contradictions in the bible, and then a long line of synapses firing led to my scrapping of the entire thing and writing this. Hope it made you.... think.... well, something.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Monday, December 22, 2008
The Politics of Reverse Discrimination
By now, everyone has heard of Caroline Kennedy. And by "by now," I mean within the last two weeks, since she hasn't been remotely involved in any public, well-publicized matters before. Yet, she's continuing her family's legacy in the Senate. Interesting.
Now, don't get me wrong; I know absolutely nothing about Ms. Kennedy. However, that doesn't mean I don't think she's qualified. Rather, I don't know whether I think she's qualified or not. I've heard that she's done great work for education reform. Okay, that sounds good; isn't that where President-Elect Obama got his start, at the grassroots? As far as I know, she could be highly involved with New York's populace.
As I've listened to the discussion going on in the media regarding her, however, one especially unpleasant line of thought has become apparent. It is such a jarring, uncomfortable argument, it's made me a bit ashamed to have been a Hillary Clinton supporter. The argument goes along these lines:
"We need more women in the Senate, so Caroline Kennedy would be perfect!"
Caroline Kennedy should be in the Senate, because we need more women in the Senate. Think that over for a moment. Roll it over in your mind. Maybe say it out loud; taste it. According to prominent political pundits, the reason that Ms. Kennedy should be in the Senate is that she is a woman. Does this argument seem valid?
Since when has a person's gender made them more or less qualified to represent their constituents? A person's capability to hold strong opinions and to represent a population has nothing to do with their gender or ethnicity. By voicing their questionable opinions that the women needs more Senate in it, they give off the impression that their support for Ms. Kennedy is solely on basis of her gender. This weakens her image overall as a competent, capable political figure. An image that was already compromised by her lack of concrete ideas, opinions, and achievements, coupled with her family name. Ms. Kennedy already appears to be relying on her DNA to take the seat for her. To imply that she is under consideration solely for the sake of legacy and gender would be a grievous blow to her validity in the eyes of the constituents and Governor Paterson.
This issue, however, brings up a troubling societal standard. It is completely wrong, in every way, to consider a person less capable for a position on basis of their gender or ethnicity (unless, of course, they're on of those dirty A-Rabs. But that's a topic for another post). However, reverse discrimination, considering a person capable or needed because of their gender or race, is perfectly reasonable. Does this make sense to you, dear reader? If a person's competence is transcendent of their gender, why is it allowed to elevate them on the basis of their gender? Is it not equally misguided to allow s0meone to purport ability, or even transcend need for competence, based on their race or gender?
What fuels this need for women to appear more competent and deserving based on their gender is based, I feel, on two factors. The first is female retribution. Women are considered equal to men in all capacities of societal worth; however, many don't feel that this is true. So, they fight to elevate more women to positions of power. Whether they are capable or not is of secondary concern. Indeed, many of them are quite capable, and highly skilled, which is why they are the feminist's choice (TM). But what if we had no Hillary Clintons or other highly competent women to be the faces for the feminist political advancement? I imagine that the argument would still be that more women needed to be in public offices.
The second factor is male guilt, much akin to white guilt. It is highly unfashionable to be perceived as an obstacle to the feminist movement. Indeed, it can be political suicide, leading to being perhaps labeled a sexist. So men stand by and allow the argument for a need for more women in high positions to be voiced unchallenged. So the point, however, fallacious, is made, and becomes an established part of the conversation. It can prove difficult to tactfully address manners of gender in a way as to not alienate the feminists, who can prove a vital swing bloc come election time.
In our culture of Affirmative Action, white male guilt is almost palpable. Reverse discrimination is the norm in matters of election, and the traditional model of old white men as political figures has become anathema. Diversity and open opportunities are a great thing; our culture should be ethnicity and gender blind. However, this is not so. Our society, instead, rewards being a minority with opportunities above the ones awarded to white males in the same situations. Especially if you're Native American. If you're Native American, and you maintain good grades, white guilt practically paves your way to an Ivy League.
Society, and minority activists, should continue their missions; discrimination can have no place in our society. That, however, includes reverse discrimination. The ideal should be a purely competence-based culture, of opportunities for hard work and ability. But so long as we maintain that it's necessary to maintain some sort of "gender quota" in whatever we do, that cannot happen.
Now, don't get me wrong; I know absolutely nothing about Ms. Kennedy. However, that doesn't mean I don't think she's qualified. Rather, I don't know whether I think she's qualified or not. I've heard that she's done great work for education reform. Okay, that sounds good; isn't that where President-Elect Obama got his start, at the grassroots? As far as I know, she could be highly involved with New York's populace.
As I've listened to the discussion going on in the media regarding her, however, one especially unpleasant line of thought has become apparent. It is such a jarring, uncomfortable argument, it's made me a bit ashamed to have been a Hillary Clinton supporter. The argument goes along these lines:
"We need more women in the Senate, so Caroline Kennedy would be perfect!"
Caroline Kennedy should be in the Senate, because we need more women in the Senate. Think that over for a moment. Roll it over in your mind. Maybe say it out loud; taste it. According to prominent political pundits, the reason that Ms. Kennedy should be in the Senate is that she is a woman. Does this argument seem valid?
Since when has a person's gender made them more or less qualified to represent their constituents? A person's capability to hold strong opinions and to represent a population has nothing to do with their gender or ethnicity. By voicing their questionable opinions that the women needs more Senate in it, they give off the impression that their support for Ms. Kennedy is solely on basis of her gender. This weakens her image overall as a competent, capable political figure. An image that was already compromised by her lack of concrete ideas, opinions, and achievements, coupled with her family name. Ms. Kennedy already appears to be relying on her DNA to take the seat for her. To imply that she is under consideration solely for the sake of legacy and gender would be a grievous blow to her validity in the eyes of the constituents and Governor Paterson.
This issue, however, brings up a troubling societal standard. It is completely wrong, in every way, to consider a person less capable for a position on basis of their gender or ethnicity (unless, of course, they're on of those dirty A-Rabs. But that's a topic for another post). However, reverse discrimination, considering a person capable or needed because of their gender or race, is perfectly reasonable. Does this make sense to you, dear reader? If a person's competence is transcendent of their gender, why is it allowed to elevate them on the basis of their gender? Is it not equally misguided to allow s0meone to purport ability, or even transcend need for competence, based on their race or gender?
What fuels this need for women to appear more competent and deserving based on their gender is based, I feel, on two factors. The first is female retribution. Women are considered equal to men in all capacities of societal worth; however, many don't feel that this is true. So, they fight to elevate more women to positions of power. Whether they are capable or not is of secondary concern. Indeed, many of them are quite capable, and highly skilled, which is why they are the feminist's choice (TM). But what if we had no Hillary Clintons or other highly competent women to be the faces for the feminist political advancement? I imagine that the argument would still be that more women needed to be in public offices.
The second factor is male guilt, much akin to white guilt. It is highly unfashionable to be perceived as an obstacle to the feminist movement. Indeed, it can be political suicide, leading to being perhaps labeled a sexist. So men stand by and allow the argument for a need for more women in high positions to be voiced unchallenged. So the point, however, fallacious, is made, and becomes an established part of the conversation. It can prove difficult to tactfully address manners of gender in a way as to not alienate the feminists, who can prove a vital swing bloc come election time.
In our culture of Affirmative Action, white male guilt is almost palpable. Reverse discrimination is the norm in matters of election, and the traditional model of old white men as political figures has become anathema. Diversity and open opportunities are a great thing; our culture should be ethnicity and gender blind. However, this is not so. Our society, instead, rewards being a minority with opportunities above the ones awarded to white males in the same situations. Especially if you're Native American. If you're Native American, and you maintain good grades, white guilt practically paves your way to an Ivy League.
Society, and minority activists, should continue their missions; discrimination can have no place in our society. That, however, includes reverse discrimination. The ideal should be a purely competence-based culture, of opportunities for hard work and ability. But so long as we maintain that it's necessary to maintain some sort of "gender quota" in whatever we do, that cannot happen.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The State of Things
My, my, my... I stop blogging for a few... months... and the world seems to fall apart around me. Perhaps it's a sign? But what this means is that I have a bit of catching up to do. However, what is rather disturbing is that, in the face of massive calamity, I've got nothing to write about. It's almost as if my inspiration requires just the right amount of external depression; there has to be just the right contrast between my own gloom and the state of the world at large.
So here is what I have been promising you lovely people since the very beginning of this almost failed experiment of bringing my writing to the Internets. I present, John N's Book O' Cynicisms:
296) Henry Ford was a great admirer of Hitler. He kept a picture of him in his office.
297) Hitler was a great admirer of Henry Ford. He kept a picture of him in his office.
Both of these men, one a hero of American culture, an embodiment of the American Dream, the other a globally despised and reviled figure of hate and racism, had several traits in common. Henry Ford approved greatly of Hitler's ideals, and supported him wholeheartedly. Hitler admired the success and wealth that Ford had accumulated. The men had met on several occasions.
298) "That's not fair! You know what you're doing!"
I think it speaks for itself, doesn't it? Competence seems to be despised rather than envied these days. This sort of thinking is probably what makes calling someone an "elitist" so powerful. One of the great mysteries of America is how being educated and affluent can be a bad thing.
299) Metaphors are dangerous if used improperly.
"It's like a ray of light at the end of the tunnel, beating the beast back as I walk closer."
We had a ten minute discussion about what this was supposed to mean while the poor author attempted to make himself invisible behind his desk. Fail.
300) Autumn is a season. Fall is a fucking verb. SAY IT RIGHT.
301) People who seem to have it in their heads that hyperbole is one of the Seven Deadly Sins.
302) Excessive use of hyperbole. It makes me cry, it's such a terrible thing to do. The person using it should be executed, unless the hyperbole is used to make a point.
303) The people who respond most sportively when McCain calls Obama a socialist are the people who would benefit most if he actually was a socialist.
304) The Electoral College
305) Showing up to school, but not learning.
This irritates me to no end. If you're going to show up and just be disruptive, then you might as well not come. And for that matter, if you don't want an education, you shouldn't be forced to come, either. As long as your parents agree that you don't need to and shouldn't come to school, then you shouldn't come.
306) "That's what she said."
Unless it's unintentional. Then it's funny.
307) Nickelodeon.com's mock election has been accurate in predicting the last four (possibly five) presidents.
308) If you're ever reading or doing work in a cafe, be sure to always have one cup at your table, even if it's empty, or you'll seem like a leech who didn't buy anything.
309) BBC (Channel 2) at 10 pm is far more entertaining than it has any right to be.
And here we have it so far. More to come (with luck and a return of enough cheerfulness to the world to enable my depression to inspire me).
So here is what I have been promising you lovely people since the very beginning of this almost failed experiment of bringing my writing to the Internets. I present, John N's Book O' Cynicisms:
296) Henry Ford was a great admirer of Hitler. He kept a picture of him in his office.
297) Hitler was a great admirer of Henry Ford. He kept a picture of him in his office.
Both of these men, one a hero of American culture, an embodiment of the American Dream, the other a globally despised and reviled figure of hate and racism, had several traits in common. Henry Ford approved greatly of Hitler's ideals, and supported him wholeheartedly. Hitler admired the success and wealth that Ford had accumulated. The men had met on several occasions.
298) "That's not fair! You know what you're doing!"
I think it speaks for itself, doesn't it? Competence seems to be despised rather than envied these days. This sort of thinking is probably what makes calling someone an "elitist" so powerful. One of the great mysteries of America is how being educated and affluent can be a bad thing.
299) Metaphors are dangerous if used improperly.
"It's like a ray of light at the end of the tunnel, beating the beast back as I walk closer."
We had a ten minute discussion about what this was supposed to mean while the poor author attempted to make himself invisible behind his desk. Fail.
300) Autumn is a season. Fall is a fucking verb. SAY IT RIGHT.
301) People who seem to have it in their heads that hyperbole is one of the Seven Deadly Sins.
302) Excessive use of hyperbole. It makes me cry, it's such a terrible thing to do. The person using it should be executed, unless the hyperbole is used to make a point.
303) The people who respond most sportively when McCain calls Obama a socialist are the people who would benefit most if he actually was a socialist.
304) The Electoral College
305) Showing up to school, but not learning.
This irritates me to no end. If you're going to show up and just be disruptive, then you might as well not come. And for that matter, if you don't want an education, you shouldn't be forced to come, either. As long as your parents agree that you don't need to and shouldn't come to school, then you shouldn't come.
306) "That's what she said."
Unless it's unintentional. Then it's funny.
307) Nickelodeon.com's mock election has been accurate in predicting the last four (possibly five) presidents.
308) If you're ever reading or doing work in a cafe, be sure to always have one cup at your table, even if it's empty, or you'll seem like a leech who didn't buy anything.
309) BBC (Channel 2) at 10 pm is far more entertaining than it has any right to be.
And here we have it so far. More to come (with luck and a return of enough cheerfulness to the world to enable my depression to inspire me).
Saturday, November 8, 2008
THe best places to write
It's amazing, the difference between doing work at home, and doing work in some public place conducive to it; the most ideal locations are the library, or a quiet cafe. As long, of course, as one takes care to prevent a caffeine headache, which in hindsight would have been quite a wise thing to do. Petty grievances aside, I find it much easier to work in a cafe than at home. Given, this could be because my desk is half-digested by termites, and I'm forced from time to time to escape the mayhem and noise outside by fleeing into a closet with my Pre-Calc book. However, I think it has less to do with the condition of my furniture, and more to do with the respective atmospheres that the locations embody. At home (or at my home, at least), being the eldest in a house of children, at any given time, it is I who is most likely to not be at play. When I am working, it can hardly be expected that I remain fully engrossed in my task with children revelling in their careless lack of obligation just on the other side of my door (and sometimes not even on the other side, in the case of my father's house).
There is also some contrast between a library and a cafe(or similar location), though there is more alike between them than between either one and home. In a library, everyone is plying some manner of scholarly task(unless, unlucky soul, you wander into the hellish pit of mediocre books and obnoxious children who are just a little to eager to be shouting certain words that their older, more reserved teenage counterparts have the sense to use in moderation, called the Teen Room), and this is greatly conducive to your labors. The library (the worthwhile parts, at least) has a sort of busy, quiet, buzzing atmosphere, as people work and read to the steady, gentle rumble of book carts being toted about. However, if the library shares one major vice with home that a cafe does not, it is distraction. In some cases, the library is even worse than one's home. The call of unread books, treasures hidden in plain sight among the rocks of the potboilers, is sometimes too great for my admittedly feeble self-control to resist(thank Zeus I'm never going to get a debit card. I can resist the temptation of it's convenience, at least, though the prospect to paperwork certainly helps bolster my restraint). Though, having reference books a few steps away more than makes up for the risk of getting lost in the fiction section along the way, should need for them arise.
The, though this word makes me cringe, "vibe" of a cafe is much more interesting than the academic focus and lazy, distraction of home. It's not unlikely that others will also be hard at work, it's also not unlikely that you'll be the only one not there for social reasons. However, even if you are the only productive one in the place (unless you're the only one there, which is an entirely different story), the cafe remains more productive by miles than home. Sometimes being the sole worker drone can help even more than toiling amid other industrious souls. The arcane alchemy of the cafe's "vibe"(wince) has something to do with a combinations of the social energy, the underlying calm and quiet thoughtfulness, and probably a fair share to do with the evaporated caffeine. How it works continues to elude me, but hearing the conversations all around allows one's work to go more smoothly. Probably something to do with the innate social nature of humans, or some other psycho-babble explanation. One reason why cafes are so conducive to doing work that I understand is the instant availability of fancy, overpriced coffee; and tea of course, but only fung-shui yoga hippies buy tea fro ma cafe, and bored, Dr. Phil-watching housewives who drink green tea from a tea-bag. Real men (who likely have too much time on their hands) brew tea from loose tea leaves, or whole leaf if they're especially rugged.
Another very positive aspect of a cafe is the lack of distraction, aside from your fellow customers. However, seemingly paradoxically, being the only one not there for a paycheck can be even more distracting than listening to the person behind you wax philosophic regarding the interestingly shaoed boil on their big toe while you attempt to write a discourse on the reprodcutive habits of fruitflies. The consciousness of the awkward fact that your presence likely isn't making them any money, since you probably got a maximum of one beverage in the course of your work, becomes much sharper when you're the only potential source of revenue in the establisment at the moment. It can be difficult to ignore, unless you're so engrossed in whatever you're doing that an ardvark gnawing on your thigh would go unnoticed, such as when attempting the read "Fox in Socks" out loud. I haven't decided yet what's worse: not buying anything because you're only there to finish your paper without mothballs falling on your head from the shelf above, or not buying anything because you have no money. Either way, defying the basic constructs of Capitalism becomes less noticeable when there are atmosphere leeches not buying anything about.
There is also some contrast between a library and a cafe(or similar location), though there is more alike between them than between either one and home. In a library, everyone is plying some manner of scholarly task(unless, unlucky soul, you wander into the hellish pit of mediocre books and obnoxious children who are just a little to eager to be shouting certain words that their older, more reserved teenage counterparts have the sense to use in moderation, called the Teen Room), and this is greatly conducive to your labors. The library (the worthwhile parts, at least) has a sort of busy, quiet, buzzing atmosphere, as people work and read to the steady, gentle rumble of book carts being toted about. However, if the library shares one major vice with home that a cafe does not, it is distraction. In some cases, the library is even worse than one's home. The call of unread books, treasures hidden in plain sight among the rocks of the potboilers, is sometimes too great for my admittedly feeble self-control to resist(thank Zeus I'm never going to get a debit card. I can resist the temptation of it's convenience, at least, though the prospect to paperwork certainly helps bolster my restraint). Though, having reference books a few steps away more than makes up for the risk of getting lost in the fiction section along the way, should need for them arise.
The, though this word makes me cringe, "vibe" of a cafe is much more interesting than the academic focus and lazy, distraction of home. It's not unlikely that others will also be hard at work, it's also not unlikely that you'll be the only one not there for social reasons. However, even if you are the only productive one in the place (unless you're the only one there, which is an entirely different story), the cafe remains more productive by miles than home. Sometimes being the sole worker drone can help even more than toiling amid other industrious souls. The arcane alchemy of the cafe's "vibe"(wince) has something to do with a combinations of the social energy, the underlying calm and quiet thoughtfulness, and probably a fair share to do with the evaporated caffeine. How it works continues to elude me, but hearing the conversations all around allows one's work to go more smoothly. Probably something to do with the innate social nature of humans, or some other psycho-babble explanation. One reason why cafes are so conducive to doing work that I understand is the instant availability of fancy, overpriced coffee; and tea of course, but only fung-shui yoga hippies buy tea fro ma cafe, and bored, Dr. Phil-watching housewives who drink green tea from a tea-bag. Real men (who likely have too much time on their hands) brew tea from loose tea leaves, or whole leaf if they're especially rugged.
Another very positive aspect of a cafe is the lack of distraction, aside from your fellow customers. However, seemingly paradoxically, being the only one not there for a paycheck can be even more distracting than listening to the person behind you wax philosophic regarding the interestingly shaoed boil on their big toe while you attempt to write a discourse on the reprodcutive habits of fruitflies. The consciousness of the awkward fact that your presence likely isn't making them any money, since you probably got a maximum of one beverage in the course of your work, becomes much sharper when you're the only potential source of revenue in the establisment at the moment. It can be difficult to ignore, unless you're so engrossed in whatever you're doing that an ardvark gnawing on your thigh would go unnoticed, such as when attempting the read "Fox in Socks" out loud. I haven't decided yet what's worse: not buying anything because you're only there to finish your paper without mothballs falling on your head from the shelf above, or not buying anything because you have no money. Either way, defying the basic constructs of Capitalism becomes less noticeable when there are atmosphere leeches not buying anything about.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
An interesting contradiction
So Obama has won the Presidency. How euphoric. What a landmark victory for civil rights and anti-discrimination movements everywhere, that a black man can overcome nearly non-existent racism in order to become president in the most fertile ground for a Democratic President in ten generations. How moving. It gives me hope for mankind. However, there's a caveat to this civil rights feel-good vibe in the air. While the scene in DC and in other parts of the country may have been of jubilant black people celebrating this historic victory, this was the scene in other parts of the country that seem to have been set backwards by the very people clamoring for change:
In California today, Proposition 8 passed. Proposition 8 is a proposition that, if passed, would have amended the state constitution to define marriage as between one man and one woman, effectively nullifying the earlier California Supreme Court decision to declare a ban on gay marriage unconstitutional. And now it has.
It does not surprise me so much that this has been one of the most heated and controversial issues in our country, second (perhaps) only to the presidential race itself. What does surprise, and severely gall me, is the demographic of who supported this movement to bar gay marriage. Seven out of Ten black voters (namely, Obama voters) voted overwhelmingly to pass the proposition removing the rights of homosexual couples to marry in the state of California. White voters were against the proposition by a slime margin, and Latinos and Asians were split.
It appears to me these people left the rallies for "Change" and "taking the country in a new direction," and immediately went to strip the rights from another oppressed minority, still caught up the afterglow of their "watershed moment." It is this, to me, that really embodies America for me. It was in the moment of discovery of this disquieting news that America truly became the Nation of Narcissists.
Former US Secretary of State Collin Powell said on Obama's victory, "It's a historic day for the United States of America. President-elect Obama is a president for all America." He was right in one respect. It was a historic day. But not only in one way. This day was the culmination of decades of civil rights activism and work towards equality. And how did it end? It ended how things usually work in this country. One group established itself as equal and empowered, before proceeding to quash the rights of another oppressed group with glee and self-righteousness that seemed to be floating about in the aftermath of their own deliverance.
This has truly been a case study in mechanics of identity and discrimination. When one is discriminated against, they are no better than their oppressors, the homosexuals, blacks, and any other ethnic, religious, racial minority, or otherwise included. All that matters to an oppressed person is the elevation of themselves and others like them. And that really is the crux of mechanics in a society. In any society, really, but a diverse one like the United States especially.
It also affirms a notion that I'd held about the supporters about our messiah, President-elect Obama, since the Primaries; his supporters identify with his message of change only so far as it applies to themselves and others like them. The black voters cared nothing for Obama being a president for "all of America," as Powell romanticised about his election. They only cared about his Presidency so far as it represented their own rise from their history of discrimination, and their own image of themselves. The thought that these people supported Obama only because of his race gives me pause, especially if I consider the ramifications of Obama having run on McCain's policies and platform. At least I have the one condolence that Obama is a liberal, and not a conservative.
Though the feel-good talking heads would like to think that Obama's presidency will help to sweep discrimination in America out the door, in reality, it has so far done nothing but inspire his supporters to oppress those who are unlucky enough to not be black or white in this country. This may be a historic moment, but whether for good or ill, on all fronts, not merely civil rights, has yet to be seen. When the various legislation across this country, including California, Arizona, and Utah, to bar gay marriage are challenged, I will clearly see the direction that the Nation of Narcissists will go.
(Sources: AOL News, MSN News, Associated Press)
In California today, Proposition 8 passed. Proposition 8 is a proposition that, if passed, would have amended the state constitution to define marriage as between one man and one woman, effectively nullifying the earlier California Supreme Court decision to declare a ban on gay marriage unconstitutional. And now it has.It does not surprise me so much that this has been one of the most heated and controversial issues in our country, second (perhaps) only to the presidential race itself. What does surprise, and severely gall me, is the demographic of who supported this movement to bar gay marriage. Seven out of Ten black voters (namely, Obama voters) voted overwhelmingly to pass the proposition removing the rights of homosexual couples to marry in the state of California. White voters were against the proposition by a slime margin, and Latinos and Asians were split.
It appears to me these people left the rallies for "Change" and "taking the country in a new direction," and immediately went to strip the rights from another oppressed minority, still caught up the afterglow of their "watershed moment." It is this, to me, that really embodies America for me. It was in the moment of discovery of this disquieting news that America truly became the Nation of Narcissists.
Former US Secretary of State Collin Powell said on Obama's victory, "It's a historic day for the United States of America. President-elect Obama is a president for all America." He was right in one respect. It was a historic day. But not only in one way. This day was the culmination of decades of civil rights activism and work towards equality. And how did it end? It ended how things usually work in this country. One group established itself as equal and empowered, before proceeding to quash the rights of another oppressed group with glee and self-righteousness that seemed to be floating about in the aftermath of their own deliverance.
This has truly been a case study in mechanics of identity and discrimination. When one is discriminated against, they are no better than their oppressors, the homosexuals, blacks, and any other ethnic, religious, racial minority, or otherwise included. All that matters to an oppressed person is the elevation of themselves and others like them. And that really is the crux of mechanics in a society. In any society, really, but a diverse one like the United States especially.
It also affirms a notion that I'd held about the supporters about our messiah, President-elect Obama, since the Primaries; his supporters identify with his message of change only so far as it applies to themselves and others like them. The black voters cared nothing for Obama being a president for "all of America," as Powell romanticised about his election. They only cared about his Presidency so far as it represented their own rise from their history of discrimination, and their own image of themselves. The thought that these people supported Obama only because of his race gives me pause, especially if I consider the ramifications of Obama having run on McCain's policies and platform. At least I have the one condolence that Obama is a liberal, and not a conservative.
Though the feel-good talking heads would like to think that Obama's presidency will help to sweep discrimination in America out the door, in reality, it has so far done nothing but inspire his supporters to oppress those who are unlucky enough to not be black or white in this country. This may be a historic moment, but whether for good or ill, on all fronts, not merely civil rights, has yet to be seen. When the various legislation across this country, including California, Arizona, and Utah, to bar gay marriage are challenged, I will clearly see the direction that the Nation of Narcissists will go.
(Sources: AOL News, MSN News, Associated Press)
Saturday, October 25, 2008
My thoughts; pure and unadulturated. Not for the faint of heart.
So, since I'm a benevolent deity, and I feel your intense need for exposure to more of my divine guidance, I've been giving thought to what I can do for my sorely neglected blog without spending another two weeks trying to find something interesting to write about. So, I came up with a solution. I'm going to give you dedicated readers something very special; a lecture about the importance of semi-colons.
. . . . . .
No, really, I'm not. But instead, I'm going to give you something just a little less thrilling. Your blood pressure will thank me. I'm going to give you a very special peek into my thoughts where they're the least edited and thought out; my journal. Or, more specifically, my Learner's Log. However, I'd had a journal before the assignment, so I still think of it as my journal. Enjoy.
*DISCLAIMER*
The only reason I'm doing this is because it's currently 11:37 pm, and I've just spent the last 7 hours pumping out essays for various applications and what-not, not the mention homework. I take no responsibility for damages you may suffer because of my pseudo-drunken blogging.
_____________________________________
October 25th, 2008
11:23 pm
It's odd, going back to midnight writing after so long a stint as a morning writer. It's the same... yet not the same. Maybe it's because I usually take white tea in the morning, and green in the evening. Though tonight I fear I used too little, and steeped too short.
I wonder how comprehensible my journal would be to any random person picking it up and flipping through it to a random page? For some perverse reason that even I don't fully understand, I've tried to make my entries as clear as possible. Which is odd, seeing as it's my desire that the words on these pages never reach eyes other than mine. Perhaps I should begin the habit of writing every third sentence with the elvish alphabet, and leave my journal out for someone to pick up and skim. I wonder if they will make odd faces. And if they do, perhaps I should take discreet photos and make a scrap-book of the various facial reactions to my writing. More likely than not, though, it will end up with two or three pages and then be utterly neglected, like my list of cynical, self-indulgent irritations, or my blog.
It is a shame that my book has fallen into neglect, though. That steno book has been with me through most of high school. My irritations have been so trifling of late, though. If I were to start writing again, I may have to dedicate and entire page to cocky, underachieving, fedora-toting, rage-inducing, concentration-shattering bastards who pal around with delinquent, lazy, visually disturbing, authority-shirking, good-for-nothing parasites on society who apparently either have lead-weighted lips (or maybe they ate lead-based paint chips at one point, likely), or lack the control of their facial muscles that would allow them to close their mouth or breathe through their nose.
And... oh crap. I had somewhere else to write to, but I forget what. So now I'm off-topic. But I was on a tangent before. Am I off topic from being off-topic? Is that a double negative? If not, where does it leave me? Maybe I'm off on some compound tangent of no-return. But hold on; this is my journal. Is it possible to be on-topic? Or is everything I write in here off-topic, because of the lack of a topic? Does that make me off-topic off of a tangent of a fundamentally off-topic topic?
I'm going to bed.
__________________
. . . .
. . . . . .
No, really, I'm not. But instead, I'm going to give you something just a little less thrilling. Your blood pressure will thank me. I'm going to give you a very special peek into my thoughts where they're the least edited and thought out; my journal. Or, more specifically, my Learner's Log. However, I'd had a journal before the assignment, so I still think of it as my journal. Enjoy.
*DISCLAIMER*
The only reason I'm doing this is because it's currently 11:37 pm, and I've just spent the last 7 hours pumping out essays for various applications and what-not, not the mention homework. I take no responsibility for damages you may suffer because of my pseudo-drunken blogging.
_____________________________________
October 25th, 2008
11:23 pm
It's odd, going back to midnight writing after so long a stint as a morning writer. It's the same... yet not the same. Maybe it's because I usually take white tea in the morning, and green in the evening. Though tonight I fear I used too little, and steeped too short.
I wonder how comprehensible my journal would be to any random person picking it up and flipping through it to a random page? For some perverse reason that even I don't fully understand, I've tried to make my entries as clear as possible. Which is odd, seeing as it's my desire that the words on these pages never reach eyes other than mine. Perhaps I should begin the habit of writing every third sentence with the elvish alphabet, and leave my journal out for someone to pick up and skim. I wonder if they will make odd faces. And if they do, perhaps I should take discreet photos and make a scrap-book of the various facial reactions to my writing. More likely than not, though, it will end up with two or three pages and then be utterly neglected, like my list of cynical, self-indulgent irritations, or my blog.
It is a shame that my book has fallen into neglect, though. That steno book has been with me through most of high school. My irritations have been so trifling of late, though. If I were to start writing again, I may have to dedicate and entire page to cocky, underachieving, fedora-toting, rage-inducing, concentration-shattering bastards who pal around with delinquent, lazy, visually disturbing, authority-shirking, good-for-nothing parasites on society who apparently either have lead-weighted lips (or maybe they ate lead-based paint chips at one point, likely), or lack the control of their facial muscles that would allow them to close their mouth or breathe through their nose.
And... oh crap. I had somewhere else to write to, but I forget what. So now I'm off-topic. But I was on a tangent before. Am I off topic from being off-topic? Is that a double negative? If not, where does it leave me? Maybe I'm off on some compound tangent of no-return. But hold on; this is my journal. Is it possible to be on-topic? Or is everything I write in here off-topic, because of the lack of a topic? Does that make me off-topic off of a tangent of a fundamentally off-topic topic?
I'm going to bed.
__________________
. . . .
Saturday, October 11, 2008
The War Against Negativity
We Americans, are currently in the grips of a massive propaganda war. Its' target is not the communists, the fascists, the Chinese, or even the Democrats. Our culture is set on destroying one, overarching, neigh invincible enemy: Unhappiness. When I look out today on what passes for "self-help" literature (I.E. that garbage that's pseudo-scientific to the extend that true literature rejects it. However, that veneer of scientific vindication is just enough to get it published), for all intents and purposes, one new to our society would think that being a little depressed was the reason for high gas prices, world starvation, AIDS, the crashing global economy, kicked a puppy, and probably killed Jesus too. Everywhere, these "experts" go about touting the immense power of "staying positive" and banishing any shred of unhappiness from your being. It makes me a little depressed.
Do a search on the Google web engine (because sometimes we forget that "google" isn't a verb. GASP! Blasphemy!) for the keywords being + happy, and you will be greeted with 24,600,000 results. This is only websites, mind you, not counting the 206,600 results on a Google Book search, 149,578 results from a Google Product search, and 998,434 results from a Google Blog search. It seems that our culture is obsessed with this idea of "attaining happiness."
You might be wondering at this point what I have against people wanting to be happy, aside from the underlying fact of everything that I do. Namely, that I'm a possibly psychopathic cynic who may or may not cut myself. But aside from that obvious reason, I find this happiness mongering a bit out of control not because that I don't think that it works, but because making an idol out of being happy can be dangerous. When happiness becomes a goal in itself, and not merely an asset of byproduct of attaining your goals, this slavish devotion to your own sense of fulfillment can cause one to become narcissistic.
Think of a poet. An artist. A musician. Got one in mind? Now, think of one of the above who seemed to come off as happy all the time. Have some trouble coming up with one? Well, here's a hint why: As a muse, happiness sucks. Which is why none of the artists and poets who are always optimists have become famous. In America's campaign to eradicate melancholy, they've begun to destroy what makes us human: our ability to despair, and our eternal yearning for more.
In trying to eradicate unhappiness, these hacks are trying to eliminate a half of the spectrum of happiness. Through either counseling, brainwashing, even drugs or suicide, people are attempting to do away with the other side of the coin of happiness altogether. But you can't have a coin with only one side. To exist with only positive thoughts, ever living in the noon without seeing the night, is in my humble teenage opinion, unnatural. Without the poignant pangs of sadness to temper our lives, what meaning does being happy hold for us? Eradicating melancholy would leave us only with some robotic semblance of happiness. And what sort of living would that be?
Do a search on the Google web engine (because sometimes we forget that "google" isn't a verb. GASP! Blasphemy!) for the keywords being + happy, and you will be greeted with 24,600,000 results. This is only websites, mind you, not counting the 206,600 results on a Google Book search, 149,578 results from a Google Product search, and 998,434 results from a Google Blog search. It seems that our culture is obsessed with this idea of "attaining happiness."
You might be wondering at this point what I have against people wanting to be happy, aside from the underlying fact of everything that I do. Namely, that I'm a possibly psychopathic cynic who may or may not cut myself. But aside from that obvious reason, I find this happiness mongering a bit out of control not because that I don't think that it works, but because making an idol out of being happy can be dangerous. When happiness becomes a goal in itself, and not merely an asset of byproduct of attaining your goals, this slavish devotion to your own sense of fulfillment can cause one to become narcissistic.
Think of a poet. An artist. A musician. Got one in mind? Now, think of one of the above who seemed to come off as happy all the time. Have some trouble coming up with one? Well, here's a hint why: As a muse, happiness sucks. Which is why none of the artists and poets who are always optimists have become famous. In America's campaign to eradicate melancholy, they've begun to destroy what makes us human: our ability to despair, and our eternal yearning for more.
In trying to eradicate unhappiness, these hacks are trying to eliminate a half of the spectrum of happiness. Through either counseling, brainwashing, even drugs or suicide, people are attempting to do away with the other side of the coin of happiness altogether. But you can't have a coin with only one side. To exist with only positive thoughts, ever living in the noon without seeing the night, is in my humble teenage opinion, unnatural. Without the poignant pangs of sadness to temper our lives, what meaning does being happy hold for us? Eradicating melancholy would leave us only with some robotic semblance of happiness. And what sort of living would that be?
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