Monday, February 22, 2010
23) Fighting Force Majeure
One such example is creative assignments. This blog falls under that category. Where as some might be able to simply create art on a whim, others must toil through it. Making it mandatory in the name of required "Schooling" effectively makes it that much worse.
Perhaps where I'm going with this is that school seems utterly pointless at an early age. And some may hold that belief true in their later years. But like any effective/ineffective schooling system of the world, we must face facts. The current social belief stands that an education makes a person, regardless of who they may choose to be.
So why does the American school system invest the most in education, and yet rank the lowest in quality students? As Obama pours money for education, many doubt that spending more makes better students.
So you may say that this is another excuse of mine to avoid school? As I recall, the United States of America is a democratic country. Should the students not have a direct say in what they should learn? How much they should receive in funding?
And of course the adults and politicians would declare that we are too young to make such decisions for ourselves. This is a legitimate concern. But what about the young adults? Are they to say our opinions into the matter mean nothing?
Says who? The American society is hell bent on creating the image that an education is the number one priority for a youth. But isn't the youth to decide what they want in life?
And what is the point of all this if they sleep in class, as they do now, if they are not interested in learning something they are forced to? If they have no genuine interest in their lives? The fact that students coin their education "useless" should tell us something. But let me quote John Taylor Gatto, for he says it better:
"The secret of American schooling is that it doesn’t teach the way children learn — nor is it supposed to. Schools were conceived to serve the economy and the social order rather than kids and families — that is why it is compulsory. As a consequence, the school can not help anybody grow up, because its prime directive is to retard maturity. It does that by teaching that everything is difficult, that other people run our lives, that our neighbors are untrustworthy even dangerous. School is the first impression children get of society."
I'm not saying that we should eliminate youth education altogether. But if we can create a system where learning is not a CHORE, it would be a big improvement. A system where people would learn what they want to learn. A system not based on a preset standard that is adhered to only because it is convenient. Only because it is a system that everyone says is effective. Only because it is a system where nobody asks the children what they want. It would really say something about the United State's will for Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.
What I want is not for society to shun a student who decides to quit school because they know their will better than anyone else. That the independence they seek from the tyranny of a failing education system was not in vain, so that one day they may pursue their endeavors in any way they wish, whether it include an education or not.
And most importantly, the idea that you don't need to have an education to enjoy life. Some don't want to spend a tenth of their life confined in being taught the illusion that you can't do anything unless society says you can according to their customs and rules.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Interlude: A Favor
“This must be it.” Daniel said.
He was looking down into his palm, staring at a crumbled piece of paper with an address on it. The writing was barely legible, a mass of scribbles.
He looked up, and in front of him appeared an old, almost civil war era type of house. It basked in the warm yellow hues of the afternoon sun. Birds could be heard chirping a couple houses over.
He looked forward to see the front door of the gray house, paint peeling off the edges of the old and crippled wood. It was easily the oldest house on the block.
Daniel couldn’t help but mutter to himself. “Damned G.I. bill. Never enough for anybody.” He let out a small wheezing cough, echoing down the street.
He stepped up onto the front porch, the wood creaking under his weight. The front door was already half opened. He knocked on it once. Twice. No answer. The yellow glow of the living room inside beckoned to him, the curtains drawn, shielding the blinding sun. It was very dark and gloomy compared to the outside street of suburbia.
Inside, the house was a mess. There were books strewn about everywhere, some open to random pages, others with withering covers. The pages were a dulled yellow. Beside them lay empty bottles of alcohol.
Daniel stumbled inside to find a man snoring in an armchair. He went back to the front hallway to close the door, and then took a seat in an opposite chair in the living room. The table in between them was loose with papers and snapped pencils. He shuffled and read a few, before waking the man from his slumber.
He slowly came too, rubbing his eyes when he realized who it was. “Daniel? Daniel Smith? That really you, or am I having another goddamn drunk fantasy?”
“I’m not that French girl with her skirt gone in Paris. So yeah, it’s me Capt’n.”
The man smiled warmly. “I remember her. She was one hell of a bitch. Remember when she hit the C.O. and knocked his helmet off? Told the damn bastard not to flirt with her.”
Daniel took a half empty bottle and drank a swig. It was hard whiskey. He smiled back with some reluctance. “How you been Capt’n? Still raising hell?
“That’s sir to you, private. And I’m in here rotting my ass off in this godforsaken house. Not going to last long.”
Daniel looked down, his tone more serious. “That bad?”
“No benefits. All I ever end up doing is yelling at some poor clerk. I scared this one kid shitless when I started to tell him about Normandy.”
“Yeah.” Daniel said remorsefully. He picked up a pictured frame that was lying on the desk. The picture showed him, his old squad, and the Captain, all standing at ease. Some were smiling, others making faces at the camera. It was dated March ’42. Daniel couldn’t help but feel a grin spread on his face.
“Half the people in that picture are gone.” The Captain said. He took the whiskey bottle from Daniel and emptied it.
“That’s gonna kill you worse than any arty shell, Capt’n.”
The Captain scoffed. “I’m already dead. Just a matter of when. At least with an 88 I know what to do. Here, I don’t got shit left.”
“We all got something left Capt’n.” Daniel leaned back into his chair. “Dozer’s got a job for Ford now.”
That brought a laugh out of the Captain. “Couldn’t imagine a dumb bastard like him to start buildin’ cars. Good for him though. Good for him.” He scoured around for another bottle. “The rest of us ain’t so lucky. Some of us only ever knew how to do one thing. And damnit, I knew how to do my job.”
Daniel spotted a half empty bottle on the floor next to him, and tossed it to the Captain. The two sat down and stayed silent. They passed the bottle back and forth, drinking until it was all gone.
The Captain mumbled softly. “I know this seems weird, but I called you here to ask a favor.”
“A favor?”
“Do you remember that oath we made on that transport ship?”
“You mean the one on the USS Mariner?”
“Yeah.” The Captain coughed, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s time for me to cash in on that. Tell em’ I tried. I tried so damn hard. Tell Dozer, Cavelli, anyone that’s left.”
Daniel shifted in his seat. “Capt’n?”
The Captain slinked back into his armchair. “Like I said, I got nothing left. And I’m already dead. I don’t belong anywhere else. Just promise me you’ll tell em, and that you don’t end up like me.” He paused. ”I have to honor my vow.”
“That doesn’t mean throwing it all away. Enough of us are all still alive. We still have lives to live. Things are different now.”
“I’ve thought about it long and hard. I should’ve died with em.” He paused. “My life is back there. Here, it doesn’t have a meaning. A purpose. I need to make things right. I will always be their commander, life or death.”
“Live together, die alone?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel got up from his chair. “I can’t change your mind?”
The Captain got up and shook his hand. “No.”
Daniel gave one last salute, said a protracted ‘Semper Fi’, and then went out the front door, closing it behind him with a heavy thud.
The Captain went to his bedroom closet, took out the M1911 pistol inside, and then pointed it at his own forehead. His tired finger wavered against the trigger.
Daniel ran down the street, not wanting to witness the loss of another friend. He didn’t want to have anything to do with the touch and smell of death. He didn’t want to see any more blood. He ran as if bullets were being fired. They were.
A shot rang out, echoing among the houses of suburbia.
Daniel turned, stared for a moment, and then continued his run. He could feel the sadness and hopelessness, the anger rising in him once again. His quiet voice did not echo, a whimper in comparison. “Live together, die together.”
22A) The Apple Incarnate
Bottom line, this is a story that needs to be told.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
22) Fads and Apples
Like other technological fads of the old days, like cassette players, wired phones, etc., someone with marketing genius has capitalized on the advances in technology. Those born today will never know what these items were, and become dumbfounded at our nostalgia when we mention it.
But a better question to ask is how such fads impact society as a whole. Everyone you see today has some product by Apple, even presidents and celebrities.
There are numerous commercials anywhere and everywhere, praising the godly products that seem to have taken hold of the modern world. Everybody seems to have been entranced by such products, which seem to infiltrate everywhere in large cities. In San Francisco, I doubt if there is a room where an Apple product is not present.
This Apple fad is in much larger scale than other fads of the past. It has become a vital part of how we perceive media and its subsequent distribution, along with the mass marketing it has established. Apple products are the new status quo.
As Apple stock skyrockets and the company becomes increasingly successful, we may begin to wonder about the consequences of such a powerhouse. After all, with a revenue of $42 billion and a market cap of $181 billion, this is American capitalism at its finest.
As Steve Jobs becomes a prophetic icon of informational success, he also becomes an inspiration for the many starting businessmen in the market today. Who else might follow in his footsteps?
Also I wonder, what is the main motivation behind the powerhouse of Apple? Are they here to make insane amounts of money? Or control us all subconsciously?
My main point here is that we must be wary of the unknown consequences such market control might bring. We are no longer in the age of corporation limitations of the T. Roosevelt presidency. Might we turn into the zombies of a one company economy?
Seems to me it's already happened.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
21) A Humane Vendetta
V for Vendetta is my favorite movie of all time. Perhaps it's the "Big Brother:1984" aspect that appeals to my inner revolutionary, or the simple story of a heroine struggling to find herself in an unfair and corrupt world. I can relate my life and the lives around me to such fiction with astounding accuracy.
The film explores the life of Evey Hammond, thrust into the revolution of a future totalitarian Britain. We see the story of her inner struggle, along with the homicidal actions of V, a Guy-Fawkes mask wearing vigilante. Through their actions we see the corrupted characters of their world: a egotistical soldier turned TV pundit, a doctor who kills in the name of science, a corrupt bishop pedophile, and a selfish dictator who rules without mercy.
It is in this context that I see the darker side of human nature. As I've grown older, I can't help but feel the fiction of this movie is more and more non fiction everyday. It is a world I cringe at, a world where I must become more aware of darkness everyday.
I suppose such a setting applies to many of us when we are young and innocent. Our eyes are barely open when we are thrust into an unforgiving Earth of wonders that we struggle to understand. As we begin to grow older, we see the difference between our childhood optimism and our world induced pessimism. When we are adults, reality loves to remind us that evil is inevitable, and that the hope we find in our lives in often scarce and sacred, existing most in dreams and aspirations.
Attempts to find the root of my personal pessimism for this world have yielded no fortune, for the answer I seek lies in the dark side of human nature I hate to explore.
And yet it is clear on television, the internet, the newspaper. It thrives in our daily vision, during our tasks. It is something hidden inside most of us, a monster we hate to admit exists. It is such evil that I fear it.
Within this evil, I indeed see the opposite side, the side of hope and brightness, of peace and love. From such strong forces I know my integrity still exists, and that the integrity of others still exist. No good or evil deed would be possible otherwise. It is the actions stemmed from such good or evil that may be the hardest to accomplish in our lives.
This is why I hold a personal vendetta against the evil of this world. I decided long ago that my integrity demands it. I would hate to lie to myself when I say I would die to combat the sins of humanity.
Through the toughest moments of my life thus far, I have called on this young and wavering integrity to guide me. Here's to hoping that it may guide me forever more on my mission of honorable action.
"Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have. It is the very last inch of us, but within that inch, we are free."
- Valerie Page (V for Vendetta)
Saturday, February 6, 2010
20) Unrivaled Ego Squared
As one ponders such success, they may question the leadership, the form of government, or the premise of freedom from which the United States was built on. But others, like me, may question not the origins, but the effects.
There is little doubt the United States was shaped by its respected and honorable military tradition. Through countless wars and conflicts, the U.S. has prevailed, becoming stronger and better. This has formed a foreign policy not afraid to use excessive force. It is through this brute force that Americans love to rely on for change.
But after how many success before you begin to believe in your invincibility? And how many wars will be lost before you realize otherwise?
Few patriots in any country want to admit failures. Not even regular people like you and me want to either. So when you ask a true American patriot about the Vietnam War, or perhaps the current war in the Middle East, they many shy away from a straight and honest answer.
This is not to say that they're wrong, but rather to prove an ego.
Let's admit it: why shouldn't Americans have an ego? They were able to build a world superpower in less than 300 years. Compared to a country like China, which has been around for more than 2000 years, America seems to be filled with unrivaled leadership and military strength.
It is debatable as to whether the United States is the best country in the world. It contains numerous flaws, as any human has. One of these flaws just happens to be an ego.
In my eyes, as a young student, I question the influence egos have in running a country. As a warrior, I believe it to be dangerous and foolish. As a pacifist, I see it as a vice. And as a leader, I see it as the devil himself.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
19) Desperation and Liberation
In a whole hearted attempt to kill Mr. Writer's Block, I've decided to undertake a writing exercise I've been itching to do for some time. If my reflections are any indication, it's that I really can't back down from some writing innovation if I have the chance. So I'm here to combine the two things I always do when I blog: typing, and listening to The Killers.
Ladies and Gentleman: Desperate
Send me a way out
I was always on my own. Still am.
Interlude with some good notes. Hard and heavy.
Hammer, stutter now
Let's smash in some skulls.
Lets rock, lets roll now
The calm before the storm is liberating.
She says I'm obsessed
I say I'm in love
Who will ever love me?
Hold me
Pipe dreams that won't happen.
You've done it now
Now send me way out
I feel insecure
Who really doesn't?
And desperate
But not right now
I feel it now
I feel your hate for me.
And you don't see
You don't see how I have soul.
The way I see
I've got it now
I understand. I'm destined to suffer.
I'm desperate
Realized it on my 13th birthday.
Desperate
Nobody gives a shit when I say it.
Desperate
But I have to care when you say it.
I'm better off like this
You keep telling yourself that.
I'm better off
I'm better off like this
No I'm not. And you wouldn't care either way.
Don't you know I care
Yeah. I do care. More than you will ever know.
No, no
Desperate
Sing along now boys and girls.
Desperate
Listen to that guitar play.
Desperate
That a solo?
Desperate
I remember that time I tried to die.
I'm better off like this
I'm better off
If I say it enough times it might come true.
I'm better off like this
Don't you know I care
No, no
I wish I was myself
Close now.
Again
Back when I was still innocent?
I wish I was myself
Maybe. Just maybe.
Again
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Interlude: Fitzgerald
He relates to people's own experiences to force them to guess what is not there. In his short story "The Homes of the Stars", the main character, Pat Hobby, capitalizes on a mistaken situation. A couple mistakes him for a tour guide, and he decides to go on with the charade to gain some money. Pat's simple request of "Would you be able to pay in advance?" is a simple way to describe his personality. As a general sentence, we can already infer that our protagonist is in financial trouble.
Later in the story, most of the dialogue is filler conversation between Pat and the couple. As they approach a home, which the couple assumes to be Shirley Temple's house, Pat begins to panic: "Not here...I made a mistake." Most of his dialogue can be interpreted as improvisation and worry. Here, we understand the full scope of his fear, and Pat begins to realize what he's gotten himself into.
All in all, Fitzgerald shines in his short stories when he makes characters as vague as possible. He makes them come alive by provoking people's imagination. In the context of the story, a made up background is just as effective as the unwritten one, if not more so.
Monday, February 1, 2010
18) Imperfect Integrity
So like everyone else, I signed the athletic packet, which required physical clearance from my family doctor. Off I went to the health care center in Oakland, supposedly stopping in at the last appointment of the day.
I expected a fifteen minute checkup. I stayed for two hours.
My doctor started asking questions, supposedly to calm me down, or to fill in some of the forms I had. At first I thought it was normal, until he got in depth about my future career and my grades. Then he started to tangent off.
I sat there listening to him rant on about society. About not limiting yourself. About being noble.
I didn't want to hear his speech, but I was intrigued. I sat and looked straight into his eyes as he spoke. He didn't waver once in what he wanted to tell me.
He proposed an analogy about current situations. That life was one part intelligence, nine parts effort. He referenced the smart people in every classroom who were fully capable on succeeding, except that they lacked the motivation and effort. He told me that when a person is shown a video of their ethnic group being discriminated against, they would fail their math test the next day. If they saw a motivation speech by a person of their race, they would ace that math test. He told me that the only person limiting yourself is you.
He went on to explain that his time at Harvard was not in vain, even though he went on to become a lowly clinic doctor. He was perfectly content on being himself due to the modesty he practiced in nobility. "Who is more noble?" he asked, "The high school dropout garbage man who never fails to collect trash, or the Harvard graduate CEO who's taking government bailout money to grab bonuses for himself?"
He concluded by simply stating that all he wanted to do was motivate me to become noble, and become whoever I wanted to be. I shrugged on what I thought was my first experience in a major faux pas.
I say this because I felt some unexplainable anger. At first I thought it was disgust at how the wrong person is telling me how to live my life. He was my doctor, not my father. Then I realized it was because I had never heard this from my father at all.
Did I start to hate my dad? The one who neglected to make this speech in my life?
My father and I don't talk for days at a time. When we do, it's not about anything important. Even though we live under the same roof, I grow more distant from him everyday. He doesn't know how to be a father. My grandfather died of smoking when he was young, so my he doesn't know the first thing about parenting. He and I share the mutual passive attitudes of not bothering each other, making it up as we go. Even as he continues to smoke himself to death like his father did.
With that, I finally decided not to ever take up smoking, no matter what. I decided that if I ever have children, I'll give them what I now dub the "Doctor Speech". And most of all, I'll make sure that I never stop putting in nine parts effort to one part intelligence, especially when it comes to my own life.
I think I'll be able to join track with my head held high.