Thursday, June 4, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
The end
I think that it is certainly not a secret, by now, that I don't take blogging very seriously. I mean, no offense Mr. Ayers, but sharing my inner-most feelings and daily activities with the world has never been an activity that I had wished to engage in. And so, for the last year I have composed a lot of, for lack of a better word, shit.
My in-depth look at hippie Jesus-looking freaks, my expose on the color red, and reasons as to why I will certainly end up in Hell parts I, II and III, yeah I think you can make your own conclusions. To be honest, I had to write 1,200 words a week, and that's what I did; no more, no less, no effort.
I have learned through this whole experience that I am not as good of a writer on the fly as I would like to believe, and that few original ideas run through my noggin (yes, I did just use that word) at any given time. I am weird and don't like sharing my life, but I didn't need a blog to figure that out. I mean, this has really been a year of my ramblings, insanity and stupidity.
Needless to say, I'm sure, Mr. Ayers, that I'm not exactly the type of gal you are looking for in your masters research, and that's okay, because I think that if my blog has given me anything, it's the ability to voice my opinions and not care what anyone thinks about them. There's definitely something very liberating about putting your ideas in writing; a certain freedom that has allowed me to organize my thoughts and make more bold statements than I would ever make in conversation. For example, I would never tell you off in person, Mr. Ayers, I am far too much of a coward, but clearly here on my blog I have no problem saying that I gave the 80 or so blog posts the collective brain power I would give to making a peanut butter sandwich.
It is with these comments that I say goodbye to my prized 'Yay a blog!' for, certainly, forever; goodbye to incessantly typing at 11:56 on a Sunday night and to changing the posting options when it hit 12:01 and I still had to start another entry; goodbye to the frustration that comes with having writers' block until finally settling on a topic like butter; and finally goodbye to laughing at my own stupidity...but probably not because that is a practice that will likely last my entire life.
And so, to Mr. Ayers, I would like to thank you for not failing me, even after skimming the shitty contents of my blog for the past two terms, and hope that you would do the same this term! I warn you, I will be in your perspectives class next year, and you don't disgruntled Emma around, that is never pretty.
Yay a blog!, goodbye, sorry you suck so much.
My in-depth look at hippie Jesus-looking freaks, my expose on the color red, and reasons as to why I will certainly end up in Hell parts I, II and III, yeah I think you can make your own conclusions. To be honest, I had to write 1,200 words a week, and that's what I did; no more, no less, no effort.
I have learned through this whole experience that I am not as good of a writer on the fly as I would like to believe, and that few original ideas run through my noggin (yes, I did just use that word) at any given time. I am weird and don't like sharing my life, but I didn't need a blog to figure that out. I mean, this has really been a year of my ramblings, insanity and stupidity.
Needless to say, I'm sure, Mr. Ayers, that I'm not exactly the type of gal you are looking for in your masters research, and that's okay, because I think that if my blog has given me anything, it's the ability to voice my opinions and not care what anyone thinks about them. There's definitely something very liberating about putting your ideas in writing; a certain freedom that has allowed me to organize my thoughts and make more bold statements than I would ever make in conversation. For example, I would never tell you off in person, Mr. Ayers, I am far too much of a coward, but clearly here on my blog I have no problem saying that I gave the 80 or so blog posts the collective brain power I would give to making a peanut butter sandwich.
It is with these comments that I say goodbye to my prized 'Yay a blog!' for, certainly, forever; goodbye to incessantly typing at 11:56 on a Sunday night and to changing the posting options when it hit 12:01 and I still had to start another entry; goodbye to the frustration that comes with having writers' block until finally settling on a topic like butter; and finally goodbye to laughing at my own stupidity...but probably not because that is a practice that will likely last my entire life.
And so, to Mr. Ayers, I would like to thank you for not failing me, even after skimming the shitty contents of my blog for the past two terms, and hope that you would do the same this term! I warn you, I will be in your perspectives class next year, and you don't disgruntled Emma around, that is never pretty.
Yay a blog!, goodbye, sorry you suck so much.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Freaks of the world, we're tite
I'm just going to come out and say it, I'm a freak. I mean, really there's no hiding it, but in qualification of this self accusation, I thought I would share some of my many anomalies.
- I don't eat green candy...like, ever. Really, I hate any sort of green sweet, we're talking Jell-O, Skittles, suckers, Starburst, even M&M's; I really hate the taste of lemon lime, I guess, and even if things aren't that flavor, I assume that they are gross like that, so I just steer clear of them.
- I get a fake boyfriend everywhere I go. In school, I have about three, for different classes of course. In Czech School, I have Isaac, also known as TeeYukYuk. At the hospital I had a kid from the cafeteria for a while, but then I switched jobs and I haven't seen him since, I think he went off to college or something. And finally, there is work where I have two boyfriends, they legitimately fight, it is really funny. But with all of these thugs hanging around me, I have no real boyfriend, because I obviously attract weirdos.
- It is a habit of mine to purposely listen to a song so much that I begin to hate it and then legitimately cringe every time I hear it after that, I really have no idea why.
- I don't invite people...anywhere. I seem to have some sort of irrational hate for having to be the one to instigate a get together, and quite honestly, I would rather do nothing than to have to call people and see if they want to do something.
- I hate hanging around my family, but I love being at my house.
- I like writing, but hate reading.
- I attempt to make every situation sufficiently less awkward for other people by using great sarcasm to shift the attention away from other people. So, when things get awkward for someone else, I will throw in a stupid comment like, my rap album drops next week or tell a horribly embarrassing anecdote about my childhood. Yet, even with all of this making myself look like a fool, if someone catches me off guard or slightly insults anything about me, I get embarrassed really easily.
- Drinking milk freaks me out because I view it as drinking cow pee or something, even though I know it has been pasteurized and everything. So I have to eat chocolate in order to make myself thirsty enough to stomach milk.
- I am the only one that is allowed to sing in my car, my sisters are not allowed. However, I serenade them with my less than stellar abilities on a regular basis.
- I am probably a pathological liar and a hypocrite, and I am really okay with that.
- I am a stark anti-feminist and don't think that women should hold certain offices and occupational positions. I want to be June Cleaver and not some Hillary Clinton (basically hermaphrodite) clone.
Work, the song ruiner
Now there are a lot of reasons that I hate work; the fact that I have to do something on my Sunday afternoons, the concept that I have to be nice to annoying little kids and the notion that I work with a lot of freaks are all problems. But today I was confronted with one of my greatest problem yet.Generally speaking, we listen to shit music, can you say techno? Anyway, with a shift in Sunday management as of late, we have gotten into much better music and we currently listen to Sirius Hits 1, which is tite because that's the type of music I listen to in the car and stuff. However, when hour seven or so rolls around and you have listened to Spider Harrison's Weekend Top 45 Countdown twice, it becomes an issue.
Anyway, as I was there I heard the song 'Kiss Me Thru the Phone' approximately 5,000 times, and while I actually enjoy that song normally, Planet X is a song ruiner. For instance, I cannot listen to Poker Face ever anymore because I have so many horrific associations with it, aka the thoughts of being at work. Dear God I hope this video is clean...I didn't really watch it, but it seemed like it would be the safest.
And when I got home this evening, I was a little upset because I had Soulja Boy's voice stuck in my head, and I don't do a very good impression, so it was just a problem. Plus, I had to straighten out some of the words, because I made a bet with my sister, and so I spent $1.29 on iTunes, which was a little upsetting, I must admit. So, with that mentality, maybe we should go back to the techno music, because at least that way work won't have the ability to ruin that shit any further.
NCYL, here I come
1. What are your strongest leadership skills and what are you doing to improve your weaker ones?
My teachers have always told me that I was a strong leader, and for a long time I thought it was because I was a perfectionist and such a strong student. However, as I have grown older, I have come to the realization that qualities other than scholarship are imperative to leadership. It is the ability to make friends, even with those that you would not normally befriend, that constitutes real leadership, because in all honesty, social intelligence is the most important skill one can develop.
Therefore, I think it is my ability to kill people with kindness and carry on a conversation with anyone I meet that makes me a good leader. I am not condescending and I do not try to rock the boat, and those are qualities that people appreciate and try to emulate. These are also abilities that have the ability to command the attention of a group; if people know that you genuinely care about them, they are more apt to follow your advice.
As far as my weaknesses, my greatest fault would be the fact that I get too wrapped up in the details of a project. Although it sounds cliché to say, I really do care too much about some of the projects that I become involved in. I try to work on detaching myself and delegating tasks in many scenarios, however, it is often hard for me.
2. How will you use your leadership skills to impact your future?
Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to become a journalist. I know that the ability to make people feel at ease and to center groups around one topic are the most important skills in journalism. Therefore, the fact that I can easily carry on a conversation and have social intelligence will make me successful in adapting to my surroundings.
My teachers have always told me that I was a strong leader, and for a long time I thought it was because I was a perfectionist and such a strong student. However, as I have grown older, I have come to the realization that qualities other than scholarship are imperative to leadership. It is the ability to make friends, even with those that you would not normally befriend, that constitutes real leadership, because in all honesty, social intelligence is the most important skill one can develop.
Therefore, I think it is my ability to kill people with kindness and carry on a conversation with anyone I meet that makes me a good leader. I am not condescending and I do not try to rock the boat, and those are qualities that people appreciate and try to emulate. These are also abilities that have the ability to command the attention of a group; if people know that you genuinely care about them, they are more apt to follow your advice.
As far as my weaknesses, my greatest fault would be the fact that I get too wrapped up in the details of a project. Although it sounds cliché to say, I really do care too much about some of the projects that I become involved in. I try to work on detaching myself and delegating tasks in many scenarios, however, it is often hard for me.
2. How will you use your leadership skills to impact your future?
Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to become a journalist. I know that the ability to make people feel at ease and to center groups around one topic are the most important skills in journalism. Therefore, the fact that I can easily carry on a conversation and have social intelligence will make me successful in adapting to my surroundings.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Unclassifiable
So my blog was put in the unclassifiable category of the Kennedy Wordpress website, and it's really just not okay. I'm upset that I was not given a category, because surely Mr. Ayers could have just humored me and let me fit in with all of the rest of the blogs. Like, in all honesty, nobody was going to click on my blog to see if it truly should have fit with the 'Fashion and Trends' or 'Life After School' categories or whatever; nobody cares that much. And furthermore, if someone did take the time to read through my ten thousand posts and determine that I should not be under a certain category, they would be a freak and I wouldn't even care, because I am obviously way cooler than them.I guess I have nothing more to say about this, which is probably a testament as to why I am in the unclassifiable category; everything I write is pure crap. However, I would still like to voice my displeasure with this nonsense, and the other three blogs should be pissed about this as well. So, writers of Nodda Nother Blog, Once Upon a Time, and The Crush we should definitely rise up and take Mr. Ayers down, I think it would be worth it.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Lessons learned from junior year 3
- As far as lessons learned from junior year go, I have also taken some practical ones. For example, I have learned, through the tragedies of my sister, that home hair dye is a really dangerous product. No matter how closely you follow the rules, you will still come out with orange and purple hair. And from the sacrifices of that sister again, I learned the evils of fake tanning, or at least trying to apply the bottle of lotion all at once. Simply put, you end up looking orange, really orange.
- I learned that making fun of people different than myself, is possibly the most fun activity I could ever engage in. This year I have pretended to be a prostitute and in a gang, all which have brought me great joy. I learned how to flash the bloods symbol, which if I ever show to anyone in Compton, I will probably get shot or something, but it's fun to know anyway. I also learned the distinction between a shank and a shiv.
- Another lesson I have learned this year is that I am no good at blogging, because it is hard and I don't have a brain. Ok, tite I think I'm done.
Lessons learned from junior year 2
- Another important skill I have taken from my junior year is the ability to go whole nights without sleeping; it has come in very handy in all situations.
- An important, and responsible, revelation I have come to over the course of the years, is that drugs are gross. Dirties that sell them and smoke them and inject them and inhale them and do whatever else you can do with them...they've got problems. I think that I have a general disdain for these illegal substances, but I know a lot of people that like to engage in them, and I can't stop being friends with them because of the horrible, stupid choices they make.
- Anemia is a disease that never goes away, darn probably should have eaten more meat when I got the chance.
- My parents wont support me if I get in a small plane and fly around with a complete stranger, (even thought I obviously came out of the experience alive, and it was a great way to spend my first ever plane ride). And so maybe, I should have never told them about it, but they are all into letting me make my own mistakes and not making mountains out of mole hills, so it wasn't that big of a deal. All that happened was that my mom freaked out to my sister and told her that she was so afraid that I could have died, but she never even said anything to me.
- I have also learned this year that having my sister away at college is way shittier than I thought. Even though we never really got along when I was a kid, as we grew older my sister and I became basically best friends. And quite frankly, my house was really lonely this year, because I'm not particularly fond of the rest of my family. But I guess, a few positive things have still come out of this situation: first, I developed a better relationship with my parents, second my younger sister and I became better friends, and third I got my own car, and she hated me for it.
- And I also learned that 400 words to write on a blog post is way too many because I really don't have that many things to say. And now I have 30 words to kill and so I will just be talking in circles until I get that far.
Lessons learned from junior year
As the school year is finally coming to a close, I guess I have nothing left to do but reflect upon all of my junior year experiences, and the fabulous lessons I have learned throughout the past eight months. And so, here are my fabulous lessons:
- Approximately 14 months ago, I made a horrible mistake, in the form of making one check; I chose to take AP Chemistry. And if that experience has taught me anything, it is that no matter how smart you are and how hard you work, you will always feel stupid in AP Chem. There is almost no exception to this rule; the lack of sufficient teaching and boring as death lectures make it near impossible to trudge through the work.
- I begged the Editor-in-Chief of our school newspaper for months to allow me to write an editorial, but every time he made a twisted face as he tried to lie through his teeth. He would say, "uh, I don't think we have room this time, but next time...maybe." It was quite obvious: he didn't think I could do it. But when I swindled my way into another girl's spot, he had to let me; there were no more excuses. And so, I wrote the whole editorial, and it was published and everything. The repercussions that came from work, however, taught me lesson number two: everything has consequences, even if you don't think your colleagues can read a newspaper. And furthermore, I learned that you can indeed get fired for publishing anything that could be misconstrued as slander (although I was not).
- This year I also learned some practical lessons, that I can hopefully take over into the real world. First, I learned that some incorrect police officers believe that it is the law that you have to carry ID with you everywhere in public, even if you're not driving. And with that, I learned that there is no way I will ever dispute a cop because I am too afraid, and so it is probably just a good idea to take my licence with me everywhere.
- I learned this year that coming to class isn't nearly as important as I once thought, and skipping is in all scenarios, much more fun. I have skipped so much school this year, like really I may have skipped almost as much as I have attended. And obviously, it hasn't been that big of a deal (except for I would never intentionally skip AP Lang, of course!)
Princess Emma
Once upon a time there was a princess, her name was Emma. She lived in a castle in the middle of a magical kingdom. She had a unicorn and a dragon and a moat and lots of pretty dresses and a whole room of shoes.
She liked to sit and play the harp in her tower. And when she was not doing that, she would let her 37 feet of hair down and princes would climb up, because she had a really strong scalp. Apparently she was using a really great shampoo.
Basically she was tite, (and basically I have totally run out of things to write about on this blog, because I am writing about Princess Emma).
She liked to sit and play the harp in her tower. And when she was not doing that, she would let her 37 feet of hair down and princes would climb up, because she had a really strong scalp. Apparently she was using a really great shampoo.
Basically she was tite, (and basically I have totally run out of things to write about on this blog, because I am writing about Princess Emma).
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Yep, I'm a Republican!
I never thought the day would come when the words, "Yep, I'm a Republican" came out of my mouth.
Those gun-toting, super-rich, up-tight, Bush clones; I never thought I would be a member of the GDP! In my house, that just isn't something that happens. My mom liberal, my dad is a registered democrat and my sister is as left-wing as they come. None of my friends take a particularly conservative stance. Heck, I grew up idolizing the hippies of Woodstock, longing to be with them. And so, it was always just assumed, I guess, that this is how I would be too--that this is how I should be.
And don't get me wrong, I conformed for quite a while. I was the lone Obama supporter for the majority of the election in my household, with a gaggle of Hillary supporters surrounding me. The infectious, passion-inspiring nature of that man, I think, wrapped everyone up in his greatness; and if I had been 18, there would have been no doubt that he would have been who I marked down on my ballot, primarily because that is what I would have been expected to do.
It's kind of funny how even in the utter privacy of a voting booth, the pressures of others can still plague you.
Anyway, it wasn't until after Obama took office that I noticed one grave fault in his platform: he had none. Except for yelling "Change!" and "Hope!" at every possible time, the man had no clue, and neither did I. If, at that time, I had been asked to identify democratic principles, I could not have done it to save my life.
This prompted me to look into the platforms of the two sides, and decide without much hesitation that the democrats are a lot stupider than I was giving them credit for. And this isn't a knock on any of my liberal friends by any means, because getting into a political debate is never one of the activities that I wish to engage in. Furthermore, outside of this blog, I plan to keep my views pretty quiet, because nobody wants to be seen as crazy neocon girl (for the record, I am not a neoconservative ala George W. Bush though).
My only apprehension about declaring my position as a Republican, is that I will be viewed as uptight. You know what I'm talking about--how Republicans always seem to have some sort of stick up their ass to make them incredibly intense...that's what I refuse to be. And so, I plan to create my own hybrid of hippie-looking Republican.
Treating OCD...what works and wat doesn't
The anxiety disorder known as obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is an anxiety disorder characterized by uncontrollable, unwanted thoughts and repetitive, neurotic behaviors that one is compelled to perform without reason. OCD causes the brain to focus on a particular thought or urge, such as hand washing, or checking the front door lock at night exactly 13 times.The most effective treatment for obsessive-compulsive disorder would most narrowly be two-pronged; a combination of behavioral and cognitive therapy.
On the behavioral side, exposure and response prevention would involve the repeated exposure to the source of obsession, (the front door lock at night). Then, the afflicted would be asked to refrain from the compulsive behavior that would usually be performed. For example, as the patient sits next to their front door, anxiety-ridden, the urge to check the lock should theoretically go down. This shows the patient that they have control over their anxiety and can turn it off and on. Traditionally, behavioral therapy attempts to eliminate unwanted behaviors through classical conditioning, systematic desensitization, progressive relaxation, exposure therapy, flooding, aversive conditioning and/or operant conditioning.
The other prong of the therapy for OCD would come in the form of cognitive therapy. This therapy would attempt to eliminate irrational thoughts and create an awareness of negative thinking and words. It would assume that OCD focuses on scary thoughts of exaggerated situations, (for example, the idea that if the front door lock is not checked 13 times, a rapist/murderer will break into my home and slowly kill everyone that I love). A larger part of this therapy, however, focuses on teaching healthy and effective ways of responding to obsessive thoughts, without resorting to compulsive behavior. This comes about primarily from gentle questioning, which helps patients discover their irrational and maladaptive thoughts and change their views.
These two forms of therapy are clearly a superior combination, over their three counterparts of psychoanalytic therapy, humanistic therapy or family/group therapy.
Psychoanalytic therapy would not work because it states that the unconscious holds the key to everything and that childhood memories hold the key to everything. It uses free association, dream analysis and transference. However, none of these offer real solutions to fix the problem, nor are they scientifically-backed.
Humanistic therapy uses introspection and active listening to promote personal growth, genuineness, acceptance and empathy. However, that is not what an OCD patient needs¾ they are not having problems with their inner being, they just have something wrong with their brain. They are like a CD stuck on repeat, not a tortured soul that needs to be tamed.
Finally, family/group therapy would presumably be ineffective for people with OCD as well. This form of therapy aims demonstrate that patients are not alone in their problems and to share helpful hints with one another. However, this is still not what an OCD patient needs. Rather than hearing that ‘no person is an island,’ OCD patients need to be conditioned to not obsess on one minute thing.
Thus, the cocktail of the behavioral and cognitive therapies would be the most effective, because it tackles the issue of contorted thoughts and maladaptive behaviors.
Treating depression...what works and what doesn't
Although major depressive disorder is sometimes seen as a hopeless cause by the afflicted, proper treatment and therapy can really lead to decreased symptoms and lifted spirits.
Of the five major therapeutic categories, cognitive treatment is undoubtedly the most effective.
The cognitive behavioral theory of depression states that the patient’s excessive self-criticism and rejection is the root of the disorder. Cognitive therapy attempts to correct the negative thoughts and dysfunctional attitudes, therefore eliminating the patient’s pessimism and hopelessness.
The methods of cognitive therapy include gentle questioning, which helps them discover their irrational and maladaptive thoughts. In addition, homework assignments are given to break through the vicious cycle of depression (increased negative thinking leads to increased social isolation which in turn leads back to increased negative thinking).
It should be noted, though, that there are certainly cognitive critics. These people argue that the depressed patient’s pessimistic, negative thoughts are a result of their major depression, but not the cause. However, cognitive therapy triumphs over the other four major forms of therapy.
Psychoanalytic therapy does not work for major depressive disorder because it does not have any real roots in childhood, and even if it did, this form of therapy does not provide any real suggested treatments.
Humanistic therapy could also be effective in treating major depressive disorder. This form of therapy attempts to promote personal growth and acceptance through active listening and reflection. And while this type of introspection is important for the depressed patient, the therapy doesn’t offer any real solutions and takes too long to find a root cause; all the while the patient slumps into a deeper depression.
Because major depressive disorder is not generally a learned behavior, behavioral therapy is usually ineffective. Happiness cannot be classically conditioned through systematic desensitization, progressive relaxation, exposure therapy, flooding or aversive conditioning. Furthermore, operant conditioning does not work either, because the token economy technique does not work with something as abstract as joy.
Finally, the family/group therapy is not usually viewed as an effective therapy for major depressive disorder. Family therapy examines the role of the depressed member in the overall psychological well-being of the whole family and examines the role of the entire family in the maintenance of the depression. However, if someone in my family is diagnosed with depression, the chances that I am not already doing all that I can to help them is pretty slim; thus family therapy isn’t going to tell me anything I don’t already know and will provide few real solutions.
Therefore, the cognitive therapy clearly triumphs; it’s use of small steps to gradually (but still relatively rapidly) change thinking is clearly the way to go to see the most effective results.
Of the five major therapeutic categories, cognitive treatment is undoubtedly the most effective.
The cognitive behavioral theory of depression states that the patient’s excessive self-criticism and rejection is the root of the disorder. Cognitive therapy attempts to correct the negative thoughts and dysfunctional attitudes, therefore eliminating the patient’s pessimism and hopelessness.
The methods of cognitive therapy include gentle questioning, which helps them discover their irrational and maladaptive thoughts. In addition, homework assignments are given to break through the vicious cycle of depression (increased negative thinking leads to increased social isolation which in turn leads back to increased negative thinking).
It should be noted, though, that there are certainly cognitive critics. These people argue that the depressed patient’s pessimistic, negative thoughts are a result of their major depression, but not the cause. However, cognitive therapy triumphs over the other four major forms of therapy.
Psychoanalytic therapy does not work for major depressive disorder because it does not have any real roots in childhood, and even if it did, this form of therapy does not provide any real suggested treatments.
Humanistic therapy could also be effective in treating major depressive disorder. This form of therapy attempts to promote personal growth and acceptance through active listening and reflection. And while this type of introspection is important for the depressed patient, the therapy doesn’t offer any real solutions and takes too long to find a root cause; all the while the patient slumps into a deeper depression.
Because major depressive disorder is not generally a learned behavior, behavioral therapy is usually ineffective. Happiness cannot be classically conditioned through systematic desensitization, progressive relaxation, exposure therapy, flooding or aversive conditioning. Furthermore, operant conditioning does not work either, because the token economy technique does not work with something as abstract as joy.
Finally, the family/group therapy is not usually viewed as an effective therapy for major depressive disorder. Family therapy examines the role of the depressed member in the overall psychological well-being of the whole family and examines the role of the entire family in the maintenance of the depression. However, if someone in my family is diagnosed with depression, the chances that I am not already doing all that I can to help them is pretty slim; thus family therapy isn’t going to tell me anything I don’t already know and will provide few real solutions.
Therefore, the cognitive therapy clearly triumphs; it’s use of small steps to gradually (but still relatively rapidly) change thinking is clearly the way to go to see the most effective results.
Simply happy
Humans appeared on earth without an owner's manual; no set guidelines as to how love may be attained, success breached, or ultimately happiness guaranteed. However, part of the human owner's manual may soon be written due to tremendous leaps which have been made in an attempt to understand the brain in correlation to both happiness and depression.
So, what have scientists learned about what rings our inner chimes? More than may be imaginable, according to scientists. "While there are many different things that contribute to happiness, the biological component is certainly an important part," pharmacist Joe Agan said. "Essentially, happiness is an emotion and like many it is controlled by petrochemicals in the brain."
Happiness occurs when chemicals such as dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine, are secreted in the brain. These neurotransmitters induce a feeling of contentment in the mesolimbic pathway by stimulating pleasure sensors.
These chemicals are also the building blocks for depression, a disorder that affects approximately 16 percent of the world at some point in time. "An example of situational depression would be somebody's dog getting run over, Agan said. "In this you are sad for a short period of time but soon you are able to overcome it. Clinical depression, however, is a chemical imbalance resulting from long term stress or prolonged situational depression in which serotonin or norepinephrine become deficient and you end up overworking the systems that keep your chemical balances."
"Certainly all happiness is not biological. A period of stress or unhappiness may deplete some chemicals that would make you happy," Agan said. "So, psychological components play a role in happiness too."
Although there are still very few definitive answers as to what psychology allows the human heart to belt out tunes of joy, some conclusions have been drawn.
Money, for instance, and all of the dazzling indulgences one can buy with it, helps us avoid certain types of economic strains, data from the National Opinion Research Center showed.
"Although buying power has more than doubled since the '50s, the average American's reported happiness has remained almost unchanged," the National Opinion Research Center said. Therefore, it has been concluded that money has no significant effect on happiness.
If wealth is not the key, it must be a good education, right? The truth is you should apologize to your parents for making them pay that hefty college tuition fee because the answer is no as well. In fact, studies show that not even a substantially high IQ can guarantee happiness throughout the winding path of life.
If education is not even the answer then it must be our youth; the lazy weekends, daily allowance of as much sugar as we can get out hands on, and the unique ability to drive a car while texting our friends and blasting the radio.
Yet, the answer is still no. In fact studies show that people of an older age are more constantly pleased with their lives than young people. A recent survey by the Center for Disease Control and Prevention concludes, "People ages 20 to 24 are sad for an average of 3.4 days per month, as opposed to just 2.3 days for people ages 65 to 74."
So if these factors are not determining ones, the question remains: what makes us happy? One answer is religion or faith, according to scientific research. Studies have shown that any form of religious faith may boost the spirit, therefore resulting in happiness.
Another influential factor of happiness is friendship. A study conducted by professors Edward Diener and Martin Seligman at the University of Illinois in 2002 showed that approximately ten percent of students who exhibited the highest levels of happiness and least signs of depression stated that strong ties to friends and family were the most prominent contributing factors to their happiness. "It is important to work on social skills, close interpersonal ties, and social support in order to be happy," Diener said.
Yet for those without a natural bubbly personality the question of how to put that extra spring in your step or grin across your face still lingers.
First and foremost, act happy. It is the old saying of mind over matter and it has been shown that we are sometimes able to act ourselves into a certain frame of mind. Talk positively and think optimistic thoughts. Studies show that people ultimately respond much better to this.
Next, focus on something beyond yourself by reaching out to others in need. It has been shown that those who volunteer are more grateful for what they have and ultimately end up in a happier state of mind.
Finally, Michael Wiederman, author of Why It's So Hard to Be Happy, suggests, "Practice living in the moment. Start small...then over time, spend less energy thinking about the past or the future."
Although the growing bodies of scientific research in the field have not yielded any definite or easy answers yet, they seem to have proved what we have known all along: essentially, as Wiederman phrases it, "Happiness ins not an ultimate destination but instead lies in appreaciation of the journey."
So, what have scientists learned about what rings our inner chimes? More than may be imaginable, according to scientists. "While there are many different things that contribute to happiness, the biological component is certainly an important part," pharmacist Joe Agan said. "Essentially, happiness is an emotion and like many it is controlled by petrochemicals in the brain."
Happiness occurs when chemicals such as dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine, are secreted in the brain. These neurotransmitters induce a feeling of contentment in the mesolimbic pathway by stimulating pleasure sensors.
These chemicals are also the building blocks for depression, a disorder that affects approximately 16 percent of the world at some point in time. "An example of situational depression would be somebody's dog getting run over, Agan said. "In this you are sad for a short period of time but soon you are able to overcome it. Clinical depression, however, is a chemical imbalance resulting from long term stress or prolonged situational depression in which serotonin or norepinephrine become deficient and you end up overworking the systems that keep your chemical balances."
"Certainly all happiness is not biological. A period of stress or unhappiness may deplete some chemicals that would make you happy," Agan said. "So, psychological components play a role in happiness too."
Although there are still very few definitive answers as to what psychology allows the human heart to belt out tunes of joy, some conclusions have been drawn.
Money, for instance, and all of the dazzling indulgences one can buy with it, helps us avoid certain types of economic strains, data from the National Opinion Research Center showed.
"Although buying power has more than doubled since the '50s, the average American's reported happiness has remained almost unchanged," the National Opinion Research Center said. Therefore, it has been concluded that money has no significant effect on happiness.
If wealth is not the key, it must be a good education, right? The truth is you should apologize to your parents for making them pay that hefty college tuition fee because the answer is no as well. In fact, studies show that not even a substantially high IQ can guarantee happiness throughout the winding path of life.
If education is not even the answer then it must be our youth; the lazy weekends, daily allowance of as much sugar as we can get out hands on, and the unique ability to drive a car while texting our friends and blasting the radio.
Yet, the answer is still no. In fact studies show that people of an older age are more constantly pleased with their lives than young people. A recent survey by the Center for Disease Control and Prevention concludes, "People ages 20 to 24 are sad for an average of 3.4 days per month, as opposed to just 2.3 days for people ages 65 to 74."
So if these factors are not determining ones, the question remains: what makes us happy? One answer is religion or faith, according to scientific research. Studies have shown that any form of religious faith may boost the spirit, therefore resulting in happiness.
Another influential factor of happiness is friendship. A study conducted by professors Edward Diener and Martin Seligman at the University of Illinois in 2002 showed that approximately ten percent of students who exhibited the highest levels of happiness and least signs of depression stated that strong ties to friends and family were the most prominent contributing factors to their happiness. "It is important to work on social skills, close interpersonal ties, and social support in order to be happy," Diener said.
Yet for those without a natural bubbly personality the question of how to put that extra spring in your step or grin across your face still lingers.
First and foremost, act happy. It is the old saying of mind over matter and it has been shown that we are sometimes able to act ourselves into a certain frame of mind. Talk positively and think optimistic thoughts. Studies show that people ultimately respond much better to this.
Next, focus on something beyond yourself by reaching out to others in need. It has been shown that those who volunteer are more grateful for what they have and ultimately end up in a happier state of mind.
Finally, Michael Wiederman, author of Why It's So Hard to Be Happy, suggests, "Practice living in the moment. Start small...then over time, spend less energy thinking about the past or the future."
Although the growing bodies of scientific research in the field have not yielded any definite or easy answers yet, they seem to have proved what we have known all along: essentially, as Wiederman phrases it, "Happiness ins not an ultimate destination but instead lies in appreaciation of the journey."
To meet a TeeYukYuk
Looking out across the crowd from atop the miniature Wilson Elementary School stage, I saw a boy named TeeYukYuk waving furiously to me. He pointed at his lips and mouthed the words ‘way to go’ as I passed by. I turned back to meet the principal’s gaze and shook her hand with a smile as I accepted my Czech School diploma. Walking back to my spot on the risers, I stuck my middle finger in the air. That was for Isaac.
It was my mom’s belief that nothing was more important than learning about one’s roots. She, herself, took great pride in having savored the sickeningly sweet taste of kolacky alongside the nasally accordion melodies of the Beer Barrel Polka as a young girl and believed that I should too.
But, deploring the idea of becoming my mother, I decided that if ‘priceless ethnic experiences’ had shaped her life, then I would have absolutely nothing to do with them. However, my resistance to cultural expansion, it seemed, fell on deaf ears.
Throughout my childhood, my mom tried to relive her past numerous times; I was forced into sausage-making seminars, egg painting classes and maypole dances, each with the same inevitable result: expulsion. But by the time the idea of Czech School popped into her head, it wasn’t a question anymore; I was going to be force-fed culture and I was going to like it.
The threat of enrollment didn’t faze me much, though. After all, I was proud of my activity discharges and if there was one skill I had honed throughout my childhood, it was how to get out of dismal situations. At the pork plant, I faked fainting; while embellishing eggshells, I knocked 57 yokes on the floor; during the basket-weave dance, I accidentally pulled too hard on my ribbon and knocked the giant pole onto the choreographer’s car. And getting out of this, I presumed, would be no different.
But while my mother mandated my attendance, another strange force broke down my escape plan and kept me there, amidst foreigners and the lingering odor of meat. This was TeeYukYuk.
At the age of ten, I became the first of the Lehmann girls to be “privileged enough to have the opportunity to learn about her heritage,” as my mom deceptively phrased it. Or rather, I was the first to in my family to be kicked out of the car in front of Wilson Elementary, English to Czech dictionary in hand. Either way, though, I was a Czech Schooler.
My first day of class lived up to all of my expectations; the kids recited lines from The Lord of the Rings, the foreign teachers smelled strangely of bologna and lonely old people littered the hallways, ready to smother unsuspecting children with unwanted affection at a moment’s notice. I held my breath, hoping to recreate the pork plant incident, but unfortunately, it was to no avail; I was stuck there.
To make matters worse, I quickly discovered that I was not a natural at foreign languages and my mail-order teacher’s frustration toward me was obvious. “Can you not make smart?” she would demand in fragmented English. “Cesky so same as English! I learn perfect fast, so too you should!” There was obviously no use in pointing out that her funny odor clouded my brain.
Compounding the whole situation, my desk neighbor, Isaac, would loudly agree with her, in the way that only a serious brownnoser is capable. “Geez, you’re right, she does suck at this!” he would holler. Then, turning to me he would pompously declare, “I can do all of this work, but don’t expect me to help you. You had better start crutching on your looks to get by anyway.”
“Oh, thanks,” I would disdainfully reply. I wanted to tell him not to be bitter because I had the option of using my looks, but I remained silent.
Isaac’s nickname, TeeYukYuk, was of my own creation, based off the sound of hillbilly laughter. I classified him in a strange variety of people: a dweller among the creepy, and apparently putrid, confines of Dungeons and Dragons that one would expect to mature into a Peeping Tom, at best. An unfortunate-looking boy, Isaac was bug-eyed and pale; he consistently looked as if he had come straight out of Pee-Wee’s Playhouse. And completing Isaac’s whole package was his uncontrollable jittery and hyper nature, like a nine-year-old ADHD patient on crack. And for this, he was ostracized by the entire school, especially me.
I would mercilessly taunt his bizarre behaviors, hide his Star Wars lunch box and throw his prized Pokémon cards at small children, hoping to prematurely end my Czech School experience. But by the time I had learned my first phrase, ‘My parents force me to come here’, my mockery had proved to be a lost cause. And soon enough it came to bite me in the ‘osel’, as it seemed all of my decisions made at Czech School eventually did.
Within a week of acquainting myself with Isaac, he had latched on to me like a sunburn, the kind that throbs when you’re not thinking about it, and then stings even worse when you finally force yourself to acknowledge it. Every morning, he would slide up awkwardly close to me, still bouncing up and down from, I imagined, his morning caffeine fix combined with a troubling lack of Ritalin. Then he would proceed to say, “You can pick on me all you want, but I’m not going to tell. I know it’s just because you like me.”
Each time this happened, I threw up in my mouth a little and the entire class would look at me sorrowfully as I tried to pawn him off on someone else. “Why don’t you go sit by Triangle-Hair,” I would suggest as I directed his attention to the chubby girl across the room whose black, curly hair looked as if someone had smooshed a piece of geometry right onto her head. “I hear she’s really desperate for a boyfriend!”
Drat, of course he knew that even she wouldn’t settle for a boy that smelled faintly of rotten meat.
“Then maybe you could move by someone, anyone else,” I would plead. But alas my ailment remained loathsomely, exasperatingly loyal.
As the summer wore on, my sunburn became more of a skin cancer, and I was increasingly irritated with each passing day that I was woken up at dawn and subjected to cultural torture. However, it wasn’t until Isaac began singing me show tunes in Czech that I finally snapped.
That morning began like any other: TeeYukYuk jumped beside me, bouncing around in his queer manner; a pop-up book from Hell. Then, the madness began: “Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, / a tale of a fateful trip. / That started from this tropic port, / aboard this tiny ship,” he bellowed in Czech while skipping in circles around me. “Emma, I have a question for you-oo-ooo,” he chanted.
“Shut up, you little weirdo!” I quickly barked. “You bug me so much! Why won’t you just tell on me so I can leave this loser school?”
“Oh Emma, the only way you’re getting out of here is by graduating. So, for now, tell me, don’t you think that song is romantic?” he replied, apparently heeding little attention to my rant. “I was thinking, and I wanted to tell you that I like your face. Will you marry me?”
I was fuming, yet poised to fight back laughter at this absurd question if it came. But Isaac pulled out a paperclip, crafted into a ring from his pocket and I couldn’t help myself anymore; I kicked him in the crotch and cackled in his face.
Every girl dreams of being proposed to, and while it was flattering, even at the age of ten, I was expecting something more than TeeYukYuk pulling out a paperclip ring in the middle of an elementary school after verbally trapping me in Czech School.
Just as another guffaw was about to leave my lips, the bell for class rang and I hurriedly made an attempt to salvage the situation. I looked at Isaac writhing on the floor, “Yeah, like I would marry you. Where do you think we are anyway, Podunk, Alabama?” I mused, my words dripping with sarcasm. But as he crawled to his chair, he threw me the sharp, metal ring with a menacing grin on his face.
Isaac had apparently recovered by noon though, “…and it’s only another nine years before we can make it legal, seven if we have parental consent,” he proclaimed to our classmates. I tried vainly to dispel the rumors, but Isaac had already handed out verbal wedding invitations to everyone he knew; as far as they were concerned, I just had cold feet.
But by the next week, all the chatter had stopped; Isaac hadn’t spoken so much as a word to me. I took advantage of his silence as a sure sign that he was ready to break. So, I tried vandalizing under his name, throwing his books through the windows and eventually found myself exclaiming, “Tell on me you little brat!” but he remained silent.
Over the next four years of Hell, Isaac continued planning our wedding. “What color should our placemats be? Is a Star Trek ice sculpture all right with you? Do you have your ring on?” he would query. Each time he asked an absurd question, I would silently stick my middle finger in the air to signify my frustration with him, and Czech School. However, he seemed to falsely interpret them as a sign of affection. “You will be so proud of yourself when you graduate, so don’t be bitter. Plus, we need this time to plan our life,” he would attempt to comfort me. The finger stayed in place.
I continued to test Isaac’s patients for the next four years, expressing myself primarily through hand gestures. But, eventually, the day that Isaac had promised did come; the night that he had promised would get me out of Czech school (and away from him): graduation.
Walking across the stage to receive my diploma that fateful evening, I was elated and flashed my pride to the audience. I was amazed at myself for making it this far, I had never imagined it possible to finish five years of Czech School, and all without murdering TeeYukYuk. Locating his face in the crowd, I got a nauseous feeling. I stuck my middle finger in the air, ring on, and mouthed the words ‘thank you’.
It was my mom’s belief that nothing was more important than learning about one’s roots. She, herself, took great pride in having savored the sickeningly sweet taste of kolacky alongside the nasally accordion melodies of the Beer Barrel Polka as a young girl and believed that I should too.
But, deploring the idea of becoming my mother, I decided that if ‘priceless ethnic experiences’ had shaped her life, then I would have absolutely nothing to do with them. However, my resistance to cultural expansion, it seemed, fell on deaf ears.
Throughout my childhood, my mom tried to relive her past numerous times; I was forced into sausage-making seminars, egg painting classes and maypole dances, each with the same inevitable result: expulsion. But by the time the idea of Czech School popped into her head, it wasn’t a question anymore; I was going to be force-fed culture and I was going to like it.
The threat of enrollment didn’t faze me much, though. After all, I was proud of my activity discharges and if there was one skill I had honed throughout my childhood, it was how to get out of dismal situations. At the pork plant, I faked fainting; while embellishing eggshells, I knocked 57 yokes on the floor; during the basket-weave dance, I accidentally pulled too hard on my ribbon and knocked the giant pole onto the choreographer’s car. And getting out of this, I presumed, would be no different.
But while my mother mandated my attendance, another strange force broke down my escape plan and kept me there, amidst foreigners and the lingering odor of meat. This was TeeYukYuk.
At the age of ten, I became the first of the Lehmann girls to be “privileged enough to have the opportunity to learn about her heritage,” as my mom deceptively phrased it. Or rather, I was the first to in my family to be kicked out of the car in front of Wilson Elementary, English to Czech dictionary in hand. Either way, though, I was a Czech Schooler.
My first day of class lived up to all of my expectations; the kids recited lines from The Lord of the Rings, the foreign teachers smelled strangely of bologna and lonely old people littered the hallways, ready to smother unsuspecting children with unwanted affection at a moment’s notice. I held my breath, hoping to recreate the pork plant incident, but unfortunately, it was to no avail; I was stuck there.
To make matters worse, I quickly discovered that I was not a natural at foreign languages and my mail-order teacher’s frustration toward me was obvious. “Can you not make smart?” she would demand in fragmented English. “Cesky so same as English! I learn perfect fast, so too you should!” There was obviously no use in pointing out that her funny odor clouded my brain.
Compounding the whole situation, my desk neighbor, Isaac, would loudly agree with her, in the way that only a serious brownnoser is capable. “Geez, you’re right, she does suck at this!” he would holler. Then, turning to me he would pompously declare, “I can do all of this work, but don’t expect me to help you. You had better start crutching on your looks to get by anyway.”
“Oh, thanks,” I would disdainfully reply. I wanted to tell him not to be bitter because I had the option of using my looks, but I remained silent.
Isaac’s nickname, TeeYukYuk, was of my own creation, based off the sound of hillbilly laughter. I classified him in a strange variety of people: a dweller among the creepy, and apparently putrid, confines of Dungeons and Dragons that one would expect to mature into a Peeping Tom, at best. An unfortunate-looking boy, Isaac was bug-eyed and pale; he consistently looked as if he had come straight out of Pee-Wee’s Playhouse. And completing Isaac’s whole package was his uncontrollable jittery and hyper nature, like a nine-year-old ADHD patient on crack. And for this, he was ostracized by the entire school, especially me.
I would mercilessly taunt his bizarre behaviors, hide his Star Wars lunch box and throw his prized Pokémon cards at small children, hoping to prematurely end my Czech School experience. But by the time I had learned my first phrase, ‘My parents force me to come here’, my mockery had proved to be a lost cause. And soon enough it came to bite me in the ‘osel’, as it seemed all of my decisions made at Czech School eventually did.
Within a week of acquainting myself with Isaac, he had latched on to me like a sunburn, the kind that throbs when you’re not thinking about it, and then stings even worse when you finally force yourself to acknowledge it. Every morning, he would slide up awkwardly close to me, still bouncing up and down from, I imagined, his morning caffeine fix combined with a troubling lack of Ritalin. Then he would proceed to say, “You can pick on me all you want, but I’m not going to tell. I know it’s just because you like me.”
Each time this happened, I threw up in my mouth a little and the entire class would look at me sorrowfully as I tried to pawn him off on someone else. “Why don’t you go sit by Triangle-Hair,” I would suggest as I directed his attention to the chubby girl across the room whose black, curly hair looked as if someone had smooshed a piece of geometry right onto her head. “I hear she’s really desperate for a boyfriend!”
Drat, of course he knew that even she wouldn’t settle for a boy that smelled faintly of rotten meat.
“Then maybe you could move by someone, anyone else,” I would plead. But alas my ailment remained loathsomely, exasperatingly loyal.
As the summer wore on, my sunburn became more of a skin cancer, and I was increasingly irritated with each passing day that I was woken up at dawn and subjected to cultural torture. However, it wasn’t until Isaac began singing me show tunes in Czech that I finally snapped.
That morning began like any other: TeeYukYuk jumped beside me, bouncing around in his queer manner; a pop-up book from Hell. Then, the madness began: “Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, / a tale of a fateful trip. / That started from this tropic port, / aboard this tiny ship,” he bellowed in Czech while skipping in circles around me. “Emma, I have a question for you-oo-ooo,” he chanted.
“Shut up, you little weirdo!” I quickly barked. “You bug me so much! Why won’t you just tell on me so I can leave this loser school?”
“Oh Emma, the only way you’re getting out of here is by graduating. So, for now, tell me, don’t you think that song is romantic?” he replied, apparently heeding little attention to my rant. “I was thinking, and I wanted to tell you that I like your face. Will you marry me?”
I was fuming, yet poised to fight back laughter at this absurd question if it came. But Isaac pulled out a paperclip, crafted into a ring from his pocket and I couldn’t help myself anymore; I kicked him in the crotch and cackled in his face.
Every girl dreams of being proposed to, and while it was flattering, even at the age of ten, I was expecting something more than TeeYukYuk pulling out a paperclip ring in the middle of an elementary school after verbally trapping me in Czech School.
Just as another guffaw was about to leave my lips, the bell for class rang and I hurriedly made an attempt to salvage the situation. I looked at Isaac writhing on the floor, “Yeah, like I would marry you. Where do you think we are anyway, Podunk, Alabama?” I mused, my words dripping with sarcasm. But as he crawled to his chair, he threw me the sharp, metal ring with a menacing grin on his face.
Isaac had apparently recovered by noon though, “…and it’s only another nine years before we can make it legal, seven if we have parental consent,” he proclaimed to our classmates. I tried vainly to dispel the rumors, but Isaac had already handed out verbal wedding invitations to everyone he knew; as far as they were concerned, I just had cold feet.
But by the next week, all the chatter had stopped; Isaac hadn’t spoken so much as a word to me. I took advantage of his silence as a sure sign that he was ready to break. So, I tried vandalizing under his name, throwing his books through the windows and eventually found myself exclaiming, “Tell on me you little brat!” but he remained silent.
Over the next four years of Hell, Isaac continued planning our wedding. “What color should our placemats be? Is a Star Trek ice sculpture all right with you? Do you have your ring on?” he would query. Each time he asked an absurd question, I would silently stick my middle finger in the air to signify my frustration with him, and Czech School. However, he seemed to falsely interpret them as a sign of affection. “You will be so proud of yourself when you graduate, so don’t be bitter. Plus, we need this time to plan our life,” he would attempt to comfort me. The finger stayed in place.
I continued to test Isaac’s patients for the next four years, expressing myself primarily through hand gestures. But, eventually, the day that Isaac had promised did come; the night that he had promised would get me out of Czech school (and away from him): graduation.
Walking across the stage to receive my diploma that fateful evening, I was elated and flashed my pride to the audience. I was amazed at myself for making it this far, I had never imagined it possible to finish five years of Czech School, and all without murdering TeeYukYuk. Locating his face in the crowd, I got a nauseous feeling. I stuck my middle finger in the air, ring on, and mouthed the words ‘thank you’.
(my only surviving photo of TeeYukYuk)
(my most prized drawing...a masterpiece from the day I first met Isaac)
(a typical love note)
(a more elaborate love note, with a How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days theme, notice Crawl the warrior king and our love fern)
(a last ditch proposal...too bad its not legal)
'A Nation of Whimps'
We’ve all been there--that is, in the living room of family friends who invited you over, without mentioning that it would include a lengthy performance by Susie, their four-year-old Brittany Spears wanna be daughter, who, might I mention can’t carry a tune to save her life.
You awkwardly sit on the plaid sofa and watch as she attempts to belt out ‘Baby One More Time’ and ‘Crazy’. Although the general consensus is that death-by-boredom is an inevitable result of this performance, her parents do not share the sentiment; they, utterly absorbed in their prodigal daughter’s performance clap and cheer, totally indifferent to your suffering.
Hours later, as you leave their house, you vow never to return, at least not until Susie has been sent off to college, and probably not even then.
It wasn’t always like this though; parents used to stop kids before hour three of their concert and they rarely fostered serious ideas that pop star was a realistic career choice. This was a time before hand-sanitizing gels ran rampant in playgrounds and violin lessons trumped having fun.
In the past few decades, overparenting, as noted by the one Psychology Today article by Hara Estroff Moarano, is on the rise, resulting in neurotic parents and a fragile, unstable youth; we are, in all senses of the word, becoming ‘a nation of wimps’.
The effects of this can be found in all facets of child life; school, play and home. “Parents and school are no longer geared toward child development, they’re geared to academic achievement,” child psychologist David Elkind, professor at Tufts University, said¾ and it’s true! (Moarano, 61) This can be seen in situations such as the girl that was diagnosed with ‘difficulty with Gestalt thinking’, who essentially ‘couldn’t see the big picture‘. (Never mind the fact Piaget’s stages of cognitive development show that the formal operational stage, in which a person develops abstract reasoning, does not come until around that time.) (Myers, 128)
It is simply the idea that such overprotective parents would take their child in to be tested for this that illustrates the power of overparenting. Now, Gestalt-deficiency girl will not have to take a timed SAT, or any other timed test for that matter. The effects that this will have on her long-term self esteem are yet to be seen, and theories of what will happen to her are mixed, but whatever does result will be from a disgustingly privileged vantage, thus tainting her forever.
This isolated case is not the only instance of wimpifying, though. Throughout schools, inflated grades and decreased expectations have come to increase the self esteem of children everywhere. (Moarano, 62) And while it is known that having a high self-worth is positively correlated with individuals who are less likely to succumb to pressures of conformity, less likely to use drugs, are persistent at difficult tasks, are extraverted and are simply happier, an inflated sense of self-esteem can be detrimental. (Myers, 514) “Kids need to feel badly sometimes,” Elkind said. “We learn through experience and we learn through bad experiences. Through failure we learn how to cope.” (Moarano, 61)
Several researchers from the ’90s worked hard to combat parents’ need to artificially inflate the self-worth of their children. They doubted that self-esteem was “’the armor that protects kids’ from life’s problems”. The sixth edition textbook of Psychology states, “Maybe self-esteem is a gauge that reads out the state of our relationships with others. If so, isn’t pushing the gauge artificially higher akin to forcing a car’s low fuel gauge to display ’full’? And will the best boost of self-esteem therefore come not so much from our repeatedly telling children how wonderful they are as from their effective coping and hard-won achievements?” (Myers 515)
More than this, artificially-inflated senses of self have proved to be dangerous in some cases. In the 1998 experiment conducted by Brad Bushman and Roy Baumeister, people with unrealistically high senses of self-esteem were reported to be “exceptionally aggressive”. The researchers concluded that “threatened egotism”, not low self-esteem, is what predisposes aggression, and people with excessive self-regard are prone to excessive risks. (Myers, 517)
Many have tried to tackle the ills of the scholastic system in support of this idea, opposing grade inflation and promoting a high standard of achievement. For example, in 2001, 94 percent of college seniors graduated with honors, and primary schools and high schools are ’arguably just as guilty of grade inflation’. (Moarano, 63-64)
The reason for these inflated senses of ability stem from the need to preserve one major psychological concept¾ self-serving bias, or the readiness to perceive oneself favorably. (Myers, 516) Through the lowered bar of academics, it is important everyone succeeds and their self-concept stays high.
Also, in this idea that school trumps all and everyone is capable of achieving straight As, has come the promotion of individualism, or the giving of priority to one’s own goals over group goals and defining one’s identity in terms of personal attributes rather than group identifications. (Myers, 517) A Nation of Wimps blames Dr. Seuss for this; books like Oh, the Places You’ll Go! create false senses that children can do anything successfully, without even the threat of failure. (Moarano, 64) However, when the harsh realities of life hit overparented, wimpy children, the results prove to be devastating. (Moarano, 62, 66)
You awkwardly sit on the plaid sofa and watch as she attempts to belt out ‘Baby One More Time’ and ‘Crazy’. Although the general consensus is that death-by-boredom is an inevitable result of this performance, her parents do not share the sentiment; they, utterly absorbed in their prodigal daughter’s performance clap and cheer, totally indifferent to your suffering.
Hours later, as you leave their house, you vow never to return, at least not until Susie has been sent off to college, and probably not even then.
It wasn’t always like this though; parents used to stop kids before hour three of their concert and they rarely fostered serious ideas that pop star was a realistic career choice. This was a time before hand-sanitizing gels ran rampant in playgrounds and violin lessons trumped having fun.
In the past few decades, overparenting, as noted by the one Psychology Today article by Hara Estroff Moarano, is on the rise, resulting in neurotic parents and a fragile, unstable youth; we are, in all senses of the word, becoming ‘a nation of wimps’.
The effects of this can be found in all facets of child life; school, play and home. “Parents and school are no longer geared toward child development, they’re geared to academic achievement,” child psychologist David Elkind, professor at Tufts University, said¾ and it’s true! (Moarano, 61) This can be seen in situations such as the girl that was diagnosed with ‘difficulty with Gestalt thinking’, who essentially ‘couldn’t see the big picture‘. (Never mind the fact Piaget’s stages of cognitive development show that the formal operational stage, in which a person develops abstract reasoning, does not come until around that time.) (Myers, 128)
It is simply the idea that such overprotective parents would take their child in to be tested for this that illustrates the power of overparenting. Now, Gestalt-deficiency girl will not have to take a timed SAT, or any other timed test for that matter. The effects that this will have on her long-term self esteem are yet to be seen, and theories of what will happen to her are mixed, but whatever does result will be from a disgustingly privileged vantage, thus tainting her forever.
This isolated case is not the only instance of wimpifying, though. Throughout schools, inflated grades and decreased expectations have come to increase the self esteem of children everywhere. (Moarano, 62) And while it is known that having a high self-worth is positively correlated with individuals who are less likely to succumb to pressures of conformity, less likely to use drugs, are persistent at difficult tasks, are extraverted and are simply happier, an inflated sense of self-esteem can be detrimental. (Myers, 514) “Kids need to feel badly sometimes,” Elkind said. “We learn through experience and we learn through bad experiences. Through failure we learn how to cope.” (Moarano, 61)
Several researchers from the ’90s worked hard to combat parents’ need to artificially inflate the self-worth of their children. They doubted that self-esteem was “’the armor that protects kids’ from life’s problems”. The sixth edition textbook of Psychology states, “Maybe self-esteem is a gauge that reads out the state of our relationships with others. If so, isn’t pushing the gauge artificially higher akin to forcing a car’s low fuel gauge to display ’full’? And will the best boost of self-esteem therefore come not so much from our repeatedly telling children how wonderful they are as from their effective coping and hard-won achievements?” (Myers 515)
More than this, artificially-inflated senses of self have proved to be dangerous in some cases. In the 1998 experiment conducted by Brad Bushman and Roy Baumeister, people with unrealistically high senses of self-esteem were reported to be “exceptionally aggressive”. The researchers concluded that “threatened egotism”, not low self-esteem, is what predisposes aggression, and people with excessive self-regard are prone to excessive risks. (Myers, 517)
Many have tried to tackle the ills of the scholastic system in support of this idea, opposing grade inflation and promoting a high standard of achievement. For example, in 2001, 94 percent of college seniors graduated with honors, and primary schools and high schools are ’arguably just as guilty of grade inflation’. (Moarano, 63-64)
The reason for these inflated senses of ability stem from the need to preserve one major psychological concept¾ self-serving bias, or the readiness to perceive oneself favorably. (Myers, 516) Through the lowered bar of academics, it is important everyone succeeds and their self-concept stays high.
Also, in this idea that school trumps all and everyone is capable of achieving straight As, has come the promotion of individualism, or the giving of priority to one’s own goals over group goals and defining one’s identity in terms of personal attributes rather than group identifications. (Myers, 517) A Nation of Wimps blames Dr. Seuss for this; books like Oh, the Places You’ll Go! create false senses that children can do anything successfully, without even the threat of failure. (Moarano, 64) However, when the harsh realities of life hit overparented, wimpy children, the results prove to be devastating. (Moarano, 62, 66)
Monday, April 27, 2009
A grand old party: the demise of American conservatism...aka the final draft of my research paper
As Senator John McCain’s face flashed next to Charles Gibson’s in a small, square box, my words burst into the silent room unexpectedly. “Old as fuck!” I barked in a tone so reminiscent to Larry the Cable Guy, even I was taken a bit aback, “they’d better not elect Grandpa Neocon!”
This is what politics have come down to in my house.
America is a collapsing nation, there is no hiding that fact; the credit bubble and ballooning housing market have made unsustainable inflation commonplace and healthcare unaffordable, a Middle Eastern war has blurred the line between anti-terrorism and anti-OPEC, and bi-partisan politics have made legislation nearly impossible. And yet, in the midst of this great upheaval, my forerunning political query is not how officials will fix our nation, but how long they’ve received the Denny’s senior citizen discount.
It is truly a sad day for American politics. However it is said that all republics, all empires, all civilizations eventually have to die. In the twentieth century alone, the Austro-Hungarian, German, Russian and Ottoman empires all perished in the Great War; the British empire vanished within a quarter century of its finest hour; and the Soviet empire succumbed to a collapse in faith following the Cold War. (Buchanan 2-3). And as for America, maybe it’s our time; at least the total deterioration of public political knowledge puts us next in line.
Joe Bageant is the author of the recent enlightened commentary on conservative-sector demise in America, Deer Hunting with Jesus: Dispatches from America’s Class War. As a staunch liberal, he principally blames Republican involvement in, what he calls, the American hologram for our impending political doom.
Bageant grew up with conservative values. His people; the Scots-Irish of Winchester, Virginia, have always been a hard-working, self-sufficient group. However, over the years they have become economically and politically dominated by local business owners, mired in debt by unscrupulous mortgage agents, and crippled by a lack of education and healthcare. Furthermore, their primary means of understanding their oppression came from the lips of Rush Limbaugh, internet urban myths and local prayer revival; all which placed the blame for their problems squarely on the shoulders of the liberal elite.
All of these factors comprised the American hologram. This Matrix-like construct of media-protected corporate misdirection, wherein average Joes become trapped in a rigged economy that treats them as nothing more than ashtray-scented hillbillies who deserve to live in disintegrating double-wide trailers, is said, by Bageant, to be the root of all evil.
It was not always like this, though; in fact, Republicans have been the favored, most forward-thinking party for the majority of American history. They burst into popular politics in 1856 as a third party with presidential candidate John C. Fremont under the platform “Free soil, free labor, free speech, free men, Fremont” (“The Republican Party-- GOP History” 2).
Although initially defeated in campaigns, the party’s founding principle, the need to restrict the expansion of human slavery, was unquestionably sound (Gould 484). Four years later, in 1860, Abraham Lincoln became the first Republican to snag the presidency. And ever since, for the majority of their time as a formal party, Republicans have been progressives.
The rightist reign continued through most of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, under notable names such as Eisenhower, Nixon, Ford, Regan and Bush. It was during these years that America became a true superpower (“The Republican Party-- GOP History” 5). Under conservative rule came an end to the Cold War, the collapse of the Soviet Union, and victory in the Gulf War (Gould 446).
However, the elections of 2000 and 2004 resulted in partial demise of the Republican party. The 43rd President of the United States, George W. Bush, was the first since Eisenhower to enjoy a majority in both houses of Congress. He was elected based off of his strong belief system, which was a stark contrast to public views of the adulterer Bill Clinton, whose career had been tainted in the Monica Lewinsky scandal.
After the collapse of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, which spurred a national fear of organized terror groups, such as Al Qaeda, President Bush declared it to be U.S. policy to launch preemptive war on any rogue regime that sought weapons of mass destruction. The infamous “Bush Doctrine” was implemented on the neoconservative ideal that the U.S. should go to war to prevent any other nation from acquiring the power to challenge American hegemony in any region of the world (Buchanan 6). And thus has resulted a widespread distain for the warped views of the nation’s rightist elites:
George W. Bush left his post as President with a 34 percent approval rating, up five percent from his average Gallup Poll scores in the last quarter of his presidency. These scores were the third worst in history, just above Harry Truman’s 32 percent (after botching the Korean War and creating a tax meltdown) and Richard Nixon’s 24 percent (following his resignation due to the Watergate scandal). And while his approval rating has risen since Election Day, the vast majority of Democrats and independents disapproved of how he was handling the job, up until President Obama’s inauguration. (“Bush Presidency Closes With 34% Approval, 61% Disapproval” 2).
Conservative ignorance is not to be totally blamed for the impending collapse of the American empire, though. “[Conservatives are] cautious and traditional enough to vote for the man who looks strong enough to keep housing values up, to destroy [their] unseen enemies abroad, and to give God a voice in national affairs” (Bageant 8) Conservatives just want what they see as right for the nation, no matter how radical or imperialistic it may seem.
These ideas, in themselves, are not what threaten the country, though-- it is the passion behind them that does. The virtual political cataclysm that resulted from the last election, it is said, will cause it to be virtually impossible for the left to ignore the resentment among those in heartland, conservative America. Furthermore, the liberal mantra of hope and change is clearly motivating Republicans to “take a stand for their sake of the country” (Adamo 1).
This revolution is no bluff either; Republicans across the nation are calling for their own type of change.
When all is said and one, though, the fate of the Republican party will not hang on the balance of conservative moves, but rather on President Obama’s actions, no matter how fiercely rightists will dispute this statement. The new administration has already passed up a chance to assert the Bush Doctrine in North Korea, which may substantially weaken the strength of neoconservative values-- if it works. Furthermore, the success of Obama’s withdrawal program from the Middle East will either make or break Republican followings.
Yet, if Bageant professes one point, it is the notion that political unity can only be achieved through increased education, on both sides of the political divide.
And if the two halves do not recognize each other, they can never fully function in a codependent manner.
Ultimately though, American demise cannot be viewed in an overly-negative manner. The downfall of many of the twentieth century empires have, in fact, sparked favorable revolution and change-- the very thing Americans are looking for today. And although it is a sad day for politics when the basis for opinion comes in the form of “Old as fuck!” comments, it is a signal that change is needed. If the two parties don’t recognize their problems and break free of the American hologram now, they will forever become carcasses, hidden in history textbooks.
This is what politics have come down to in my house.
America is a collapsing nation, there is no hiding that fact; the credit bubble and ballooning housing market have made unsustainable inflation commonplace and healthcare unaffordable, a Middle Eastern war has blurred the line between anti-terrorism and anti-OPEC, and bi-partisan politics have made legislation nearly impossible. And yet, in the midst of this great upheaval, my forerunning political query is not how officials will fix our nation, but how long they’ve received the Denny’s senior citizen discount.
It is truly a sad day for American politics. However it is said that all republics, all empires, all civilizations eventually have to die. In the twentieth century alone, the Austro-Hungarian, German, Russian and Ottoman empires all perished in the Great War; the British empire vanished within a quarter century of its finest hour; and the Soviet empire succumbed to a collapse in faith following the Cold War. (Buchanan 2-3). And as for America, maybe it’s our time; at least the total deterioration of public political knowledge puts us next in line.
Joe Bageant is the author of the recent enlightened commentary on conservative-sector demise in America, Deer Hunting with Jesus: Dispatches from America’s Class War. As a staunch liberal, he principally blames Republican involvement in, what he calls, the American hologram for our impending political doom.
Bageant grew up with conservative values. His people; the Scots-Irish of Winchester, Virginia, have always been a hard-working, self-sufficient group. However, over the years they have become economically and politically dominated by local business owners, mired in debt by unscrupulous mortgage agents, and crippled by a lack of education and healthcare. Furthermore, their primary means of understanding their oppression came from the lips of Rush Limbaugh, internet urban myths and local prayer revival; all which placed the blame for their problems squarely on the shoulders of the liberal elite.
All of these factors comprised the American hologram. This Matrix-like construct of media-protected corporate misdirection, wherein average Joes become trapped in a rigged economy that treats them as nothing more than ashtray-scented hillbillies who deserve to live in disintegrating double-wide trailers, is said, by Bageant, to be the root of all evil.
Anyone who thinks that these white conservatives, both working class and small business class, don’t care about anything outside their own zone of ignorance is only half right. The fact is that many of them cannot see outside that zone at all. They are too uneducated, too conditioned to the idea that being a consumer is the same thing as being a citizen. (Bageant 252)
It was not always like this, though; in fact, Republicans have been the favored, most forward-thinking party for the majority of American history. They burst into popular politics in 1856 as a third party with presidential candidate John C. Fremont under the platform “Free soil, free labor, free speech, free men, Fremont” (“The Republican Party-- GOP History” 2).
Although initially defeated in campaigns, the party’s founding principle, the need to restrict the expansion of human slavery, was unquestionably sound (Gould 484). Four years later, in 1860, Abraham Lincoln became the first Republican to snag the presidency. And ever since, for the majority of their time as a formal party, Republicans have been progressives.
The rightist reign continued through most of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, under notable names such as Eisenhower, Nixon, Ford, Regan and Bush. It was during these years that America became a true superpower (“The Republican Party-- GOP History” 5). Under conservative rule came an end to the Cold War, the collapse of the Soviet Union, and victory in the Gulf War (Gould 446).
However, the elections of 2000 and 2004 resulted in partial demise of the Republican party. The 43rd President of the United States, George W. Bush, was the first since Eisenhower to enjoy a majority in both houses of Congress. He was elected based off of his strong belief system, which was a stark contrast to public views of the adulterer Bill Clinton, whose career had been tainted in the Monica Lewinsky scandal.
After the collapse of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, which spurred a national fear of organized terror groups, such as Al Qaeda, President Bush declared it to be U.S. policy to launch preemptive war on any rogue regime that sought weapons of mass destruction. The infamous “Bush Doctrine” was implemented on the neoconservative ideal that the U.S. should go to war to prevent any other nation from acquiring the power to challenge American hegemony in any region of the world (Buchanan 6). And thus has resulted a widespread distain for the warped views of the nation’s rightist elites:
Republicans honestly tell the world: “Listen in on my phone calls, piss-test me until I’m blind, kill and eat all of my neighbors right in front of my eyes, but show me the money! Let me escape with every cent I can kick out of the suckers, the taxpayers, and anybody else I can get a headlock on, legally or otherwise.” (Bageant 260)
George W. Bush left his post as President with a 34 percent approval rating, up five percent from his average Gallup Poll scores in the last quarter of his presidency. These scores were the third worst in history, just above Harry Truman’s 32 percent (after botching the Korean War and creating a tax meltdown) and Richard Nixon’s 24 percent (following his resignation due to the Watergate scandal). And while his approval rating has risen since Election Day, the vast majority of Democrats and independents disapproved of how he was handling the job, up until President Obama’s inauguration. (“Bush Presidency Closes With 34% Approval, 61% Disapproval” 2).
Conservative ignorance is not to be totally blamed for the impending collapse of the American empire, though. “[Conservatives are] cautious and traditional enough to vote for the man who looks strong enough to keep housing values up, to destroy [their] unseen enemies abroad, and to give God a voice in national affairs” (Bageant 8) Conservatives just want what they see as right for the nation, no matter how radical or imperialistic it may seem.
These ideas, in themselves, are not what threaten the country, though-- it is the passion behind them that does. The virtual political cataclysm that resulted from the last election, it is said, will cause it to be virtually impossible for the left to ignore the resentment among those in heartland, conservative America. Furthermore, the liberal mantra of hope and change is clearly motivating Republicans to “take a stand for their sake of the country” (Adamo 1).
This revolution is no bluff either; Republicans across the nation are calling for their own type of change.
Truly conservative Republicans are [now] presented with a golden opportunity to reclaim their party form their insipid “establishment” counterparts, and rework it into a vibrant and inspiring political force that can reassert the greatness of America, both in its international relations and in its domestic culture. This possibility is real, but it cannot be pursued by a political class that maintains its strategy of sitting the fence, and responding to every ensuing outrage from the Democrats by countering with watered down versions of the same abhorrent things. (Adamo 8)
When all is said and one, though, the fate of the Republican party will not hang on the balance of conservative moves, but rather on President Obama’s actions, no matter how fiercely rightists will dispute this statement. The new administration has already passed up a chance to assert the Bush Doctrine in North Korea, which may substantially weaken the strength of neoconservative values-- if it works. Furthermore, the success of Obama’s withdrawal program from the Middle East will either make or break Republican followings.
Yet, if Bageant professes one point, it is the notion that political unity can only be achieved through increased education, on both sides of the political divide.
No Democrat or leftie seems to grasp that much of working-class theocrats’ eagerness to join the corporatists at putting the liberal yuppies in their place is revenge based. Working-class people can perceive the upper-middle-class snobbery toward them. But that snobbery emerges only when the rough edges of the two worlds rub against each other. Most of the time the true middle and upper classes are scarcely aware that real working people exist. (Bageant 14)
And if the two halves do not recognize each other, they can never fully function in a codependent manner.
Ultimately though, American demise cannot be viewed in an overly-negative manner. The downfall of many of the twentieth century empires have, in fact, sparked favorable revolution and change-- the very thing Americans are looking for today. And although it is a sad day for politics when the basis for opinion comes in the form of “Old as fuck!” comments, it is a signal that change is needed. If the two parties don’t recognize their problems and break free of the American hologram now, they will forever become carcasses, hidden in history textbooks.
Flapper history...something everyone should know
THE FLAPPER
by Dorothy Parker
The Playful flapper here we see,
The fairest of the fair.
She's not what Grandma used to be, --
You might say, au contraire.
Her girlish ways may make a stir,
Her manners cause a scene,
But there is no more harm in her
Than in a submarine.
She nightly knocks for many a goal
The usual dancing men.
Her speed is great, but her control
Is something else again.
All spotlights focus on her pranks.
All tongues her prowess herald.
For which she well may render thanks
To God and Scott Fitzgerald.
Her golden rule is plain enough -
Just get them young and treat themrough.
In 1920s American culture, the term flapper referred to a different type of young women; rebellious ladies with bobbed hair, short skirts and heavy makeup made that a big splash in the time’s conservative culture. They embodied everything that was cool about life in the roaring ’20s. It was their worship of new-age jazz music; involvement in drinking, casual sex, smoking, and driving; and breaking of normal social and sexual ideas that made them widely controversial figures.
Flappers were commonly seen at jazz clubs, the night clubs of the 1920s, where they danced provocatively, made out with strangers and snorted cocaine (a legal, yet still looked-down-upon practice of the time). This can be loosely compared London’s mod lifestyle of the 1960s.
It was the silent film, The Flapper, which starred Olive Thomas that made flappers a popular part of pop culture. The ideals that they embodied were captured by artists of the time, such as Russell Patterson, Ethel Hays, Faith Burrows and many more. They portrayed flappers as independent, dangerous, exciting women, worthy of emulating. However, there was not all praise for these edgy women.
Supporters of the temperance movement resented the flappers’ defiance toward Prohibition and popularization of speakeasies (establishments that illegally sold liquor). Dorothy Parker (see poem below) was an adamant critic of the flapper lifestyle, citing their reckless behavior as a societal ill.
The free and easy flapper lifestyle lasted throughout the ’20s, but ended with the Wall Street Crash and impending Great Depression. But their legacy did not totally die out with their fashions, their autonomy was a model for all modern women to make their own way in America, forging outside of the home for occupations and seeking greater feministic advances.
Flappers were commonly seen at jazz clubs, the night clubs of the 1920s, where they danced provocatively, made out with strangers and snorted cocaine (a legal, yet still looked-down-upon practice of the time). This can be loosely compared London’s mod lifestyle of the 1960s.
It was the silent film, The Flapper, which starred Olive Thomas that made flappers a popular part of pop culture. The ideals that they embodied were captured by artists of the time, such as Russell Patterson, Ethel Hays, Faith Burrows and many more. They portrayed flappers as independent, dangerous, exciting women, worthy of emulating. However, there was not all praise for these edgy women.
Supporters of the temperance movement resented the flappers’ defiance toward Prohibition and popularization of speakeasies (establishments that illegally sold liquor). Dorothy Parker (see poem below) was an adamant critic of the flapper lifestyle, citing their reckless behavior as a societal ill.
The free and easy flapper lifestyle lasted throughout the ’20s, but ended with the Wall Street Crash and impending Great Depression. But their legacy did not totally die out with their fashions, their autonomy was a model for all modern women to make their own way in America, forging outside of the home for occupations and seeking greater feministic advances.
A look back at the Vietnam War: 1968
Undoubtedly one of the most tumultuous years throughout the whole of the Vietnam War was 1968. Unrest set in, not only among American troops in the South Seas, but at home as well.
The year opened with fierce battles, including the Battle for Hue and the Battle for Saigon. Operation Rolling Thunder was in full force at the time and American soldiers still weren’t comfortable fighting in Vietnamese terrain. This resulted in severe trauma and heavy casualties among troops.
At home, the country was in a tough situation as well. The hippie and drug countercultures that popularly characterize the ’60s were in full swing. Uproar about the war and racial issues also provided for problems. In 1968, Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy were both assassinated, on the basis of racial and political issues. Presidential elections were in full swing, and the issue of the war was a prominent theme. Protests were commonplace among college campuses and cases such as Tinker v. Des Moines rocked the nation, paving the way for further guaranteed rights for students.
However, 1968 also began to show a light at the end of the tunnel; on May 10, the peace talks in Paris began, but were stalled until October 31. Then finally, President Johnson announced a complete halt of U.S. bombing of North Vietnam in hopes of restarting negotiation.
The year opened with fierce battles, including the Battle for Hue and the Battle for Saigon. Operation Rolling Thunder was in full force at the time and American soldiers still weren’t comfortable fighting in Vietnamese terrain. This resulted in severe trauma and heavy casualties among troops.
At home, the country was in a tough situation as well. The hippie and drug countercultures that popularly characterize the ’60s were in full swing. Uproar about the war and racial issues also provided for problems. In 1968, Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy were both assassinated, on the basis of racial and political issues. Presidential elections were in full swing, and the issue of the war was a prominent theme. Protests were commonplace among college campuses and cases such as Tinker v. Des Moines rocked the nation, paving the way for further guaranteed rights for students.
However, 1968 also began to show a light at the end of the tunnel; on May 10, the peace talks in Paris began, but were stalled until October 31. Then finally, President Johnson announced a complete halt of U.S. bombing of North Vietnam in hopes of restarting negotiation.FDR was pretty tite, as it turns out
Franklin D. Roosevelt’s administration reacted to the problems of the Great Depression by implementing the First and Second New Deals, which solved many problems and vastly expanded the role of the federal government.
At the end of the Herbert Hoover administration, at which time FDR took office, the nation had many deep problems. It was impossible to receive a bank loan, mortgage foreclosures were commonplace, the unemployment rate was staggering and the agricultural sector of the nation was hovering above collapse. So many men and women were turned onto the streets, and times were tougher than anyone could have imagined, as is illustrated in the words in the January, 1932, New Masses article.
The First New Deal, implemented by Roosevelt in the famous “first 100 days” was an attempt at short-term relief programs for a plethora of groups. This ended the gold standard and Prohibition as well as implemented banking reform, agricultural and work relief programs, and industrial reform.
This plan was based of Keynesian economics, in which the government poured federal money for relief programs. One of the major programs of the Second New Deal programs was the Social Security System, in which senior citizens and some disabled workers would get a monthly check to support their cost of living. This was implemented to gain the votes of elderly people (primarily those above 65) before the 1936 election.
The New Deals put into place many more successful programs as well. In dealing with the farm crisis, it extended a hand with the passage of the AAA. This paid farmers to stop producing food. The thought was that decreased supply would increase demand and drive food prices up. Thus, farmers would become employed and the fabric of the whole economy would be strengthened, as it eventually was. This can be seen in the decreasing unemployment rate throughout the end of the Great Depression.
The government began to run more smoothly, too, as a whole, or so FDR insured. When he received opposition, FDR began stuffing the courts with pro-New Deal justices. This got him a lot of bad press, however, some liberals saw it as a blessing.
It was not just the court stuffing that was opposed in the New Deal, though; the massive spending that went into the New Deal programs also caused much controversy. Many calls that FDR was a super-liberal trying to create a left-wing revolution were made. However, he tried to calm doubters by saying that the massive government spending was needed and it was simply an evolution of government’s role, that didn’t fly with many opponents though. Therefore, increasingly, fears that FDR was a socialist or communist rose. Although he was creating more jobs and improving the worker’s environment, many believed that increased government involvement in life would be problematic, like an iron curtain.
Although the point of whether FDR was a socialist is debated, it is fact that in some cases, the expanded Roosevelt government crossed the line. In the 1935 Schechter v. United States case, the NRA was declared unconstitutional. In that case, the government was proved to have overstepped their bounds. This was declared this way for many reasons, namely that the Supreme Court decided that the government didn’t have the ability to determine wage laws and hour limits for all sectors of business. However, some disputed its unconstitutionality, pointing out the inability of large employers to grant livable wages and hour limits, for fear of losing profits.
Finally, the New Deal was criticized for claiming to meet the needs of special interest groups, but not meeting all interests, such as those of African Americans. It should be noted, however, that the Roosevelt administration was the most diverse up to that point.
Ultimately, the Franklin D. Roosevelt administration met the Great Depressions problems head on with a slew of ultra-liberal legislation, however socialist it may have been. They did this by expanding the role of government, and at times over-expanding.
At the end of the Herbert Hoover administration, at which time FDR took office, the nation had many deep problems. It was impossible to receive a bank loan, mortgage foreclosures were commonplace, the unemployment rate was staggering and the agricultural sector of the nation was hovering above collapse. So many men and women were turned onto the streets, and times were tougher than anyone could have imagined, as is illustrated in the words in the January, 1932, New Masses article.
The First New Deal, implemented by Roosevelt in the famous “first 100 days” was an attempt at short-term relief programs for a plethora of groups. This ended the gold standard and Prohibition as well as implemented banking reform, agricultural and work relief programs, and industrial reform.
This plan was based of Keynesian economics, in which the government poured federal money for relief programs. One of the major programs of the Second New Deal programs was the Social Security System, in which senior citizens and some disabled workers would get a monthly check to support their cost of living. This was implemented to gain the votes of elderly people (primarily those above 65) before the 1936 election.The New Deals put into place many more successful programs as well. In dealing with the farm crisis, it extended a hand with the passage of the AAA. This paid farmers to stop producing food. The thought was that decreased supply would increase demand and drive food prices up. Thus, farmers would become employed and the fabric of the whole economy would be strengthened, as it eventually was. This can be seen in the decreasing unemployment rate throughout the end of the Great Depression.
The government began to run more smoothly, too, as a whole, or so FDR insured. When he received opposition, FDR began stuffing the courts with pro-New Deal justices. This got him a lot of bad press, however, some liberals saw it as a blessing.
It was not just the court stuffing that was opposed in the New Deal, though; the massive spending that went into the New Deal programs also caused much controversy. Many calls that FDR was a super-liberal trying to create a left-wing revolution were made. However, he tried to calm doubters by saying that the massive government spending was needed and it was simply an evolution of government’s role, that didn’t fly with many opponents though. Therefore, increasingly, fears that FDR was a socialist or communist rose. Although he was creating more jobs and improving the worker’s environment, many believed that increased government involvement in life would be problematic, like an iron curtain.
Although the point of whether FDR was a socialist is debated, it is fact that in some cases, the expanded Roosevelt government crossed the line. In the 1935 Schechter v. United States case, the NRA was declared unconstitutional. In that case, the government was proved to have overstepped their bounds. This was declared this way for many reasons, namely that the Supreme Court decided that the government didn’t have the ability to determine wage laws and hour limits for all sectors of business. However, some disputed its unconstitutionality, pointing out the inability of large employers to grant livable wages and hour limits, for fear of losing profits.
Finally, the New Deal was criticized for claiming to meet the needs of special interest groups, but not meeting all interests, such as those of African Americans. It should be noted, however, that the Roosevelt administration was the most diverse up to that point.
Ultimately, the Franklin D. Roosevelt administration met the Great Depressions problems head on with a slew of ultra-liberal legislation, however socialist it may have been. They did this by expanding the role of government, and at times over-expanding.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Know your rights: Alcohol
And now, what I have seen to be one of the most important topics of discussion in high school: alcohol. While it is no secret that the legal drinking age in the United States is 21, there are more restrictions in regards to alcohol. Here is some of the legislation in Iowa regarding alcohol consumption, possession or association, provided by the Alcohol Policy Information System:
- The underage possession of alcohol is prohibited with some exceptions: if it is in your own home and you have parent/guardian presence and consent OR if it is for legitimate religious, educational, or medical purposes.
- Underage consumption of alcohol is not explicitly prohibited; Iowa law does not specifically prohibit consumption of alcohol by people under age 21. We do, however, have a general statue prohibiting the use or consumption of alcohol by any person in a public place. In addition, Iowa law says that if a child (someone under age 18) is found to have violated this prohibition, their driver's license or operating privilege may be suspended or revoked for a period of one year.
- Under age purchase of alcohol is strictly prohibited in Iowa, no exceptions.
- Furnishing alcohol to minors is prohibited except when it happens in a private residence and the person is a parent/guardian or if it is for one or more legitimate religious, educational or medical purposes.
- Using a fake ID to obtain alcohol is a criminal offense. The penalty may include driver's license suspension.
- Blood alcohol concentration youth limits for driving a car is 0.02; this applies to all drivers under age 21.
- Loss of driving privileges for alcohol violations by minors are defined as the suspension, revocation or denial of a license for 365 days.
- Finally the prohibitions against hosting underage drinking parties is nonexistent. Legal ramifications can only come in the form of charges of possession or public intoxication.
I guess what it all comes down to is that alcohol under age 21 is illegal. However, drinking in your home under the supervision of parents is totally legal. But, the trick part comes in realizing that you cannot use that in your defense for a party at home with alcohol, when a bunch of people there it seems to be public. Always note though that police cannot be called to your home for no reason, you have to be stupid enough to get them to come.
In closing, since this is a school blog though, I need to put that drinking before it's legal, and usually afterward too, is pretty stupid. Root beer is tasty and won't get you in trouble, so just think before you act or associate with drunkards; true friends won't push you into getting a criminal record.
Britain's got talent; not beauty, but definitely talent
If there has been one testiment to the fact that outer and inner beauty and talent are not codependent as of late, it has been the blessed voice of Susan Boyle. Although she didn't resemble Taylor Swift, she had a voice that could only be parallelled by some of the great singers of all time.
We have the tendency in modern America, and Britain alike, to link beauty and success. However, it is often a humbling moment to see someone with such homely beauty have such a special talent. And thus, here is the video of Susan Boyle's audtion on Britain's Got Talent, where she even pleased Simon Cowel:
We have the tendency in modern America, and Britain alike, to link beauty and success. However, it is often a humbling moment to see someone with such homely beauty have such a special talent. And thus, here is the video of Susan Boyle's audtion on Britain's Got Talent, where she even pleased Simon Cowel:
Know your rights: "stop-and-identify" laws
Now, there are probably things that I shouldn't share in this blog, but the fact that I have zero readers makes it okay to say this, I think. The only brush with the law I have ever had was in the form of a near-arrest, or so I thought. When a car I was the passenger of was pulled over for reasons that cannot be disclosed (note that it was not anything we had really done wrong; no speeding or drunk driving or anything, just a situation of being in the wrong place at the wrong time).
In this, one of the most frightening experiences of the last year, the driver was asked to present their license, which they promptly did. I was then asked to present mine, which I did not have because I had not been driving. We were both utterly perplexed when the police officer began screaming at us and threatening to take me to the juvenile detention center.
"Why don't you have your license?" he hollered.
At a loss for words, I stammered "Because I wasn't driving anywhere, and didn't anticipate getting pulled over."
"Well, you're out in public, aren't you?" the officer again insisted. "Everyone knows that you need to carry your ID with you out in public!"
Nobody had known this alleged fact though, thankfully I narrowly escaped the arrest by the police officer though; however, this situation has made a permanent impression upon my mind.
I never told my parents about this event, and plan to save it for their death beds, but I did do some investigation on my own to figure out this 'ID law' and here is what I found:
Essentially, that police officer was wrong and had no right to yell at me in the manner that he did. The facts behind this are the 2004 Supreme Court Case known as Hiibel v. Sixth Judicial District Court of Nevada. In this case, Hiibel was arrested and convicted for refusing to identify himself during a routine stop.
Nevada, and many other states, has a law that requires a person to tell an officer his name if asked, these are known as "stop-and-identify" laws. Iowa does not have a "stop-and-identify" law. However, Hiibel challenged his conviction, claiming that it violated his Fifth Amendment right not to incriminate himself and his Fourth Amendment right to be free from unreasonable searches. The state intermediate and Supreme Court rejected his argument in affirming the conviction.
In conclusion, it was decided that the search did not violate the Fourth Amendment because it was based on reasonable suspicion and involved only a minimally intrusive question. Id also was deemed not to violate the Fifth Amendment.
However, in Iowa the fact that we do not have "stop-and-identify" statues says that a police officer cannot require random people to identify themselves.
But the best bet in this situation is just to be prepared; take your ID with you when you go places and don't put yourself in situations that could be incriminating.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Know your rights: If your car is stopped by a police officer
Things are different if you are pulled over while driving than if you are simply stopped while walking down the street. If your car is stopped by a police officer, keep your hands where the officer can see them. If you are driving, you must show your drivers license, registration and proof of insurance...if you are asked for them (which you most likely will be). Therefore, it is really important to make sure that you have these things in your car, because failure to produce them may result in an arrest.
Officers can also ask you to step outside of the car, they can also separate passengers and drivers from each other to question them and compare their answers, but nobody legally has to answer any questions.
The police cannot search your car unless you give them your consent (which you do not have to give) or unless they have "probably cause" to believe that criminal activity is likely taking place, that you have been involved in a crime, or that you have evidence of a crime in your car. So, if you know you have nothing incriminating in your car, it is really up to you as to whether you consent to the search. Note that it may make you look suspicious if you say no, and that it will be humiliating if you say yes, so weigh the options quickly.
If you do not want your car searched, (assuming that the officer does not have "probable cause") clearly state that you do not consent. The officer cannot use your refusal to give consent as a basis for doing a search. And if possible, state your lack of consent so that others can hear and witness it, (but not obnoxiously or incriminatingly).
The protocol for a passenger is quite different though, and we will address it at another time...
Information provided by the American Civil Liberties Union.
Officers can also ask you to step outside of the car, they can also separate passengers and drivers from each other to question them and compare their answers, but nobody legally has to answer any questions.
The police cannot search your car unless you give them your consent (which you do not have to give) or unless they have "probably cause" to believe that criminal activity is likely taking place, that you have been involved in a crime, or that you have evidence of a crime in your car. So, if you know you have nothing incriminating in your car, it is really up to you as to whether you consent to the search. Note that it may make you look suspicious if you say no, and that it will be humiliating if you say yes, so weigh the options quickly.If you do not want your car searched, (assuming that the officer does not have "probable cause") clearly state that you do not consent. The officer cannot use your refusal to give consent as a basis for doing a search. And if possible, state your lack of consent so that others can hear and witness it, (but not obnoxiously or incriminatingly).
The protocol for a passenger is quite different though, and we will address it at another time...
Information provided by the American Civil Liberties Union.
Know your rights: If you are stopped on the street
If anything has resonated with me over the past couple of weeks, it is the importance of knowing your rights when encountered by public officials, and so I thought it would be good to share some of those insights with you:
If a police officer stops you on the street, you do not have to answer any of their questions. You can simply say, "I do not want to talk to you" and walk away calmly" and walk away calmly. Or if you don't feel comfortable doing that, you can ask if you're free to go. If the answer is yes, just walk slowly away (but don't run!). If the officer says that you are not under arrest, but you are free to go, then you are being detained.
Being detained is not the same as being arrested, however an arrest could follow. Detainment means that a police officer can pat down the outside of your clothing if they have "resonable suspicion" that you might be armed or dangers.
However, if there is any more searching going on than this, it is not okay. Simply say "I do not consent to a search," and if they keep going you can and should physically resist them.
During detainment or in the event of an arrest, you do not need to answer any questions. The only question that you do need to answer is your name, you can be arrested in some states for refusal to provide your name.
Information provided by the American Civil Liberties Union.
If a police officer stops you on the street, you do not have to answer any of their questions. You can simply say, "I do not want to talk to you" and walk away calmly" and walk away calmly. Or if you don't feel comfortable doing that, you can ask if you're free to go. If the answer is yes, just walk slowly away (but don't run!). If the officer says that you are not under arrest, but you are free to go, then you are being detained.
Being detained is not the same as being arrested, however an arrest could follow. Detainment means that a police officer can pat down the outside of your clothing if they have "resonable suspicion" that you might be armed or dangers.
However, if there is any more searching going on than this, it is not okay. Simply say "I do not consent to a search," and if they keep going you can and should physically resist them.
During detainment or in the event of an arrest, you do not need to answer any questions. The only question that you do need to answer is your name, you can be arrested in some states for refusal to provide your name.Information provided by the American Civil Liberties Union.
Friday, April 17, 2009
The importance of being invisible
If I have had one superpower over the past 12 years of school, it has been invisibility. When I walk down the hallways, nobody notices me and when I enter the room there are no repercussions. There's no hiding it, I'm not spectacular or dazzling and I don't command respect; these are qualities that I have honed throughout my entire lifetime.
I used to want all the attention in the world, and I went to great lengths to get it; I was a self-proclaimed eccentric. However, if my progression through high school has taught me one thing, it is the importance of blending in.
This may seem depressing, and as though I have given up on life or something, but it's the truth, and I am very happy with this realization. The fact that I have gained the ability to be satisfied with myself, no matter what others think of, has been much more fulfilling than anyone the feedback of anyone else.
I used to want all the attention in the world, and I went to great lengths to get it; I was a self-proclaimed eccentric. However, if my progression through high school has taught me one thing, it is the importance of blending in.
This may seem depressing, and as though I have given up on life or something, but it's the truth, and I am very happy with this realization. The fact that I have gained the ability to be satisfied with myself, no matter what others think of, has been much more fulfilling than anyone the feedback of anyone else.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Red said, "Watch out!"
What is Red? Author: Unknown
Red is a sunset
Blazing and bright.
Red is feeling brave
With all your might.
Red is a sunburn
A spot on your nose.
Sometimes red, is a red red rose.
Red squiggles out when you cut your hand.
Red is a brick
And the sounds of a band.
Red is hotness
You get inside
When you’re embarrassed
And want to hide.
Fire-cracker, fire-engine
Fire-flicker red –
And when you’re angry
Red runs through your head.
Red is an Indian
A Valentine heart,
The trimmings on
A circus cart.
Red is a lipstick
Red is a shout
Red is a signal
That says, “Watch out!”
Red is a great big
Rubber ball.
Red is the giant-est
colour of all.
Red is a show-off,
No doubt about it –
But can you imagine
Living without it?
Red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red red.Yeah, red is a tite color, let's take a look at some of the fabulous things that flaunt this color. Red is...
...the color of beauty and love, expressed through the elegance of a simple rose.
...Chippendales, whoops did I say that? I meant a has-been group of Mexican Vegetables (they go by the Red Hot Chilly Peppers). And yes, this was the least racy picture I could obtain from the Internet because their posters are basically soft core porn or something, it's basically a problem.
...energy; speed-addicts can't use drugs ALL the time, they need other, cherry-flavored fixes sometimes to get their wings.
...the color of parties, or at least what constitutes as a party when you're 94, which is apparently dressing up and sleeping.
...nourishment, sure these tomatoes look like bug-infested shit, but they provide someone in a third-world country with food. (Dear God, they'll stomach the worms if it keeps them away from scurvy.)
...farmhouses and country shit, enough said.
...the only good thing about that United Kingdom, besides the Beatles I guess; everything else is puke-worthy. (Who the hell else eats eel pie?)
...America and all the fatty stereotypes that come along with us.
...glamor in carpet form.
...And most importantly, red is elegance. Red is Valentino and all of the marvelous connotations that come with that concept.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Twilight the movie = retarded
Watched Twilight this weekend, and let's be honest, it was awful. It moved way to fast and I was just confused the whole time, and I actually read the book, which is even worse because I watched it at like 3 a.m.; everything is good at 3 a.m.! Here are some of the major problems I had with this stupid movie:
- There was simply too much plot crammed into such a short time span for it to have the same effect as the book. Edward hated Bell when he smelled her in biology, and then like a second later he was saying that he didn't think they should be friends anymore--I didn't know that they were. This made the movie move way too fast and it was the most confusing thing of my life, so I really just hated it.
- Bella had the most bland personality of my life and her voice was super boring, which made the narration so awful that I could barely stand it. Every time she started to talk, it sort of began to lull me to sleep, because everything she said came out in this stupid monotone voice.
- If Edward Cullen is supposed to be the most beautiful man of my life, it's all down here from here. Let's be honest, he wasn't that hod. I can totally make some valid suggestions for people that would have been 100 times better than this clown.
- The special effects were troubling; I felt like I was in a 1970s horror film instead of a 2008 drama. This just upset me because they felt the need to put too many effects throughout the movie.
Overall, I guess that this is just one of the things where the movie is never better than the book, and with a book that requires the reader to create so much of their own imagery, it was really a bad idea to put it into such a concrete visual form. I think that girls across the nation, really around the world, visualized the perfection of Edward Cullen in their own terms, and then it was a problem when the media decided to tell them what perfection was. Oh well, though, I guess there's nothing to do...because undoubtedly, I will see the next 18 or whatever movies anyway.
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