I have heard many times that cliche "life is easy," but I truly believe that it's the hardest thing we do. What makes it so hard? It's the other people in it. My self-centered nature allows me to constantly and consistently worry about how any or all of the other humans on this massive planet we cohabit will somehow directly impact me. Mostly in a self-seeking way, such as: "I wonder if So-and-So will have what I need/want..."
Okay, so generally not literally that, but you get the drift.
Life is the hardest thing I do. It's the only thing I do, and I really have no conscious reference point to compare it to anything else. Life is everything. When I'm watching TV, surfing the web for useless information, or literally saving someone's life, it is the complete summation of all of these experiences that is my life. I am tired of hearing people say that life is so easy. I wish I knew to what they were comparing the entirety of their existence!
I sometimes, however, forget that the way I feel in a particular moment has about as much permanence as a birthday card. I keep them for a while, often remembering with fondness that particular person who shelled out four dollars to say they were glad I was born. The reality, however, is that a few months later, I can recall certain significant people giving me cards, but I have no idea what they said, other than Happy Birthday, I love you, etc. Emotions are like that. So are dreams. I can remember that I was seething with fierce resentments or so filled with joy at times, but I often forget the details of the situations. I know I was in a terrible mood yesterday, but honestly have no idea why.
Sometimes I find it hard to believe that everything happens for a reason. I'm clearly over-analytical about things, so it's very easy to question the seemingly insignificant things like why I chose orange instead of purple when I painted my toenails. The universe's tally-sheet of cause and effect probably has some Butterfly-effect whereby my purchase of one bottle of nail polish either contributes to the economic prosperity of Sally Hanson or somehow caused the OPI company to lose stock value. My grandiosity knows no bounds, but it was just an arbitrary example.
I have to remember daily that my feelings are no more permanent than my now-chipped nail color. Before the orange, there was blue, but I can't remember what was before that, and it really does not matter, just as yesterday I was hurting, and before that I was happy, and before that doesn't really matter either.
I have several friends who are experiencing similar circumstances, but are all coping in extremely different ways. One is using the "complete denial" approach, being of the "ignorance is bliss" philosophy. I supposed, when I heard her say that, that since it's her life, who's to say she's wrong. I believe it all goes back to the way I used to think about things, "everyone's experience of life is their own, neither right or wrong." Ani and John Locke both have this in common: "My body is my own property; it's the only thing I own, so what I do with it is my business." Abso-freaking-lutely.
One of the other friends in that same boat is taking more of an analytical approach. "I have taken all the steps I can take, it's out of my hands now." I can appreciate that, although I am not sure what I would do. That shoe doesn't fit me anymore. I wore it for a while, but I outgrew it.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
What Room is Fifth-Grade English Class?
I was ecstatic for Spring Break, the international college student's Christmas. I use the past tense, because about 3 hours before it started I had received an abysmal grade on a paper that should have been at least a B. I'm by no means trying to suggest that the moldy piece of bread I handed in as an academic analysis was even a "C" paper, but the shock wasn't in getting the grade, it was the realization that, as it was more benignly stated, I'm "flexing a muscle that hasn't been used in quite some time." Like a piece of moldy bread, my paper was small, unappetizing, and yet familiar to me as a college student. I enjoy writing prose, poetry, and don't really mind research papers, but the analysis paper is, itself, the three-day old bargain bread: waiting for someone to pick it so it can turn sour.
I like analytical thinking, just not writing. I'm a science major, and thrive in a scientific, formula-derived world, but when it comes to English comp, I tend to not think in terms of sentence and paragraph algorithms. It is more art than science, and I feel that I am not creative whatsoever, especially when I try to interpret and organize my thoughts according to this format.
I suppose the conclusion here, if one needs to be drawn, is that I really need to stop attempting to reinvent the square (not quite as useful as the wheel).
At some consolation, I did receive a "pep-talk" regarding being infinately older than my "peers." I left a little disappointed, not with my effort, but my overt lack thereof. I can't speak for anyone else, but when I turn in a horrible paper, I usually know why. Statistically speaking one hundred percent of the time, it is due to the fact that I've procrastinated far too long to actually write the paper in the first place. I have also felt the hard slap of its aftermath.
So we make these mistakes; we feel the pains of the growth process. We wipe our tears, put our pride back in our pockets and walk away smartly. The growing isn't in the realizing, it's in the application of it. It's the universal lesson central to all of my problems: "I don't do what I'm supposed to, when I'm supposed to, and how I'm supposed to." The ego swells up, suppressing the id, wiping out productivity and obedience and humility as its casualties.
See, I'm a mediocre artist with a palate of words; I just loath being given laws governing how I must produce the art.
Sleepily,
Shayna
I like analytical thinking, just not writing. I'm a science major, and thrive in a scientific, formula-derived world, but when it comes to English comp, I tend to not think in terms of sentence and paragraph algorithms. It is more art than science, and I feel that I am not creative whatsoever, especially when I try to interpret and organize my thoughts according to this format.
I suppose the conclusion here, if one needs to be drawn, is that I really need to stop attempting to reinvent the square (not quite as useful as the wheel).
At some consolation, I did receive a "pep-talk" regarding being infinately older than my "peers." I left a little disappointed, not with my effort, but my overt lack thereof. I can't speak for anyone else, but when I turn in a horrible paper, I usually know why. Statistically speaking one hundred percent of the time, it is due to the fact that I've procrastinated far too long to actually write the paper in the first place. I have also felt the hard slap of its aftermath.
So we make these mistakes; we feel the pains of the growth process. We wipe our tears, put our pride back in our pockets and walk away smartly. The growing isn't in the realizing, it's in the application of it. It's the universal lesson central to all of my problems: "I don't do what I'm supposed to, when I'm supposed to, and how I'm supposed to." The ego swells up, suppressing the id, wiping out productivity and obedience and humility as its casualties.
See, I'm a mediocre artist with a palate of words; I just loath being given laws governing how I must produce the art.
Sleepily,
Shayna
Friday, February 19, 2010
Mariachi Hell
I was just writing some poems to later hatch into little songs, when all of the sudden, an atrocious noise began to assault my ears. I do not have perfect pitch, or anything close to mediocre pitch, but when someone makes an audio weapon of mass deflation and labels it music, I ache both sentimentally as well as aurally. I could not, for the life of me, discern whether the very flat notes being passed off as Mariachi music were the product of inebriation or just the unfortunate product of enthusiastic tone-deafness. Thinking of the sour sound of fingernails scraping across a chalkboard is melodious contrasted to this horrid serenade. I never before understood fully the cartoons with the cat in heat yawing for a mate in some alley making the screeches that can only come from a completely desperate and hormonal feral animal. This was the sound seeping through the ceiling into my peaceful weekend.
I try to remain optimistic. "Perhaps that was the last verse or chorus. Maybe that was the last one. Okay, I suppose not." I attempted twice to record this monstrosity with my tape-recorder that I bought to record lectures for college, but apparently even my little gadget couldn't decipher the tones.
I try to remain optimistic. "Perhaps that was the last verse or chorus. Maybe that was the last one. Okay, I suppose not." I attempted twice to record this monstrosity with my tape-recorder that I bought to record lectures for college, but apparently even my little gadget couldn't decipher the tones.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Names and Dates and Times...
If you pardon the pun, I was wondering whether it was possible that I've reached my full intellectual potential. Sometimes I feel as though my brain is actually being pulled like some sort of literal tug-o-war game! College is far more taxing than originally I intended on being taxed!
Well at any rate, I'm sending happy Valentine's Day mojo out to all! Maybe karma will kick in and I'll get some sort of good mojo back! (Always with the ends to justify the means...)
So my plans include recording some tracks finally, just to establish where I stand with my songs, and also just to get used to hearing my own music. This is a very new and still-raw process for me. I'll tell you all about it later, probably after I finish the final details of my tattoo.
So, there are, in fact lots of major changes all about me at this moment...the most important of which is that I need to go eat lunch. I don't always feel hunger pains, but sometimes I get lightheaded and my tummy won't stop growling at me like a rabid wolverine! Almost like when I mauled that poor person at Rutter's who was taking too long standing in front of the candy aisle. I nearly shoved that poor young woman into the motor oil section because my PMDD hormones could sense the chocolate and peanut butter pheromones from the orange package like a salmon who can sense the impending doom of failure.
All this talk of food and such isn't helping. I'll be back later.
Much later.
-Shayna
Well at any rate, I'm sending happy Valentine's Day mojo out to all! Maybe karma will kick in and I'll get some sort of good mojo back! (Always with the ends to justify the means...)
So my plans include recording some tracks finally, just to establish where I stand with my songs, and also just to get used to hearing my own music. This is a very new and still-raw process for me. I'll tell you all about it later, probably after I finish the final details of my tattoo.
So, there are, in fact lots of major changes all about me at this moment...the most important of which is that I need to go eat lunch. I don't always feel hunger pains, but sometimes I get lightheaded and my tummy won't stop growling at me like a rabid wolverine! Almost like when I mauled that poor person at Rutter's who was taking too long standing in front of the candy aisle. I nearly shoved that poor young woman into the motor oil section because my PMDD hormones could sense the chocolate and peanut butter pheromones from the orange package like a salmon who can sense the impending doom of failure.
All this talk of food and such isn't helping. I'll be back later.
Much later.
-Shayna
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Lunch Money Victims
Let me just start out by saying that I have many friends who are emergency service personnel: fire fighters, EMT/paramedics, etc., but no actual friends who are police officers. I have encountered many over the years, but none in a positive light. Logic would tell me that the common denominator of the situation is me. I do, however know two corrections officers and also a few military police officers, but the MP's aren't even close to similar professions.
The first corrections officer I met is a really interesting gentleman. Articulate, well-read, well built with masculine features, and is pretty much in this story, the exception to the rule in every manner. He is more of a career-oriented person who enjoys the government job and its numerous benefits.
The second individual I've met who is a corrections officer was the complete opposite. One friend actually used to refer to him as the "lunch money victim." I'd never heard this term before, so he elaborated: "the kids that got bullied in school for their lunch money...now they're cops, or wannabe cops, and use their badge to throw their weight around." The man he was referring to had always been known to us, fellow coworkers as one who was obsessed with "big fish tales." Often, he'd recant stories of working in a minimum security prison that came off sounding more like he'd spent twenty years working at Alcatraz. He'd revel in his little anecdotes about how he'd "punish (or whatever the legal/PC term is)" the inmates. For some reason, I just mentally associated him with Milton from Office Space. If you keep picking on him long enough, and take his stapler, his office, and his paycheck, he might just burn the office building down.
I've been spoken to maliciously by the occasional PA State Trooper who had objections at my speed, but until last night, I still gave them the benefit of the doubt. My account is more of the plot to "God's Country," by Ani DiFranco. "State trooper thinks I drive too fast, pulled me over to tell me so. I say out here on the prairie, any speed is too slow...He's gonna put his two cents in because he's got a gun, but I'm going to put in three because history owes me one."
What I witnessed tonight was outright illegal, immoral, and unethical. Excessive force, illegal search and seizure, arresting someone without Miranda Rights being read, and on a college student who allegedly had a few too many drinks.
The issue of the drunkenness, public or underage or what have you, notwithstanding, I was personally outraged at what I saw. The fact of this young man's obvious impairment, and whether that was due to breaking a law, or Temple policy is irrelevant to my point. If he was, in fact guilty of a crime, then the police performing their job (in front of a crowd of voyeurs) professionally and dutifully would have made them look like heroes, rather than bullies.
I watched the police officer slap the cell phone out of the young man's hand. They were shouting at him for his wallet, which he'd clearly lost (probably a casualty of the evening's events), the two Campus officers then grabbed the kid and pushed him out the door of the dorm building. No rights were ever read or stated. I witnessed everything from when the officers said "you're going to jail," to these officers actually stuffing him into the police vehicle. There three of them paused on the sidewalk when one of the officers reached into the student's back right pocket without warning. It alarmed him, as it did me, even as a bystander. The boy turned around, instinctively, as one would assume when being groped without warning or consent. Immediately after the kid turned around, the officer who had "searched" his back pocket gave him a significant push. He did not fall, as the other officer was helping him maintain his balance, by holding his arm...which was handcuffed to his other. Again, no Miranda Rights. The two officers then started yelling at him to stop moving and not to touch the officer, which he had not done. The "groping" officer opened the door to the SUV and they pushed the teen in. Also along for the ride was a female friend who'd also seen the entirety of events, but I'm not sure whether she was sober or a girlfriend, or what. She got in the other side of the vehicle and they stated they were taking him to the hospital.
I personally wish in this particular instance that the young man had not been drinking. What if he'd just been in the middle of a diabetic emergency and had an altered mental status for a medical reason. That would show them...and his parents would own our dorm building after the lawsuit was over.
This is a PERFECT example of why police are negatively stereotyped. I don't believe ANYONE is above the law, however when you see a cop who is speeding with no lights and flashers just so they don't have to sit at the red lights, or one who is littering, or one who in anyway evokes the "Do as I say, not as I do," but then follows up with "because if you do, I'm going to get you."
What can I, Jane Q Public do? Who am I supposed to write an angry letter to, the chief of the executive branch of the government? "Dear Mr. President, please stop letting cops bully the public. By the way, I know my personal legal record is not impeccable, but..." Am I supposed to turn a blind eye and pretend it isn't there? Ignoring this behavior like those who'd condoned the beating of Rodney King in Los Angeles not so many years ago? I think not.
These are the same people I'm supposed to pretend are enforcing safety and protecting democracy. Please. Unless "Democracy" is a new flavor of coffee at Starbucks, I doubt it.
Word of advice, if you were bullied as an adolescent, stop perpetuating the cycle. Isn't it true that most violent criminals are repeat offenders? If you are thinking of getting a job as a cop because it "would be cool to carry a gun," or "they'll have to listen to me now," or even "I am the law!" then please do us (innocent bystanders whom you have pushed out of the way for your own personal motives) a favor. Go work for the DMV or be a gym teacher like normal grown up bullies.
But seriously it is NEVER okay to take out your personal crap on someone who can't fight back.
Seething,
Shayna
The first corrections officer I met is a really interesting gentleman. Articulate, well-read, well built with masculine features, and is pretty much in this story, the exception to the rule in every manner. He is more of a career-oriented person who enjoys the government job and its numerous benefits.
The second individual I've met who is a corrections officer was the complete opposite. One friend actually used to refer to him as the "lunch money victim." I'd never heard this term before, so he elaborated: "the kids that got bullied in school for their lunch money...now they're cops, or wannabe cops, and use their badge to throw their weight around." The man he was referring to had always been known to us, fellow coworkers as one who was obsessed with "big fish tales." Often, he'd recant stories of working in a minimum security prison that came off sounding more like he'd spent twenty years working at Alcatraz. He'd revel in his little anecdotes about how he'd "punish (or whatever the legal/PC term is)" the inmates. For some reason, I just mentally associated him with Milton from Office Space. If you keep picking on him long enough, and take his stapler, his office, and his paycheck, he might just burn the office building down.
I've been spoken to maliciously by the occasional PA State Trooper who had objections at my speed, but until last night, I still gave them the benefit of the doubt. My account is more of the plot to "God's Country," by Ani DiFranco. "State trooper thinks I drive too fast, pulled me over to tell me so. I say out here on the prairie, any speed is too slow...He's gonna put his two cents in because he's got a gun, but I'm going to put in three because history owes me one."
What I witnessed tonight was outright illegal, immoral, and unethical. Excessive force, illegal search and seizure, arresting someone without Miranda Rights being read, and on a college student who allegedly had a few too many drinks.
The issue of the drunkenness, public or underage or what have you, notwithstanding, I was personally outraged at what I saw. The fact of this young man's obvious impairment, and whether that was due to breaking a law, or Temple policy is irrelevant to my point. If he was, in fact guilty of a crime, then the police performing their job (in front of a crowd of voyeurs) professionally and dutifully would have made them look like heroes, rather than bullies.
I watched the police officer slap the cell phone out of the young man's hand. They were shouting at him for his wallet, which he'd clearly lost (probably a casualty of the evening's events), the two Campus officers then grabbed the kid and pushed him out the door of the dorm building. No rights were ever read or stated. I witnessed everything from when the officers said "you're going to jail," to these officers actually stuffing him into the police vehicle. There three of them paused on the sidewalk when one of the officers reached into the student's back right pocket without warning. It alarmed him, as it did me, even as a bystander. The boy turned around, instinctively, as one would assume when being groped without warning or consent. Immediately after the kid turned around, the officer who had "searched" his back pocket gave him a significant push. He did not fall, as the other officer was helping him maintain his balance, by holding his arm...which was handcuffed to his other. Again, no Miranda Rights. The two officers then started yelling at him to stop moving and not to touch the officer, which he had not done. The "groping" officer opened the door to the SUV and they pushed the teen in. Also along for the ride was a female friend who'd also seen the entirety of events, but I'm not sure whether she was sober or a girlfriend, or what. She got in the other side of the vehicle and they stated they were taking him to the hospital.
I personally wish in this particular instance that the young man had not been drinking. What if he'd just been in the middle of a diabetic emergency and had an altered mental status for a medical reason. That would show them...and his parents would own our dorm building after the lawsuit was over.
This is a PERFECT example of why police are negatively stereotyped. I don't believe ANYONE is above the law, however when you see a cop who is speeding with no lights and flashers just so they don't have to sit at the red lights, or one who is littering, or one who in anyway evokes the "Do as I say, not as I do," but then follows up with "because if you do, I'm going to get you."
What can I, Jane Q Public do? Who am I supposed to write an angry letter to, the chief of the executive branch of the government? "Dear Mr. President, please stop letting cops bully the public. By the way, I know my personal legal record is not impeccable, but..." Am I supposed to turn a blind eye and pretend it isn't there? Ignoring this behavior like those who'd condoned the beating of Rodney King in Los Angeles not so many years ago? I think not.
These are the same people I'm supposed to pretend are enforcing safety and protecting democracy. Please. Unless "Democracy" is a new flavor of coffee at Starbucks, I doubt it.
Word of advice, if you were bullied as an adolescent, stop perpetuating the cycle. Isn't it true that most violent criminals are repeat offenders? If you are thinking of getting a job as a cop because it "would be cool to carry a gun," or "they'll have to listen to me now," or even "I am the law!" then please do us (innocent bystanders whom you have pushed out of the way for your own personal motives) a favor. Go work for the DMV or be a gym teacher like normal grown up bullies.
But seriously it is NEVER okay to take out your personal crap on someone who can't fight back.
Seething,
Shayna
Insomnia leads to crazy thinking, who knew?
Well it's clearly past my bedtime, but classes were cancelled once again for the snow. I always get into a weird sleep pattern when I don't have to get up early. I feel badly for my poor roommate who is enduring my incessant tapping at this moment. I was thinking over my day and it was a pretty mediocre one.
I talked to Jenn and that always makes me feel better. I think best friends just have that power for some reason. Whether I'm on top of the world, or whether not one single thing has gone right in the World of Shayna, whenever I get off the phone with some people, albeit few people, I always feel better.
I was recanting my latest escapades and the "what-ifs" and other hypothetical nonsense, when I had a pretty private revelation. I think psychologically, I am never really well prepared for a good relationship. Most of my exes could emphatically attest to that. What is it about being single that is just such a curse? When I'm single, I can't find anyone datable in miles, but when I don't have the time to commit, or I'm in a relationship already, I have to beat them away with sticks!
I've never understood this, be it confidence or pheromones, or whatever. The strange thing is that I can never remember how exactly I get into a relationship for the next time, so I forget how to engage in conversation. I have somehow reverted into the awkward thirteen year-old version of myself I loathed so much.
Reading Valencia two times in a month can have a strange effect on me, I forget that I, in fact, HAVE had interesting, fun things happen. Even in social settings! Maybe not quite Michelle Tea-interesting and fun, but I'll get there someday!
I think it's time, while I'm reverting, to reread Is it Coffee or is it a Date? by Mo Brownsey. That was a splendid read, and I'd like to be in the date category. I always forget that I am not actually a shy person. I love people, it's one of my better qualities, but for some reason, lately, I've been struck stupid in social situations. I've talked to two different people about it; the one who tells me what I want to hear thinks that it's a phase or possibly that I forgot to breathe. The friend who tells me what I need to hear thinks that I'm becoming more aware of other people and am just growing up and less self-centered. I'm finding the "forgot to breathe" option more likable. That's cute. Much more so than, per se, MATURITY. The best advice I could come up with myself was by asking myself "What Would Jane Do?" because I still don't have a clue what Shayna would do!
In a much more self-respecting note, I've been putting some serious thought into doing the "open mic" thing with Terra, as long as it's not just the "Terra Show," my ego can't handle that yet. This is an instance where I would like to be a peer. Equal. Well, except the fact that she's clearly more talented than me. I don't know how this is going to go. I guess the fun and excitement is in the not knowing.
That's what I'm carrying into this "I'm too shy to ask you out" situation: the fun and exciting part! How hard can mutual eating be? Everyone eats...
Until tomorrow- Shayna
I talked to Jenn and that always makes me feel better. I think best friends just have that power for some reason. Whether I'm on top of the world, or whether not one single thing has gone right in the World of Shayna, whenever I get off the phone with some people, albeit few people, I always feel better.
I was recanting my latest escapades and the "what-ifs" and other hypothetical nonsense, when I had a pretty private revelation. I think psychologically, I am never really well prepared for a good relationship. Most of my exes could emphatically attest to that. What is it about being single that is just such a curse? When I'm single, I can't find anyone datable in miles, but when I don't have the time to commit, or I'm in a relationship already, I have to beat them away with sticks!
I've never understood this, be it confidence or pheromones, or whatever. The strange thing is that I can never remember how exactly I get into a relationship for the next time, so I forget how to engage in conversation. I have somehow reverted into the awkward thirteen year-old version of myself I loathed so much.
Reading Valencia two times in a month can have a strange effect on me, I forget that I, in fact, HAVE had interesting, fun things happen. Even in social settings! Maybe not quite Michelle Tea-interesting and fun, but I'll get there someday!
I think it's time, while I'm reverting, to reread Is it Coffee or is it a Date? by Mo Brownsey. That was a splendid read, and I'd like to be in the date category. I always forget that I am not actually a shy person. I love people, it's one of my better qualities, but for some reason, lately, I've been struck stupid in social situations. I've talked to two different people about it; the one who tells me what I want to hear thinks that it's a phase or possibly that I forgot to breathe. The friend who tells me what I need to hear thinks that I'm becoming more aware of other people and am just growing up and less self-centered. I'm finding the "forgot to breathe" option more likable. That's cute. Much more so than, per se, MATURITY. The best advice I could come up with myself was by asking myself "What Would Jane Do?" because I still don't have a clue what Shayna would do!
In a much more self-respecting note, I've been putting some serious thought into doing the "open mic" thing with Terra, as long as it's not just the "Terra Show," my ego can't handle that yet. This is an instance where I would like to be a peer. Equal. Well, except the fact that she's clearly more talented than me. I don't know how this is going to go. I guess the fun and excitement is in the not knowing.
That's what I'm carrying into this "I'm too shy to ask you out" situation: the fun and exciting part! How hard can mutual eating be? Everyone eats...
Until tomorrow- Shayna
Monday, February 8, 2010
Get Active.
Okay, so clearly a daily goal of blogging was not a realistic achievement to start with...
I've been thinking lately of a great multitude of things, from activism, my personal hero(ine)s, my music, and (probably due to PMDD hormones) the insanity and angst of failed relationships.
I'm not sure really what the catalyst was for my recent and fervent obsession with getting involved in activist groups, but it probably had something to do with the realization that I've not really made any positive contribution toward the movements that mean something to me. I suppose there are even more reasons that I have not thought much consciously about getting involved. I, being a liberal-minded person (for the sake of context), feel there are many issues that speak to me personally, from feminism, women's rights, civil rights, animal rights, and so on and so forth.
I read a comment on Facebook yesterday that best summed up how I personally feel about the impending change in the Army's DADT (Don't Ask, Don't Tell) policy. It said, (hoping not to misquote) "The last two institutions I want telling me about morals are the government and the Church." I liked that because these two concepts have been so bastardized beyond original intent, that in our current society likens both to corruption and greed.
I also joined PETA, as I posted previously, because in addition to the obvious ideas of animal rights, it is far more environmentally friendly. Removing animals and their products from our diets is far healthier for my body and the environment. (As I may or may not have stated in this issue, it's just a matter of personal preference for me. I am not the arbiter of anyone else's affairs, nor would I hope to impose my feelings on this matter on anyone!)
As far as feminism is concerned, I believe that most of our society does not even know what it means. Women should have the same rights and privileges as men, PERIOD. I, naively, assumed that in our modern American society, we had somehow attained this. I was so rudely awakened to the great realization that I had either been delusional or, and I believe more likely, I was misinformed. TODAY, yes in 2010, a woman still receives less pay than a man for the same job with the same experience and credentials.
Alice Paul would be rolling in her grave if she knew. This is appalling. We've sent humans to the moon, cloned live organisms, and found ways to medically resuscitate someone from near death, but women are still not "worth" as much as men.
We also, as I have alluded to earlier, have established laws governing what specifically, women can or can not do with their bodies, who we can and cannot marry and have recognized rights, and yet we are sending flocks of troops to other nations professing emphatically, "Democracy is the way!"
In a Poly Sci class I had, we discovered that two things are errant with this. One, what we have is not really a democracy. Two, if the principle way our government works is by representing proportionately the views of the citizens to law making and enforcing agencies, and the majority has expressed a view on some issue, and the elected person doesn't defend that view, then clearly our "system is broken."
Well coming up with the problem was fairly simple. The solution, however, is not all too complicated, though. Less than a quarter of American citizens vote (they have elections for other than just the President). Probably, I have found, due to complete apathy and complacency of the citizen. Women's Suffrage took decades to achieve. Abolishment of slavery took decades. Doesn't one of our great early "national treasures" start out saying that "all men are created equal?" Now we have herds of people complaining about immigration and even helping other countries, such as Haiti.
This almost makes me nauseated and smile at the same time, because it always reminds me of one of my favorite bands, The Talking Heads. Why talk if you have nothing to say?
I have something to say: if you are uninformed, get informed before you try to cram your oppressive views down other people's throats. I have some "friends" who are vehemently opposed to helping the Haiti earthquake victims because "we need to take care of ourselves first." They, not surprisingly, are the same folks preaching to "send the immigrants back from where they came here from." Uninformed is a gross understatement. I am the descendant of immigrants. I'm not petitioning for DAR status, but I know for a fact that my German/Irish family had at some point IMMIGRATED to this continent for some reason. I've never seen a deed to the planet, but I've never heard or read anywhere that human beings own this planet. There were living things before humans, and will surely be some living organism long after our extinction. What right do we have saying that we can or cannot travel to some place on this planet?
I am getting anemic wasting my energy thinking instead of doing. What makes all Americans, but not humans, equal? We're all human beings! We have far greater things in common than differences, and if we, as a global society, could stop to acknowledge this for a while, perhaps it wouldn't matter so much what language we spoke, what kind of god you believed or didn't believe in, or who can have the most money. We all succumb to illnesses, most of which have cures or treatments. We, as humans, have the capacity to communicate, feel, think, create, empathize, encourage, and love. Why then, do we keep focusing on our ability to find minute differences, dominate, oppress, torture, and kill? Instead of investing so extravagantly in the wars in both Iraq and Afghanistan, why not invest in eradicating diseases in underdeveloped nations, where water is poison? Why not help end genocide in Darfur? Men, women, and children are dying at an unspeakable rate. Perhaps that's the heart of the problem; it's unspeakable.
So I'm getting involved. I'm not quite ready or able to host another LiveAid, but in any way possible, I'd like to do something to contribute positively to the betterment of the human experience, especially for those persons who have no voice.
I can think of no more admirable footsteps to follow than those of Ghandi, Mother Theresa, Anne Frank, Nelson Mandella, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Alice Paul. Those, are big footprints to follow, indeed, but for the future of humanity, they must have been, as we still have so very far to go. I believe that I have learned a great deal from the teachers I've had over the years, both in formal education, and outside. I have a friend who first showed me, at thirteen, that one person CAN in fact make a difference. I got an A in Civics in high school, but it seems irrelevant if I don't do anything with it.
I suppose I'm going into more of a Mr. Smith-esque filibuster on this, but as I go out from here into this day, my new earnest resolution is to, in some capacity, try to do good each day, whatever and however that might happen.
-Shayna
I've been thinking lately of a great multitude of things, from activism, my personal hero(ine)s, my music, and (probably due to PMDD hormones) the insanity and angst of failed relationships.
I'm not sure really what the catalyst was for my recent and fervent obsession with getting involved in activist groups, but it probably had something to do with the realization that I've not really made any positive contribution toward the movements that mean something to me. I suppose there are even more reasons that I have not thought much consciously about getting involved. I, being a liberal-minded person (for the sake of context), feel there are many issues that speak to me personally, from feminism, women's rights, civil rights, animal rights, and so on and so forth.
I read a comment on Facebook yesterday that best summed up how I personally feel about the impending change in the Army's DADT (Don't Ask, Don't Tell) policy. It said, (hoping not to misquote) "The last two institutions I want telling me about morals are the government and the Church." I liked that because these two concepts have been so bastardized beyond original intent, that in our current society likens both to corruption and greed.
I also joined PETA, as I posted previously, because in addition to the obvious ideas of animal rights, it is far more environmentally friendly. Removing animals and their products from our diets is far healthier for my body and the environment. (As I may or may not have stated in this issue, it's just a matter of personal preference for me. I am not the arbiter of anyone else's affairs, nor would I hope to impose my feelings on this matter on anyone!)
As far as feminism is concerned, I believe that most of our society does not even know what it means. Women should have the same rights and privileges as men, PERIOD. I, naively, assumed that in our modern American society, we had somehow attained this. I was so rudely awakened to the great realization that I had either been delusional or, and I believe more likely, I was misinformed. TODAY, yes in 2010, a woman still receives less pay than a man for the same job with the same experience and credentials.
Alice Paul would be rolling in her grave if she knew. This is appalling. We've sent humans to the moon, cloned live organisms, and found ways to medically resuscitate someone from near death, but women are still not "worth" as much as men.
We also, as I have alluded to earlier, have established laws governing what specifically, women can or can not do with their bodies, who we can and cannot marry and have recognized rights, and yet we are sending flocks of troops to other nations professing emphatically, "Democracy is the way!"
In a Poly Sci class I had, we discovered that two things are errant with this. One, what we have is not really a democracy. Two, if the principle way our government works is by representing proportionately the views of the citizens to law making and enforcing agencies, and the majority has expressed a view on some issue, and the elected person doesn't defend that view, then clearly our "system is broken."
Well coming up with the problem was fairly simple. The solution, however, is not all too complicated, though. Less than a quarter of American citizens vote (they have elections for other than just the President). Probably, I have found, due to complete apathy and complacency of the citizen. Women's Suffrage took decades to achieve. Abolishment of slavery took decades. Doesn't one of our great early "national treasures" start out saying that "all men are created equal?" Now we have herds of people complaining about immigration and even helping other countries, such as Haiti.
This almost makes me nauseated and smile at the same time, because it always reminds me of one of my favorite bands, The Talking Heads. Why talk if you have nothing to say?
I have something to say: if you are uninformed, get informed before you try to cram your oppressive views down other people's throats. I have some "friends" who are vehemently opposed to helping the Haiti earthquake victims because "we need to take care of ourselves first." They, not surprisingly, are the same folks preaching to "send the immigrants back from where they came here from." Uninformed is a gross understatement. I am the descendant of immigrants. I'm not petitioning for DAR status, but I know for a fact that my German/Irish family had at some point IMMIGRATED to this continent for some reason. I've never seen a deed to the planet, but I've never heard or read anywhere that human beings own this planet. There were living things before humans, and will surely be some living organism long after our extinction. What right do we have saying that we can or cannot travel to some place on this planet?
I am getting anemic wasting my energy thinking instead of doing. What makes all Americans, but not humans, equal? We're all human beings! We have far greater things in common than differences, and if we, as a global society, could stop to acknowledge this for a while, perhaps it wouldn't matter so much what language we spoke, what kind of god you believed or didn't believe in, or who can have the most money. We all succumb to illnesses, most of which have cures or treatments. We, as humans, have the capacity to communicate, feel, think, create, empathize, encourage, and love. Why then, do we keep focusing on our ability to find minute differences, dominate, oppress, torture, and kill? Instead of investing so extravagantly in the wars in both Iraq and Afghanistan, why not invest in eradicating diseases in underdeveloped nations, where water is poison? Why not help end genocide in Darfur? Men, women, and children are dying at an unspeakable rate. Perhaps that's the heart of the problem; it's unspeakable.
So I'm getting involved. I'm not quite ready or able to host another LiveAid, but in any way possible, I'd like to do something to contribute positively to the betterment of the human experience, especially for those persons who have no voice.
I can think of no more admirable footsteps to follow than those of Ghandi, Mother Theresa, Anne Frank, Nelson Mandella, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Alice Paul. Those, are big footprints to follow, indeed, but for the future of humanity, they must have been, as we still have so very far to go. I believe that I have learned a great deal from the teachers I've had over the years, both in formal education, and outside. I have a friend who first showed me, at thirteen, that one person CAN in fact make a difference. I got an A in Civics in high school, but it seems irrelevant if I don't do anything with it.
I suppose I'm going into more of a Mr. Smith-esque filibuster on this, but as I go out from here into this day, my new earnest resolution is to, in some capacity, try to do good each day, whatever and however that might happen.
-Shayna
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