Don't normally write about things like this...

Looking out at the lake, I am reminded of The Great Gatsby. I imagine an eternal light blinking in the distance, forever heralding romance, love, adventure, hope, and transcendence. The feeling that true love is about to occur hangs sweetly in the air. Like a Keats poem, it is a perfect state of suspension. The envisioned love is perfect, and hope and excitement come from the idea that love will play out according to this perfection. The bliss of anticipating something perfect is immense, "knowing" it's about to occur, focusing so much energy on anticipating it that you actually begin to feel it, and the feeling you get is pure joy, so how much greater then will the real thing be...? You can only happily imagine. But yet, strangely, what doesn't bring this perfection into actuality is what makes it perfect, for we know that seldom does anything occur perfectly in the real world. If it never actually plays out, then there's no risk of being disappointed, of having to compare the envisioned to the actual and say "oh no, no. This isn't how is was supposed to be at all." Some will say that it is much better to experience something than nothing, despite the fact that this something will be less than perfect. For now, however, I am content to stand along the shore, inhaling the sweet air and keeping myself in a somewhat agonizing, yet glorious state--never will I experience the perfection I want so much, but never will this perfection be disappointed either. And caught in this in-between state, I am at the brink of experiencing the highest of highs before reality sets things on a downward course. I am, therefore, nearly at the peak, in mathematical terms, the maximum. (Or, maybe, if any of this perfection does indeed exist, I am then at a great distance from this peak. So far though, I feel that it does not, not for me at least.) And perched from my (near) highest of highs, I can look around and smile, feeling that I'm as close to perfection as I ever may be. If the use of the word "perfection" has been confusing to you throughout this, my apologies. It is, of course, largely referring to true love and its various derivatives. I hope that you can find the person who makes what the blinking light represents real (love and hope for the future). And may you have more luck than the Gatsby. May you have more luck than me. Do remember me though, next time you stand alongside a lake shore. Maybe I will have, by that time, changed my state and changed my views.

Addendum to "Dandelions..."

Hello all, here are some of my responses (IN CAPS) to some things my friend had to say about my last blog. (His begins below and is in the font that I am typing in now).

I do have a couple points to make. I fear that you apply a double standard to people. Sacrilege? Maybe. But I am disturbed by 2 of your broad, sweeping statements, which are these:

1. "People like this are certainly alienated from their labor because they are not passionate for it, and thus do not have a connection with what they do, other than it connects them to financial security pretty much."

2. "I do think that they are beautiful, in fact, the word "beautiful" sickens me a bit to use in conjunction with the word poor because I know that it does not do them justice."

My issues with Statement 1 are as follows. Where is the idea that poor are more passionate about work, or that lawyers are dispassionate, uncaring, etc. coming from, and most importantly, is it necessarily true that these conditions cause each other? Remember the basic fact. Correlation does not imply causation. Certainly there are lawyers who are just in it for the money. There are doctors, engineers, teachers, and even some of your favorite professions, farmers, and minimum wage workers, who are just in it for the money. In fact, I would be more inclined to theorize that that the less you earn, the more your work is for the money, as it is more necessary. Let me add that there are many people who work because they love it, and that these tend to be more affluent for the simple reason that they can afford it. Where is the difference, besides scale, of a lawyer working for nothing but greed, and a poor person working at Mcdonalds for the same? Just because the emotion can be more visibly expressed by the lawyer (cars, big houses, etc.) doesnt mean that the poor person is not greedy or does not aspire to material wealth. This, after all, is the purpose of work. I fear that you have only selected a profession that does not inspire admiration, and coupled it with an issue that touches buttons for a lot of people, and created a decidedly unsympathetic figure with which to personify the "rich". I don't doubt that many lawyers are shady figures, or even that they care about money, but lets be honest as well. It takes dedication, many years, and many thousands of dollars to go to law school. It is a little condescending in my opinion therefore, to label them as "dispassionate". The purpose of a capitalist society is to reward hard work with money. Thus, I have no problem with the money lawyers earn, as the work they have put into their degree entitles them to monetary reward. Otherwise, why would anyone put in the time? I AGREE COMPLETELY WITH MANY OF YOUR POINTS. SORRY, I MUST HAVE BEEN SOMEWHAT UNCLEAR AND PERHAPS I DID NOT GIVE ENOUGH BACKGROUND OF MANIFESTO. I DO NOT THINK THAT THE POOR ARE NECESSARILY MORE PASSIONATE ABOUT THEIR WORK. I DID NOT EVEN REALLY DELVE INTO THAT SUBJECT. AND I REALLY ADMIRE SOME LAWYERS. I WAS NOT TRYING TO MAKE GENERALIZATIONS ABOUT ALL LAWYERS, I MEANT THAT THE LAWYER IN THE EXAMPLE WAS ALIENATED FROM HIS/HER LABOR BECAUSE HE/SHE ORIGINALLY WANTED TO WORK FOR THE ENVIRONMENT BUT FOUND THEMSELVES IN A SITUATION WHERE HE/SHE WAS WORKING AGAINST THE ENVIRONMENT DUE TO THINGS LIKE JOB DEMAND, ETC. THIS WAS NO WAY A BASH ON LAWYERS. SORRY FOR MY MISCOMUNNICATIONS. EXACTLY RIGHT ABOUT THE POOR AND WHY THEY DO THEIR JOBS. I STRONGLY STRONGLY AGREE AND I THINK IT'S SAD, THEY REALLY ONLY DO A LOT OF THINGS SO THEY CAN GET THE MONEY THEY NEED TO SURVIVE. ALTHOUGH, A LAWYER BEING GREEDY IS SOMEWHAT DIFFERENT THAN A SINGLE-PARENT WORKING AT MCDONALD'S TO FEED HIS/HER CHILDREN. MARX WANTED LABOR TO BE SOMETHING PEOPLE REALLY LOVED, HE WANTED THEM TO HAVE A CONNECTION WITH IT, HE WANTED IT TO GIVE THEIR LIFE MEANING, WHEN I TALKED ABOUT LABOR IN MY ASIDE I WAS MAINLY COMMENTING ON THE FACT THAT MANY PEOPLE DO NOT PREFORM THE TYPE OF LABOR MARX WANTED PEOPLE TO DO. ALTHOUGH HE ONLY SPEAKS ABOUT THE PROLETARIAT BEING ALIENATED, I ARGUE THAT MORE THAN JUST THE PROLETARIAT HAVE BEEN ALIENATED FROM THEIR LABOR. I ONLY LABELED LAWYERS WHO THOUGHT THEY WERE GOING TO FIGHT FOR WHAT THEY BELIEVED ININ AND NOW FIND THEMSELVES FIGHTING AGAINST WHAT THEY BELIEVE IN AS NOT PASSIONATE ABOUT THEIR LABOR; I DO NOT CLAIM THAT THEY ARE DISPASSIONATE PEOPLE. INDEED, THEY ARE PASSIONATE ABOUT HELPING THE ENVIRONMENT AND THAT IS WHAT LEADS TO THEM NOT BEING PASSIONATE ABOUT WORKING AGAINST THE ENVIRONMENT. SORRY, PERHAPS THIS WAS A WEIRD EXAMPLE, IT OFTEN COMES UP WHEN PEOPLE TALK ABOUT ENVIRONMENTAL LAWYERS THOUGH. GOOD WORK, YOU BRING UP ONE OF THE STRONGEST POINTS OF REFUTATION OF THE CM-WHERE IS THE INCENTIVE? WHICH MARX DOES ANSWER, THOUGH I DON'T KNOW HOW ADEQUATELY. PERSONALLY, I FEEL LIKE DUE TO THE FLAWS OF HUMANS AND OUR LARGE POPULATION, AS I SPECIFIED EARLIER, THERE PROBABLY DOES NEED TO BE INCENTIVES OF SOME FORM, THOUGH I DON'T KNOW IF THEY ALWAYS NEED TO BE MONETARY, BUT THAT IS FOR ANOTHER TIME...I DO, HOWEVER, LIKE WHAT HE HAS TO SAY ABOUT PEOPLE LOVING WHAT THEY DO.

My issues with #2 are mostly the same. I am always hesitant to make group generalizations. There really isn't much difference to me between the statements, "Poor people are beautiful", and "White people are beautiful". I suppose I am a little disappointed in you for this; I would have expected more from you. Poor people, white people, and all other classifications of people run the gamut between good and bad, and anywhere in between. Most people have some good and some bad in them, whatever that means. Again, I do not dispute the idea that some, perhaps even a majority, of the materially poor are decent people, and may even inspire hope and other good emotions. But what about those who dont? Is a rapist beautiful? More violent criminals come from poor backgrounds than any other, and not all crimes can be traced to desperation. I realize my depiction is simplistic as well, but I don't think anyone can just shoehorn a whole group of people into one trait.

VERY GOOD POINTS. I DO THINK THAT WHITE PEOPLE ARE BEAUTIFUL AND BLACK PEOPLE AS WELL AND ALL RACES. BUT YOU BRING UP VERY GOOD POINTS. I GUESS I DO NOT CONSIDER THE "RAPIST" BEAUTIFUL, BUT I'M FAIRLY CERTAIN THAT HE/SHE HAD BEAUTIFUL QUALITIES AT SOME POINT IN HIS/HER LIFE, EVEN IF IT WAS ONLY FOR A FEW FLEETING MOMENTS DURING CHILDHOOD. (THIS GOES ALONG NICELY WITH YOUR GAMUT COMMENT) I THINK RAPE IS A SICKENING, DISGUSTING ACT. PROBABLY ONE OF THE THINGS THAT DISGUSTS ME THE MOST IN LIFE. SO I WOULD OF COURSE NEVER THINK THAT RAPE IS BEAUTIFUL, I DON'T REALLY KNOW WHO WOULD. BUT WE HAVE TO ASK WHY PEOPLE FROM POOR BACKGROUNDS ARE MORE LIKELY TO DO THESE THINGS. AGAIN, WITH THE WHOLE THINKING THING, I KNOW, RIGHT? BUT YEAH, I WAS MAKING GENERALIZATIONS, I SUPPOSE I COULD HAVE SAID, "LET ME TELL YOU THE STORY ABOUT JAMES...LET ME TELL YOU THE STORY ABOUT DEB...LET ME TELL YOU THE STORY ABOUT MAYOR JC...LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE WOMAN FROM THE SHELTER WHO CALLED ME LIL' MAMA...LET ME TELL YOU THE WONDERFUL LOVE STORY OF MY GRAMMA AND GRANDPA..." AND PERHAPS, SOMEDAY, I WILL MOVE TO MORE CONCRETE EXAMPLES, IN FACT, THAT IS PROBABLY A GOOD IDEA, THANK YOU FOR IT. WHAT IF I THINK PEOPLE IN GENERAL ARE BEAUTIFUL? CUZ THAT IS WHAT I TEND TO THINK. WELL, LET ME TELL YOU ONE THING, IT LEADS TO DISAPPOINTMENT. AND ME BEING SWINDLED, OH, SAY OUT OF $55 CUZ I THOUGHT I WAS HELPING A KID GO TO COLLEGE, ETC, ETC ( I SHOULD HAVE WATCHED OFFICE SPACE, I KNOW, BECAUSE IT WAS A MAGAZINE SCAM). AND IF YOU ASK ME WHY I KEEP THINKING PEOPLE ARE BEAUTIFUL? I PROBABLY COULDN'T GIVE YOU A SATISFACTORY, NEAT, CONCISE, AND/OR LOGICAL ANSWER. OTHER THAN I THINK THERE IS SOMETHING THAT CALLS US BEYOND OURSELVES, AND I SEE MYSELF IN OTHERS, AND I CAN'T REALLY CONSIDER MYSELF APART FROM THEM, BUT, I DIGRESS...

Also, before I let this go completely, I would like to point out another observation. It could be that I am misunderstanding what you mean, and that instead of an individual poor person being beautiful, you have a certain admiration for the "poor person" as something noble or good. The reason I mention this is i see the same attitude toward the small family farmer, and toward the hunter gatherer. I would caution you from this line of thinking. I doubt very much if poor people want to be poor, or if all family farmers want to struggle every year against the land, or hunter-gatherers wouldn't trade their lifestyle for something more stable. I worry that coming from an affluent suburban girl, as much as you may feel guilty about your upbringing, this whole attitude comes off a bit patronizing. Kind of like, "Awwww, look at you, poor and making it anyways, thats so cute". I don't think this is a good attitude to take. Perhaps I am wrong. But I do get a little sense of that from you.

IT IS THE INDIVIDUAL STORIES AND PEOPLE I HAVE MET WHO HAVE LED ME TO FORM THESE BELIEFS OF THEIR BEAUTY. BUT, ONE THING YOU MENTION THAT IS A VERY GOOD POINT IS WHAT ABOUT WHEN THE PEOPLE ARE NO LONGER POOR AND THEY BECOME MORE WEALTHY AND EVEN DESIRE TO DO SO? ARE THEY NO LONGER BEAUTIFUL. IN SHORT, MY ANSWER IS NO. I NEED TO STRONGLY EMPHASIZE THIS NEXT STATEMENT- I DO NOT MEAN TO BE PATRONIZING. I THINK YOU FORGET THAT MY DAD GREW UP EXTREMELY POOR. HIS DAD WOULD PASS OUT IN CHURCH BECAUSE HE DIDN'T EAT SO HIS KIDS COULD. MY DAD SAYS THAT STILL, MANY OF THE HAPPIEST DAYS OF HIS LIFE OCCURRED WHEN HE WAS POOR. HIS STORIES, AND THE STORIES OF OTHERS, AS WELL AS MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCES, SHOW ME THAT THE POOR SOMETIMES GET THINGS (ABOUT LIFE) THAT THE WEALTHY DON'T. AND ONCE AGAIN, IT'S HARD TO DESCRIBE, AND MAYBE IN FUTURE WRITINGS I WILL MOVE TO MORE CONCRETE EXAMPLES. I REALLY DO NOT WANT TO BE PATRONIZING THOUGH. THAT IS BAD. IN FACT, I WANT THE POOR TO HAVE BETTER CONDITIONS, AND I KNOW IT IS IMPORTANT TO SEE THEM AS THE FULLY REALIZED HUMAN BEINGS THEY ARE, NOT JUST PROJECTS FOR PEOPLE TO WORK ON; NOT JUST CHANCES TO DO SERVICE AND "HELP" THEM. BECAUSE, QUITE TRUTHFULLY, IN MANY CASES, THEY WOULD BE QUITE FINE WITHOUT THE "HELP" WE GIVE THEM, THEIR LIVES WOULD CONTINUE, I JUST THINK THINGS ARE REALLY UNFAIR, AND I GUESS WRITING IS MY WAY OF EXPRESSING THAT. AND I ALSO FEEL LIKE A LOT OF PEOPLE PUSH UNPLEASANT THINGS FROM THEIR MIND AND KIND OF CLOSE THEIR EARS AND EYES, IF YOU WILL; THAT WAS PROBABLY A CENTRAL POINT IN THIS PIECE. I KIND OF JUST WANT PEOPLE TO BE AWARE, AND NOT IGNORE THINGS AS MUCH.

ADDENDUM ADDENDUM: I THINK THERE ARE A LOT OF WEALTHY PEOPLE OUT THERE WHO DO GREAT THINGS WITH THEIR MONEY. I REALLY ADMIRE THOSE PEOPLE FOR ALL OF THEIR GIVING. I DON'T THINK I THINK THAT EVERYONE IS SUPPOSED TO MAKE THE SAME AMOUNT NECESSARILY. ONCE AGAIN, THIS WAS NOT MEANT TO BE A RICH-BASHING SESSION. I APPRECIATE HARD WORK AND SAVING, I JUST ALSO SEE THAT AS AMERICANS, WE ARE ALL SUCH HUGE CONSUMERS THAT IT HAS LED US TO HAVE A HUGE ECOLOGICAL FOOTPRINT, ETC. I THINK THAT IT'S REALLY REALLY NICE WHEN PEOPLE SHARE :) I GUESS I WISH PEOPLE COULD GET A FEW THINGS THEY REALLY WANTED THAT WOULD MEAN A LOT INSTEAD OF THINKING THAT THEY NEEDED SOOOOOO SOOOOO MUCH. I AM NOT EXCLUDING MYSELF FROM THIS LIST OF PEOPLE. I AM AN AMERICAN TOO. AND MIND YOU, PROUD OF IT AND EXTREMELY HAPPY TO BE ONE, I'M JUST SAYING, WE ARE DEFINITELY NOT PERFECT AND COULD BE MAKING SOME LIFESTYLE CHANGES.

Shall I Compare Thee to a Dandelion?

I think that poor people are kind of like dandelions-beautiful but many of us do not realize it. Now, I don't want this to come off like I'm some bourgeoisie princess talking about the poor. First of all, I would definitely not be considered part of the bourgeoisie class; I have college loans to pay off, am working two jobs, etc. But, when I write, I do have in my mind a vision of the proletariat class as described by Marx-wage earners who have been alienated from their labor. Let me specify a few more things. 1) I am not a Communist, although I do think that Marx makes some interesting observations with some truth behind them, but overall, I think that his theories of historical materialism are too reductionistically simple. I also do not think that the means he proposes to ensure that the proletariat class will abolish bourgeoisie private property are appropriate, and I sincerely believe that, taking into account such things as the news, things that have happened to my family, etc., communism would not work with such a large population and the selfish nature of many humans. As my uncle Bryan says, "I sincerely believe power corrupts."
(Aside) Anyways...having said all of this, I do commend Marx on his description of the proletariat. However, I do think that Marx's ideas of alienated of wage earners and the way these laborers become a mere extension of the machine they are operating can be applied in a more abstract manner than Marx would see fit. For example, are not the lawyers who think they are going to be working to save the environment, but now find themselves sitting in an over-sized leather chair writing briefs for Shell, alienated from their labor? People like this are certainly alienated from their labor because they are not passionate for it (they are not passionate because they would rather be helping the environment than helping big companies get away with polluting it), and thus do not have a connection with what they do, other than it connects them to financial security. And while these lawyers may not literally be operating machines, the "machine" that they had envisioned operating ("machine" in this example being a system that fosters positive environmental change) is not the one they find themselves running. As they hand over a brief that argues against increased funding for non-renewables and watch a gray smokestack in the background belch out clouds of sulfurous pollution into the air, they are totally and utterly alienated, and their heart may as well be ripped out, lying bleeding on the floor. I make this point only to illustrate that I think many people in America are in a dire situation, and sadly, many are alienated from their labor and do not truly love what they do.

(Sorry, I am not going to delve into the issue of the poor being alienated from their labor, I must try to stay somewhat on track). I would now like to describe the "poor" I will use analogously with dandelions. I would like to talk about the very materially poor. (Alright, go ahead and accuse me of being a historical materialist). But wait-Don't! Because I do not just mean materially poor, because I notice a brilliant character in these people who happen to be materially poor. A character that does not just come from their economic situation (people who are not poor may have this character as well), but I feel like many poor people have this character because...well, I don't really know why. And I will argue it's not just because of their economic situation, but maybe it is. In my life, however, I have come to find that things are usually not this simple (i.e. either it's their economic situation or not.) Ah, I am getting side-tracked though, because this is not really what I wanted to talk about. so...on with comparing these people to flowers.
As I let my car glide down my driveway, which stretches from the top of a hill where I live to the road that winds down a more gentle slope, something pretty and bright caught my eyes-dandelions. They had popped up along the edges of my driveway, right where the thick green grass fades into the gravel, which then leads to an abrupt few-inched wall of concrete, marking the beginning of the driveway. I enjoyed the beauty of these flowers for a moment, but then thought with a pang of sadness, soon everyone will start crusading against these flowers. Forget the pitchforks, hand me the spade and Weed B Gon please. Think about it, killing flowers, doesn't that sound kind of atrocious?
Now I know you're probably wondering, the poor people, the poor people, what about the poor people?! Alright, now it's time to get a little abstract. People get rid of dandelions because they are weeds, the definition of which is simply a plant nout of place. People usually kill these weeds because they just want to get them out of sight, because they want their plush, luxurious, rich green lawns to come forth and flourish. That is like how many of the rich want the poor to be out of sight; then they're out of mind. Because when the poor are involved in the lives of the rich, they are weeds, they are out of the place; go back to the slums, poor people, you are soiling my new oriental rug.

Come to think of it, who can live their exuberant lifestyle while constantly having the plight of the poor on their minds? What downers the poor can be, huh? But let's get serious. This is not meant to be a rich-bashing blog; I just see that America has serious issues. And expand the sphere of my ideas to incorporate not only America, but also the entire world, good Lord, I have just become part of the "rich" who stomp the beautiful little yellow flowers out of their minds. I love the poor, I really do. I have a deep passion for these people. I do think that they are beautiful, in fact, the word "beautiful" sickens me a bit to use in conjuction with the word poor because I know that it does not do them justice. Splendid could be a better word. But really, their beauty transcends that of words. It's like the more I get to know them, the more awful I think they are (awful meaning that they bring about awe in me of them). Let's face it though, certainly I do not spend every waking moment of every day agonizing over the extreme hardships the poor face, (although there are certainly moments when I do agonize), and certainly there are more things that I could do to help the poor. In this way, I partake in the dandelion killing, if you will. I say to myself, self, I don't want these dandelions growing in my mind. And perhaps the difference between me and others is that I pluck the dandelions out, but they grow back, and I don't think I will ever fully be able to, even if I wanted to, exterminate the dandelions completely. But others, they get the Weed B Gon in an effort to rid of the dandelions for vast stretches of time. They are not aiming to escape thinking about the poor for a while; they are trying to suppress and extinguish a huge part of the reality of our world. The reality being that these ("these" could mean both dandelions and the poor) do exist and we try to get rid of them because they burden us. They interfere with our desire to achieve these perfect little lives. Because, and now here's the kicker, how can we really attain all of the glorious possessions we yearn for while taking into consideration the plight of the poor.

For example, while we gorge ourselves on food at restaurants, from Taco Bell to the Ruth Chris Steakhouse, others are wasting away, getting no food, yet still struggling to survive by filling up their stomachs with clay plates. And you know as well as I do, many times, when we go out to eat, we could have donated this money to others. And before I digress too much, please understand that I do realize that just throwing money at problems doesn't make them go away, and that people work hard for their money and feel entitled to spend it, bla, bla, bla. I understand. But, I, once again, just want to get you to think about some things. Look at where we put our priorities, look at what we let agonize us the most. "Oh man, I am so stressed out, I might not get an A in this class!" (That was and still is me by the way.) Well Good Lord child! Wake up and smell the roses! Other people's stress comes from things like "Oh shoot, I can't find anything to eat today, the water is contaminated, and it just gave my baby a lethal disease." And so the poor, how dare they intrude into our already stressful lives and weigh on our consciences and interfere with our plans of attaining the things that we want! I don't want to re-arrange or change my life for you, so...A shot of Weed B Gon for you! Ah, yes, much better, now I can worry about saving up enough money to buy those cute Coach shoes and get that new Michael Buble CD and study study study for my classes. So we continue in this type of lifestyle. We spray and we pluck, we pull and we rip. We rid of these beautiful dandelions; we kill beauty. And that is so sad to me.
If you have time, I would encourage you to take a closer look at a dandelion. Notice its little yellow tendrils and delicate fuzzy middle. Look at how alive it is. Look at its thick green stock. Feel the softness of the petals. They are beautiful. The poor are beautiful. Out of sight out of mind mentality is analogous to the destruction of dandelions; both of these things kill beauty in a sense. They both mark something that is really beautiful as an ugly burden. They both condemn something as being ugly and strive to get rid of it because it interferes with consumptive lifestyle choices and conceptions of beauty that revolve around materials desired; in short, taking the "ugly" into consideration requires considering others-than-ourselves (Simone Weil or Dr. McIntosh anyone?), something that we seem to refuse to do anytime it's "too hard" for us.
I challenge you to re-think your conceptions of beauty and ugliness, and examine what you think is "too hard" when it comes to thinking about others. I'm not saying you should go all rebellious on me and seize your parents garden implements and stash them under your bed and gather up all Weed B Gon and hide it under your floorboards in an effort to save "the others" (the "others" being dandelions (Simone DeBeauvoir lol)); that is not really the point. My point of using this analogy was not to rally around saving the lives of dandelions (although I certainly do look at them differently now), but rather, to get people to look at the poor differently, to become more aware of the injustices in the world. Now, maybe I should have put this at the beginning of my blog, so people would have had a clearer ideas of my intentions, but, I'm sorry to say it (well, maybe not that sorry) but my writing doesn't always work that way. When I just sit down and go like this, my writing is more of an evolution. I have an idea of what I want to say, but as I write my ideas are tweaked and some fade away, while others blossom from the murky depths of my mind and hidden recesses of my soul ;)

Anywho, I'm really big into getting people to think about things. And if you ask me, "well, how can I do anything about anything" and then say, "I can't change anything, I'm only one person." I will say balderdash. And then I will point you to my favorite example of a person who radically rocked the world and epitomizes the ideals of justice, love, and peace. If you do not believe in this beautiful man (Jesus), please do not be offended by what I am saying. Maybe give him a chance though, I mean, you never know. Just saying. Anyways, He is splendid. He knew how to love. He can really teach you more than I will ever be able to. Before I go on and on about this, I will wrap up for now, although I will undoubtedly say more about this in times to come. So remember the poor when you see a dandelion, and even when the dandelions are not present, remember the poor. Instead of pushing the poor aside with our increasingly consumptive lifestyles, I feel like we should begin to "live simply so that others can simply live." Thank you, now please put the Weed B Gon down. Thankyousomuch :)

How Could You?

To the people who mugged my uncle:
I wish that you would have gotten to know my uncle before you mugged him. My Dad says that it should be a law of the universe that you have to get to know the people you are about to harm before you harm them. My uncle is the father of thirteen beautiful, brilliant, and charming children. He is the husband of a beautiful wife who is deeply committed to serving the Lord and being the best mother and wife she can be. He is one of the most sincere, honest, and hard-working men I know of. He drives trucks for UPS. To give you an example of his astounding character, I will tell you about an experience I shared with him just a few days ago. Last Monday he woke up around 4am so he could come get my cousin and I from our school in Chicago. He pretty much loaded and unloaded two large carts of our stuff and junk for us each. He is a busy man, yet he made time for us. And he wanted to talk to us. He was so interested in what we had thought of college. As our conversation progressed and we talked about how screwed up America is, I actually felt a sense of peace. Like although America is screwed up, at least there are still good people out there like my uncle and my cousin. And at least we are talking about things and exchanging perspectives and getting some grasp on this crazy world. And while we didn't agree on everything, my uncle still greatly respected the opinions of my cousin and I and also supported me in certain choices that I have made. As the miles stretched on and our conversation continued, I was filled with joy to hear others who were committed to hard work and helping the underdog. My uncle cares for so many other people than himself. Did you take any of these things into consideration, you crooks? Well, let me tell you something else. Do you want to know who is usually the first person to volunteer to help my Gramma when she needs any work on her house done? Well, I'll give you a clue. You savagely beat him and tried to take his money. MY UNCLE IS SO OFTEN THE FIRST PERSON TO HELP ANYONE IN NEED. He organizes people to shingle roofs, put in decks, etc. Whatever needs to be done, he will be out there, rain or shine, working to get it done. And let me just re-iterate something to you criminals. He is a dearly loved man; loved by friends, family, children, his wife, and God. They have to see the man who they love so much with a bloody and severely swollen face; with a broken nose, jaw, and eye orbitals. They have to hear his distorted voice, which constantly reveals to them that he is in pain. My cousin had to hear him cry out in pain, after he had run about six blocks, probably scared out of his mind, trying to ensure that he was safely away from you sickos. Do you realize that you did not only hurt my uncle, but you wounded everyone who loves him, which is many people? I wish you could see the tears his children, wife, friends, and family have cried. I wish you could see my Dad's tears, as he spoke through the pain, "Bryan is not my brother-in-law, he's my brother." To have such an innocent man be attacked like this is really like having a piece of our heart ripped off, because so many of us would rather have had our bones broken rather than see Bryan get attacked like this. So, you malicious ones, I don't know if any of this would change your heart. I don't know if the sign Bryan's kids made for him for when he comes home from the hospital saying "Welcome home Daddy!" would do a thing for you, but I really hope this would. You need to stop doing this. I am too angry to pray for you people right now, but you really need the prayers. Our family has love, we have joined together in solidarity to support Bryan and get through this tragedy, and to be thankful that Bryan is still alive and with us. But for you people, there is obviously something missing from your lives, and you obviously do not understand the concept of love. May God help you.

Once Upon a Fear and Some Worries

Once upon a time there was a girl who was afraid of many things and worried about most things. She was afraid that starting a story off with “once upon a time” was too cliché, but she proceeded anyways. She was worried that she would never pursue her passion for writing, or that she would start some silly story that would just fall on its face and never become anything great. She was worried that she wouldn’t be able to express her emotions or that she would be so overwhelmed with them that she would not be able to set pen to paper and describe a few, since it was impossible to write about more than a few but also impossible to pick out only a few to write about, since they always seemed to meld together. She was scared that what with all of her worries, people would think she had an anxiety problem, but really, she was just a girl, and she just really wanted to write, and this is what she really wanted to write about at the time, and so she proceeded, despite her fears and worries about doing so.

She was worried and scared about some silly things, but then again she wasn’t sure if they really were so silly, and indeed they did bother her quite a bit, and she worried about the ways she reprimanded herself for being silly when she knew that she had valid worries. Or, at least the worries seemed valid to her. And then she worried that if they were only valid to her perhaps they weren’t valid at all. But in the end, the “silly” things were too much to keep inside, and so she wrote on.

She worried about beauty a lot. She worried about whether music was more beautiful than life and that’s why people created it, or if people saw the beauty of life and that inspired them to create music, or was it both? And if it was both, is that possible? And she just didn’t know. She wondered if people lost themselves in things like music to escape the present realities, or if they used music to enhance their present situation, or both? She also considered the possibility that there were alternatives that she hadn’t thought of, but had to proceed based on what she could think of herself. She wondered if music really had transcendent and transformative qualities. For her, she really believed that it did, but wondered, did it really? Whatsmore, she worried about needing music to make the world sparkle and come alive to her. She worried about the power it had to turn a dull moment into one of entertainment, a moment of grey into a moment of color. She wondered if music was the aggregate contribution of the human race trying to escape their present situation or their way of making it significant or their way of creating beauty-combining notes and chords and fifths and sevenths just for the sheer melodious pleasure it afforded. What she really worried about, however, was that music was more beautiful than the world and life. And she realized that she was being repetitive, but she didn’t much care. She didn’t think she was really “silly” for wondering these things, but saw that they were important to her and so that they were important in general. Not to say that she would impose the importance she placed on those things onto others and expect them to find them important as well, but rather, just that they were actually important. And if anyone was upset about this she felt very badly but would hope that people would stop reading her work if it was upsetting them, because she really didn’t want to make people upset. Perhaps she wanted people to think about things, and perhaps she was hoping that they would give her some answers, but in the end, it was just her, alone, sitting on her couch writing, and she decided she must press on alone, without the help of others.

She was scared that people were no longer truly experiencing the world. She saw how the mass media preyed upon the inhabitants of America. She didn’t like it. Not one little bit. And this worried her. She saw advertisements for companies like American Eagle, where the models cast flirty and mischievous glances at those around them as they ran through lovely green forests. She thought it ironic that these models looked like they were truly living, truly enjoying each other and nature and having a good time. But then she remembered-these models were just acting happy in a fake forest posing for a camera so they could get money and then go to stores and buy things and see more pictures of people looking like they were living but weren’t really. What a vicious cycle. She was disgusted by the way these advertisements lured people into stores-the place usually least close to providing people with a fulfilling existence! And mind you, this is just what she thought, she knew that others found fulfillment (but perhaps she didn’t know that they found fulfillment but more likely thought that they thought they found fulfillment) in these shopping extravaganzas. And then she got mad at the way the advertisements worked on her. As she flipped through the glossy pages of Seventeen and saw loads of people who looked like they were living, she enjoyed a sickening sense of false happiness and peace. These advertisements made her feel like she was alive too because she would see the models and proclaim “Yes! I want to do that too! I will live too if I gaze at these pictures and feel and imagine myself to be running through that lovely glade as well!” Now, she had sense enough to know that she didn’t need those silly products (and this time she was really happy with using the word silly) to get her these experiences. What she did realize, however, was that watching people fake live in a magazine was about the furthest from living that she could get, and she found herself sitting alone at her kitchen table flipping through glossy pages that were no longer as inviting as they had once been.

She wondered, and of course worried, about how people could have genuine experiences anymore. The ones in the magazines and movies looked like so much fun, but she wondered, are they possible? She was scared to lose herself in things like books and movies, because they weren’t real, but what was? Would life be utter boredom if we couldn’t watch movies and read books and buy things and gaze at enticing advertisements? She was scared that it would be. In short, she was worried that things like music, books, advertisements, etc, made the world seem like a more magnificent place than it actually was.

She knew people said things like “Oh, those things only happen in movies.” And that made her mad, mad at the movie-makers. Damnit, she thought, why do you guys keep making things that look like such wonderful experiences but are untenable. That’s just great, show us something to want and long for with no possible way of getting it. And again, she thought about the people in the movies and how they looked like they were living and they were never bored and they lived and loved and laughed a whole heck of a lot. And they felt. My how they felt everything. And sometimes she was envious. And thought things like why can’t I have those experiences. But then she considered some alternatives. Perhaps she didn’t want to live a story from one of her favorite movies, because maybe real life that went on for more than an hour or two was more fulfilling than a fake story. And because perhaps life was more beautiful because it was really happening and she could control to an extent the experiences she would have. But then again, what was a true experience. If everyone was so caught up in just watching the fake experiences of others in movies, music, books, advertisements, etcetera, how was she supposed to have true experiences. Now she knew that some of these “fake” experiences weren’t fake and that they really had happened to people or that certain people really had truly felt things that led them to create music, books, etc, and this lead her to her next thought. She really thought that humans were mainly relational creatures, like their lives didn’t derive significance unless their lives were surrounded in or even put into the context of others. But if most people were fake living and she was trying to true live, what should she do? Should she go off into a corner, become a Chris McCandless? The options didn’t seem favorable. And then she wondered if perhaps life was more of a balance. If it was ok to watch and observe some of the time and enjoy the work of others, but then at other times more important to create things of her own.

She new it was good to question the world, even though it wasn’t always easy. And she noticed as she continued telling her story that her worries and fears had gave way to a degree of wonder. And frankly, those worries and fears were still there, but she was quite tired of worrying about them and being afraid of them. So she decided to give things a rest. To give the world another shot. Because hey, it was what she had, and she was going to work with what she had.