Monday, February 27, 2012

Smashing weeds is murder!

What are weeds made of?
Weeds are made of cells and tissues which are broken further into atoms, which are composed of protons, neutrons, and electrons.
All of those components are just building blocks behaving the way that they are supposed to behave.
So in simple terms, weeds are just atoms obeying science.

What are humans made of?
Aren't humans also composed of atoms obeying science?
Furthermore, our brains are just made of cells, and they work correctly thanks to electrical currents (and a whole lot of other stuff that has to all synchronize perfectly, but hey, this is a blog not a science class).

So what makes us better than weeds? How come it's okay to smash a weed repeatedly with a sledgehammer, then drown the particles with gasoline, then leave the whole gasoline weed particle mess out in the desert to slowly evaporate and disintegrate? If we did that to a person it would make the news and put people on death row.

But really, if all things in the world, and universe, are just well-behaving scientific building blocks, why are homo-sapiens superior to trees, or worms, or poop?

Maybe it's because humans have independent thought. Maybe it's because we create spaceships and train tigers to purr. But the only thing that allows us to do those things is our brains, right? And brains....are cells behaving as cells are supposed to behave.
People in a vegetative state do not have independent thought, they can not create spaceships or train tigers to purr. Yet somehow they still must be viewed as superior to a weed. So brains can't be the reason we are superior to weeds.
Some people might say it's because we have life.
But life is just because cells are working correctly. Squirrels have life, and although most people agree that squirrels are better than weeds, that doesn't make them equal to people.
Also, somehow dead people are still better than weeds. They get caskets, and people get sued if they are disrespectful in graveyards or if they just throw corpses into ditches.
Therefore, life also can not be the reason for people's superiority to weeds.

Let's put it this way, is one individual cell superior to another individual cell? No, they are equal.
So why would one heap of cells be superior to another heap of cells?

Ladies and gentlemen, we are no greater than weeds.


Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Displaced Significance

They say that you enter the world with nothing, and you leave the world with nothing. A dead homeless man owns the same amount of possessions as a dead Bill Gates.
The funerals will be different, but does the size or extent of a funeral mean anything to the man in the casket?
Both men are equally cold, both men are equally dead, and no amount of money will keep bugs from eating human flesh.
This is an example of displaced significance.

Displaced significance is one of those age-old occurrences in humanity. It transcends culture, geographical location, social status; it even transcends time since it has been occurring as long as humans have existed.
As far as I know, no one has ever examined this phenomenon in the context of a clump definition before, so I might be adding a new definition to psychology. That's just what psychology needs, right? More definitions.

Anyway, displaced significance is the change in significance of an accomplishment, incident, experience, social status of a person, or even the monetary value of an object. For simplification's sake, let's call anything that can undergo a significance shift (objectA).

Many things can cause this shift in significance. Being in a different social setting can change the significance of objectA.
For example, my high school class went on a trip throughout New England. While in New York City, we went to a small theater. Stuffed in-between two skyscrapers, it was small, quaint, and not very high-budget judging by the stage and interior.
We saw a show called "Samurai". The show consisted of one man, a mime, who spent forty-five minutes telling a story using his hands, body, an array noises, and amazing expressions.
His acting was so rich, and even though he never uttered a single word, and he played over twenty different characters all by himself, I never got confused.
I followed the whole story with ease, hung on every plot twist and marveled at his talent.
Link: Photo source: David Gaines
Link: Youtube video of David Gaines Samurai performance

This whole story I paint with the most descriptive colors that I possibly can. However, despite my attempt to write about it of none of you, the readers, will be able to parallel my concept of its significance. In contrast, if I run into a classmate, we will laugh and gauge this show with the same level of significance.

Another reason for displaced significance is culture differences. If Angelina Jolie visits the rain-forest in Africa, none of the natives will comprehend what a Grammy is. That achievement will have no significance to them.

Yet another example of displaced significance is how the value of money can suddenly seem greater or smaller than it really is.
If you're sitting in an overturned car that is sinking in a river, it no longer matters if you're rich or poor. If you're stranded on the side of the road because you ran out of gas, you need 25 cents to place a phone call, and you realize you only have 24....
See where I'm going here? That penny suddenly hold a lot more significance.

In conclusion, displaced significance is where the significance of something changes based on the setting, social or cultural surroundings, or some other factor.
This is one of the many things that we instantaneously detect and use to adjust our reaction to our environment.


“The mark of a great man is one who knows when to set aside the important things in order to accomplish the vital ones.”
― Brandon Sanderson, The Alloy of Law

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Through My Eyes

Living with bad vision is actually pretty funny at times.
Although it may be frustrating at the time, having to walk the length of my dresser with my face four inches from the surface in order to find a fairly prominent object, like headphones, or keys, is pretty amusing to watch.

I think another thing that's pretty funny about bad vision is when I wake in the night, hear a noise, see an object in the corner of my room, and huddle under the covers for a full five minutes running a dialogue with myself,
"Is that a person? I don't know, maybe if I watch for a minute I'll be able to see if it moves...there! It moved! Geez!! It moved!!!!"
I do this for a while before finally mustering up the courage to get up and look, only to find that it was really just a chair, or coat. The worst part is when someone sticks something in your room while your sleeping. Your brain knows something's wrong with the scene, but your eyes can't help decipher the new object. It can be scary.

I occasionally walk into walls, doors, or cabinets. My eyesight is THAT bad. Before I got my eyes checked, I often would miss large things that others were pointing out to me.
Person: "See the hawk? Look!!"
Me: "Where!! don't see it! Where is it!?!"
Or better yet,
Person: "Hahaha, that's a funny billboard!!"
Me: "Where?!! What billboard"

Parents, if your kid can't see billboards, take them to the doctor!!

I, like others, I'm sure, am lost without my contacts. It's been years and years since I last wore glasses, and I have no idea where they are even if I did want to wear them. I am a contact fan, through and through.

Overall, thanks to the 21st century people with bad eyesight can now drive cars, get jobs, and walk with confidence. technology and research has added a new level of quality to life, a quality that used to be only given to those who had good eyesight naturally.

People bumping into things, being unable to identify people, and trying to read the clock on the wall is pretty hilarious. But without the objects we now take for granted, like contacts and glasses, bad eyesight would be no laughing matter.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Jail the Fortune Tellers!

What would life be like if we could see the future?
Some people wish they could glimpse, just for a moment, their destiny, their path, and their fate.

Tonight I wish I could see what's going to happen.
I, along with others I'm sure, have a chronic case of worrying. Here I am, wide awake at 2:30am playing and replaying scenarios in my head. It doesn't matter that there are only two possible outcomes, just the anxiety over not knowing which will occur is causing me to lose sleep. I toss and turn, worrying and wondering, telling my brain to shut up, and fretting over each hour as it slips by.
It's a miserable way to spend a night. Obviously this problem is not logical, but worry defies logic.

So again, I come back to my original thought: What would life be like if we could see the end result?

Would this revelation put me at ease? Or would I learn things that I wouldn't want to know? Maybe I would see a heartbroken twenty-five year old, rejected from vet school, and forced to ask,
"What now?"
Maybe I would see a line of failed marriages, bitter children, and stress. Maybe I would see an elderly woman, stricken by the realization that for her, it's too late. Her life is coming to a close and despite that hot-headed teenager with big dreams and loud opinions, she has failed.



Some people do fail after all. In a way, the world needs failures, they make up a necessary statistic; so do cancer fatalities, suicides, and homelessness. But who, if they could look into their own future and see that they are fated to fail in their conquests, and loose sight of their dreams, would choose to live another day?

But then again, does the future even exist if we peer into it? Wouldn't I see my shortcomings before they had a chance to swallow me and avoid them altogether? Or maybe simply seeing the future would make it a reality. Like if I saw that in the end I would fail, I would give up completely. Live life as a bitter, useless wreck.

I, for one, despite how awesome a life free of unknowns and variables sounds, would rather lay awake worrying about menial problems than to see the outcome of my life.
I prefer to believe in my dreams, and stubbornly flip the bird to anyone who dares to tell me I won't make it. Even if that person is myself occasionally.
Seeing the future would take away the mystery in life, and I would rather preserve belief and hope, even if it means throwing in failure and heartbreak....
Who knew I was capable of such blind faith?

But for now....I would just settle for some sleep.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Proposition-Hate

An African American sits down in a restaurant. He picks up his menu, unwraps his silverware, and waits for the waiter to take his order.
A moment goes by, he sees some of the waitresses and waiters talking earnestly near the door. They split up, each going in their own direction. One of them walks back towards the rear of the building, and enters an office.
He walks back out a moment later with another man following, this one wearing a suit.
The man in the suit comes over to where the black man is quietly sitting,

"Hey you,"
He says, yanking the menu out of the man's hands,
"the colored section's on the other side of the kitchen! Get out of my restaurant before I have you arrested!"
He takes away the man's silverware, plate, and napkin, hands them to a waitress walking by and says with disgust,
"Throw those away, we can't use them now."
The colored man gets up, and walks out of the restaurant. He doesn't protest, he can't protest. There are laws saying he can't eat where white people eat. He was breaking the law, plain and simple.

This is a scenario we don't see very often anymore. Before African Americans became people, they were just property, scum, dogs, inferior. The purpose of colored laws was to keep them in their place. These laws were degrading and humiliating. No one cared about their effects because black people were not equal to white people.

It took years, but eventually the world had to come to the realization that all people are equal, no matter what race they are.



So I ask you, now that we are treating all people equally, why would any subsection of people qualify as inferior enough for us to pass laws that discriminate against them?
I don't care what your opinions are about homosexuality, but as AMERICANS, we should be ashamed that proposition 8 is progressing as far as it is.
Everyone is entitled to their own opinions and beliefs, that is another right we hold dear as Americans. However, those opinions should not give any of us the legal right to place ourselves on a superior level to anyone else. We are all equals, and we should never impose a law on someone unless we are willing to impose it onto everyone as a whole.

Does it make sense to make marriage as a whole illegal? No!
Any man and woman in America has the right to marry whoever they want to marry. Limiting the legal right for a gay or lesbian individual to marry whoever they want to marry is discrimination.

I'm not implying a slippery-slope scenario here. I'm not arguing this point on the basis that if we make gay and lesbian marriage illegal, suddenly American rights will crumble and black people will be made slaves. I am simply saying that American citizens have the right to be protected from discrimination. That means ALL American citizens, straight or gay.

We should be ashamed of the people who pushed us to consider proposition 8. Come on, America, where is our honor!?
Link: Picture source
Link: Picture source





Link: Picture source




Sunday, February 5, 2012

Apples and Oranges

Today I got to thinking about how incredibly different my two dogs are from each other.
Any of you who have owned pets can understand what I mean when I say that no two pets have the same personality.
My dogs, are no exception.

Essie, the younger dog, is super vocal. She barks about everything. If she hears a noise, she barks about it, if she's excited, she barks about it. The most entertaining aspect of her vocalization is that anytime anyone calls out my name (me, being the human) she freaks out and barks.
She is also very much a one master kid of pet. She follows me from room to room. Even if she is sound asleep and I leave the room, a few moments later she's wandering around trying to find me.
Also, Essie has an attitude. If she's angry at me she might poop on the floor and stare at me. She doesn't like children, she might snap at someone she doesn't like.
I am, without doubt, her only master. I am her alpha, she knows better than to snap at me because I might snap back.

Digit, the older dog, is much more laid back. She doesn't bark as much, she likes toys with fluff and softness, where Essie prefers a tennis ball.
Digit would never snap at anyone, you could sit on her and she would just look at you with sad eyes.
Digit has phobias. She's afraid of stairs and metal food bowls, she doesn't like to be carried either.
Digit is also less motivated. If she wants something, but doesn't get it, she's more likely to give up and take a nap. If people are leaving the room, she'll stay just because she's comfy.

I describe their personalities like this.
If I go away for a week or two, when I come back, Digit jumps around like she's saying,
"Yay!! You're back, you're back!!"
Essie sulks around like she's grumbling,
"You left me, you left me! I can't believe you left."


Essie
Digit and I

Friday, February 3, 2012

Adams Shoes

A couple days ago a high-schooler killed himself. He went to my high-school, dated some of my friends, and hung in the background. I didn't know him, I never even met him, but the whole incident brought out a flurry of opinions. Of course everyone has their own two cents when a tragedy happens.
Everyone reacts in their own way and then feed off of everyone else.
So often, the phrase I hear when an acquaintance or friend commits suicide is, "I wish I had known." or "I could have helped."

But I, being philosophical in nature and cynical at heart, have to ask, "Really? You WOULD want to know, and you WOULD have helped?"
Now, I have learned throughout life to avoid vocalizing my opinions. I don't mean any harm, but my opinions tend to poke those sore spots in humanity. However, on this blog, where I am anonymous, I can speak freely.

So when considering this fascinating facet of humanity, I have made two observations.
1) The Woodwork Friends Phenomenon
Everyone is distantly related, secretly in love with, or best friends with someone who commits suicide. Why?
Because everyone wants in on the tragedy!
2) One-Sided Regrets
It's easy to make big statements when you don't have to follow them up with action. Sure, you SAY you would have helped, but what about if you got a phone call at midnight, where someone you know says they're holding a gun to their head.
You talked them through it!
Good for you!
What about the second time it happens?
What about the third?
Then suddenly you're faced with the problem of how to dump your unstable ex-friend onto a therapist without the danger of sudden I've-been-betrayed-and-I-have-no-one-I-can-trust-now suicide.
See my gist? You no longer want to help, this person is a problem and a source of stress.
Most of humanity will go through all of these cause and effect scenarios in their head very early on in the process and start looking for an exit.

But, these same people will cry and swear they would have been there at the funeral of their friend/acquaintance.

So I decided I would meditate on this concept and try portray this sad truth through the eyes of Adam. But not just Adam, through the eyes of every person who has been in his shoes.

-Adam's Shoes-
-------------------------------------------

It's a myth. You know that?
It's a myth that people just fade away. You know that song by Blaine Larson "How do you get that lonely"? Well in the song it says,
"how do you get that lonely, and nobody knows?"
Well, my answer is that you don't.

People see pain. If the person closest to you were contemplating suicide, you would see the warning signs. Even if it was only the smallest little hint of change, you would still see it. Even if you couldn't decipher what you were seeing, it's there, nagging at the very edges of your subconscious.

The truth is that we're taught that inquiring into other people's lives is rude. We all live in bubbles. If you don't believe that, try greeting someone with a hug that lasts for more than fifteen seconds.

As children we are taught to respect people's bubbles. By the time we reach adulthood it is common courtesy. That's why even though there are red flags people still kill themselves. It's not because they're sneaky enough to slip past the suicide prevention patrol, it's because helping someone through an emotional breakdown requires stepping into their bubble, and being stubborn enough to stay there even if you find resistance.

Sure everyone blubbers at their funerals. "Oh why? Why? Why?" they all sob sadly. But no one is comfortable enough to take away the pill bottle when it's shaking in someone's fingers. No one is secure enough to take that shaking hand and hold it until it stops shaking.
Who needs mental hospitals and straight-jackets if anyone where strong enough to open up their arms and accept whatever falls forward?

Suicides will never end because number one, there are exceptions. There are people who deserve to end their pain. There are people with whom death is justified. People who have lived with the scales between pain and peace so steeply off-balance for so long, that they walk through the gates of oblivion with a lightened burden.

The second reason that suicide will never end is because we live in a society that draws away from discomfort. The emotionally sickened individual stares out into the world with a gun in one hand and a phone in the other.
He flips through names of people who are closest to him, but he is whipped into the social understanding that they will either be bothered by him, or that they will just let him down.
He is forced to realize that all anyone ever has is himself.

That's the problem with suicide. All we can ever really count on having tomorrow morning is ourselves, and for someone who is dying inside, their own internal nudge to keep pushing on isn't enough of a reason to live. People don't slowly die inside over a span of days or weeks without friends. All too often, the very people who mourn at the funeral are the same people who have been watching them die while standing quietly on the sidelines.
Source emitted to protect identity

Source emitted to protect identity