Blogging has been an interesting experience for me. I don't usually put my thoughts and opinions into words that frequently. It was definitely easier to have a topic to write about. I'm not sure what I would write otherwise. This probably means that if I am going to keep the blog going I will have to pick my own topics to write about. I do not know if I will keep blogging every week. It seems to me that people are spending too much time plugged in, instead of enjoying the life that is all around us. I have found the writing to be healthy. It helps exercise the brain. I had forgotten just how much vocabulary is at our disposal. Unless you are lecturing, you just don't use that many words.
I enjoyed reading everyone's blogs. You get to see a little bit of everyone's personality in their writing. The best posts came from the first essay, the pro/con opinion, and the spot the truth assignments. I think they offered the best in sheer variety. As the semester progressed you could see how people got more comfortable writing on their blogs. It is not easy to put your opinion out there for anyone to comment on. Many of the comments made me laugh. I like that everyone stayed positive and respected each other.
Now that 101 is coming to a close I would like to thank everyone for their comments and their posts.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
TED
I actually watch the TED videos on a regular basis. So I had seen Mark Bittman and Jamie Oliver give their speeches before. I had not seen the one with Anne Cooper. It amazes me that they spend less than a dollar a day on a child's lunch. You can get a pack of Grandma's Cookies for what Los Angeles spends on school lunch. It is no wonder that they feed kid's heavily processed junk food. The fact that Cooper was able to put salad bars in schools and make them work is fantastic. I wish I had had that option as a child. Sadly, I see many of the bad food decisions at my own daughter's elementary school. Everything comes in plastic and is basically finger food. I agree with Cooper that we need better education about food and how to be healthy in schools.
Bittman's speech was like a recap of Fast Food Nation in some ways. One thing that he points out is how livestock contribute more greenhouse gasses than automobiles. I pointed out to a Prius owner one day that the burger they just ate caused more damage to the ozone than their car probably will in it's lifetime. This is because, as Bittman pointed out, we eat too much meat. We feed cows corn and soy which they do not digest properly causing them to belch and fart constantly. This seems an odd problem to have as compared to emissions from exhaust. It makes me feel like they should be doing a smog check on my burger and not my car.
I think Oliver did a very good job getting his points across. Without seeing his show, the short clips about West Virginia were very depressing. It really shows that when someone is obese it affects everyone around them. The worst of it being that persons death. You can really understand why the pastor feels fed up with burying his friends. I do not know about the rest of you, but I think milk tastes pretty good on its own. Who ever decided they needed to add eight ounces of sugar to it was off their rocker. When I was growing up, having chocolate milk was a treat. Seeing that wheelbarrow full of sugar reiterates why it needs to stay a treat and not an everyday option. All of this, that Oliver said, and the rest of the videos highlight just how preventable it all is. I probably won't use them in my paper. Still, very informative and good speeches, all of them.
Bittman's speech was like a recap of Fast Food Nation in some ways. One thing that he points out is how livestock contribute more greenhouse gasses than automobiles. I pointed out to a Prius owner one day that the burger they just ate caused more damage to the ozone than their car probably will in it's lifetime. This is because, as Bittman pointed out, we eat too much meat. We feed cows corn and soy which they do not digest properly causing them to belch and fart constantly. This seems an odd problem to have as compared to emissions from exhaust. It makes me feel like they should be doing a smog check on my burger and not my car.
I think Oliver did a very good job getting his points across. Without seeing his show, the short clips about West Virginia were very depressing. It really shows that when someone is obese it affects everyone around them. The worst of it being that persons death. You can really understand why the pastor feels fed up with burying his friends. I do not know about the rest of you, but I think milk tastes pretty good on its own. Who ever decided they needed to add eight ounces of sugar to it was off their rocker. When I was growing up, having chocolate milk was a treat. Seeing that wheelbarrow full of sugar reiterates why it needs to stay a treat and not an everyday option. All of this, that Oliver said, and the rest of the videos highlight just how preventable it all is. I probably won't use them in my paper. Still, very informative and good speeches, all of them.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
3 People
My daughter Nia is an enormous part of my life. As the first child she ushered in the era of my fatherhood. She was a whopping 9lbs 5oz at birth. Now she is nearly four feet tall. She has reddish black hair like mine and Shirley Temple curls inherited from her mother. She is almost the perfect combination of my wife and I. She has that caramel skin tone that I can not achieve even with a good tan. Right now she is missing one of her front teeth. At five years old she has a very large imagination. Not long ago she told me about a dream where a mermaid gave her a kiss on the cheek and she turned into a star that shot across the night sky. She has become adept at making up fantastical stories. Being a big sister is exciting for her. She loves to play with her little brothers and protect them. Her personality is best described as bubbly. Nia is very good at brightening up anyone's day.
I never planned on getting married until I was 36. Not long ago I was contemplating joining the EOD or the experimental parachute unit. EOD stands for Explosive Ordinance Disposal. I would have been in an EODMU or Mobile Unit that does a lot more than just disarm floating mines. The experimental parachute unit can be summed up like this: take a new parachute, screw with it, then jump with it and see what happens. One of the jobs in the unit is called the chaser, you jump behind the guy with the screwed up parachute and if he fails to deploy his reserve, you chase him down and catch him so you can pull your chute and save his life. That was the job I wanted. My wife changed all of those plans. They evaporated and I am probably still alive because of it. She is taller than most of the women in my family, which is not hard to do. She has dark curly hair and dark skin. Her quick wit and her strong sense of individuality are what attracted me to her. Though I have to be honest and say that she made the first move. Her confidence was refreshing and has carried us through our lives together. I can only admire her for carrying our children around for nine months. Nia was a big baby, but the twin boys were a lot more weight at 7lbs 4oz and 6lbs 7oz plus all the other stuff that goes with it. I can not imagine what my life would be like now if I had not met Pearl.
My uncle Gary is my favorite uncle. He is kind of the prankster of the family. To this day he is not allowed to be alone around my mom's pies because he purloined the center of my dad's favorite pumpkin pie. My uncle took the center of every pie but it was the pumpkin that was the problem. He always seemed fearless, like the time he asked my catholic grandmother (his mother) “How do you get a priest to sleep with a nun?”, a joke I am not going to finish. Ever since I can remember he has always had a mustache. The one time he shaved it off I almost didn't recognize him. My uncle is great except when it comes to watching movies. Gary is the person who will pick a movie apart for all of the movies foibles. This is something my brother has told me I have picked up. I also picked up his knack for computers. When I was younger my uncle would build me a computer and then guess how long it would take me to break it. I would purposefully see how big a drawing in AutoCAD I could create before it made the computer crash. I broke all but one of his computers.
I never planned on getting married until I was 36. Not long ago I was contemplating joining the EOD or the experimental parachute unit. EOD stands for Explosive Ordinance Disposal. I would have been in an EODMU or Mobile Unit that does a lot more than just disarm floating mines. The experimental parachute unit can be summed up like this: take a new parachute, screw with it, then jump with it and see what happens. One of the jobs in the unit is called the chaser, you jump behind the guy with the screwed up parachute and if he fails to deploy his reserve, you chase him down and catch him so you can pull your chute and save his life. That was the job I wanted. My wife changed all of those plans. They evaporated and I am probably still alive because of it. She is taller than most of the women in my family, which is not hard to do. She has dark curly hair and dark skin. Her quick wit and her strong sense of individuality are what attracted me to her. Though I have to be honest and say that she made the first move. Her confidence was refreshing and has carried us through our lives together. I can only admire her for carrying our children around for nine months. Nia was a big baby, but the twin boys were a lot more weight at 7lbs 4oz and 6lbs 7oz plus all the other stuff that goes with it. I can not imagine what my life would be like now if I had not met Pearl.
My uncle Gary is my favorite uncle. He is kind of the prankster of the family. To this day he is not allowed to be alone around my mom's pies because he purloined the center of my dad's favorite pumpkin pie. My uncle took the center of every pie but it was the pumpkin that was the problem. He always seemed fearless, like the time he asked my catholic grandmother (his mother) “How do you get a priest to sleep with a nun?”, a joke I am not going to finish. Ever since I can remember he has always had a mustache. The one time he shaved it off I almost didn't recognize him. My uncle is great except when it comes to watching movies. Gary is the person who will pick a movie apart for all of the movies foibles. This is something my brother has told me I have picked up. I also picked up his knack for computers. When I was younger my uncle would build me a computer and then guess how long it would take me to break it. I would purposefully see how big a drawing in AutoCAD I could create before it made the computer crash. I broke all but one of his computers.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Netflix
I have to admit I was skeptical of Netflix in the beginning. Why would you pay a monthly subscription to watch movies you receive by mail when you could own them and watch them whenever you want? When Netflix made the movies available through streaming from the internet it made the service a more attractive option. My wife and I gave Netflix a try and I have to say it has turned out to be a great service. Since we started using Netflix I have bought only one DVD. That was the one about a frog, the bayou, and a beautiful young woman who can cook. Once you factor in all of the money saved on DVD's and going to the movies, with Netflix you actually save a little bit. The cheapest service is just under ten dollars or close to $120 a year. This breaks down to the equivalent of about four brand new movies or 24 five dollar movies from a discount bin. With Netflix you can watch all of the movies you would have previously bought and not have to find a place to store them. Streaming movies directly to the TV means you do not even have to wait for them to come in the mail. Besides being able to watch a host of your favorite movies and TV shows, I have found the best part of the service is finding older movies I never saw and newer movies I would have otherwise never even heard of.
A great example of an older movie I never saw is the Sci-Fi movie Outland with Sean Connery. The film came out in 1981. At first glance it looks like the director took an old western and a trafficking story, sandwiched them together and set the whole thing in space. In essence, this is what they did and that is what makes the movie work. The old ideas brings familiarity to the new setting and makes it seem sinister in that, even though the characters are in the future they still have to fear their fellow man instead of an alien of some sort like most science fiction plots.
A Man Named Pearl is a documentary that I would have never watched without Netflix. Due to the fact, that I do not usually watch documentaries. Since I started using Netflix I have found myself watching a lot more of them. A Man Named Pearl stands out because it seems kind of odd and probably boring when you first come across it. Pearl Fryar is a black man in North Carolina who has become the local treasure, especially of Bishopville where he resides. When he moved into the neighborhood the white people believed that because he was a black man he would not, and could not maintain his yard. With no training Pearl created three and a half acres of the most astonishing topiary you will ever see. He changed the perceptions of those around him. My father taught me that when you learn from a teacher, you also learn the limitations of that teacher. Without formal training Mr. Fryar was able shape trees and other plants in ways no one had ever done before. Now people come from all around the world to see his garden for free.
The last movie I will bore you with is American Violet. This one is based on a true story of illustrating how a racist system in Texas systematically targeted and profiled the black community for incarceration. You follow a young mother through her ordeal of being wrongly accused of being a drug dealer. At the time, it only took the word of a single informant to prosecute and convict for drug offenses in Texas. You will be amazed at how the defendants were coerced and pressured into taking plea bargains. You will be disgusted at the nature of the system built up to unfairly incarcerate the disenfranchised. You will be heartened by the will of the young woman to stand up for what is right. It shows that when these kinds of injustices occur we can stand up against them. When someone sticks their neck out, we as a people need to stand with them and support them.
Netflix made it possible for me to see these great movies and many more. The monthly cost may seem like more than you want to spend. Consider how much money you spend on movies through the theater and DVD's and you may find Netflix is more within your range than you might think. You will be able to sort through a vast catalog of movies and shows for your enjoyment, while never having to find a shelf to store a multitude of plastic cases. Movies you never knew you wanted to see will be ready at the push of a button or waiting for you in your mailbox. Movie lovers should consider the service as a great way to see movies and TV shows, new and old.
(Check out the trailers for Outland, A Man Named Pearl, and American Violet. Let me know what you think in your comments.)
A great example of an older movie I never saw is the Sci-Fi movie Outland with Sean Connery. The film came out in 1981. At first glance it looks like the director took an old western and a trafficking story, sandwiched them together and set the whole thing in space. In essence, this is what they did and that is what makes the movie work. The old ideas brings familiarity to the new setting and makes it seem sinister in that, even though the characters are in the future they still have to fear their fellow man instead of an alien of some sort like most science fiction plots.
A Man Named Pearl is a documentary that I would have never watched without Netflix. Due to the fact, that I do not usually watch documentaries. Since I started using Netflix I have found myself watching a lot more of them. A Man Named Pearl stands out because it seems kind of odd and probably boring when you first come across it. Pearl Fryar is a black man in North Carolina who has become the local treasure, especially of Bishopville where he resides. When he moved into the neighborhood the white people believed that because he was a black man he would not, and could not maintain his yard. With no training Pearl created three and a half acres of the most astonishing topiary you will ever see. He changed the perceptions of those around him. My father taught me that when you learn from a teacher, you also learn the limitations of that teacher. Without formal training Mr. Fryar was able shape trees and other plants in ways no one had ever done before. Now people come from all around the world to see his garden for free.
The last movie I will bore you with is American Violet. This one is based on a true story of illustrating how a racist system in Texas systematically targeted and profiled the black community for incarceration. You follow a young mother through her ordeal of being wrongly accused of being a drug dealer. At the time, it only took the word of a single informant to prosecute and convict for drug offenses in Texas. You will be amazed at how the defendants were coerced and pressured into taking plea bargains. You will be disgusted at the nature of the system built up to unfairly incarcerate the disenfranchised. You will be heartened by the will of the young woman to stand up for what is right. It shows that when these kinds of injustices occur we can stand up against them. When someone sticks their neck out, we as a people need to stand with them and support them.
Netflix made it possible for me to see these great movies and many more. The monthly cost may seem like more than you want to spend. Consider how much money you spend on movies through the theater and DVD's and you may find Netflix is more within your range than you might think. You will be able to sort through a vast catalog of movies and shows for your enjoyment, while never having to find a shelf to store a multitude of plastic cases. Movies you never knew you wanted to see will be ready at the push of a button or waiting for you in your mailbox. Movie lovers should consider the service as a great way to see movies and TV shows, new and old.
(Check out the trailers for Outland, A Man Named Pearl, and American Violet. Let me know what you think in your comments.)
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Where to Get Your Meat
I grew up killing, gutting, and butchering my own meat. When you eat wild animals such as deer and elk you face many risks besides food poisoning. There are other illnesses to worry about. I was taught at a very early age to always cook food thoroughly. By providing meat for ourselves, my family and I at least knew where the animal had come from. The forest service keeps records of animals and herds tested from different areas. If they find something you are sure to know about it.
When I was in middle school one of my neighbors contracted wasting disease from eating undercooked elk meat while acting as a trail guide. I had heard of wasting disease but never truly understood what it could do. My neighbor slowly died over a ten year period as the disease ate his brain stem. His family had to watch as his condition and health deteriorated and then disappeared.
One of the things that I will take away from this book is how public safety will be ignored until negative public opinion affects profits. The fact that it took McDonald's to get companies to comply with the ban on feeding animals their dead relatives is sickening. McDonald's didn't do it because they felt a moral obligation to consumers, but because they were losing money.
Another thing is, just how important it is for immigrants to learn the language and the law of the land. I don't want people to lose their culture and heritage. That is not my point. Immigrants are preyed upon because of their lack of knowledge and status. By educating themselves, they can protect themselves and help change the system. Nobody should be treated the way the meatpacking and slaughterhouses treat their workers.
One of my motivations for going to school is so that I will have enough income to support the causes I believe in. Right now most of my money goes to bills and diapers. In the book you can see how the green being sent to Washington has affected our way of life. Sadly it will take some green prodding in a different direction to curb the harmful effects. That is not to diminish the power of social movement. The more people who get involved the greater the impact will be.
When I was in middle school one of my neighbors contracted wasting disease from eating undercooked elk meat while acting as a trail guide. I had heard of wasting disease but never truly understood what it could do. My neighbor slowly died over a ten year period as the disease ate his brain stem. His family had to watch as his condition and health deteriorated and then disappeared.
One of the things that I will take away from this book is how public safety will be ignored until negative public opinion affects profits. The fact that it took McDonald's to get companies to comply with the ban on feeding animals their dead relatives is sickening. McDonald's didn't do it because they felt a moral obligation to consumers, but because they were losing money.
Another thing is, just how important it is for immigrants to learn the language and the law of the land. I don't want people to lose their culture and heritage. That is not my point. Immigrants are preyed upon because of their lack of knowledge and status. By educating themselves, they can protect themselves and help change the system. Nobody should be treated the way the meatpacking and slaughterhouses treat their workers.
One of my motivations for going to school is so that I will have enough income to support the causes I believe in. Right now most of my money goes to bills and diapers. In the book you can see how the green being sent to Washington has affected our way of life. Sadly it will take some green prodding in a different direction to curb the harmful effects. That is not to diminish the power of social movement. The more people who get involved the greater the impact will be.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Arrow 2 Da Face
All right, so nobody guessed my one truth: I was shot in the face with an arrow.
I also did a list of ten where there was only one lie. That one lie was: I have flown in a helicopter.
I guess it is time to grumble a little bit. Not that there is a whole lot to complain about this semester. I have a lot of writing to do in my current classes. Besides the essays for English, by the end of the semester I will have written 21 essays between my Engineering class and American Government. Which is actually a good thing. The number one complaint of hiring companies is the lack of communication skills. At least for the field I am studying for, Mechanical Engineering, this holds true.
I think the hardest part is balancing all of the school work with spending time with my kids and chores. There are times when I put off chores to play with the kids because they have been waiting patiently for me to finish the homework. Patiently means they only bug a few times an hour. My daughter has her own homework and she is only in kindergarten. After everything else is taken care of, everyone still needs some personal time. Even if you only get fifteen minutes of quiet.
I have a long way to go before I get a B.S. in Mechanical Engineering. In the end I have to take Math 24 and I am currently taking Math 21A. All the while fitting in around 8 courses in Physics, Chemistry, and Engineering into my schedule. Then I can transfer to CSUN or UCSB and finish the remaining two years.
What motivates me is my family and the work I will get to do when I am done. Engineering is a well paying career path that will enable me to provide for my kids. Naturally I want them to have the best chance at life they can. I love to tinker with stuff. That is what Mechanical Engineering is all about. I am leaning towards the design aspect: making things work and look cool at the same time. In my Engineering class, my partner and I designed and built a ballista to fire a golf ball for class. The design process was the best part.
I also did a list of ten where there was only one lie. That one lie was: I have flown in a helicopter.
I guess it is time to grumble a little bit. Not that there is a whole lot to complain about this semester. I have a lot of writing to do in my current classes. Besides the essays for English, by the end of the semester I will have written 21 essays between my Engineering class and American Government. Which is actually a good thing. The number one complaint of hiring companies is the lack of communication skills. At least for the field I am studying for, Mechanical Engineering, this holds true.
I think the hardest part is balancing all of the school work with spending time with my kids and chores. There are times when I put off chores to play with the kids because they have been waiting patiently for me to finish the homework. Patiently means they only bug a few times an hour. My daughter has her own homework and she is only in kindergarten. After everything else is taken care of, everyone still needs some personal time. Even if you only get fifteen minutes of quiet.
I have a long way to go before I get a B.S. in Mechanical Engineering. In the end I have to take Math 24 and I am currently taking Math 21A. All the while fitting in around 8 courses in Physics, Chemistry, and Engineering into my schedule. Then I can transfer to CSUN or UCSB and finish the remaining two years.
What motivates me is my family and the work I will get to do when I am done. Engineering is a well paying career path that will enable me to provide for my kids. Naturally I want them to have the best chance at life they can. I love to tinker with stuff. That is what Mechanical Engineering is all about. I am leaning towards the design aspect: making things work and look cool at the same time. In my Engineering class, my partner and I designed and built a ballista to fire a golf ball for class. The design process was the best part.
Friday, October 22, 2010
You Think You Know...
A nugget of truth in a heap of bu...
I beat up a grizzly bear.
I am a middle child.
I have never jumped a car.
I was shot in the face with an arrow.
I killed a deer with nothing but a knife.
I collect football cards.
Feeling froggy?
Only one of these lines stinks, the rest smell like roses.
I have caught a fly with chopsticks.
I have had cats named Indiana Jones, Dakota, Hop Along Cassidy, and Tigger.
I can recite the alphabet backwards.
I once used a shotgun to cut down a Christmas tree.
I played pinball through the trees on my snowboard.
I got sucked under a jeep going 45mph.
I drove a stock car around the California Speed Way at 150mph.
I did a back flip and a half on a mountain bike.
I have flown in a helicopter.
I am married to an American of the dark skinned persuasion.
I beat up a grizzly bear.
I am a middle child.
I have never jumped a car.
I was shot in the face with an arrow.
I killed a deer with nothing but a knife.
I collect football cards.
Feeling froggy?
Only one of these lines stinks, the rest smell like roses.
I have caught a fly with chopsticks.
I have had cats named Indiana Jones, Dakota, Hop Along Cassidy, and Tigger.
I can recite the alphabet backwards.
I once used a shotgun to cut down a Christmas tree.
I played pinball through the trees on my snowboard.
I got sucked under a jeep going 45mph.
I drove a stock car around the California Speed Way at 150mph.
I did a back flip and a half on a mountain bike.
I have flown in a helicopter.
I am married to an American of the dark skinned persuasion.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Movies To Look Into
Over the past couple of months I have come across two virtually unheard of movies that were worth seeing. Both are human interest stories that will definitely get you thinking. I figured that I should do the good deed and spread the word.
The first one is called A Man Named Pearl
http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi2192834841/
The Second one is called American Violet
http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi3341157145/
The first one is called A Man Named Pearl
http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi2192834841/
The Second one is called American Violet
http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi3341157145/
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Halloween
Halloween is almost here. I have not worn a costume in quite a while. Now that I have children, I find the possibility of wearing some ridiculous get up in my near future. In previous years my daughter has been Tinker Bell and a princess. This year she might just make a very cute pirate. My twin boys are a little young for trick or treating, but if they do get dragged along you might see a little Iron Man and War Machine running amok. For me, I have stated that if my wife does not dress up neither will I.
I have noticed that since we have no general topic to write about this week, a lot of people have chosen to post poetry. Either an original prose or one of the favorite pieces. So I decided to include the poem I had to recite in elementary school. It is from the book "Nightmares: Poems to Trouble Your Sleep” by Jack Prelutsky. The book has awesome illustrations by Arnold Lobel.
The Ghoul
The gruesome ghoul, the grisly ghoul,
without the slightest noise
waits patiently beside the school
to feast on girls and boys.
He lunges fiercely though the air
as they com out to play,
and grabs a couple by the hair
and drags them far away.
He cracks their bones and snaps their backs
and squeezes out their lungs,
he chews their thumbs like candy snacks
and pulls apart their tongues.
He slices their stomachs and bites their hearts
and tears their flesh to shreds,
he swallows their toes like toasted tarts
and gobbles down their heads.
Fingers, elbows, hands and knees
and arms and legs and feet-
he eats them with delight and ease,
for every part's a treat.
And when the gruesome grisly ghoul
has nothing left to chew,
he hurries to another school
and waits. . . perhaps for you.
I have noticed that since we have no general topic to write about this week, a lot of people have chosen to post poetry. Either an original prose or one of the favorite pieces. So I decided to include the poem I had to recite in elementary school. It is from the book "Nightmares: Poems to Trouble Your Sleep” by Jack Prelutsky. The book has awesome illustrations by Arnold Lobel.
The Ghoul
The gruesome ghoul, the grisly ghoul,
without the slightest noise
waits patiently beside the school
to feast on girls and boys.
He lunges fiercely though the air
as they com out to play,
and grabs a couple by the hair
and drags them far away.
He cracks their bones and snaps their backs
and squeezes out their lungs,
he chews their thumbs like candy snacks
and pulls apart their tongues.
He slices their stomachs and bites their hearts
and tears their flesh to shreds,
he swallows their toes like toasted tarts
and gobbles down their heads.
Fingers, elbows, hands and knees
and arms and legs and feet-
he eats them with delight and ease,
for every part's a treat.
And when the gruesome grisly ghoul
has nothing left to chew,
he hurries to another school
and waits. . . perhaps for you.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Good Ol' Mary Jane
Marry Jane never hurt nobody. That is, she never killed anyone herself. All joking aside drugs are a very serious matter. That is why I can't see any reason to continue prohibiting the use of marijuana. The money would be better spent elsewhere. I could not find one case of cannabis induced death no matter how hard I looked. The con side essay uses the ambiguous number of 100,000 visits to the emergency room as a call for concern. How many people are rushed to the hospital every year due to alcohol consumption? While marijuana has never been linked to a drug induced death, alcohol kills over 80,000 people a year and tobacco kills nearly a cool half million. The real reason it is illegal has nothing to do with the drug's effects on people. If that were the case alcohol and tobacco would also be illegal. Let's not forget that caffeine is a drug too.
In border states marijuana was used as a reason to round up immigrants. Many industries found that if they did not have to compete with hemp products they could carve out a bigger slice of the market. Hemp is a source of many products like paper, rope, alternative fuel, clothes, and medicine. If you dig a little deeper you can find the political motivations behind almost anything.
In school we were always taught about how Prohibition was America's grand experiment. I do not remember one text book mention how oil companies lobbied to get alcohol illegalized. At the time a German inventor named Rudolf Diesel invented the Diesel Engine, which still runs today. That engine used vegetable oil or ethanol (alcohol) for fuel. Henry Ford built his first Model-T cars using this engine design and meant for them to run on ethanol. Mainly because you can derive alcohol from agricultural waste products, and it was cheaper than vegetable oil. Standard Oil and the other Giants of the industry bound together to make alcohol illegal to force Ford's hand to switch to an engine that would run on their product. This new product they cleverly named “diesel fuel.” Shortly after Ford relented and made the change, prohibition on alcohol was lifted. Oddly enough one of the other alternatives Ford explored was fuel from hemp seed oil.
Marijuana was demonized for various political reasons. The end result is that thousands of Americans are jailed every year for something some of our founding fathers grew and smoked. I do not think marijuana should be legal so I can go roll a fatty. In my mind there is no point in enforcing a law that can never truly be enforced. Millions of Americans admit to smoking the icky sticky green. If they really want it they will get it. There is also the forbidden fruit factor. How many kids do something with the only intention being to do what they were told not to? I also believe there is no basis for the belief that marijuana is the “gateway drug.” I have never met anyone who did not smoke tobacco or drink alcohol before they tried marijuana. That does not mean someone like that is not out there, but I think it is fair to say they are a small percentage of the American population.
Lastly, everyone knows there is a vote coming up on November 2nd for the legalization of marijuana for personal use in California. Obviously both sides of the debate have come forward to zealously preach their point of view. The most interesting point of view I have heard comes out of the northern part of California. In the areas already known for marijuana cultivation, the growers do not want it to be legal because they believe it will hurt their business. I can not think of a more political and hypocritical point in case for why things are the way they are. I will leave you with a quote from Einstein, “Nothing is more destructive of respect for the government and the law of the land than passing laws which cannot be enforced.”
In border states marijuana was used as a reason to round up immigrants. Many industries found that if they did not have to compete with hemp products they could carve out a bigger slice of the market. Hemp is a source of many products like paper, rope, alternative fuel, clothes, and medicine. If you dig a little deeper you can find the political motivations behind almost anything.
In school we were always taught about how Prohibition was America's grand experiment. I do not remember one text book mention how oil companies lobbied to get alcohol illegalized. At the time a German inventor named Rudolf Diesel invented the Diesel Engine, which still runs today. That engine used vegetable oil or ethanol (alcohol) for fuel. Henry Ford built his first Model-T cars using this engine design and meant for them to run on ethanol. Mainly because you can derive alcohol from agricultural waste products, and it was cheaper than vegetable oil. Standard Oil and the other Giants of the industry bound together to make alcohol illegal to force Ford's hand to switch to an engine that would run on their product. This new product they cleverly named “diesel fuel.” Shortly after Ford relented and made the change, prohibition on alcohol was lifted. Oddly enough one of the other alternatives Ford explored was fuel from hemp seed oil.
Marijuana was demonized for various political reasons. The end result is that thousands of Americans are jailed every year for something some of our founding fathers grew and smoked. I do not think marijuana should be legal so I can go roll a fatty. In my mind there is no point in enforcing a law that can never truly be enforced. Millions of Americans admit to smoking the icky sticky green. If they really want it they will get it. There is also the forbidden fruit factor. How many kids do something with the only intention being to do what they were told not to? I also believe there is no basis for the belief that marijuana is the “gateway drug.” I have never met anyone who did not smoke tobacco or drink alcohol before they tried marijuana. That does not mean someone like that is not out there, but I think it is fair to say they are a small percentage of the American population.
Lastly, everyone knows there is a vote coming up on November 2nd for the legalization of marijuana for personal use in California. Obviously both sides of the debate have come forward to zealously preach their point of view. The most interesting point of view I have heard comes out of the northern part of California. In the areas already known for marijuana cultivation, the growers do not want it to be legal because they believe it will hurt their business. I can not think of a more political and hypocritical point in case for why things are the way they are. I will leave you with a quote from Einstein, “Nothing is more destructive of respect for the government and the law of the land than passing laws which cannot be enforced.”
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Kids of My Own
I remember my mom always telling me that my kids would get me back tenfold for all the gray hairs I gave her. While I know that if this were true, the generations would get exponentially worse and I don't think that she meant it literally. When I was a kid, I had no idea how hard I could make things for my parents. As a kid you do a lot of things that seem like a good idea at the time. Now that I have kids, I realize how easy it is for them to do the same. It is not their actions that are the root of what my mom was saying. Rather it is the fact that I know I did some of the very same things. So while I may have only felt slightly bad at the time (if at all), I now feel ten times as bad when I have to react the same way my parents did. I now understand what they went through. I can grasp the full scope of the situation. Nothing can prepare you for starting your own family. Whether that first pregnancy was planned or not does not make a difference. The scope of what you’ve gotten yourself into doesn’t necessarily materialize until you are elbow deep in diapers. Many people have told me they will “never be like their parents”. The truth is that by simply becoming a parent we are just like our parents. Just like them we are as inexperienced as they were when they first started. While I may not be the same father that my dad was, I still have used what I learned from his parenting methods. My father grew up in a different age. His role models of what a man was supposed to be and do, varies greatly from my role models not to mention my grandfather's role models. Each generation has a unique set of problems to contend with when dealing with their kids. I hope that my kids will learn as much from me as I learned from my parents when they have kids. My children will build upon the knowledge gleaned from my wife and me the way we did from our parents (as much as we might not like to admit it, or hear about it sometimes). Like my parents I will spoil my grandchildren rotten. Using the same excuse, “I don't have to live with them.”
Friday, September 24, 2010
Accusations
In front of me sat the judge. He was a fair man by all the accounts that had reached my ears. To my far right along the wall was the jury of my peers. They did not look like anyone I hung out with. They were one and all middle aged. These were the men and women who would decide my fate. A little closer across the aisle was the prosecutor. He reminded me of a weasel or a snake oil salesman, not that I knew the man at all. There was something about the stance of the man that put me off. “I never thought they would take it this far,” I had heard him say as I had entered the courtroom with my father. Neither did we. It was early summer and a beautiful day. I should be out floating on the Madison or riding down the back of Mount Blackmore on South Cottonwood trail on my mountain bike. Instead I was stuck in a drab tan courtroom. How did I find myself in the seat of the accused?
It all began in late October the previous year. Football season was upon the high school. My senior year had started out like every other year. I found myself in the familiar schedule: school, football practice, hang out. There was one particular day. I went and picked up my friend Kyle for school. We went to lunch. School got out and I hurried to practice. After football several of us went rallying in my car. It seemed like a very average day, nothing to concern myself with.
The next morning I was called into the principal's office. Mind you I had no idea what for. I was not an angel, but I hadn't done anything to warrant the attention of the principal. So I was a bit surprised when I entered the office and the school officer was there with another student. We will call him Joe. Now, Joe disliked me. At least that was how it seemed. It might have had something to do with a girlfriend who liked to flirt with me. I did not really care. I wanted to know why he was there.
It turns out someone had stomped the hood of his white truck in. There was quite the dent just in front of the drivers side of the windshield. The damage was wide enough, long enough, and the right shape of someone's feet side by side sunk four inches deep. It didn't take me long during the explanation of what had happened for me to figure out that I was the one they thought had made it happen.
The accusation came about from the fact that my friends and I played this game. We would jump onto the windshields of our friends cars without breaking them. It's a lesson in physics that has significance later. At the time it was just something we did. The bigger the vehicle, the harder it was. My brother broke the windshield of our friend's Dodge Durango doing it. Which happens to be the only time a windshield was ever broken. We had become very proficient at our game. Now, this was something that everyone saw us do. Something I guess you could say we were notorious for.
I say “we” because there were at least a dozen of us who engaged in the activity. There were others, underclassmen who mimicked us. Why was I the one to be singled out? I knew why Joe had fingered me. I did not understand why the principal had gone along with it. What evidence did they have that it was me?
At the time I wore a pair of Adissage sandals every day. A very specific type of sandal. They were adamant that my sandals were the ones used. Now, I wasn't the only person who had a pair of that type of Adidas. Half the soccer team had a pair though I was the only one who wore them around all day. I was curious how they knew without a doubt it was me and my sandals who caused the damamge. I said, “Let's go compare the prints left on the car to the bottom of my sandals.” It was a white truck after all. There was bound to be a residual print. My sandals had a very distinctive tread pattern. The bottom was a collage of national flags. I was denied.
This is the point where upon reflection I think they were getting frustrated that I would not just confess. The principal insinuated that sometimes, sometimes, he would go to the church on the other side of the school parking lot. The church had a big picture window facing the parking lot. That he observed the parking lot with binoculars. He hinted that he had observed me. So I said, “You saw me?”. This was a reaction on my part because it is kind of hard to observe someone doing something they didn't do.
The rest of the meeting was uneventful. Mostly because I stopped talking and stopped paying attention. This is the point where I exercised my right to remain silent. The school officer took down notes. They said they will investigate further and I left the office. I didn't know what to think. I had told them I didn't do it. I even tried to prove it to a point. What could I do? I put it out of my mind and finished the day.
After football practice, I got home and found a very distraught mother. The principal had called. He said I confessed in his office to stomping in Joe's hood that morning. She already had the estimate for the damage. They wanted over fifteen hundred dollars to replace a hood on a ten year old mini truck. I can't remember if it was a Nissan, Datsun, or a Toyota. There was no way I was going to allow my parents to shell out that much money for Joe's truck. I reassured my mom that they were mistaken. I had confessed to nothing. The next day my mom called and had a lengthy talk with the principal. He use to be a man I admired. My supposed confession was changed to a denial in the police report and a criminal case was pursued against me.
It was time to meet the public defender who would represent me in the case. She was very nice and assured us that based on what she could see, they had no case. The only concern was when the court date would be. If it happened during the school year and I lost, I would be expelled. That meant no senior year of track. So she asked the judge to postpone the hearing until after graduation.
That was the beginning of a series of bad events that plagued my senior year. I strained my back in a scuffle. Right before the state track meet I got a sinus infection. The worst was my brother died in early spring. All of these things had managed to shove the case to the back of my mind, at least until I graduated. Just a couple of weeks after I wore my cap and gown I was listening to the opening statements.
The first witness was Joe. He testified that my sandals were the ones that did the damage. He pointed to them. The same sandals my mom took the day the principal called and sealed in a bag for evidence. My beloved comfy sandals. He stated that though he didn't see me do it, but I was known to jump on cars.
Now it was thought that the next witness would be the principal. The prosecutor had pointed out that the principal had taken my, “You saw me?” as an admission of guilt in his opening argument. My lawyer had refuted that it was a question and not a confession. The prosecutor chose instead to go straight for my mom.
Not only had my mom bagged my sandals she had also taken pictures of the prints. The school police officer told my mom that they had taken pictures at the time of the incident. She thought it would be prudent to have a set of our own. It took a while but my mom had found the car in the school parking lot. A few days had passed and we were worried the prints had been washed off. Miraculously they were still there. So she put a twelve inch ruler next to the prints for scale and took several photographs. I wasn't there but my mom noticed some things right away. The prints were longer than the ruler, much longer. We had measured the length of my ten and a half size sandals to be around eleven inches. Also the dent was very impressive. I weighed around one-fifty at the time. One hundred and fifty pounds of strong safety/running back for me to throw around. My mom was no expert but she thought there was no way I could have caused so much damage the way they said I did. She said as much to the prosecutor. He wasn't concerned with that. He made an effort to discredit my mother, asking her why the official police photos weren't good enough for her. It was then that we found out that the police photos were dated weeks after the incident. The photos showed very little, if any evidence of the prints. He asked her, “You mean to tell me you've never seen these photos before? We released them to you on May fifteenth. Why didn't you inform us that they didn't match your pictures?”. My mom politely informed the prosecutor that was the week my brother had died and started to cry. It was like he sprouted horns and turned into the devil in front of the jury.
What about the prints? The national flags from my sandals were not pasted on Joe's truck. Remarkably the prints looked like tire tread marks. Not your standard tread pattern. These were not the prints of shoes made by any of the major manufacturers. I did not see Adidas advertising tire tread like grip. Truth is we had no clue what caused the prints. Whether they were boots or sandals was irrelevant. They didn't match my precious sandals. I think the jury could see that when my lawyer presented them side by side to each of the peers in turn.
It was now apparent to the prosecutor that he was losing the battle. In a last ditch effort he called on me as the last witness. The prosecutor asked if they were my sandals. Then he concentrated on the game. How is it that I could jump up on cars without breaking the windshield? Why should the jury believe I did not do it? He really tried to put the screws to me. I had taken physics my junior year. I recalled about momentum, force, and some guy named Newton. So I explained it.
We come back to the game of jumping on cars. The argument that when I jumped up from the ground to land on Joe's windshield I miscalculated and smashed the hood was physically impossible. Whenever something is propelled in an arc it has no downward momentum at the peak of the arc. This was the physics behind why we could land on a windshield without it shattering under us. Granted the ability of the windshield to support our weight was also a factor. You first had to be light enough to jump high enough to land on the windshield safely. To land on a windshield you have to also jump forwards. This decreases how high you can jump. You can tuck your legs up to regain those inches. That is in fact what we did. We ended up looking like Spider-man splayed across the glass. So even if I did miss the windshield in a theoretical jump I would not have generated enough force. Who ever caused the damage started on top of the hood to begin with. Judging by the prints of the shoes they also were of a larger stature than myself. He said he still did not buy it. He would not let me test my theory on his car. So I said, “I can show you on my own car. It's in the parking lot.”
It was time for the jury to make their decision. In less than five minutes they came back with the verdict. Read out loud it sounded like “not guilty.” I was innocent. I felt great for about two seconds. I now knew the true process of law and order. They say you are innocent until proven guilty. I have found that once you are accused it is like attaching a label. You are guilty until proven otherwise. Memories of how people reacted in school came flooding back.
There were three main reactions: He did it, who cares?, he didn't do it. It can be broken down even further. Of course there were Joe and a few of his closest friends who thought I did it. Many people believed I did it, yet still wanted me to get away with it (I would thank them for their misguided support). A lot of the guys in school didn't care who did it. From their perspective, Joe should have called me out. Everything should have been decided by the crush of bone on tissue, akin to the days when the victor was presumed to be the righteous party. Those who knew me best knew I didn't do it. A Michalson's word stood for a lot. I learned from my brother that my honor depended on being trustworthy.
After the case we had a small celebration. I could start the rest of my adult life without a black mark on my record. They never found out who really did it. I don't think an effort was ever made to find the truth. Once they had a scapegoat that was good enough for the system. Whoever did do it knew enough that since the heat was on me all he had to do was keep his mouth shut. Shortly after the case had passed I received an anonymous gift. Two rubber slabs in the shape of shoe soles. They were made from tires.
It all began in late October the previous year. Football season was upon the high school. My senior year had started out like every other year. I found myself in the familiar schedule: school, football practice, hang out. There was one particular day. I went and picked up my friend Kyle for school. We went to lunch. School got out and I hurried to practice. After football several of us went rallying in my car. It seemed like a very average day, nothing to concern myself with.
The next morning I was called into the principal's office. Mind you I had no idea what for. I was not an angel, but I hadn't done anything to warrant the attention of the principal. So I was a bit surprised when I entered the office and the school officer was there with another student. We will call him Joe. Now, Joe disliked me. At least that was how it seemed. It might have had something to do with a girlfriend who liked to flirt with me. I did not really care. I wanted to know why he was there.
It turns out someone had stomped the hood of his white truck in. There was quite the dent just in front of the drivers side of the windshield. The damage was wide enough, long enough, and the right shape of someone's feet side by side sunk four inches deep. It didn't take me long during the explanation of what had happened for me to figure out that I was the one they thought had made it happen.
The accusation came about from the fact that my friends and I played this game. We would jump onto the windshields of our friends cars without breaking them. It's a lesson in physics that has significance later. At the time it was just something we did. The bigger the vehicle, the harder it was. My brother broke the windshield of our friend's Dodge Durango doing it. Which happens to be the only time a windshield was ever broken. We had become very proficient at our game. Now, this was something that everyone saw us do. Something I guess you could say we were notorious for.
I say “we” because there were at least a dozen of us who engaged in the activity. There were others, underclassmen who mimicked us. Why was I the one to be singled out? I knew why Joe had fingered me. I did not understand why the principal had gone along with it. What evidence did they have that it was me?
At the time I wore a pair of Adissage sandals every day. A very specific type of sandal. They were adamant that my sandals were the ones used. Now, I wasn't the only person who had a pair of that type of Adidas. Half the soccer team had a pair though I was the only one who wore them around all day. I was curious how they knew without a doubt it was me and my sandals who caused the damamge. I said, “Let's go compare the prints left on the car to the bottom of my sandals.” It was a white truck after all. There was bound to be a residual print. My sandals had a very distinctive tread pattern. The bottom was a collage of national flags. I was denied.
This is the point where upon reflection I think they were getting frustrated that I would not just confess. The principal insinuated that sometimes, sometimes, he would go to the church on the other side of the school parking lot. The church had a big picture window facing the parking lot. That he observed the parking lot with binoculars. He hinted that he had observed me. So I said, “You saw me?”. This was a reaction on my part because it is kind of hard to observe someone doing something they didn't do.
The rest of the meeting was uneventful. Mostly because I stopped talking and stopped paying attention. This is the point where I exercised my right to remain silent. The school officer took down notes. They said they will investigate further and I left the office. I didn't know what to think. I had told them I didn't do it. I even tried to prove it to a point. What could I do? I put it out of my mind and finished the day.
After football practice, I got home and found a very distraught mother. The principal had called. He said I confessed in his office to stomping in Joe's hood that morning. She already had the estimate for the damage. They wanted over fifteen hundred dollars to replace a hood on a ten year old mini truck. I can't remember if it was a Nissan, Datsun, or a Toyota. There was no way I was going to allow my parents to shell out that much money for Joe's truck. I reassured my mom that they were mistaken. I had confessed to nothing. The next day my mom called and had a lengthy talk with the principal. He use to be a man I admired. My supposed confession was changed to a denial in the police report and a criminal case was pursued against me.
It was time to meet the public defender who would represent me in the case. She was very nice and assured us that based on what she could see, they had no case. The only concern was when the court date would be. If it happened during the school year and I lost, I would be expelled. That meant no senior year of track. So she asked the judge to postpone the hearing until after graduation.
That was the beginning of a series of bad events that plagued my senior year. I strained my back in a scuffle. Right before the state track meet I got a sinus infection. The worst was my brother died in early spring. All of these things had managed to shove the case to the back of my mind, at least until I graduated. Just a couple of weeks after I wore my cap and gown I was listening to the opening statements.
The first witness was Joe. He testified that my sandals were the ones that did the damage. He pointed to them. The same sandals my mom took the day the principal called and sealed in a bag for evidence. My beloved comfy sandals. He stated that though he didn't see me do it, but I was known to jump on cars.
Now it was thought that the next witness would be the principal. The prosecutor had pointed out that the principal had taken my, “You saw me?” as an admission of guilt in his opening argument. My lawyer had refuted that it was a question and not a confession. The prosecutor chose instead to go straight for my mom.
Not only had my mom bagged my sandals she had also taken pictures of the prints. The school police officer told my mom that they had taken pictures at the time of the incident. She thought it would be prudent to have a set of our own. It took a while but my mom had found the car in the school parking lot. A few days had passed and we were worried the prints had been washed off. Miraculously they were still there. So she put a twelve inch ruler next to the prints for scale and took several photographs. I wasn't there but my mom noticed some things right away. The prints were longer than the ruler, much longer. We had measured the length of my ten and a half size sandals to be around eleven inches. Also the dent was very impressive. I weighed around one-fifty at the time. One hundred and fifty pounds of strong safety/running back for me to throw around. My mom was no expert but she thought there was no way I could have caused so much damage the way they said I did. She said as much to the prosecutor. He wasn't concerned with that. He made an effort to discredit my mother, asking her why the official police photos weren't good enough for her. It was then that we found out that the police photos were dated weeks after the incident. The photos showed very little, if any evidence of the prints. He asked her, “You mean to tell me you've never seen these photos before? We released them to you on May fifteenth. Why didn't you inform us that they didn't match your pictures?”. My mom politely informed the prosecutor that was the week my brother had died and started to cry. It was like he sprouted horns and turned into the devil in front of the jury.
What about the prints? The national flags from my sandals were not pasted on Joe's truck. Remarkably the prints looked like tire tread marks. Not your standard tread pattern. These were not the prints of shoes made by any of the major manufacturers. I did not see Adidas advertising tire tread like grip. Truth is we had no clue what caused the prints. Whether they were boots or sandals was irrelevant. They didn't match my precious sandals. I think the jury could see that when my lawyer presented them side by side to each of the peers in turn.
It was now apparent to the prosecutor that he was losing the battle. In a last ditch effort he called on me as the last witness. The prosecutor asked if they were my sandals. Then he concentrated on the game. How is it that I could jump up on cars without breaking the windshield? Why should the jury believe I did not do it? He really tried to put the screws to me. I had taken physics my junior year. I recalled about momentum, force, and some guy named Newton. So I explained it.
We come back to the game of jumping on cars. The argument that when I jumped up from the ground to land on Joe's windshield I miscalculated and smashed the hood was physically impossible. Whenever something is propelled in an arc it has no downward momentum at the peak of the arc. This was the physics behind why we could land on a windshield without it shattering under us. Granted the ability of the windshield to support our weight was also a factor. You first had to be light enough to jump high enough to land on the windshield safely. To land on a windshield you have to also jump forwards. This decreases how high you can jump. You can tuck your legs up to regain those inches. That is in fact what we did. We ended up looking like Spider-man splayed across the glass. So even if I did miss the windshield in a theoretical jump I would not have generated enough force. Who ever caused the damage started on top of the hood to begin with. Judging by the prints of the shoes they also were of a larger stature than myself. He said he still did not buy it. He would not let me test my theory on his car. So I said, “I can show you on my own car. It's in the parking lot.”
It was time for the jury to make their decision. In less than five minutes they came back with the verdict. Read out loud it sounded like “not guilty.” I was innocent. I felt great for about two seconds. I now knew the true process of law and order. They say you are innocent until proven guilty. I have found that once you are accused it is like attaching a label. You are guilty until proven otherwise. Memories of how people reacted in school came flooding back.
There were three main reactions: He did it, who cares?, he didn't do it. It can be broken down even further. Of course there were Joe and a few of his closest friends who thought I did it. Many people believed I did it, yet still wanted me to get away with it (I would thank them for their misguided support). A lot of the guys in school didn't care who did it. From their perspective, Joe should have called me out. Everything should have been decided by the crush of bone on tissue, akin to the days when the victor was presumed to be the righteous party. Those who knew me best knew I didn't do it. A Michalson's word stood for a lot. I learned from my brother that my honor depended on being trustworthy.
After the case we had a small celebration. I could start the rest of my adult life without a black mark on my record. They never found out who really did it. I don't think an effort was ever made to find the truth. Once they had a scapegoat that was good enough for the system. Whoever did do it knew enough that since the heat was on me all he had to do was keep his mouth shut. Shortly after the case had passed I received an anonymous gift. Two rubber slabs in the shape of shoe soles. They were made from tires.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Inbok Kim
Inbok is a quiet and reserved man. He has come to college to improve his communication skills for his own benefit, and for his work in the service industry. Inbok was born in Taegu, South Korea. He immigrated to America thirty years ago for new experiences, and to be with his mother who had already made the trip. Since then he has raised two children and found an abiding love for Beethoven. Inbok has found that he can use which ever culture, American or Korean, that best fits any situation that arises. He does not spend much time on campus but he likes the low cost of Oxnard College. His one contention would be for first come first served parking. He does not think it should be separated between staff, visitors, and students. I guess the faculty needs exercise too. Though in five to ten years he hopes to be retired so he will not have to worry about it.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
What Language is That?
A little while ago I was walking out of one of my favorite restaurants. I observed a young girl get out of the car in front of me. Her eyes were glued to her cell phone. She was texting. From the car to the front door and back again she only looked up to check the hours of operation for the restaurant. It occurred to me once again why I am not a phone person. If she had been involved in the world around her long enough she might of realized she could of asked me the restaurants hours. Since I had just eaten there it would have been worth a shot right? The thing is I do not think she ever even saw me.
As I said I am not a phone person. My phone calls tend to last less than two minutes. I did not own a cell phone until 2004. So it is no surprise that I am not into texting either. Why would I spend thirty minutes texting back and forth when I can settle the same conversation in less than two minutes? I have found uses for sending text messages. Sending things like “on my way,” when I get out of class. Sometimes I just need the answer to a simple question. Maybe I need a friend's address. If they text it to me a have a record of it. I am less likely to lose the information. There are times I will get a forward, the slightly amusing picture message and so on. There is a genuine use for long distance. It may not be convenient to talk when you are separated by several time zones. In this case you may not need a quick response, but sitting down over a cold beverage is impossible. Beyond that I can't see wearing out my thumbs.
I know there is a whole new abbreviated language now. Remembering what it all means is beyond my capacity to care. I will get a message and I don't know what they said. So I ignore it until they clarify. If it is that important you can spell it out. Most of the time it can wait until a face to face encounter.
My biggest problem with texting, besides texting and driving (for obvious reasons), is when people use it in a conversation. You hear someone say something and then they go “LOL.” The other most common one being “JK.” Then you have that person who actually talks like they are sending a message. “Yup. He didin. LOL. AAF I saw him today.”
I see no problem with using text messaging in moderation. For some people it is like an addiction. I feel only slightly horrible to say that I find the look on their face funny when they check their phone and there is no message. Then they keep checking every two minutes like they can not believe the other person has not responded yet. It makes me chuckle. So does being there to witness someone walk into a pole because they were staring at a screen. Next time you leave a class, watch how many people immediately flip out their phone and start texting.
As I said I am not a phone person. My phone calls tend to last less than two minutes. I did not own a cell phone until 2004. So it is no surprise that I am not into texting either. Why would I spend thirty minutes texting back and forth when I can settle the same conversation in less than two minutes? I have found uses for sending text messages. Sending things like “on my way,” when I get out of class. Sometimes I just need the answer to a simple question. Maybe I need a friend's address. If they text it to me a have a record of it. I am less likely to lose the information. There are times I will get a forward, the slightly amusing picture message and so on. There is a genuine use for long distance. It may not be convenient to talk when you are separated by several time zones. In this case you may not need a quick response, but sitting down over a cold beverage is impossible. Beyond that I can't see wearing out my thumbs.
I know there is a whole new abbreviated language now. Remembering what it all means is beyond my capacity to care. I will get a message and I don't know what they said. So I ignore it until they clarify. If it is that important you can spell it out. Most of the time it can wait until a face to face encounter.
My biggest problem with texting, besides texting and driving (for obvious reasons), is when people use it in a conversation. You hear someone say something and then they go “LOL.” The other most common one being “JK.” Then you have that person who actually talks like they are sending a message. “Yup. He didin. LOL. AAF I saw him today.”
I see no problem with using text messaging in moderation. For some people it is like an addiction. I feel only slightly horrible to say that I find the look on their face funny when they check their phone and there is no message. Then they keep checking every two minutes like they can not believe the other person has not responded yet. It makes me chuckle. So does being there to witness someone walk into a pole because they were staring at a screen. Next time you leave a class, watch how many people immediately flip out their phone and start texting.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Coached TV
I don't have cable so I don't often watch reality TV. In the past I have watched shows like Mythbusters. Reality shows along the same lines I can see as having merit. Punk'd, Jackass, Fear Factor, and others are mildly entertaining in pieces for me to watch. Most of the gamut of reality shows I have to say are a waste of time. Using the term “reality” is not the best description for them at all. I think that they are all either scripted or the people are at the least being coached from behind the camera. They are exaggerations at best of real life drama. Many are blatantly impossible for the average American. That is why I watch the shows that are usually educational in nature. This is not true for everyone. Obviously someone tuned into Flavor of Love.
Whether they are harmful or naught is up for debate. Violence in video games is still being vehemently argued over by many experts. I think it comes down to whether or not the person watching the show has a susceptible personality. Young people being at a disadvantage because of their lack of life experience. Many shows have come under fire for the authenticity of the “reality” aspect. Big brother is one that is constantly being portrayed as nothing but a bunch of fledgling actors. Man vs. Wild is one that I do watch via Netflix. The host Bear Grylls did an episode near my home town. People who knew the area picked the episode to pieces. Citing that in many cases Bear was a stones throw away from civilization. One scene involved a lake that has a paved access road. I know these things to be true yet at the same time for the show it wasn't relevant. It is a show about demonstrating survival tactics in extreme situations. The fact that they have to manufacture some of those situations for me was a given. Other shows are not so forgivable.
The shows are meant for entertainment. For those who watch them that is the need that they perceive as being fulfilled. I'm not going to judge someone for watching one of the many shows in the dating genre. I don't have to watch them and so I do not. At the same time I can not condone letting a five year old watch Jersey Shore. Nobody really wants their children to grow up and have the pet name Snooki or The Situation. There is probably no denying that reality TV has an affect on our society. There are some constructive shows. It may seem that they are outweighed by the opposing variety. If only negative reality shows were a dying fad.
I will continue to ignore ninety percent of reality TV. None of those in the dating/relationship genre fit into my entertainment needs. The only other show I think is worth mentioning would be Man vs. Food. There are several food joints around the country I want to sample that were featured, and I would not have known of them without the show. Though I probably will not partake in the food challenges that were presented.
Whether they are harmful or naught is up for debate. Violence in video games is still being vehemently argued over by many experts. I think it comes down to whether or not the person watching the show has a susceptible personality. Young people being at a disadvantage because of their lack of life experience. Many shows have come under fire for the authenticity of the “reality” aspect. Big brother is one that is constantly being portrayed as nothing but a bunch of fledgling actors. Man vs. Wild is one that I do watch via Netflix. The host Bear Grylls did an episode near my home town. People who knew the area picked the episode to pieces. Citing that in many cases Bear was a stones throw away from civilization. One scene involved a lake that has a paved access road. I know these things to be true yet at the same time for the show it wasn't relevant. It is a show about demonstrating survival tactics in extreme situations. The fact that they have to manufacture some of those situations for me was a given. Other shows are not so forgivable.
The shows are meant for entertainment. For those who watch them that is the need that they perceive as being fulfilled. I'm not going to judge someone for watching one of the many shows in the dating genre. I don't have to watch them and so I do not. At the same time I can not condone letting a five year old watch Jersey Shore. Nobody really wants their children to grow up and have the pet name Snooki or The Situation. There is probably no denying that reality TV has an affect on our society. There are some constructive shows. It may seem that they are outweighed by the opposing variety. If only negative reality shows were a dying fad.
I will continue to ignore ninety percent of reality TV. None of those in the dating/relationship genre fit into my entertainment needs. The only other show I think is worth mentioning would be Man vs. Food. There are several food joints around the country I want to sample that were featured, and I would not have known of them without the show. Though I probably will not partake in the food challenges that were presented.
Friday, August 27, 2010
My Life With Fast Food
As a child I rarely ate fast food. Home cooked meals are so much better. Happily I had an abundance of those growing up. Many of the dishes contained elk and deer meat my family had hunted. When I was old enough I also contributed to the stock in the freezer. The only time I can remember eating fast food was on extended road trips. Like when we visited Grandma. Her house was eight hours away in eastern Montana. My dad didn't like to stop for too long along the way. He wanted to get there as soon as possible. Fast food fit into that philosophy: get in and get out and maybe use the bathroom if you needed to. It wasn't until high school that I really started to eat fast food. Depending on what was available in the cafeteria dictated whether I ate fast food or not. Because cafeteria food came with the stigma of being in the cafeteria I found myself eating out more often than not. When I got my first car it made it even more likely; the greater range meant more food possibilities could be obtained. Even then it was just for lunch. I still had mom's cooking to go home to. After graduation I ate even less fast food. I moved into my friend's house who happened to be a chef. So if I did the dishes he would feed me. I also found that I liked to cook. So if I didn't want to do his dishes I fed myself. For work I brought a bagged lunch most of the time. Though I did indulge in the occasional frosty with fries. Fast food rarely factored into the equation at the time. When I joined the US Navy I never ate fast food. Having matured I no longer had a stigma for cafeterias and regularly enjoyed food at the galley. It wasn't until I got married and left the Navy that I once again found fast food.
Presently I try to avoid fast food. Besides the fact that I know it's not healthy for me; most of it doesn't taste very good. It's a fast paced world today. Which unfortunately means I have to partake of fast food sometimes. I find myself spending most of my food making time on my kids. Their nutritional needs come first for me. I would much rather they didn't munch on the unmentionables lurking in fast food. So if I only have enough time to make them something I'll tide myself over with fast food. Even though I would prefer anything else. I do like Popeyes and Chick-fil-A, while a frosty and fries still wouldn't be turned away from my stomach. That wraps up my fast food experience.
Presently I try to avoid fast food. Besides the fact that I know it's not healthy for me; most of it doesn't taste very good. It's a fast paced world today. Which unfortunately means I have to partake of fast food sometimes. I find myself spending most of my food making time on my kids. Their nutritional needs come first for me. I would much rather they didn't munch on the unmentionables lurking in fast food. So if I only have enough time to make them something I'll tide myself over with fast food. Even though I would prefer anything else. I do like Popeyes and Chick-fil-A, while a frosty and fries still wouldn't be turned away from my stomach. That wraps up my fast food experience.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
From Start to Finish
Your past is your foundation. It is not who you are but the mold from whence you came. For me it explains many things. Why I love the outdoors for one. I grew up in the mountains. Which means a host of dangerous activities were at my fingertips. From some of the more hair raising moments comes my fond appreciation of life. The final influence being that life is worth living well, if not boldly.
If the past is the bedrock then the present is the chisel that shapes you. Every day brings new experiences. For me many of those involve tiny people driving me crazy. Not literally of course, but anyone with kids can attest to the difficulties. I have a daughter who is starting kindergarten this year. Very exciting for her. I know because I hear about it incessantly. My boys will be two shortly. If you ever hear anyone proclaim that they want twins you should stop them there. I am subjecting myself to the rigors of college for a purpose. In part for those three little sets of eyes. In part for myself.
I want to see what the chisel can achieve. What masterpiece can be made out of my life. The end goal of all the tests is an engineering degree. I have always loved to tinker with things. Picturing myself taking apart in the creation of said things is easy for me. The future will hold much more than that for me. I am looking forward to the many surprises coming my way. When it's all over I hope I can look back and be as gracious about life as Don Corleone; without all the drama.
If the past is the bedrock then the present is the chisel that shapes you. Every day brings new experiences. For me many of those involve tiny people driving me crazy. Not literally of course, but anyone with kids can attest to the difficulties. I have a daughter who is starting kindergarten this year. Very exciting for her. I know because I hear about it incessantly. My boys will be two shortly. If you ever hear anyone proclaim that they want twins you should stop them there. I am subjecting myself to the rigors of college for a purpose. In part for those three little sets of eyes. In part for myself.
I want to see what the chisel can achieve. What masterpiece can be made out of my life. The end goal of all the tests is an engineering degree. I have always loved to tinker with things. Picturing myself taking apart in the creation of said things is easy for me. The future will hold much more than that for me. I am looking forward to the many surprises coming my way. When it's all over I hope I can look back and be as gracious about life as Don Corleone; without all the drama.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
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