Friday, June 5, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
This I Believe
Six A.M. is a random time to discover what you stand for. The day started as any other, with the alarm going off, in turn tearing the pages of dreams from my head. The one word that remained hidden in the covers of my consciousness read: Already? After the obstacle of lumbering out of bed, changing into a T-shirt and shorts, and taping my headphones to my ears, I attempted my sneak-out-of-the-house-walk/pathetic-tip-toe-dance to escape an awakened parent’s lecture, and despite the tattle-tailing of my own steps, I somehow managed to do just that.
Outside I found myself in another realm. It was a Lorca landscape whose poetry sang in the silhouette of trees against the ocean blue sky of early morning. All was blue. In blue I could see etches of weathering paint on the fence. In blue my eyes wandered to the strands of grass standing as individuals. In blue I saw the rock wall outlining the entrance of the path I would soon endure. But the true beauty basked in that moon.
There on the blue canvas of the sky la luna painted her moonlit face. I had never seen such a spectacular moon, but as I gazed into her, her glow became very familiar. Her smiling expression encouraging me forward was that of my mother’s. Her graceful strength to hover independently yet caressingly was that of my father’s. Her artistic craters of personality were those of my sister’s. Her essence of wonder in the livelihood of imagination was that of my brother’s. Staring at this portrait I knew why I had to move, why I chose to be, who I dared to be. And with that I let her paint drip through my soul and into my heart as I finally embarked on my run into the forest.
I believe in first finding what inspires you. From the pen whose voice sounds through lined pages to the mitt that completes your hand or the moon that embraces you, inspiration is all around us. Look up. To me, the stars are flickering candle tips, whose blinking flames are proof that there is yet more. Maybe if you are a chef, you look up and see the stars as sprinkles of sugar, spread perfectly to complete the recipe of the night sky. Maybe if you are a soldier, you look up and see the stars as a message from home, the signature a passing comet. Or maybe if you do not even know who you are, the time it takes to just look up for that moment, may be enough to make the moments of time you still have, your own.
Outside I found myself in another realm. It was a Lorca landscape whose poetry sang in the silhouette of trees against the ocean blue sky of early morning. All was blue. In blue I could see etches of weathering paint on the fence. In blue my eyes wandered to the strands of grass standing as individuals. In blue I saw the rock wall outlining the entrance of the path I would soon endure. But the true beauty basked in that moon.
There on the blue canvas of the sky la luna painted her moonlit face. I had never seen such a spectacular moon, but as I gazed into her, her glow became very familiar. Her smiling expression encouraging me forward was that of my mother’s. Her graceful strength to hover independently yet caressingly was that of my father’s. Her artistic craters of personality were those of my sister’s. Her essence of wonder in the livelihood of imagination was that of my brother’s. Staring at this portrait I knew why I had to move, why I chose to be, who I dared to be. And with that I let her paint drip through my soul and into my heart as I finally embarked on my run into the forest.
I believe in first finding what inspires you. From the pen whose voice sounds through lined pages to the mitt that completes your hand or the moon that embraces you, inspiration is all around us. Look up. To me, the stars are flickering candle tips, whose blinking flames are proof that there is yet more. Maybe if you are a chef, you look up and see the stars as sprinkles of sugar, spread perfectly to complete the recipe of the night sky. Maybe if you are a soldier, you look up and see the stars as a message from home, the signature a passing comet. Or maybe if you do not even know who you are, the time it takes to just look up for that moment, may be enough to make the moments of time you still have, your own.
Friday, May 1, 2009
A MERE PROPOSITION
FOR SAVING THE WORLD OF REFUGEES IN DARFUR FROM BEING A BURDEN TO THEIR COUNTRY OR HUMANITY, AND FOR REMOVING THEM FROM HISTORY TO BENEFIT THE PUBLIC
IT IS a tragedy to those who pay attention to the global community or read articles on international issues to see the blurbs roll down the page of how 2.7 million displaced are running to neighboring countries such as Chad and how women and children are being raped to take the place of their brothers’, husbands’, and sons’ most probable deaths and how 400,000 are dead even so. These viewers, instead of being able to continue their lives carelessly, are forced to recognize what is happening outside their own microcosm, which really is pointless because only the politicians can create laws to make something change.
I believe that all can agree that this phenomenal figure of men, women, and children in the hearts, or on the minds, or at the consciousness of their fellow human beings is in the present dreadful state of the nation an immense additional grievance; and, therefore, he/she who has the ability to discover a reasonable, economical, and uncomplicated means of relieving these wretches from the consciousness of well off people, would be worthy of having a monument of his/her image erected at the center world as preserver of our ignorance.
However, my intention is far-off from being limited to just taking care of the Darfurians; its scope is much greater, and shall require the entire global community’s awareness of these people to be compromised.
As to my role, having processed my ideas for four years upon this chief issue, and wisely scaled the prodigious plans of other people, always I found them vilely at error in the solution. It is fact that America has dropped the A-Bomb twice in the twentieth century on our past enemy the Japanese, but the consequences of those actions still carry on today and will never be forgotten. Unless…
My scheme has yet another part in that it will prevent those arbitrary objections, along with that ghastly page in the history books from reoccurring that reads, “Alas! America’s solution to end WWII was to kill thousands of innocent babes.”
I am assured by our top scientists that the drug Propranolol, typically used for high blood pressure, yields yet another groundbreaking treatment that completes my plan fully.
Without further ado, I shall now humbly present my proposition, which I hope will not be designated to disparity.
I have been assured by our very own Little Boy and Fat Man that a few of these babies can entirely wipe out a nation; no longer would America be cut by the double edge sword of being called blind for doing nothing or the big bully for actually taking action. But this alone would not work. We would then need to implement the second part of my plan, Propranolol, the “miracle drug,” that can virtually erase Darfur from our memories.
Thus I humbly recommend it to international contemplation that of the one hundred and ninety two countries that are UN members, only America, Great Britain, France, and Germany actually drop the bombs on Sudan (especially the region of Darfur), Chad, and only a few more neighboring countries because to overkill is unnecessary and just mean (I would have included Iraq as a bomber too, but as it turns out they did not have any weapons of mass destruction in their possession after all). No fretting of nuclear Holocaust or mass murder or genocide conquered by genocide will be of consequence because as long as all the countries’ governments enforce its citizens to take Propranolol without exception, then no one will remember that this region of Africa ever existed. And even if a few petty people are missed, these individuals would quickly be dismissed because the majority of people will not even know what Darfur even was.
Critics may see the use of Propranolol as an ethical issue, but I ask who wants to remember? Who wants to have to care for these helpless people at the cost of overwhelming criticism for not dealing with the more important issues of the economy, the wars in the Middle East, and Swine Flu? Who wants to remember the unbearable truth that after the Holocaust, Cambodia, Sierra Leone, and Rwanda we have yet again failed to uphold Never Again? Who wants to remember the maimed and malnourished children looking at us with their bulging brown eyes or the devastated mothers’ shrieks of pain that cry out exactly how she lost her will to live?
No one.
And so the benefits are obvious. First, that battle-zone region in Africa will be solved for there will be nothing left and therefore nothing to worry about.
Secondly, with the erasure of the genocide in Darfur from our memories, we can focus more clearly at the real problems at hand, like Swine Flu.
Thirdly, because nothing will be left in Sudan, we can use that area as a universal weapons of mass destruction testing site (UWMDTS), so as to no longer be bothered by the question of who possesses nuclear weapons; it will be out in the open.
Fourthly, we can finally truly live by “ignorance is bliss.” We will not have to be burdened by another genocide we failed to stop. No more nightmares or guilty consciences.
Many other advantages might be enumerated. This event will dodge history because no one will be able to recall a Sudan, a Darfur, or the genocide that took place. By this, we have a new chance to possibly make things right in this post WWII era after only five or so tries as opposed to six or so. Never again can mean something again because the next time signs of genocide begin to reveal itself, we will have had time to solve our other problems and therefore be able to have a full effort at ceasing another genocide because we will be better off.
My mind can think of not a single opposition that will possibly be raised against this proposition, unless it is made aware of that, by some anomaly, the Propranolol does not serve its purpose, and that we will remember what we have done to stop the genocide. If such a miscalculation should occur, then all I can say is this: At least it will be over. It is not just to allow such destruction to occur in Darfur now, from the ravished homes to the massacred families at the hands of the Janjaweed. At least with the bombings, the pain and suffering will be vanquished in a single day, not drawn out over years as it has already been. Besides, which guilt is worse, that of not doing enough and watching the endless suffering? Or acting in a Machiavellian manner to end the genocide in the most beneficial way? Therefore let no human being talk to me of alternatives: of having more awareness programs to expose the truth of Darfur: of raising money to help the displaced families have enough to at least sustain themselves: of sending more humanitarian aid with the backing of the United Nations: of sending troops to fight the Janjaweed and protect the victims and end the war: of condemning the Sudanese government as guilty of genocide and punishing them for what they have done: of having an international movement to intervene instead of relying solely on America to take the first big step: of providing resources through organizations such as the Heifer Organization in an attempt to replenish the country of livestock and a means of agriculture: of requiring elementary schools, high schools, and colleges to teach its students of what is happening, so that no Freshman will ask ever ask what is Darfur?: of at least somehow rescuing the children from the gruesome reality that killed their family and currently kills their childhood spirit: of creating more innovations like the solar cooker to establish jobs and a better means for the adult survivors so that they can provide for themselves, their family, and their community: of having more articles, books, political cartoons, movies, and documentaries on the genocide in Darfur to shock the world into action: of bringing survivors to America to tell their story of survival and why this needs to be prioritized. Lastly, of realizing that even if we do not feel the imperativeness of upholding our promise of never again in memory of the millions who died in the Holocaust alone, then to at least realize that we are all human beings who for the sake of humanity know that genocide must be stopped.
Therefore I reiterate, let no human being talk to me of these and the like alternatives, until he/she hath at least some honest motivation to bring these dead words to life.
I admit, with all sincerity, that I possess no other motive than the public good of the world, having only the desire to relieve our burden of needing to intervene, to concentrate on the real issues, to have no more fears of who has what, and to live in bliss. Anyway, this proposition, my very words, will not be remembered for they will be glued to the bombs in pieces, and destroyed on the day they drop which will be appropriately be named “Piece Day” in just a slight honor of my unselfish brilliance.
IT IS a tragedy to those who pay attention to the global community or read articles on international issues to see the blurbs roll down the page of how 2.7 million displaced are running to neighboring countries such as Chad and how women and children are being raped to take the place of their brothers’, husbands’, and sons’ most probable deaths and how 400,000 are dead even so. These viewers, instead of being able to continue their lives carelessly, are forced to recognize what is happening outside their own microcosm, which really is pointless because only the politicians can create laws to make something change.
I believe that all can agree that this phenomenal figure of men, women, and children in the hearts, or on the minds, or at the consciousness of their fellow human beings is in the present dreadful state of the nation an immense additional grievance; and, therefore, he/she who has the ability to discover a reasonable, economical, and uncomplicated means of relieving these wretches from the consciousness of well off people, would be worthy of having a monument of his/her image erected at the center world as preserver of our ignorance.
However, my intention is far-off from being limited to just taking care of the Darfurians; its scope is much greater, and shall require the entire global community’s awareness of these people to be compromised.
As to my role, having processed my ideas for four years upon this chief issue, and wisely scaled the prodigious plans of other people, always I found them vilely at error in the solution. It is fact that America has dropped the A-Bomb twice in the twentieth century on our past enemy the Japanese, but the consequences of those actions still carry on today and will never be forgotten. Unless…
My scheme has yet another part in that it will prevent those arbitrary objections, along with that ghastly page in the history books from reoccurring that reads, “Alas! America’s solution to end WWII was to kill thousands of innocent babes.”
I am assured by our top scientists that the drug Propranolol, typically used for high blood pressure, yields yet another groundbreaking treatment that completes my plan fully.
Without further ado, I shall now humbly present my proposition, which I hope will not be designated to disparity.
I have been assured by our very own Little Boy and Fat Man that a few of these babies can entirely wipe out a nation; no longer would America be cut by the double edge sword of being called blind for doing nothing or the big bully for actually taking action. But this alone would not work. We would then need to implement the second part of my plan, Propranolol, the “miracle drug,” that can virtually erase Darfur from our memories.
Thus I humbly recommend it to international contemplation that of the one hundred and ninety two countries that are UN members, only America, Great Britain, France, and Germany actually drop the bombs on Sudan (especially the region of Darfur), Chad, and only a few more neighboring countries because to overkill is unnecessary and just mean (I would have included Iraq as a bomber too, but as it turns out they did not have any weapons of mass destruction in their possession after all). No fretting of nuclear Holocaust or mass murder or genocide conquered by genocide will be of consequence because as long as all the countries’ governments enforce its citizens to take Propranolol without exception, then no one will remember that this region of Africa ever existed. And even if a few petty people are missed, these individuals would quickly be dismissed because the majority of people will not even know what Darfur even was.
Critics may see the use of Propranolol as an ethical issue, but I ask who wants to remember? Who wants to have to care for these helpless people at the cost of overwhelming criticism for not dealing with the more important issues of the economy, the wars in the Middle East, and Swine Flu? Who wants to remember the unbearable truth that after the Holocaust, Cambodia, Sierra Leone, and Rwanda we have yet again failed to uphold Never Again? Who wants to remember the maimed and malnourished children looking at us with their bulging brown eyes or the devastated mothers’ shrieks of pain that cry out exactly how she lost her will to live?
No one.
And so the benefits are obvious. First, that battle-zone region in Africa will be solved for there will be nothing left and therefore nothing to worry about.
Secondly, with the erasure of the genocide in Darfur from our memories, we can focus more clearly at the real problems at hand, like Swine Flu.
Thirdly, because nothing will be left in Sudan, we can use that area as a universal weapons of mass destruction testing site (UWMDTS), so as to no longer be bothered by the question of who possesses nuclear weapons; it will be out in the open.
Fourthly, we can finally truly live by “ignorance is bliss.” We will not have to be burdened by another genocide we failed to stop. No more nightmares or guilty consciences.
Many other advantages might be enumerated. This event will dodge history because no one will be able to recall a Sudan, a Darfur, or the genocide that took place. By this, we have a new chance to possibly make things right in this post WWII era after only five or so tries as opposed to six or so. Never again can mean something again because the next time signs of genocide begin to reveal itself, we will have had time to solve our other problems and therefore be able to have a full effort at ceasing another genocide because we will be better off.
My mind can think of not a single opposition that will possibly be raised against this proposition, unless it is made aware of that, by some anomaly, the Propranolol does not serve its purpose, and that we will remember what we have done to stop the genocide. If such a miscalculation should occur, then all I can say is this: At least it will be over. It is not just to allow such destruction to occur in Darfur now, from the ravished homes to the massacred families at the hands of the Janjaweed. At least with the bombings, the pain and suffering will be vanquished in a single day, not drawn out over years as it has already been. Besides, which guilt is worse, that of not doing enough and watching the endless suffering? Or acting in a Machiavellian manner to end the genocide in the most beneficial way? Therefore let no human being talk to me of alternatives: of having more awareness programs to expose the truth of Darfur: of raising money to help the displaced families have enough to at least sustain themselves: of sending more humanitarian aid with the backing of the United Nations: of sending troops to fight the Janjaweed and protect the victims and end the war: of condemning the Sudanese government as guilty of genocide and punishing them for what they have done: of having an international movement to intervene instead of relying solely on America to take the first big step: of providing resources through organizations such as the Heifer Organization in an attempt to replenish the country of livestock and a means of agriculture: of requiring elementary schools, high schools, and colleges to teach its students of what is happening, so that no Freshman will ask ever ask what is Darfur?: of at least somehow rescuing the children from the gruesome reality that killed their family and currently kills their childhood spirit: of creating more innovations like the solar cooker to establish jobs and a better means for the adult survivors so that they can provide for themselves, their family, and their community: of having more articles, books, political cartoons, movies, and documentaries on the genocide in Darfur to shock the world into action: of bringing survivors to America to tell their story of survival and why this needs to be prioritized. Lastly, of realizing that even if we do not feel the imperativeness of upholding our promise of never again in memory of the millions who died in the Holocaust alone, then to at least realize that we are all human beings who for the sake of humanity know that genocide must be stopped.
Therefore I reiterate, let no human being talk to me of these and the like alternatives, until he/she hath at least some honest motivation to bring these dead words to life.
I admit, with all sincerity, that I possess no other motive than the public good of the world, having only the desire to relieve our burden of needing to intervene, to concentrate on the real issues, to have no more fears of who has what, and to live in bliss. Anyway, this proposition, my very words, will not be remembered for they will be glued to the bombs in pieces, and destroyed on the day they drop which will be appropriately be named “Piece Day” in just a slight honor of my unselfish brilliance.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Brave New World
“In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us,” (Neil Postman).
Today’s society is flooded with advanced technology capable of the most groundbreaking science, from stem cells to finding cures for such diseases as Alzheimer’s. However, this technology is not only in the medical sciences; it extends to entertainment purposes as well, like videogames, iPods, iPhones, MP3 players, and more. Many would consider these examples of things that pleasure us, of things we find convenient and fun. But how far will this go? It is by this question that Aldous Huxley’s vision of the future in his book Brave New World is relevant to today.
Huxley believes that it is people who will bring about their own demise through ideologies of practicality and emotional satisfaction. An example in Brave New World that is controversial to modern science now is the idea of cloning. While today it is illegal to clone human beings, in Huxley’s vision of the future scientists can clone up to 96 identical twins at a time. While this may seem morally absurd, is it not also questionable the idea that today we can choose specific traits of our children, like gender and eye and hair color? Other similarities between today and Huxley’s Brave New World can be found between videogames and orgy porgies and feelies, along with ideas in drugs such as one known as, Inderal, which focuses on trying to alter one’s long term memories and the soma escape from reality. As described in Brave New World, orgy porgies and feelies are emotional and sexual outlets that those in this society can turn to for such release. There are videogames very much like this, such as the Grand Theft Auto series. Gamers are free to play their character as a reckless murderer, and they can even hire prostitutes. This is the very opposite of George Orwell’s 1984.
Neil Postman, a social critic, argues that Orwell’s vision of the future is not as relevant to today as Huxley’s. I agree with Postman because of the way that society is shifting. Society’s politics are shifting to the left, toward a more liberal and democratic view, distancing itself from the conservative right side of the spectrum. In 1984, the opposite happens; there is total oppression in the form of the tyrant Big Brother. Today’s break from past tradition has led to some radical changes, like contemporary artists’ ideas of Piss Christ and chocolate Virgin Marys being art. This break from past moral restrictions can be viewed as leaning toward Huxley’s virtually amoral World State society in Brave New World.
Today’s society is flooded with advanced technology capable of the most groundbreaking science, from stem cells to finding cures for such diseases as Alzheimer’s. However, this technology is not only in the medical sciences; it extends to entertainment purposes as well, like videogames, iPods, iPhones, MP3 players, and more. Many would consider these examples of things that pleasure us, of things we find convenient and fun. But how far will this go? It is by this question that Aldous Huxley’s vision of the future in his book Brave New World is relevant to today.
Huxley believes that it is people who will bring about their own demise through ideologies of practicality and emotional satisfaction. An example in Brave New World that is controversial to modern science now is the idea of cloning. While today it is illegal to clone human beings, in Huxley’s vision of the future scientists can clone up to 96 identical twins at a time. While this may seem morally absurd, is it not also questionable the idea that today we can choose specific traits of our children, like gender and eye and hair color? Other similarities between today and Huxley’s Brave New World can be found between videogames and orgy porgies and feelies, along with ideas in drugs such as one known as, Inderal, which focuses on trying to alter one’s long term memories and the soma escape from reality. As described in Brave New World, orgy porgies and feelies are emotional and sexual outlets that those in this society can turn to for such release. There are videogames very much like this, such as the Grand Theft Auto series. Gamers are free to play their character as a reckless murderer, and they can even hire prostitutes. This is the very opposite of George Orwell’s 1984.
Neil Postman, a social critic, argues that Orwell’s vision of the future is not as relevant to today as Huxley’s. I agree with Postman because of the way that society is shifting. Society’s politics are shifting to the left, toward a more liberal and democratic view, distancing itself from the conservative right side of the spectrum. In 1984, the opposite happens; there is total oppression in the form of the tyrant Big Brother. Today’s break from past tradition has led to some radical changes, like contemporary artists’ ideas of Piss Christ and chocolate Virgin Marys being art. This break from past moral restrictions can be viewed as leaning toward Huxley’s virtually amoral World State society in Brave New World.
Friday, January 16, 2009
"Frankie K's" Idea
Often times, students’ artwork greets anyone walking through the front doors of High Point. While some students pass by without a care, others see the photos or pencil drawings or paintings and openly express a smile and sometimes even contribute to the scattered compliments that can be heard if one listens. This positive reaction to art should not be limited to just the art wing or entrance of the school or the small glass display in the cafeteria, but also to the halls beyond.
Like many institutions, the walls of High Point’s hallways are typically strewn with bulletin boards filled with some informational flyers. Occasional variations in color can be thanked to the beige, grey, and red lockers. The numbered doors lead the masses of traffic to their designated classes. School is an institution, but that does not mean that it should have to feel institutional. By spreading students’ art throughout the halls, students, teachers, and visitors alike can find an appreciation for the hard work and collaborative as well as individual efforts of the student body.
As long as the artwork exhibits high quality, it can be that of any student, not only to those currently taking an art class. After being approved by possibly a group of teachers who can delegate which pieces are appropriate, the student and teachers can together decide on a place to exhibit his/her work. Depending on how many students would take part in this along with whether or not students would want their work returned to them, a system can be planned in which after a certain amount of time, like a few weeks, the art would be brought down and replaced by another. Maybe some pieces could be made permanent with the permission of the student and approval of the school.
The spreading out of this artwork can help transform High Point from being just another institution to a place where a gathering of young adults’ thoughts and feelings are expressed through their creative talents. The displaying of students’ artwork can not only bring a sense of appreciation to its viewers, but also other emotions such as hope, motivation, or just a feeling of connection with the piece. If this idea should someday be met, then hopefully the pride of the students and teachers along with the appreciation of other viewers can go beyond the halls and out into the hearts and memories of all those involved.
Like many institutions, the walls of High Point’s hallways are typically strewn with bulletin boards filled with some informational flyers. Occasional variations in color can be thanked to the beige, grey, and red lockers. The numbered doors lead the masses of traffic to their designated classes. School is an institution, but that does not mean that it should have to feel institutional. By spreading students’ art throughout the halls, students, teachers, and visitors alike can find an appreciation for the hard work and collaborative as well as individual efforts of the student body.
As long as the artwork exhibits high quality, it can be that of any student, not only to those currently taking an art class. After being approved by possibly a group of teachers who can delegate which pieces are appropriate, the student and teachers can together decide on a place to exhibit his/her work. Depending on how many students would take part in this along with whether or not students would want their work returned to them, a system can be planned in which after a certain amount of time, like a few weeks, the art would be brought down and replaced by another. Maybe some pieces could be made permanent with the permission of the student and approval of the school.
The spreading out of this artwork can help transform High Point from being just another institution to a place where a gathering of young adults’ thoughts and feelings are expressed through their creative talents. The displaying of students’ artwork can not only bring a sense of appreciation to its viewers, but also other emotions such as hope, motivation, or just a feeling of connection with the piece. If this idea should someday be met, then hopefully the pride of the students and teachers along with the appreciation of other viewers can go beyond the halls and out into the hearts and memories of all those involved.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Home Field
Fourth and two completions to go. Zach, Ryan, and Kris need a touchdown here from forty yards out. They can punt it off, but that’s not really an option in their games.
“Zach, I can get it on the post,” Kris says with absolute confidence.
“Ok,” Zach replies, already knowing that, we’re screwed anyway.
The three of them line up, Kris to the left, Zach as quarterback, and Ryan to the right.
“Hike.”
While Ryan runs a short pattern, Kris heads deep for it all. Zach surveys the field, and in a desperate attempt wails the football for the endzone. It propels through the air, first passing by Devon’s launching body, then through the hands of the five foot ten Dan, and into the diving palms of Kris who claims proudly upon falling:
“I got it! I caught the ball!”
“Zach, I can get it on the post,” Kris says with absolute confidence.
“Ok,” Zach replies, already knowing that, we’re screwed anyway.
The three of them line up, Kris to the left, Zach as quarterback, and Ryan to the right.
“Hike.”
While Ryan runs a short pattern, Kris heads deep for it all. Zach surveys the field, and in a desperate attempt wails the football for the endzone. It propels through the air, first passing by Devon’s launching body, then through the hands of the five foot ten Dan, and into the diving palms of Kris who claims proudly upon falling:
“I got it! I caught the ball!”
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The Things They Carried passage
It's now 1990. I'm forty-three years old, which would've seemed impossible to a fourth grader, and yet when I look at photographs of myself as I was in 1956, I realize that in the important ways I haven't changed at all. I was Timmy then; now I'm Tim. But the essence remains the same. I'm not fooled by the baggy pants or the crew cut or the happy smile—I know my own eyes—and there is no doubt that the Timmy smiling at the camera is the Tim I am now. Inside the body, or beyond the body, there is something absolute and unchanging. The human life is all one thing, like a blade tracing loops on ice: a little kid, a twenty-three-year-old infantry sergeant, a middle-aged writer knowing guilt and sorrow. (236)
In this passage, Tim O’Brien states how the essence of an individual remains the same despite all the different stages he/she experiences in a lifetime. He describes how the Timmy he was in the past still lives in the Tim he is known as today. O’Brien acknowledges his own passing phases, “a little kid, a twenty-three-year-old infantry sergeant, a middle-aged writer knowing guilt and sorrow.” While the appearances, actions, and beliefs of O’Brien differ at these points in his life, he recognizes how all of them have an inner being that has always been present.
I agree with O’Brien on how people have an unchanging essence. There are many examples in the story to challenge this belief, such as the transformation of Marry Anne from the chapter called, “Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong” and Rat Kiley’s change from a brave medic to an overwhelmed soldier who has had enough. However, there are also examples that defend O’Brien’s position, like the love Jimmy Cross has for a girl named Martha. Cross loved her since before the war, and even after suffering from the horrors of Vietnam and Martha’s rejection for him, that love for Martha never died. But the problem with using any of these examples is the fact that O’Brien has called The Things They Carried a work of fiction, therefore the “happening-truth” in these examples may or may not have actually occurred. However, the variety of stages in my own life can serve as an example as to why O’Brien’s conviction is indeed true.
I have gone from a giddy child to a silent teen to a nonstop athlete to a faceless poet. Like anyone who has ever lived, there have been times of good and bad. I look different, I speak differently, and I no longer believe in many of the different things I used to, yet I am the same person. My memories are a web of who I was, with its intricate designs coding my existence. That web is still weaving a new pattern, even right now as I type these very words to send out for whoever wishes to see. And while the paths of silk may be completely different in length and shape and direction, in the end, it is still all the same web. As a little kid, I love to draw. As a young teenager with not much to do, I play videogames. As an obsessed athlete, I play whatever sport comes my way. As a seeking poet, I look out at the sleet and see a blurry clarity in its falling ambition. While all these identities are of the past and present, and are so different, they are all one in the essence of who I am and who I’ve always been.
“Inside the body, or beyond the body, there is something absolute and unchanging.” This spirit, soul, or whatever you want to call it, is something people grow and thrive off of. It is a bud of who an individual is and who that individual will always be. Physically and mentally everyone changes, willingly or not, but that inner person in everyone is ever present. If this is not so, then why are there memories? If people could completely change, then they should be able to eliminate their past entirely. But this is impossible because even if one managed to erase his/her identity with the aid of some outside influence, there are still other people in the lives of that individual who can recall their recollection of him/her. As long as there are people to remember who a person was, then the essence of that individual is infinite.
In this passage, Tim O’Brien states how the essence of an individual remains the same despite all the different stages he/she experiences in a lifetime. He describes how the Timmy he was in the past still lives in the Tim he is known as today. O’Brien acknowledges his own passing phases, “a little kid, a twenty-three-year-old infantry sergeant, a middle-aged writer knowing guilt and sorrow.” While the appearances, actions, and beliefs of O’Brien differ at these points in his life, he recognizes how all of them have an inner being that has always been present.
I agree with O’Brien on how people have an unchanging essence. There are many examples in the story to challenge this belief, such as the transformation of Marry Anne from the chapter called, “Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong” and Rat Kiley’s change from a brave medic to an overwhelmed soldier who has had enough. However, there are also examples that defend O’Brien’s position, like the love Jimmy Cross has for a girl named Martha. Cross loved her since before the war, and even after suffering from the horrors of Vietnam and Martha’s rejection for him, that love for Martha never died. But the problem with using any of these examples is the fact that O’Brien has called The Things They Carried a work of fiction, therefore the “happening-truth” in these examples may or may not have actually occurred. However, the variety of stages in my own life can serve as an example as to why O’Brien’s conviction is indeed true.
I have gone from a giddy child to a silent teen to a nonstop athlete to a faceless poet. Like anyone who has ever lived, there have been times of good and bad. I look different, I speak differently, and I no longer believe in many of the different things I used to, yet I am the same person. My memories are a web of who I was, with its intricate designs coding my existence. That web is still weaving a new pattern, even right now as I type these very words to send out for whoever wishes to see. And while the paths of silk may be completely different in length and shape and direction, in the end, it is still all the same web. As a little kid, I love to draw. As a young teenager with not much to do, I play videogames. As an obsessed athlete, I play whatever sport comes my way. As a seeking poet, I look out at the sleet and see a blurry clarity in its falling ambition. While all these identities are of the past and present, and are so different, they are all one in the essence of who I am and who I’ve always been.
“Inside the body, or beyond the body, there is something absolute and unchanging.” This spirit, soul, or whatever you want to call it, is something people grow and thrive off of. It is a bud of who an individual is and who that individual will always be. Physically and mentally everyone changes, willingly or not, but that inner person in everyone is ever present. If this is not so, then why are there memories? If people could completely change, then they should be able to eliminate their past entirely. But this is impossible because even if one managed to erase his/her identity with the aid of some outside influence, there are still other people in the lives of that individual who can recall their recollection of him/her. As long as there are people to remember who a person was, then the essence of that individual is infinite.
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