Tuesday, February 28, 2012
To Boldly Go
Albert Einstein once asserted: “Information is not knowledge.” This relationship with commonly accepted truths and stagnation exemplifies the need for constant, unending inquiry. The minute that we assume that something is correct, we place our trust in others and yield to inactivity. Almost everything that once was, has now been disproven through the constant progression of the human mind. If we accept current knowledge as an absolute, unchanging certainty, then complacency will soon give way to ignorance. The use of memory will almost always lead to mental lethargy. Personal experience can likewise lead to incomplete understandings. Early observers of the Sun, watched as it appeared to move from east to west each day, and assumed that the Sun revolved around the Earth. Others would later prove that the Sun was the center of our Solar System. However, even this information should not be acknowledged as absolute either, or else humans would fall prey to the same naïve mindset as those in the Middle Ages. There was a time when Rome was the central religious and political authority in the West, based on the assumption that there was one Catholic God. At another point in time, Karl Marx was revered as a prophet and the foremost authority in history, economics, and politics. Freud's landmark discoveries were once thought of as undeniable elements in modern psychology. All of these facets of the human experience have been denounced or disproved at one time or another. Knowledge represents a ever-changing, adaptive process of applying the mind to the unsolvable mysteries that abound in the universe. The answers and solutions, the mere information, will never remain constant, or endure for very long. To challenge one's own memory and personal experience is where true progress lies. A process that seems at once counter-productive and counter-intuitive, will only enable the mind to venture into unknown territory and discover true potential and possibility. The thirst for these unobtainable truths, however, will always prompt humans to further examine and analyze the enigmas that surround them.
Monday, February 27, 2012
To the Right
“Many people have observed that truth is stranger than fiction. This has led some intellectuals to conclude that it's stranger than non-fiction as well.” - Brad Holland
Often times the evidence used to substantiate a work of fictional writing is the same as that which is used to substantiate a work of non-fictional writing, though we do not often recognize it. In creating a work of fiction we use the same skills of deduction and observation as we do in creating a work of non-fiction. The best forms of creative writing use the elemental truths that are universally discernible. Good non-fiction writing utilizes the same faculties. Readers should be able to identify with a strong sense of logic or emotion or believability in any form of composition. Generally the difference between these two camps of writing stems from the requirement, or lack thereof, to cite the sources of information and inspiration that catalyze the work. Even for some forms of non-fiction citing sources becomes unnecessary. Reflexive and personal writing, for example, do not face the same level of criticism, with regard to legitimacy, as academic and scholarly writing. If a work is personal or reflexive, the most important audience is obviously the writer, who mostly likely doesn't mistrust his own judgment or memory. However, this is not always the case. Conversely, some creative forms of writing require adequate citations. Creative non-fiction, such as Truman Capote's revolutionary work In Cold Blood, falls into this category. For these types of writing, journals, news organizations, encyclopedias, and reputable sources normally lend compositions some measure of merit. Ultimately, anything that propels an author or poet to set pen to paper, or finger to key, falls under the category as evidence. It seems strange to me that some sources for such work are considered more acceptable than others, when everything that is or could be derives from the same place: the mind. It is up to the audience to connect to a work and give it the popularity and appreciation that owes to a certain air of timelessness.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
The Human's Dilemma
“Anger Against Beasts” - (1971) Wendell Berry
“The hook of adrenalin shoves
into the blood. Man's will,
long schooled to kill or have
its way, would drive the beast
against nature, transcend
the impossible in simple fury.
The blow falls like a dead seed.
It is defeat, for beasts
do not pardon, but heal or die
in the absence of the past.
The blow survives in the man.
His triumph is a wound. Spent,
he must wait the slow
unalterable forgiveness of time.”
A pioneer in environmental awareness and writing, a farmer, and poet, Wendell Berry has been the inspiration for some of the most prolific writers in the 21st Century. Revered and beloved, his work and his example have great meaning to me. The first time I read this poem tears welled in my eyes and I knew that I would always appreciate his work. The beauty of his work, and this poem in particular, comes from the conciseness of the verse, and the unmasked quality of the sentiments expressed. Berry is unafraid to convey the severe, harsh reality of life, and the human's relationship to other living things, amidst all this biological confusion. His line breaks emphasize this constructed brevity, as they lend to an attractive rhythm that smoothly carries his words throughout the poem. Without seeming elementary or trite, Berry also uses subtle repetition and rhyme to reinforce his theme and tone. “Man's will” and the phrase “schooled to kill” obviously rhyme, but are placed in a way to make the meaning of the words superior to the sound of the words. Another was Berry uses rhyme in an unobtrusive way, is through the use of slant rhymes. Words like “seed,” defeat,” and “beasts” follow one another to establish a sort of movement or flow within the text, without overpowering the significance of the words themselves. Berry also uses repetition to accentuate the more important images of the poem. “Man,” “beast,” and “the blow” are used multiple times to pronounce the major players and events in this narrative. Ultimately, the violence used against beast reflexively harms man in the process. Berry underscores the sense of guilt all good men should feel in using aggression against an innocent being.
The Perfect Human
Communal memory and experience are often dictated by those with the power, intelligence, or popularity to establish cultural norms, values, and ideologies. These same people make imperative decisions for the community regarding action and opinion. Ironically, the opposite occurs as well. Such is the case with politicians. Those in the GOP are expected adhere to a certain absurd ideology, because the public expects a certain rhetoric. Conversely, popular politicians and varying prominent figures in society can also determine what is normal and what ideologies and values are important to the culture that surrounds them. Both the use and creation of memory are unethical and yet necessary, to an extent. To use memory is to make assumptions regarding the past, most of which have been swayed by emotion, preference, or the power of others. To create memory is to imbue others with a false sense of self or community. Both are unavoidable and natural within daily life and society. Meville Herskovits recognizes the relationship between these cultural characteristics and a conformed memory of history and experience that sways a collective perception of materiality. According to Herskovits, African culture, as examined through the Western sieve, is morally bankrupt and ideologically backward. However, those same Africans being judged through by the Western mentality, in turn judge Western culture with the same harsh criticisms. Herskovits asserts that all cultural values are gathered and assimilated through “the group into which [we are] born.” Ultimately, absolute values become “intangibles.” The same holds true in the arguments expressed by Elizabeth Loftus. Translated to a more intimate level, Loftus proves that memory is a subjective construct of the world around us. As the environment changes, so to does our perception of the events. This relates to a quote from Seinfeld that has been featured lately within the media, “It's not a lie, if you believe it's true.” Taken out of it's comedic context, the quote honestly conveys what Loftus has been asserting throughout her career. Through various experiments and in-depth research, Loftus has shown that people can be made to remember events that did not occur. This demonstrates the overall nature of memory, especially within the confines of a community. Via the influence of others and a cultural environment, memory can manipulate and be manipulated. This action can neither be ethical nor unethical in and of itself, but rather becomes unethical depending on the circumstances and means by which memory is being manipulated. Often this accumulation of shared memory or understandings, gives meaning and definition to specific societies and geographic entities. The separation and development of shared cultural memory and experience has led to both conflict and unity. Despite the many horrors and complexities of it's existence and operation, cultural memory is synonymous to the human experience.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
A Disheartening Reflection
It's been a while since I have taken an in-class essay exam. To be sure, last semester I took several “essay” exams, however, the questions were released beforehand and the professor encouraged the use of the lecture formatting and material for the essay structure and content. Most of the work required little analysis or original thought. I must admit I was thrown by the questions that I saw. Many of the questions made sweeping generalizations or covered too much of the text to be effective for in-class essay writing. However, instead of simply working with what I was given, my stubbornness gave way to doubt. I found myself second guessing decisions that would have normally required little thought. This indecisiveness ate up most of my time. Now that I am out of the swing of fast-paced writing the strains and confines of such composition seem much more difficult. Practice could have definitely improved my chances of finishing both essays on time. The early hour of the class also seemed to be a hindrance to my abilities. Having stayed up to past 3:00 AM in the morning that day, I was ill equipped to face the daunting task of writing two cogent essays in such a limited time period. The one essay that I did complete was fairly sparse and disorganized. Although a certain quality of imperfection is to be expected in timed writing, I don't know how my essay fared in relation to expectations. The whole experience flew by in a blur of exhaustion and a sense of urgency. In fact, I have no idea how well I did on the exam, because I remember very little of it. I did have time to briefly outline a second essay before time was called. Mostly I think my writing suffered from my crippling insomnia, and a time consuming self-doubt. Extra preparation would have certainly sharpened my timed writing skills. Also, retaining a positive, yet pragmatic mentality can really make the difference between an incomplete essay and a satisfactory product.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Monocultures and Exercises in Objectivity
Shared understandings, especially with respect to culture, can be very deceiving, not to mention very dangerous, as evidenced by "If Hitler Asked You to Electrocute a Stanger, Would You?" "Cultural Relativism and Cultural Values" and "The Challenge of Cultural Relativism." Despite the fact that these three articles are often in conflict with one another, all three admit that cultural diversity exists, and that no one culture can definitively decide what is ethical for all people in every situation. This is an important relevation to keep in mind, notably with those matters that pertain to foreign affairs and this contemporary concept of "globalization." Shared understandings give the impression of paternalism and superiority, particularly with regard to dissenting opinions. For example, most Americans are of the opinion that democracy is the best, most effective form of government, and belief in this ideology generally dictates how the United States' government interacts with other nations. Often, the United States has engaged in warfare and conflict with nations of differing ideologies. However, the US doesn't engage in warfare with every country that doesn't employ the democratic system. Who makes the distinction as to what nation needs to be democratized more than others? Disregarding other political motives than purely the desire to democratize a nation, what made Iraq a more imperative front than North Korea? Both nations had the capacity to do great harm, and the citizens of both nations "needed" democracy as much as the other; in fact, the case can be made that North Korean citizens have been living in a greater magnitude of oppression than those citizens under Sudam Hussein's regime. This inconsistency illuminates how arbitrary or "banal," as Hannah Arendt would say, these culturally relevant decisions truly are. All culturally relevant decisions (some might argue that every decision is relevant to culture) are relative to the time and place in which they occur, as James Rachels would argue. Just because Nazis found it ethical to systematically kill millions of Jews, Gypsies, Homosexuals, and other minorities, within that culture at that point in time, does not make it, in any way or capacity, ethical. In fact, whenever there is a common understanding in a culture, that should be the time to reexamine and disect why exactly a majority of the people of a specific culture believe what they do.
This applies directly to writing as well. It is not enough to assert something without the evidence, and we cannot assume that the audience will possess the same shared understandings. To simply say something within a vacuum is fine, however, if you want to convince anyone of anything, or hold any amount of credibility, you must support your claims through the use of logos, ethos, and even pathos. A writer must also take into account the opposing viewpoint. Without examining what others believe and assert, you may be missing the opportunity to connect to or counterbalance domineering ideologies. Also, the complete refusal to acknowledge that another side or option exists can seem ignorant or stubborn to readers. No matter what circumstance, these ideas should be considered while writing. Whether it be during a timed exam or a master's dissertation, evidence and perspective should always be present within the prose.
This applies directly to writing as well. It is not enough to assert something without the evidence, and we cannot assume that the audience will possess the same shared understandings. To simply say something within a vacuum is fine, however, if you want to convince anyone of anything, or hold any amount of credibility, you must support your claims through the use of logos, ethos, and even pathos. A writer must also take into account the opposing viewpoint. Without examining what others believe and assert, you may be missing the opportunity to connect to or counterbalance domineering ideologies. Also, the complete refusal to acknowledge that another side or option exists can seem ignorant or stubborn to readers. No matter what circumstance, these ideas should be considered while writing. Whether it be during a timed exam or a master's dissertation, evidence and perspective should always be present within the prose.
The Still of The Night
"Rooms" - (2011) Brian Henry
"There are rooms that know you, rooms you know
& can name, rooms that rise & stutter
into view if you stare long enough.
Rooms where nothing happened
but in your head, where the world went on
apart from you, you trying to rise to it.
Rooms with walls of white blocks,
one window, the only sound the bang
bang banging of the headboard
against the wall, your bed still.
The room where the bed fell on you,
the room where the hand going down
was not your own, the groping tongue
the proof. The room you talked your way
out of, four men of monosyllables,
thick arms & necks flushed pink,
closing in, emptying the air between.
The room where you were walked in on,
the room where you were the walker,
both times the last time in that room.
The room with no door, a woman
across the threshold, you crawling to her,
over her to the bathroom to press your cheek
against the white, your name
an indictment among the stalls.
The room the sun never touched,
the sound of cars dropping you to sleep,
your pupils large & hungry for light."
While cruising the electronic byways of poetryfoundation.org, I came across this little gem. It struck me straight away as being indicative of the human experience. It was subtly reminiscent of the illusion of reality, memory, and the falsehood of imaginative processes. I momentarily hesitated to share this poem, due to its violent accuracy with which it portrays a wandering and wanton mind. After some quick research into the author, however, I decided it would be appropriate. Apparently, Brian Henry lives in Richmond, Virginia of all places, and teaches at the University of Richmond no less. He's a translator, professor, poet, and critic whose work has been published internationally. I find the fact that he currently works at a university central to this poem, especially a university in Richmond. Published in 2011, this poem seems to draw inspiration from the contagious environment of student life and the Richmond area. There is a palpable, urban quality to this poem, that would seem to relate to the Richmond area. The cold and salacious sexual allusions, the “walls of white blocks,” with “one window,” the “indictment among the stalls,” “the room the sun never touched,” “the sound of cars,” all seem evocative of a certain industrial and indifferent setting. I frequently find myself writing work that is very similar in style while located in Richmond. There is a unique disconnection and disunity of man and nature within city limits. There is a sort of Kafkaesque ambience in the poem, and also in Richmond. Many of the same themes are brought up in “Rooms” as are in “The Metamorphosis.” Isolation and apathy seem to go hand in hand with the fast-paced, career-oriented lifestyles of cities. There is a kind of population paradox that occurs, where the more people who live in a limited space, the less intimate and inclusive human relations become. The incessant contact with the obscene, the absurd, and the tragic also seems to dominate the content of artists enclosed in such cities. Writing can often serve as an outlet to identify and examine the psychological impact of living in such urban decay, and that's why I chose not to shy away from this poem. I think it is something that is identifiable and cathartic to all people who live in such tight quarters, and is, therefore, invaluable as a work of art.
"There are rooms that know you, rooms you know
& can name, rooms that rise & stutter
into view if you stare long enough.
Rooms where nothing happened
but in your head, where the world went on
apart from you, you trying to rise to it.
Rooms with walls of white blocks,
one window, the only sound the bang
bang banging of the headboard
against the wall, your bed still.
The room where the bed fell on you,
the room where the hand going down
was not your own, the groping tongue
the proof. The room you talked your way
out of, four men of monosyllables,
thick arms & necks flushed pink,
closing in, emptying the air between.
The room where you were walked in on,
the room where you were the walker,
both times the last time in that room.
The room with no door, a woman
across the threshold, you crawling to her,
over her to the bathroom to press your cheek
against the white, your name
an indictment among the stalls.
The room the sun never touched,
the sound of cars dropping you to sleep,
your pupils large & hungry for light."
While cruising the electronic byways of poetryfoundation.org, I came across this little gem. It struck me straight away as being indicative of the human experience. It was subtly reminiscent of the illusion of reality, memory, and the falsehood of imaginative processes. I momentarily hesitated to share this poem, due to its violent accuracy with which it portrays a wandering and wanton mind. After some quick research into the author, however, I decided it would be appropriate. Apparently, Brian Henry lives in Richmond, Virginia of all places, and teaches at the University of Richmond no less. He's a translator, professor, poet, and critic whose work has been published internationally. I find the fact that he currently works at a university central to this poem, especially a university in Richmond. Published in 2011, this poem seems to draw inspiration from the contagious environment of student life and the Richmond area. There is a palpable, urban quality to this poem, that would seem to relate to the Richmond area. The cold and salacious sexual allusions, the “walls of white blocks,” with “one window,” the “indictment among the stalls,” “the room the sun never touched,” “the sound of cars,” all seem evocative of a certain industrial and indifferent setting. I frequently find myself writing work that is very similar in style while located in Richmond. There is a unique disconnection and disunity of man and nature within city limits. There is a sort of Kafkaesque ambience in the poem, and also in Richmond. Many of the same themes are brought up in “Rooms” as are in “The Metamorphosis.” Isolation and apathy seem to go hand in hand with the fast-paced, career-oriented lifestyles of cities.
Both Sides Now
Does Rick Deckard benefit or suffer from his commitment to his profession in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Use evidence to support your argument.
Rick Deckard's career plays an integral part in his life, especially on the particular day that the novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? takes place. As a bounty hunter, Rick has the opportunity to move up the social ladder and secure some mental stability within the course of the day. His quest for the American dream leads him on a difficult path, and audiences are left wondering whether he would have been better off declining to do the task his boss had assigned him. Rick Deckard's commitment to his career and a lifestyle centered around capital, damaged him physically, but improved him emotionally, which is more significant in the context of the novel.
Physically whole, and brimming with the confidence and ambition of a healthy, normal man, Rick Deckard was ready to take on any task in order to achieve a greater social status. Deckard was so obsessed with this goal that he was willing to chance almost certain death to achieve it. Despite finally accomplishing his set goal, and earning 8,000 credits, Rick Deckard finishes his day in a worse physical state than he had started it. With regard to his body, he cuts his ear, becomes exhausted to the point of malfunction, and suffers a blow to the groin which could potentially ruin all hopes he had for procreating (pages 179, 231, 243). In many ways, Rick Deckard lost his manhood as he was toyed with and controlled by a femme fatale android, and possibly becames sterile by the book's end (pages 202, 231). In addition to the significant damage to his physical frame, he also takes on vast economic losses. Rick Deckard buys a goat on credit, in order to assert his social standing (page 169). Not only does he spend his total earnings of the day on a class symbol, but he also amasses a huge amount of debt (page 170). Before the day ends, the goat is brutally and vengefully killed, which leaves Rick in severe debt with nothing to show for it (page 226). While Rick starts the day with one electric animal, and ends the day with two, they both represent something that is reprehensible to society and adverse to Rick's initial aspirations. A capitalistic or a positivist might look at this situation and say that Rick fell prey to hubris, leaving him worse for the wear by the novel's end. Other aspects of Rick's life, however, seem to improve through these worsening of conditions, which merit careful examination.
Material wealth dominated Rick Deckard's whole mindset, and defined what it meant to be successful in life. If he retained this weltanschauung, undoubtedly scholars would say that Rick turned out to be a failure by the end of the novel. Even after the exhaustion, an identity crisis, and a moral reevaluation of his life he still seems contented as the novel concludes. In fact, a case could be made that he is more contented when he returns home than when he left it the morning earlier. Before he went to work at the beginning of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? he felt imprisoned in a hopeless, loveless marriage (page 94). Rick is also discouraged by every facet in his life, his job, his home, his property, and even himself (pages 9, 13). Even after he discovers that his prized toad is fake, he still finds happiness and satisfaction. When, in the last chapter, his wife “kissed him... his face lit up, almost as much as before—before she had shown him that the toad was electric,” (page 242). This represents an astounding transformation, as Rick Deckard can find happiness in his life despite the emotional trauma and economic ruin that befell him, especially when he was dissatisfied with his life in the midst of former stability. He also gains miraculous insight into the ideology of Mercer, as he endures taxing trials and learns the true meaning of empathy through his journey (pages 174, 231). The fact that he can feel fulfilled in these circumstances leaves him richer by the end of the novel than at the beginning.
While Rick Deckard suffers supreme physical and material loses through the course of the novel, he develops a more mature understanding of himself and the world that allows him to appreciate his own reality. Ultimately, the change from discontent to newfound gratitude outweighs any financial or corporeal loss Rick Deckard sustained.
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