Technology hasn't made children any more or less intelligent.
It's just made them older, regardless of their number of years.
My 11 year-old nephew knows more about the world than I did at 15.
Information is as close as a few clicks to children, and as a result of more available information, more is now required earlier and earlier.
Technological innovation has shifted the type of intelligence desired by employers, which is and has always been the determining factor in education.
The whole education system is not designed to build creative, critical thinkers who are constantly taking in new information and sifting through it using finely tuned analytical skills.
The system is designed to create worker bees who might have a hobby or two outside the hive.
Thus we have older adults going through midlife crises when their status as worker bee finally becomes obvious, younger adults refusing to become worker bees and thus being accused of letting the country go down the toilet, teens dropping like flies under the pressure to have their entire lives planned out by age 16 (at the extreme latest), and children already hating school because they know what's coming.
All of this is simply the result of a flawed system finally being exposed for what it is, and (thanks to technology) that exposure being put on display to millions who don't want to end up like their parents.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Afraid to Leave the House...because of the gays?
Recently heard about a mother of 7 in Massachusetts who is afraid to leave her house or let her children play outside because gay people are out there.
Massachusetts is one of the states which has formally recognized gay marriage, FYI.
Essentially, this woman complains that because she votes and pays her taxes, she should have the ability to influence her community as she sees fit.
Only problem with that logic is the gays in the neighborhood ALSO vote and pay taxes, so whose "as I see fit" gets more weight?
The whole situation basically falls to a simple statement:
Older people who grew up with a specific paradigm of the status quo cannot and will not admit that the status quo has changed.
This has been the case since the dawn of humanity, whether it's the old man who preferred being cold because a young man discovered fire or the old man who thinks only a man and a woman should be able to marry or have any romantic relationship whatsoever because a young man decided to be honest with himself and find a nice boyfriend.
As has also always been the case, there are exceptions to the above ageistic blanket statement.
There were old men more than willing to learn how to make fire.
There were young men who thought the stubborn old men knew better than the idealistic young man with his talk of cooked meat and a warmer cave in winter.
Ian McKellen is 72, yet openly professes his self-awareness and self-honesty.
However, for the seeming majority, the only solution is to complain and complain and try to violate others' rights and get in the way of the evolution of human society.
At least until they die out.
Which the old bigots will, and their children and grandchildren will be raised on a paradigm of the status quo different from them, just as the bigots were raised on a different paradigm than THEIR parents and grandparents.
And the beat goes on...
Massachusetts is one of the states which has formally recognized gay marriage, FYI.
Essentially, this woman complains that because she votes and pays her taxes, she should have the ability to influence her community as she sees fit.
Only problem with that logic is the gays in the neighborhood ALSO vote and pay taxes, so whose "as I see fit" gets more weight?
The whole situation basically falls to a simple statement:
Older people who grew up with a specific paradigm of the status quo cannot and will not admit that the status quo has changed.
This has been the case since the dawn of humanity, whether it's the old man who preferred being cold because a young man discovered fire or the old man who thinks only a man and a woman should be able to marry or have any romantic relationship whatsoever because a young man decided to be honest with himself and find a nice boyfriend.
As has also always been the case, there are exceptions to the above ageistic blanket statement.
There were old men more than willing to learn how to make fire.
There were young men who thought the stubborn old men knew better than the idealistic young man with his talk of cooked meat and a warmer cave in winter.
Ian McKellen is 72, yet openly professes his self-awareness and self-honesty.
However, for the seeming majority, the only solution is to complain and complain and try to violate others' rights and get in the way of the evolution of human society.
At least until they die out.
Which the old bigots will, and their children and grandchildren will be raised on a paradigm of the status quo different from them, just as the bigots were raised on a different paradigm than THEIR parents and grandparents.
And the beat goes on...
Friday, September 16, 2011
Attraction
“Yo dude! Come join the séance, man.” Tweaker waved me over to the circle of couches in OCCC’s main corridor. The late August sun blazed through the massive windows to sear my eyelids as Bobby moved his backpack to make room.
“Welcome to the loser’s circle, the divine nothingness, the black hole of higher education,” said Bobby. I tossed my stuff on the floor.
“Ya’ll talking about us, or O-Trip in general?”
“Hey man, if the brochures are to be believed, we’re one and the same.” Tweaker successfully achieved an even deeper slouch into the recesses of his chair.
“Since when do you pay attention to paperwork? You barely got your application and enrollment done yesterday.” I fished a Reese’s from the depths of my bag. Bobby readjusted his meditation position.
“It is not the moment of an action which gives it meaning, but the will with which it is accomplished. In the end, all we have is the ability to act, and the will to act deliberately.”
“Bleh. Bobby found Buddha this summer. Too bad the fat guy’s just another creation of the wealthy to keep the poor underfoot while they march toward a one-world government.” Tweaker produced a cigarette inhaler from his denim vest, inhaling harder than the recommended usage. He noticed my attention. “This piece of shit is the only thing I can have in my mouth around here. Doesn’t fucking matter that I’ve never smoked a cig in my life.”
“Yeah, but life would be too easy if they made an inhaler shaped like a joint.” I started on my second Reese’s cup. I found myself tempted to ask what Tweaker did with all his free time over the last three months of transition from high school to college, but it seemed redundant given the inhaler protruding from his lips. Bobby bounced out of his reverie and chair.
“So what’s your first class?” he asked from the floor.
“Psych. I’ve heard the prof’s a total bore. Some old guy more obsessed with proving Freud wrong than actually getting his students to learn anything.”
“Total drag, man.” Tweaker hopped out of his chair. “Anybody else bored as all hell?”
“Yeah. Still have an hour before class. Wanna head to the courtyard for a smoke?” I grabbed a pack of menthols from my bag. Bobby hopped up and scooped up his in a single motion.
“I desire to inhale the ecstasy of the universe, but dammit I’ve been craving one of those all day!”
A slight breeze welcomed us onto the dry turf of the courtyard, tiny green weeds pushing up to look grassier than the grass. Bobby and I lit up as Tweaker continued to breathe straight through his inhaler.
“Ya’ll have another one to spare?” A voice behind me made me turn to see a dream come true. A tidal wave of auburn hair cascaded over bare shoulders and a purple tank top which barely contained her anatomy, to say nothing of concealing anything, down to tight jeans and matching purple flip-flops.
“Er…um…yeah, sure.” It took me way too many tries to get another cig from the pack, my hands shaking as she leaned in to take it from my fingers with her teeth after I forgot to move to hand it to her.
“So, you new here?” Her voice flowed like satin on satin. My nose caught her fiery sweet scent on the breeze, blocking out the smoky smell of our cigarettes.
“Uh, yeah. First day.” Yeah, that was eloquent. Keep that up and you’ll be in her pants, comparing tampon brands. She laughed.
“Oh good, mine too. My first class starts in about forty-five minutes.”
“Really? Mine too.” Great, we have as much common ground as two people in the drive-thru at Wendy’s. Bobby, who had materialized on the other side of the courtyard, called over.
“Hey Jeremy, we’re gonna bail. Have to get Tweaker’s books before he forgets again.”
“Okay, see ya’ll later.” I waved to them. Tweaker waved back with a Cheshire grin.
“Good luck, bro! Good hunting!” I knocked the ashes off my cig and took another pull. God, why couldn’t he have just left? I’m about to crap myself as it is. The sound of exhaled cigarette smoke brought me back to the moment.
“So, Jeremy, why are you here? Seems like everybody has a reason for coming to O-Trip.” Her satin-on-satin voice nearly overwhelmed me again.
“I sucked in high school. I want to go to OU and major in psychology, but I can’t until my GPA’s higher.” I kept the cig in my lips, undecided if I should keep my hands in my pockets or rub them together, all in an attempt to stop the shaking.
“Really? I want to switch to OU too. They have great opportunities over there, but for now I’m stuck here.” She took a final pull at her cig, then extinguished it in the dirt. “I’m Rebecca, by the way. What attracts you to psych?” I followed suit.
“I like understanding what makes people tick. Plus I’m interested in the mechanics of attraction.” I couldn’t help but keep eye contact as I spoke. Ah hell, did I just get direct and blunt? All the experts I’ve read said direct equals directly rejected! My anxiety kept me so busy I didn’t hear her response until the second time. “What?”
“I said, I’d like to explore those mechanics with you sometime.” The satin-on-satin danced around in my brain. Rebecca moved so close I could feel her breath on my cheek. The menthol-flavored cig smell made my nose tingle, melding with her natural scent to slam into the pleasure center of my brain like a wrecking ball. “How about dinner tonight?”
Really? Are you serious? I wanted to shout. Reason took over. Play it cool, play it cool. “Sounds great! Uh, let me give you my number.” Two simultaneous phone deployments later, I felt more excited than I had in years, almost too excited to notice Rebecca moving in close again. Her scent overwhelmed me, but this time she didn’t stop moving until our lips had met and parted. She glanced at her watch.
“Oops, my class starts in ten minutes.” She moved toward the doors back inside. “See you tonight, Jeremy!” I waved back like a helpless fool. First day of college and I already have a date! Her words about class took a second to filter through, and I barely made it to Psychology with three minutes to spare.
Chatting with a few acquaintances, I saw the professor enter in my peripheral vision. Given what I’d heard, I didn’t pay him much attention as everyone got their spirals or laptops out to start taking notes. Not until the words “Welcome to Introduction to Psychology” flowed across the room like satin on satin did I notice the tsunami of red hair, the purple tank top, and the tight jeans staring at me from the other side of the podium.
“Welcome to the loser’s circle, the divine nothingness, the black hole of higher education,” said Bobby. I tossed my stuff on the floor.
“Ya’ll talking about us, or O-Trip in general?”
“Hey man, if the brochures are to be believed, we’re one and the same.” Tweaker successfully achieved an even deeper slouch into the recesses of his chair.
“Since when do you pay attention to paperwork? You barely got your application and enrollment done yesterday.” I fished a Reese’s from the depths of my bag. Bobby readjusted his meditation position.
“It is not the moment of an action which gives it meaning, but the will with which it is accomplished. In the end, all we have is the ability to act, and the will to act deliberately.”
“Bleh. Bobby found Buddha this summer. Too bad the fat guy’s just another creation of the wealthy to keep the poor underfoot while they march toward a one-world government.” Tweaker produced a cigarette inhaler from his denim vest, inhaling harder than the recommended usage. He noticed my attention. “This piece of shit is the only thing I can have in my mouth around here. Doesn’t fucking matter that I’ve never smoked a cig in my life.”
“Yeah, but life would be too easy if they made an inhaler shaped like a joint.” I started on my second Reese’s cup. I found myself tempted to ask what Tweaker did with all his free time over the last three months of transition from high school to college, but it seemed redundant given the inhaler protruding from his lips. Bobby bounced out of his reverie and chair.
“So what’s your first class?” he asked from the floor.
“Psych. I’ve heard the prof’s a total bore. Some old guy more obsessed with proving Freud wrong than actually getting his students to learn anything.”
“Total drag, man.” Tweaker hopped out of his chair. “Anybody else bored as all hell?”
“Yeah. Still have an hour before class. Wanna head to the courtyard for a smoke?” I grabbed a pack of menthols from my bag. Bobby hopped up and scooped up his in a single motion.
“I desire to inhale the ecstasy of the universe, but dammit I’ve been craving one of those all day!”
A slight breeze welcomed us onto the dry turf of the courtyard, tiny green weeds pushing up to look grassier than the grass. Bobby and I lit up as Tweaker continued to breathe straight through his inhaler.
“Ya’ll have another one to spare?” A voice behind me made me turn to see a dream come true. A tidal wave of auburn hair cascaded over bare shoulders and a purple tank top which barely contained her anatomy, to say nothing of concealing anything, down to tight jeans and matching purple flip-flops.
“Er…um…yeah, sure.” It took me way too many tries to get another cig from the pack, my hands shaking as she leaned in to take it from my fingers with her teeth after I forgot to move to hand it to her.
“So, you new here?” Her voice flowed like satin on satin. My nose caught her fiery sweet scent on the breeze, blocking out the smoky smell of our cigarettes.
“Uh, yeah. First day.” Yeah, that was eloquent. Keep that up and you’ll be in her pants, comparing tampon brands. She laughed.
“Oh good, mine too. My first class starts in about forty-five minutes.”
“Really? Mine too.” Great, we have as much common ground as two people in the drive-thru at Wendy’s. Bobby, who had materialized on the other side of the courtyard, called over.
“Hey Jeremy, we’re gonna bail. Have to get Tweaker’s books before he forgets again.”
“Okay, see ya’ll later.” I waved to them. Tweaker waved back with a Cheshire grin.
“Good luck, bro! Good hunting!” I knocked the ashes off my cig and took another pull. God, why couldn’t he have just left? I’m about to crap myself as it is. The sound of exhaled cigarette smoke brought me back to the moment.
“So, Jeremy, why are you here? Seems like everybody has a reason for coming to O-Trip.” Her satin-on-satin voice nearly overwhelmed me again.
“I sucked in high school. I want to go to OU and major in psychology, but I can’t until my GPA’s higher.” I kept the cig in my lips, undecided if I should keep my hands in my pockets or rub them together, all in an attempt to stop the shaking.
“Really? I want to switch to OU too. They have great opportunities over there, but for now I’m stuck here.” She took a final pull at her cig, then extinguished it in the dirt. “I’m Rebecca, by the way. What attracts you to psych?” I followed suit.
“I like understanding what makes people tick. Plus I’m interested in the mechanics of attraction.” I couldn’t help but keep eye contact as I spoke. Ah hell, did I just get direct and blunt? All the experts I’ve read said direct equals directly rejected! My anxiety kept me so busy I didn’t hear her response until the second time. “What?”
“I said, I’d like to explore those mechanics with you sometime.” The satin-on-satin danced around in my brain. Rebecca moved so close I could feel her breath on my cheek. The menthol-flavored cig smell made my nose tingle, melding with her natural scent to slam into the pleasure center of my brain like a wrecking ball. “How about dinner tonight?”
Really? Are you serious? I wanted to shout. Reason took over. Play it cool, play it cool. “Sounds great! Uh, let me give you my number.” Two simultaneous phone deployments later, I felt more excited than I had in years, almost too excited to notice Rebecca moving in close again. Her scent overwhelmed me, but this time she didn’t stop moving until our lips had met and parted. She glanced at her watch.
“Oops, my class starts in ten minutes.” She moved toward the doors back inside. “See you tonight, Jeremy!” I waved back like a helpless fool. First day of college and I already have a date! Her words about class took a second to filter through, and I barely made it to Psychology with three minutes to spare.
Chatting with a few acquaintances, I saw the professor enter in my peripheral vision. Given what I’d heard, I didn’t pay him much attention as everyone got their spirals or laptops out to start taking notes. Not until the words “Welcome to Introduction to Psychology” flowed across the room like satin on satin did I notice the tsunami of red hair, the purple tank top, and the tight jeans staring at me from the other side of the podium.
Monday, September 12, 2011
All Sins are Created Equal
Recently got into a discussion of whether or not some sins are worse than others.
In my opinion, the only difference between sins are their eternal vs. temporal consequences.
A man who lusts after a woman who is not his wife might experience ZERO consequences during his lifetime.
Many are able to separate fantasy from reality, and never experience negative consequences in their lives or marriages.
A man who commits murder is far more likely to experience negative consequences in the here and now, whether legal or psychological.
However, both of the above have the exact same eternal consequence: making the offenders unworthy of God's presence.
Similarly, both are equally capable of being covered (and thus blotted out) by God's grace.
It seems legalistic to me to say that some are worse than others when speaking in a spiritual context.
I have no problem with the argument when made in terms of temporal consequences, but using the eternal to make some sins seem worse than others sounds like a Dante's Inferno doctrine, with different sins (handpicked by church people, of course) leading to better or worse punishments in the hereafter.
In my opinion, the only difference between sins are their eternal vs. temporal consequences.
A man who lusts after a woman who is not his wife might experience ZERO consequences during his lifetime.
Many are able to separate fantasy from reality, and never experience negative consequences in their lives or marriages.
A man who commits murder is far more likely to experience negative consequences in the here and now, whether legal or psychological.
However, both of the above have the exact same eternal consequence: making the offenders unworthy of God's presence.
Similarly, both are equally capable of being covered (and thus blotted out) by God's grace.
It seems legalistic to me to say that some are worse than others when speaking in a spiritual context.
I have no problem with the argument when made in terms of temporal consequences, but using the eternal to make some sins seem worse than others sounds like a Dante's Inferno doctrine, with different sins (handpicked by church people, of course) leading to better or worse punishments in the hereafter.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
The Meeting
Lisa sipped her wine. Three months of chatting with “NoteTaker145,” aka “Bobby,” about Star Wars and martial arts and how new music sucks and old TV rocks had led to this moment. She glanced at her left-wristwatch, shifting in the plush leather chair. Guillermo, six feet of adolescent epic masculinity, refilled her wine glass and asked if she was ready to order for the fifteenth time. Lisa waved him off again. Raise that boy’s tip another ten percent. A guitar started up somewhere off in the hazy darkness. Great, Lisa thought, mood music for sitting alone. She nibbled at the lasagna fritta she had hoped to share with her date. A blonde waterfall cascading over a backless dress caught the light from the table lamp. Gina whirled on the arm of her latest man-toy.
“Lisa! Whoever expected to see you here?” She waved using only as much of her hand as she could while still seeming cordial. The guitar strumming grew a little louder.
“Hi, Gina. Just waiting for my date.” Lisa crossed and uncrossed her legs several times over the course of her greeting. The man-toy adjusted his cheap toupee.
“Is he late? Ya know a man’s trying to blow you off when he shows up la-“
“Honey, you’re not here to talk to Lisa.” Gina interrupted, grabbing the bundle of overinflated man-meat and steering him away. “See you later, darling!” She shoved him along back toward their table out in the gloom. Lisa returned to her glass, swirling it around hoping to conjure the frozen image she’d seen so many times during their conversations, his shock of black hair standing on end over eyes the color of the last moments of sunset. His features glimmered into her vision. The lilted tones of virtuoso guitar seemed louder than before.
“Hi! You’re here! I’d been wondering when you’d show up!” she gushed.
“Um, ma’am? I thought you might want to order this time around,” said Guillermo, reaching for his pad and pen. Lisa’s face fell to its usual halfway-cynical expression.
“Ugh. Fine, sure.” As he wandered off with pad holding order and brain holding “MORE WINE!” Lisa kept waiting for the familiar warmth on her forehead, but it seemed her lightweight alcohol tolerance had decided to grow a pair at the worst possible time: when she wanted a buzz. She glared at her glass. Not until the third bar of Freebird did she notice the guitar in the darkness to her left. A shock of black hair parted the shadows with its own midnight quality as the table lamp rebounded off glowing orbs the color of sunset.
“Now what would a lady of such refined taste be doing sitting alone on such a wonderful night?” strummed across the table following the dulcet tones. Lisa didn’t even look up from her glass.
“Waiting for the latest in true love innovation. The product was supposed to be delivered at 7. It’s now...” She glanced at her bare right wrist. “…too damn late to wait anymore. If he doesn’t show in five seconds, I’ll just have to hope to God I still have liquor at home.” Her head began to droop toward the table.
“Well I hope it gets here soon. I’d hate to see what happens when a judo black belt loses control.” Lisa popped up.
“Judo-wha?” He grinned at her. “…Bobby?” She jumped a few inches out of her seat. By the time she achieved re-entry, she had gained a glowing expression. “Well, where have you been?! I’ve been waiting for two hours!”
“Well if you knew how to read a watch, you wouldn’t have been waiting for so long!” he thundered back, his grin widening as he took her hand.
“Me?! You’re the one who dropped out of high school to start a heavy metal band! Now look where you are.” She pulled him closer.
“You know what? I don’t think this is going to work. We’re too different.” He slid closer, letting the guitar slip off his shoulder to clatter to the floor. Their noses touched.
“Yeah, we just can’t be together.” Their lips met, the first of many meetings for months and years and decades to come.
“Lisa! Whoever expected to see you here?” She waved using only as much of her hand as she could while still seeming cordial. The guitar strumming grew a little louder.
“Hi, Gina. Just waiting for my date.” Lisa crossed and uncrossed her legs several times over the course of her greeting. The man-toy adjusted his cheap toupee.
“Is he late? Ya know a man’s trying to blow you off when he shows up la-“
“Honey, you’re not here to talk to Lisa.” Gina interrupted, grabbing the bundle of overinflated man-meat and steering him away. “See you later, darling!” She shoved him along back toward their table out in the gloom. Lisa returned to her glass, swirling it around hoping to conjure the frozen image she’d seen so many times during their conversations, his shock of black hair standing on end over eyes the color of the last moments of sunset. His features glimmered into her vision. The lilted tones of virtuoso guitar seemed louder than before.
“Hi! You’re here! I’d been wondering when you’d show up!” she gushed.
“Um, ma’am? I thought you might want to order this time around,” said Guillermo, reaching for his pad and pen. Lisa’s face fell to its usual halfway-cynical expression.
“Ugh. Fine, sure.” As he wandered off with pad holding order and brain holding “MORE WINE!” Lisa kept waiting for the familiar warmth on her forehead, but it seemed her lightweight alcohol tolerance had decided to grow a pair at the worst possible time: when she wanted a buzz. She glared at her glass. Not until the third bar of Freebird did she notice the guitar in the darkness to her left. A shock of black hair parted the shadows with its own midnight quality as the table lamp rebounded off glowing orbs the color of sunset.
“Now what would a lady of such refined taste be doing sitting alone on such a wonderful night?” strummed across the table following the dulcet tones. Lisa didn’t even look up from her glass.
“Waiting for the latest in true love innovation. The product was supposed to be delivered at 7. It’s now...” She glanced at her bare right wrist. “…too damn late to wait anymore. If he doesn’t show in five seconds, I’ll just have to hope to God I still have liquor at home.” Her head began to droop toward the table.
“Well I hope it gets here soon. I’d hate to see what happens when a judo black belt loses control.” Lisa popped up.
“Judo-wha?” He grinned at her. “…Bobby?” She jumped a few inches out of her seat. By the time she achieved re-entry, she had gained a glowing expression. “Well, where have you been?! I’ve been waiting for two hours!”
“Well if you knew how to read a watch, you wouldn’t have been waiting for so long!” he thundered back, his grin widening as he took her hand.
“Me?! You’re the one who dropped out of high school to start a heavy metal band! Now look where you are.” She pulled him closer.
“You know what? I don’t think this is going to work. We’re too different.” He slid closer, letting the guitar slip off his shoulder to clatter to the floor. Their noses touched.
“Yeah, we just can’t be together.” Their lips met, the first of many meetings for months and years and decades to come.
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