Why internet discourse slowly eats away at all happiness available to mankind

I don't remember when, but life got really boring. I'm apt to blame the internet, but it was happening on my mission too. Here's the problem. Everywhere seems to be turning into an echo chamber. You can't go two days without running into some big issue on Facebook. There's always some shooting or some mosque being vandalized or some gay rights protest going down, and everyone immediately jumps onto their pet cause. Usually, the representation for one side of the issue is overwhelming, and the other side is almost nonexistent. Usually, the argument is saturated with a sort of indignant passion. Almost always, the issue is quite small in the large scale. 

I think that is the part that's the deal-breaker for me. I hate to be this guy, but chances are that none of these issues do or will ever reach a circle where you are affected, and the reverse is also true. Most people will never be in the same city as a mass shooting. Even less will ever perpetrate one. Most people aren't denying gays service or calling for mass deportations. The problem is that we find the special snowflake who is pulling these stunts and we make a huge deal about it. We all throw our handful of pine needles onto the fire, and watch it turn into a consuming inferno. 

This has two effects. The first is keeping the wrong thing in the spotlight. Some people are dicks. it happens. There's probably a kid from your high school who spent most of the class trying to anger his teacher or fellow students. You probably don't remember his name. The question is why do we keep putting the camera on people we don't like? Why do we let these people be spokesmen for causes with a 1% approval rating? People lose their pedestals as soon as there is no longer a camera pointed at them. So stop supporting them.

The other effect is that it that original thought and solid argument break down. When I was in debate, almost the first thing I learned was to never combat an argument by saying it is ridiculous. Even if that is perfectly true, it conditions debaters to stop thinking about issues on the simple but incorrect notion that the fault is manifest. There are truly crazy theories promoted all over the world. Usually these come out of a basement that reeks of BO and stale Doritos. As you might expect, these sorts of people don't get very much street cred or any other type of cred. 

On the other hand, there are those with a much larger circle of influence. This is usually because their argument, although the final point is bogus, it stems from some valid arguments or builds on something more intangible, like fear or anger. When 90% of people recognize that the argument is ridiculous, usually Facebook fills up with denunciations filled with ad hominem attacks and usually concludes with such statements as "only someone crazy would believe this."

One of the most poignant messages I learned on my mission was that the best way to ruin a perfectly good argument is to represent it poorly. This is why I refrain from ever commenting on such issues during the heat of the moment. Nobody is interested in listening or debating. The foremost issue on everyone's agenda is to make sure it's clear that everyone knows that they're not one of those idiots who supports the opposition. The arguments aren't arguments at all. They're propaganda. Propaganda in a positive direction? Perhaps. However, it turns the internet into a giant echo chamber.

I mentioned that I felt this same problem brewing in the mission. There, I was always in an apartment with three other guys who were currently spending their lives in the exact same way I was. Perhaps 75% of the time, one of the guys was from Utah or southern Idaho. Back in the MTC, a speaker chuckled about a missionary who said that he couldn't work with Elders from Utah. I didn't laugh. Although I have nothing against Utah natives, there is a definite effect of being immersed in a culture where they are the majority. I grew up in Washington, and I spent three years on a debate team filled mostly with individuals with very opinionated, opposing views. I was a minority in this respect, and the collision of ideals ultimately did much more help than harm. 

I am profoundly thankful for my parents, who taught me that the majority of people are good people, and usually their beliefs, once dissected, are completely sensible. This shaped the way I speak to people. On the other hand, living in a bottle with three other people was a deathtrap of rhetorical discussion. I found that most people grow up believing that there are certain pieces of culture that they are expected to conform to, and that it can vary widely. 

The biggest problem was when things that were certainly not doctrine or commandments were treated as such. The problem was that they were discussed in a matter-of-fact way that tended to make others feel excluded. You do not need to be a Republican to be a Latter Day Saint. You do not need have to support gun rights or have a certain occupational path. Your baptism count does not affect your righteousness. The problem with Utah is that certain pockets of culture become attached to the church, and they become confused as doctrine. In the apartment, these become the expectations. It can cause great amounts of discomfort from those who do not share those views. Most of the time, challenging this sort of status quo immediately damages the newcomer's ethos. 

This is the same effect the internet causes. Your points may be right. Your view may be fully qualified. But when issues are treated as enlightened vs. the fool, the bridge of communication is burned from both sides.

If there is untruth, fight it. If you are convinced you are correct, endeavor to convince others. But for the love of everything holy, do not start out by calling your opponents fools.

Rant over.

Some thoughts on bad stats

The lights glare down on a sparkling stage, where several young women nervously face the judges. The year is 2007, and the future Ms. Teen USA is in this group. The judge proceeds down the aisle. Unknown to all present, a piece of YouTube comedy gold is about to be born. Turning to Ms. South Carolina, he asks her to explain the problem of political unawareness in the United States. In a moment, it becomes obvious that she is the queen of the unaware. Stammering, a cascade of disconnected words tumble from her mouth: "personally believe... and the maps... Iraq". The blended mess of buzzwords fades out and the audience claps uneasily. Besides the several data points evident on the internet, the world had a new reason to distrust teenage selfie-posters as a reliable source of information.

Chuckle at this story though we may, it underlines a serious issue. The world we live in takes its financial advice from advertisers, accepts dieting tips from fashion magazines, and awards the camera to whoever represents an opinion in the most obnoxious way possible. The casual manner that we adopt while tossing around statistics is particularly disturbing. An old joke claims that 87 percent of statistics are made up on the spot, but the truth of the statement overshadows the humor. Statistics are supposed to be the gatekeeper of truth, but all too often, pundits and presidents misquote or mislead using these very tools. Although such data is invaluable, social integrity and decency both dictate that statistics should be presented and controlled in a way that does not skew the truth.

In no way am I raising a call to arms against those who use statistics. On the contrary, they are perhaps the most solid bedrock one can use to support a claim. A quick scan of all sorts of historical incidents easily brings this to light. It's a story we know too well by now. The smoking industry hid behind a wall of happy-go-lucky commercials, only to have a wrecking ball of studies break through their smokescreen. The same pattern showed up a few decades later surrounding climate change, and still shows up every time there is a health or human rights conference. In all of these situations, statistics were the hammer that drove the final nail in the coffin. Unfortunately, the back end of the same hammer keeps trying to pull the nails out. The reason it took so much solid research to overcome smoking bias was because for every study used to prove the risk of cancer, another report was published denying the risk. Climate change is consistently swept under the rug. Even a country such as North Korea can paint itself through rose-tinted glasses if they can control the sample interviewed.

Usually, the driving power behind such blatantly biased results is a blatantly biased experiment. Data collection is a remarkably delicate program, subject to more manipulation than a cat faced with a laser pointer. For example, one report claimed that over 70% of Americans were in favor of legalizing marijuana, including 67% of Republicans: the sworn enemies of fun and freedom. However, a closer look at this survey reveals a few discrepancies. For one thing, the poll was conducted by a group known as the MPP, This name may sound innocent enough, until the hyperlink takes you to the Marijuana Policy Project homepage, with a banner that proclaims "we change laws". If this name weren't bad enough, that 67% figure rounds nicely to two out of three. It is entirely possible that the survey takers made their way down to Berkeley, CA, went to the local hangouts, and asked all the college students their views on smoking the marijuana like a cigarette. On such a street, finding more than three republicans may prove quite the challenge.

Similar studies can be found for nearly any topic, ranging anywhere from gun control to gay rights. the more hot button an issue, the more backing there will be. After finding the obvious trends, such statistics are easy to spot. Unfortunately, emotion is a more powerful trigger than facts, and the cycle perpetuates itself. The greatest perpetrator is public opinion polls. Shoddy reporting leads to charged reactions, which in turn leads to a very easy to steer mob mentality. In such instances, the careful rewording of a question can have incredible power. "Do you think homosexuals hold the same rights as others?" will yield a far more mild result than a question that contains such words as "oppressed" or "discriminated". Leading the witness happens far more often outside of the courtroom than inside of it.

Misinformation is a plague whose only cure is regulation. Several years ago, I was sent to the Redbox in search of a family movie. My little sister was in tow. As I browsed through the selection, her eye caught a movie entitled "The True Story of Puss in Boots". Upon seeing this, she instantly confused it with the popular Shrek spin-off with a similar name. Exasperated, I attempted to explain the concept of a mockbuster to my dear sister. As my coup de etat, I cleverly pointed out that there was no mention of Shrek anywhere on the box. However, unyielding screaming in public usually beats out logic. Thus, I spent the next 2 hours watching the CGI mess that marked the low point of William Shatner's career.

In this example, Shrek was the undeniable, trademarked proof that separated the real deal from the raw deal. Statistics needs such a guardian. we need to sort the chocolate chip goodness of strong, true statistics from the nefariously identical oatmeal raisin lookalikes. It would be a simple matter to set up a committee that acts as the snopes.com of the statistical world. Every cute bar graph displayed across the news would require some watermark in the corner, signifying that it had been approved my a decent statistician.

Another essential step is to avoid causing this effect by poorly designed surveys. Most large polling institutions are already very good at preventing this. It's the smaller ones that often experience problems. The reason telephone surveys exist in the first place is to create a wider, less biased sample. For the same reason, pollsters often ask different versions of the same question to eliminate response bias. Such practices ought to be observed across the field. In addition, it is the responsibility of every citizen to participate in such surveys. Uncomfortable though it may be, elections show us what happens when only the extremists show up to voice their opinions.

The problem of shoddy statistics, although certainly not new, is still not set in stone. It is a problem that can be uprooted. In the modern world, information is one of the most important commodities available. So many people who think they have it are being paid with counterfeit bills. Now is the time to choose decency over control. Now is the time to choose enlightenment over ignorance. Although it will take the cooperation of all involved, the world's perception of data could be changed very easily. In this assertion, I advocate for no side except for the truth. If truthful reporting leads to some uncomfortable truths, let them come to light. Whatever the political cost, it is cheaper than the cost of ignorance.

Why America beats the snot out of Korea

When I was in Korea a week or two ago, there were a couple punk kids sitting across the room at Pizza School, the get-together for all the local gangs. There was some show going on the TV about Korean independence, and, without so much as considering that perhaps some white people can speak Korean, one of these LOL-saturated punks launched into a tirade of anti-Americanism. Of course, I could have told him that I understood every word he said, but I decided to listen to his turdiness. His rant went a little something like this:

"Yeah, America would be super easy to take. All we have to do is fly over, find their tallest mountain, send in a plane with a few guys, and stick the Korean flag in it. No, I don't know where that mountain is, but it can't be too hard to find, I mean, it's a mountain, right. Naw, don't mind those two white guys, they don't understand what I'm speaking. Do they look Korean? Anyway, America. You know what their problem is...?"

And so it went.

Now, as you can all tell from the American flag tattooed on the bottom of my left heel, I LOVE AMERICA. So today, I want to reflect on all the reasons we could beat Korea.

1. Everyone in this country has a gun.

In Korea, nobody carries guns. Not even to Walmart. They don't even have Walmart! In America, we are armed to the teeth, no matter where we go.

2. We have a much cooler flag than the Koreans.

The flag is the emblem of a country, the mouthpiece of patriotism. The American flag is deeply filled with meaningful symbolism. 13 Colonies? 13 stripes. 50 states? Let's put 50 stars on that sucker. The Korean flag, on the other hand?

Look at this thing. What's represented on here? Some yin-yang deal and a bunch of poorly-broken twix bars. They even stole our colors. The most valuable thing about this flag is as an example on how to avoid symmetry. 

3. Our soldiers are more well-trained. 

You know what Koreans do? League of Legends. You know what you do in League of Legends? Honestly, I don't know either, but I know something something monster fight magic. You know what American teenagers do? They cuss each other out on Call of Duty. That teaches all Americans, from the time they're 11, all vital skills they will need to keep America great.In addition, all those hours blasting Nazi Zombies contribute to an increased immunity to the effects of Mountain Dew. If we can survive that, we can certainly survive a Korean invasion.

AMERICA IS THE BEST

I don't even know

 Well, internet. It's been a long time since we last talked. A lot has happened. A lot of it isn't going to hit the face of the web. But rest assured, I am alive. I'm a bit college kid now, off doing big college things. It still hasn't quite sunk in yet. The reason I've neglected this blog wasn't because my life was boring, but because it wasn't. Like I said, a lot of stuff has happened, and a lot of it has been cool stuff. The tricky thing is narrowing down all this stuff into a form I can wrap myself around. It's a daunting task. But I'll try.

The first thing that college is good at teaching you is that you're small. When you're in a class with over 700 students, it's phenomenally easy to tell. All through high school, I sat in classes surrounded by kids I had known for years, and teachers who could name everyone in there. Now, I was lost in a sea of faces. The funny thing was I discovered that it wasn't altogether bad. In fact, it's rather refreshing in a way. As a speck, you are free to focus on the material being presented, rather than worrying about how you appear to your fellow students. Not only is this nice for a relief of responsibility, but it also rules out one of the more annoying types of kids in the class. The Belligerent.

We all know this kid. He's the one who is so talented, it would be a waste for the world to pass on unaware. So The Belligerent bravely raises his hand every time, showing that he, unlike the mere mortals surrounding him, has obtained a complete knowledge of the field of study. The Belligerent is unafraid, and eagerly puts it on display. At the beginning of each class period, he blabbers on loudly, making the room aware of just the sort of person he is. The Belligerent also uses his lack of fear to great effect when he challenges the teacher, displaying his great skills at logic in a no-doubt flawless argument.

The nice thing about the seas of kids is that The Belligerent gets swallowed up. He loudly shows off, but only his immediate peers hear him. His charming effect leaves no mark on the teacher. His grade, like that of everyone else in the class, is based on what shows up on the paper. His power means nothing, and he finds, like those around him, that his quest for status was unfruitful.

So yeah. This post turned out to be a rant about a kind of kid I don't like. Hope that's okay.

A Long Overdue Post

Ladies and Gentlemen, I continue to be alive. November has been a busy month, but a good one. Life continues in a similar fashion. The last couple of weeks have been some of the most overwhelming and most exciting in my life. Things go well.

Deep thoughts or something? Yeah. I can do that. Today's question is: "Eli, what drives you?"

Of course, the classic response would be something about how I prefer to bike, but that joke is both corny and untrue. In response to this question, I found that I have chauffeurs. I rarely ever am driven by myself. Self-motivation is something that's hard to find and even harder to understand. What I am driven by is others. Not by their expectations. You can yell at me all you want, and nothing is going to change. What drives me is the competition.

This realization was weird. I am far from a Type A personality, partially due to how they don't exist. Also due to the way I try to be laid-back and passive with my dealings among my fellow men. However, under this calm facade, I found that it is one-uppery that drives me. For months now, I've been looking back on my elementary school days. Why was I such a better student then than I am now? The answer: I wanted to be the best. Not some "my personal best" crap. The best.

Toolish? A little. But my drive was never to stick a crown on my head. It was legitimately for self-gain. I have found that it is this competition that shaped me, not into a tyrant, but somebody who could get a shot at the glory. It wasn't just trying to be a better debater. It was trying to be the best debater. I didn't want to just learn Chinese. I wanted to speak with more fluidity and eloquence than anyone in my class. I was not as successful as I had hoped, but I did well.

So the next time you see me alpha-maling or scrambling to stick myself at the top of the heap, don't take it personally.

The I'm Not Dead Post

Let the world know I'm alive. It's been a busy month, so I haven't been able to post very often. But I am now. Relish it. I might not post again until December. A few thoughts in the interim:

Today, it rained. Not the gentle rain that sprinkles down, leaving you nearly untouched. Not the torrential downpours that sting every nerve, letting you know that you're alive. That miserable in between rain that comes down slow and wet. The kind that plops down the back of your shirt, giant drops that soak through and leave an explosion of water where they hit. Not a lovely thing. I don't know where I'm going with this.

I can't decide if doing something every day is really easy or really hard. At some point, it becomes routine, and you just roll with it. But getting to that point is immensely difficult.

Having to share your time makes you value it more.

You may not think it, but your parents are probably incredibly similar to you. Take some time to try and catch them when they're off-duty. You'll find that they're pretty cool people.

Korean is hard.

Hostess is going out of business, and it means absolutely nothing to me. So many things happen, things that may be tragedies to some, and we don't care. That's okay, but it's a strange thought that there are cries of chubby kids across the United States, wailing for their twinkies.

Most people are willing to do things for you if you ask.

Those who point out the faults of others usually have more serious problems.

These points are becoming more and more vague, so I'll draw the line here. Until next time. Peace.

Understanding

Here's something to think about: you live on a planet with seven billion other people. Several billion more existed before you, and several billion are still on their way. Each and every one of them has a life just as deep as yours. And each and every one of these lives will carry on, whether you're watching or not.

Now consider this: Each one of these people sees life through a different set of eyes than you.They each have a different life, a set of millions of instances and choices that led to the culmination of where they are today. These  are deep and intricate webs of experience, and there is nobody on Earth who matches you.

This leads to my big thought. There are countless other people out there. And you can't understand a single one. Try as we might, we have our own lens we view the world through. When you think you know somebody, it's not true. What you know is the caricature you invented, the mask you superimposed over their true self. This is not a bad thing. It's the best way we have to understand each other, so we might as well use it. Even so, it's important to realize that out of all the people out there, we know exactly one of them.

Of course, this thought will disturb us every now and again. Knowing only ourselves is a bit disturbing. So we try to improve, and live other lives. It's why we read, watch TV, play video games, learn. We want to get a brief glimpse of another life, so we try to live it vicariously. Sometimes, we want more than just a snapshot. We want to know somebody as well as we know ourselves. Of course, this is a momentous task. But we attempt it and name it love. Sometimes, people succeed. Watch the mannerisms of an old couple if you don't believe me, and that brings me joy.

But no matter what we do, you will still run into a thousand people in your lifetime, and each will have a story as intricate as yours. Chances are you won't give most of them any more attention than you would a spare nickle. All those lives, and you might understand one.

Food for thought.

Concerning Meeting People

This weekend was the rookie debate tournament, perhaps my favorite of the year. A) I don't have to do anything and B) I get a chance to meet all the novices.

This second one is what the weekend is really about. For the six weeks beforehand, I sit in the same classroom as the novices, watching them toil away at their work. It's cute, really, observing them doing their best, unaware of the much lower Varsity work ethic. I see them, and they see me. Occasionally, I might be called on to edit a speech or offer a pointer on how to speak. But by and large, we don't interact. We stay in our cliques, divided by experience level, and work independently.

Then the first tournament comes, and the walls break down. The novices get a terrifying first dose of experience, and the Varsity members are whisked away to judge. At once, the rest of the league is visible to your team. There is no more novice or varsity, only teammates who are suddenly surrounded with people as new to this as they are. It's exciting and scary, and the team gathers around two or three or five tables in a corner. Any class division is thrown to the wind as the competition fills up most of the room. Immediately, I find myself asking the novices how their rounds went, trying to recall the names of judges they should be wary of or opponents that are welcome pushovers.

This process starts out of duty more than anything else, but quickly evolves into something more. Something clicks. I'm surrounded by a bunch of people who I've shared a class with since September, but I know nothing more than their face. Our talks of rounds quickly degenerates into small talk, and I find that I've suddenly increased the number of people I call friends.

Making friends is cool. I tend to forget this until I get an opportunity to make a bunch at once. So often, I focus on people I don't like. This weekend was one of those times when I got to meet a bunch of people I do. I have learned that when I am surrounded by people you don't like, it's because of circumstance. When I'm surrounded by people I like, it's because I actively pursue them. One of my biggest regrets, I realize, is that I was too passive through high school. I think I missed out on a lot of potentially cool people this way.

I changed that this weekend. And I think I made some amazing acquaintances. It was a great weekend.

The Backpackless Day

Before I begin this post, I'm going to share my excitement. My blog now has seven followers. That's like really cool. A special welcome to those I may or may not have had the pleasure of meeting in real life: Andy Sp-something: the apologizing bandit, and the enigmatically named CHINA. I'm pretty sure it's not the PRC stalking my blog, seeing as they mainly use their blog to recommend English books, but you can never be too careful. CHINA, I'll let you know that your government is really cool and stuff and please don't block me from your country. As for Andy Sp-something, she has a post up on the 23rd. That's tomorrow, folks. Being able to update a blog from the future is pretty impressive.

Okay, thank yous over. Time for the meat of this post.

On Wednesday of last week, I had an idea. It occurred to me that I had no homework to turn in, I probably wouldn't need my calculator that day, and that paper is pretty easy to slough. Days like this don't come along every day. So I did what any self-respecting back would do, I abandoned my backpack with reckless abandon.

It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Not just the literal kind either. I was free to dart through the hallways, a third of my usual girth. It was liberating, watching everyone else lumber through the hallway. Free from the slight ache my shoulders usually endures, I felt almost gleeful. Not an emotion I usually associate with high school.

At the same time, though, I was vulnerable. I was armed with a single pen, and entirely dependent upon those around me for paper. When I received a worksheet, I had to make sure to guard it from the wind. Freedom comes with a price.

I don't know why I told you this story. Maybe you will.

Peace. There very well might be another post today.

The Single Complex

This weekend was homecoming, perhaps the one day of the year I stay off of the Book of Faces as ardently as possible. There are two sorts of trash that appear, overwhelming my newsfeed for 12 hours. The first type is best defined by this:

"Oo! Ooooh! Look at me! I got a date! Look, guys, I'm popular!'

The other is more like this:

"Oh my gosh guys why won't anybody go to homecoming with meeeee?"

I can't decide which one is more annoying, but both bug me for the same reason. They imply that being single is a very bad thing. Everywhere in high school, a similar message is projected. If you don't have somebody to hold hands with as you skip down the hallway, there's no way your life could be happy.

Totally untrue.

The problem with high school dating is that it's a status symbol. If you get a girlfriend, if you can not get your heart broken IF you can find somebody desperate enough to date YOU, you have reached the end. This silly afterthought "love" doesn't matter, what matters is that you found someone who has a nice butt and is willing to call herself your girlfriend. And the sad thing is that it's not for them. And it's really not for you, either. It is to impress a bunch of other people who are floundering around in the same way.

The problem is that we buy into it. So many people are basing their entire happiness on whether or not they can get a date. The great irony is that such moaning and wallowing in self-despair is unattractive. If you want a date, go freaking get one. Anybody can get a date. Not everybody will find you attractive, but somebody will. If you really want a date, track that person down. But please stop moaning about it.

There's a group of people who I hold a great deal of respect for: the "Single-by-choice" group. These are the folks who are good-looking, not socially inept, and likable. Yet, they remain mysteriously unattached. When asked why, they say they don't want to date. The crazy thing is that they're being 100% honest. This is a crazy admirable thing. They've reached a level of understanding most teenagers haven't.

The simple truth is that if you've got a soul mate out there, they probably don't live in your school district. There are a lot of people in the world, and the very fact that they live in the same location as you probably lowers their compatibility. The SBC crowd knows this, and they live accordingly. Sure, there are people you'll get along with in high school, and it's okay to date them, but please please PLEASE don't make it your life. Something better comes down the road, and there's too much to do in high school to afford wasting your time on a faux-serious relationship.

Here's to you, Single by Choice people.

PS: Ladies, this doesn't mean I've gone asexual or anything. I'm still single and ready to mingle. Just don't expect me to get caught up with the hormone bog that is high school.

Why We Write

That title was way more alliterative than I meant for it to be.

We taking writing for granted. We are surrounded by thousands of books, yet we never ask the question.In our Literature classes, we are taught how to write, we are taught when we write what, we are even taught what other's writing could possibly mean. But we never are taught why.

This is a little disturbing. Thousands of books, millions, and yet we assume they merely appeared there. Writing anything takes effort, and a novel is a marathon. People don't write just because they are bored. So why do we?

Identity.

I believe it was Carl Sagan who said, "We are a way for the cosmos to know itself." There is a whole lot of stuff out there, and it's hard to find where our identity begins. So I write, and hope that in doing so, I can sift out myself. I've taken up writing poetry. In the two days I've done it, I found a certain freedom. Poetry is unbound by the rules of grammar, a spew of thoughts, rather than a lab report of them.

Writing is liberating. I think. I think a lot of things, and they are hard to share verbally. But an idea leaves an impression, one that can be painted across a canvas and shared with the world. Words are merely another medium. I am an artist and I write because that is how I find who I am.

The Better Dedicatory Post

This is a post. A dedicatory post. It's about a woman I met, in a summer long past. She came into my life as a dream, an image of perfection too perfect to be real. A girl by the name of Sarah. Sarah! A name far more fitting than Aphrodite to describe true beauty.

Words cannot describe the true beauty of Sarah, but I will make my best efforts. Such praises cannot remain unsung. Sarah was as beautiful as an exotic serpent, and equally deadly. Her flowing blonde hair must be cut regularly, for if it were allowed to grow, the sheer amount of radiance sprouting from her scalp would leave lesser beings blinded. Her voice is a swarm of butterflies, which envelops all nearby with its warm yet flowery insults. The smile that graces her face is an inverted, monochrome rainbow, dancing with the restrained grace and ferocity of a circus bear.

Once upon a time, I was smitten with the beautiful Sarah. Her feminine grace, her impeccable speech. Yet, I found that my affections were rejected. Today, I see this as a blessing. Surely, even somebody as wonderful as I was still not worthy of true perfection. So I let her go. Even so, I carry a piece of her in my heart to this day.

Though my words and my praises cannot truly express the greatness that is Sarah, I hope that my artistic talent will:

Yes, folks, she is really that skinny.

Sarah, you're beautiful.

Eat it, Marianne

Motive

There's this thing I'm doing. I haven't told very many people about this thing, and I don't want to. During this post, I'm going to call it "thing". Forgive me for being the person who uses vagueness to raise interest, but when this thing finishes, I want it to be as much of a surprise as possible.

I've got reasons for doing this thing. A plethora of reasons. I've given out a few of them when people asked, but there's one I haven't given yet. The main reason. Not the best reason, perhaps. Definitely a selfish reason.  But it's the one that, out of all my motives, pushes me the most.

Anybody who's read the blog before knows full well how I feel about being average. It's stupid. Data sets are great if you want to draw conclusions. If you're searching for validation or identity though, being near the center sucks. I'm not trying to be mean here. It's simple fact that I absolutely hate being part of what's considered "normal". I long for nothing more than to jump Tukey's fence. But that's not my motive. I don't want to be better than everybody.

What my motive is is more refined than that. It's not a struggle for some sort of reward. There are plenty of honors laying around, waiting to be picked up. What I'm doing the thing for is to prove I can. Perhaps a bit toward others, but mostly toward myself. Again, it's a bit of a selfish quest, but I think there might be a bit of collateral happiness. If I used emoticons, there'd be a semicolon followed by a left concave parenthesis where this sentence is.

Ever since the beginning of high school--heck, ever since I was 13--I've been told, "Eli, you're part of the bell curve now. This thing could not possibly happen to you." This is still happening. My friends, supportive in every other respect, keep turning against me in this issue. That's fine. I'm not going to break any friendships, but I'm not giving up on the thing either. The reason why I'm not stopping? I've discovered that I can accomplish nearly anything, so long as I'm willing to freaking ask. I've thrown inhibitions to the wind, and I'm throwing everything I can into the thing.

I am fairly confident I will succeed. I'm counting on it. I've devoted the last two months to it, and I'm betting the rest of my life on it. The funny thing about the thing is that I've tried similar endeavors on a smaller scale, and they always fall flat. Other opportunities come up, still small, but I either ignore these or I'm completely unaware they're available. I'm confident with my success in this thing is because I am proving I CAN, I can do hard things. I've never done this before. I've only approached such measures with nervous apathy. But I am resolved to succeed.

Peace out, readers.

PS: Have fun speculating over the thing. You're wrong.

Thoughts From a Sunday Afternoon

My sister is making a pizza for dinner. Six of us like combo, and two pepperoni. Since she is in charge of making the pizza, though, the split is 50:50. This is how government works.

A lady from the singles ward spoke in church today. She moved to Spokane in July, not because she had a family or a job here, but because she wanted to. That's pretty cool.

If two people make a deal with each other, it is only enforced if both sides stay true to their word. If one person lies, the other person suffers. We should be honest not for our own benefit, but for the benefit of others.

Sometimes, I think that I hate a lot of people. It's healthy to occasionally sit back and count the people you like.

Procrastination isn't a good thing, but neither is front loading. The real joy is having power to schedule yourself in a way that lets you do what you want, when you want to.

I find that the books or tv shows I like usually have fandoms I don't like. (there's a post about this somewhere in the archives.) I have nothing against either Romney or Obama, but their fan clubs drive me crazy.

Peace out, readers.

Observations From First and Third Period

There are two sorts of people who make class discussions a pain, turning what could be perhaps the best way to learn into a taxing chore.

The first kind is when you have somebody who is genuinely brilliant. Somebody who has a thousand great thoughts flying through their head, but don't want to share them, because the butthole in the back of the class will respond by saying something invariably stupid. These people then stop participating in class discussions, which is horrid because it gives room for the other type of person.

This guy is one of the most annoying types of people on earth. Instead of having a lot to say, but remaining silent, this person has nothing to say, but says it anyway. Over and over again. These sacks of human beings enter the discussion with the sole purpose of getting called on at least half the time. This gets particularly bad when there are two of them. Their goal is not learn from the various viewpoints of their peers, but to assert theirs on the rest of the class. This asserting usually turns into a force feed, and in some particularly amusing/annoying situations, end up in a shouting match with the teacher.

The biggest problem with these people is that although they talk the most, they are perhaps the least qualified to do so. Almost without exception, the views expressed by these sorts tend to be very commonplace ones, without any new insight. This can be explained. The uninvited orator feels the absolute need to prove that they were smart enough to reach the answer, even though that's the expectation for the group as a whole. As a whole, very annoying.

This post really has no moral. I just needed to vent, because I listened to too many stupid comments today. That is all.


Peace out, readers.

False Idols

Here is a post that I've been meaning to write for a while. It has nothing to do with religion, so chill your charged opinions. I merely chose this name because it is a wonderfully convenient one.

No, what I'm talking about today is people. This is another "social science according to Eli" post. People. Specifically those we hold in high regard. The ones that seem so much better than us, we don't consider them people. This is something I'm very guilty of. There are a good number of people who I've done this to, and I still very much like these people. Even so, I've come to the opinion that this sort of behavior is unhealthy. The reason is twofold.

The first is on the behalf of our opinion of the person we are idolizing. I'm not talking celebrities here, I'm talking the ones on the local level. The genius in math. The incredible artist. The undefeated athlete. The very fact that we find them so amazing is what is wrong. Yes, they are very good at something. But they are also only human. The way we idolize people makes us forget that. By putting them on a pedestal, we alienate them. This is a bad thing. Treating somebody as more than they are is bad, and it affects more than just them. It affects us. By believing them to be somebody they're not, we miss the opportunity to learn who they are.

The other problem is perhaps even more self-detrimental. The same way we exaggerate the greatness of idols, we tear down ourselves. We see them as something we could never be, and feel mediocre in comparison to their greatness. Sometimes, this is inevitable. I'm not going to be the quarterback. But I don't care about that, because I don't man crush on football players. But I digress. Although it is inevitable that most of these people will remain better than you, that's not a good way to think. When we see these idols as who they are, it becomes significantly easier to reach their level of prowess. As a matter of fact, it is this manner of thought that I'm living by right now.

Moral: don't view other people as better than you. View them as a challenge.

Peace out, readers.

Crime and Punishment, Part II

This is the assignment proper. I cannot print off my notes, so instead I am putting them here. My notes independent of the assignment can be found a few posts back. These are the ones designed to fulfill the requirements of the summer assignment, rather than for personal understanding or interpretation, divided exactly as the assignment said to.


Allusion

The main example of allusion in this book, and the one that is most relevant, is that toward the story of Lazarus in the NT. The story acts as a parallel toward Raskolnikov's own struggle, with his crime being his death, and his self-conviction and punishment serve as rebirth.

The other frequent allusion is toward Napoleon, through which Raskolnikov makes his justification. He uses him to promote a utilitarian viewpoint, and states that he could be a Napoleon, circumstances permitting.

Diction

There is nothing about diction that serves as a plot device, but it does help with establishing our opinion of the author. Though using a mostly commonplace lexicon, the author occasionally throws in a wrench like "tacit" or "apropos".

Connotation

An important device in this tale, but only picked up on by reading supplementary material. In the original Russian, "Punishment" did not imply the harsh bleakness that it does through our American version of the word, but rather, also carries another meaning, closer to "redemption". Raskolnikov spends maybe five pages of the book in formal punishment, but the punishment stated in the title applies throughout the book: a trip to redemption.

Irony

Perhaps under "Irony" is not the best place to put this example, but Raskolnikov's comparison to other characters, particularly Svidrigaïlov. While they follow strangely similar paths, Raskolnikov's crime is much more severe and bloody, as well as being driven by what superficially appears to be a much more selfish cause. The irony comes in when you realize that karma messed up its job pretty badly. Raskolnikov, despite being in a position that should make him despicable, is still the protagonist, and perhaps one of the more woobie characters in the book.

A more straightforward example can be found concerning dramatic irony. When we find that Svidrigaïlov was sitting on the other side of the wall, the author creates a sense of drama that he leaves hanging for like seven freaking chapters.

Tone

Tone is a strange word to describe the way the author writes, with perhaps "style" being more appropriate. The way the author writes very effectively communicates the frenzied mind of Raskolnikov. Though the viewpoint is third person, we still experience Raskolnikov's feels. The writing feels quick and fragmented, filled with a plethora of ellipses. Additionally, Raskolnikov's mood toward other characters is reflected in the writing of the passages. Porfiry's dialogue is filled with "ha, ha!"s, while the writing seems to slow down and become peaceful around Dounia.

Syntax

See the above paragraph.

Paradox

The character of Raskolnikov himself, though not a true paradox, certainly qualifies. He simultaneously is the most charitable and base character in the book. The irony here (oh look, another literary device) is that both are driven from his insane desire to become a little Napoleon.

Euphemism

A surprisingly prevalent device. Though the book touches on some very adult themes, including alcoholism, pedophilia, prostitution, murder, and suicide, the author seems to almost go out of his way to avoid talking about them directly. To an extent, having to infer what the author is talking about almost makes the truth more shocking. The most memorable example is Svidrigaïlov's "on my own" chapter, in which he keeps asserting that he's "going to America". The oddness of the euphemism plus the shock of what happens in the end adds toward the harrowing experience provided by the chapter.

Simile

Raskolnikov is like Svidrigaïlov, Sonia, and Lazarus. That enough simile for you?

Author's purpose

There's quite a bit to say on this one, but I'll keep it laconic. On the surface, the main purpose is to tell the story of a man who killed an old woman. But dig three inches deeper, and many more meaning come to the surface. The tale is one of the poverty Drotovesky himself found while writing it. It is a filibuster toward current Russian politics. It is a study of how a man can come to think of himself as more powerful than those around him, and an investigation of the tugs of guilt. It's a parable showing how what good people can be bad, and how bad people can be good. It is a story of rebirth, and a call to Christianity.

Alright folks, that's all. I've fulfilled the assignment with exactness, I hope you enjoyed it.

Peace out, readers.

Thoughts From The Car

My dear brother is making excellent use of his car time to do his summer assignment. The assignment is simple enough: a single essay. The prompt: Describe the culture of Spokane.

What a stupid prompt.

This assignment would have been a good one say, 100 years ago, but it's absolutely undoable today. The reason for this, of course, is that we live in televised, instant-communication, standardized America. Because of this, the "culture" of Spokane is indistinguishable from the culture of the rest of the USA. Asking students to isolate bits of culture that are uniquely Spokanite is a nearly impossible task. The shoes we wear? The popular clothing brands? The music that makes its way to the top of the chart? It's the same all across the country.

The other beef I have with this assignment is that even if Spokane does have some relatively unique facets of culture--dominating political views, local attractions, etc.--They are a pain to identify. It's easy to spot the culture of another country, even another city, but it's impossible to define your own. Like the smell of your house, "local culture" is something we become immune to noticing.

A city is perhaps the most awkward level to analyze culture on. As I've previously stated, a nation has a culture, perhaps a state has a culture, but not a city like Spokane. A city falls in the bracket of being too small to be national, but too large to be intimate. Within small groups of friends, even in a group as large as a school, it is perfectly possible for culture to develop. The little inside jokes we share with our compeers becomes part of our language, mannerisms start being duplicated, and the group grows together. There is a debate culture. There is a Startalk culture, there's a Spokane Stake culture, there's even a bit of a Ferris culture. But there is no Spokane culture. I have nothing in common with the folks downtown, cannot hope to relate with the kids in the valley.

As for culture on the city level, it is merely a smaller model of national culture. This essay is pointless because we cannot pinpoint a culture unique to Spokane. Rather, we can only see the way the country's trends are emulated by a town pretending to have significance.

End rant.

Peace out, readers.

Decent People

There is a longstanding belief most of us hold, however unconsciously. We believe that if we are good, decent people, and go through our day acting cheerful and nice to everyone, people will hold a higher respect for us. That some good karma will come back around and give us a nice boost, or that we will earn the admiration of the public.

Nope.

Fact is, nice people get screwed over. An example of this occurred when my brother and I helped unpack the car as we landed by the small house we would all be staying in. As we did so, our other four siblings immediately went into the house, picking out their beds as we continued to haul suitcases. The result: although my brother and I are the largest and perhaps most deserving of a decent bed, we ended up on the floor on half-inch thick pads.

Events such as these, the insignificant, petty unfairnesses of life beg the question: why? Why, when I try to be so good, do I end up at the bottom of the pecking order?

The answer is a sad one. We consider it a crime for anyone to take advantage of the foolish compliance bestowed by our benevolence, and yet, we are hypocrites in this regard. When we see someone acting with good will, our first course of action is to hop on this opportunity. We are so eager for a cheap opportunity for unprotested sacrifice for our own gain that we forget how mug we hate having it done on ourselves.

This leads to a vicious cycle. Because this persistent mugging of goodwill, those decent people begin to turn sour. They realize that as a decent person, they commanded no respect. This causes them to turn from lives of decency to more scumbaggery ways. These new, harder, cynical people point and laugh at the group they once were, and the seeds of corruption are planted a second time.

The moral of this post is don't be a jerkish idiot.

I wrote this at 1:30 in the morning. This post may or may not make sense.

Peace out, readers.

Crime and Punishment: Character Analysis

Having finished reading the book recently, I feel the need to jot down all my thoughts on it, so I can move onto other books and do a detail dump. I start today with the characters.

To those who enjoy reading books without spoilers, feel free to leave at this time. Here begins the analysis.

RASKOLNIKOV

The main character of the book, from whose perspective we see the events. From the very beginning of the book, we see the seeds of his idea begin to form, then followed through. Although he is a murderer seven chapters in, Raskolnikov is the closest thing the book has to a protagonist. Therefore, we are expected as the audience to sympathize with him. And that we do. The book masterfully allows the reader to feel the frenzy racing through Raskolnikov's head, his inner turmoils, his rationalizations. Indeed, it is almost scary how easy it is to sympathize with him.

A notable trait of his is the polarization of what he does. It is established early on that Raskolnikov is an extremely charitable man, to the point of foolishness. He continually dumps out his wallet to complete strangers. At the same time, he is capable of commuting an atrocity to the degree of murder. As much as these two traits seem different, however, they are, in reality, the same. Both are impulsive acts, and no matter what he preaches, Raskolnikov's actions are never self-profitable. When he receives payment, he squanders it on people who he views as less fortunate than himself. When he murders the pawnbroker, he feels no need to spend the money he gained, but rather to hide it away, untouched. Both show the same spontaneous action on Raskolnikov's part that does not allow for self-gain. Indeed, his whole rationalization was that by murdering the old woman, he would be helping society as a whole.

Related to his selflessness, Raskolnikov shows an intense care for his family. Upon meeting Luzhin for the first time, he received a much less welcome greeting than even the one that is normally expected from the elder brother. He is shouted down as a narcissistic manipulator, which of course was entirely true. Raskolnikov constantly channels the delirium granted by his fever to shout down anyone who comes near his family. This same protection is what drove him to attempt to leave his family without notifying them of why. To his dear mother, he was a ray of goodness, and he had to let that image stand.

Another important thing to understand about Raskolnikov is the way he is brought to confession. In the interest of time, that will wait for a future post. Time to move on to other characters.

RAZUMIHIN

Razumihin is the poor best friend who's out of the loop. Early in the book, his main role was to be there for Raskolnikov to faint in front of. At this time, his character isn't very fleshed out, although we can see that he is trying to help as best he can. This limited role is filled rather well, however, as he is shown to be in great indignation when Porfiry so much as suggests Raskolnikov could possibly be guilty.

As we are introduced to Dounia, Razumihin's role starts to shift into a new one: a love interest. However, this role isn't filled in the traditional sense. Razumihin isn't rich, nor is he powerful, nor in any way very remarkable. This is in stark contrast to the other gentlemen who fall for Dounia. The other unique facet concerning the way Razumihin fills this role is how he is introduced into it. He is not some character that comes out if nowhere on a white stallion to join the family, but rather, he replaces the list brother. But as a brother that happens to be marry-able.

Dounia

The younger sister of Raskolnikov. She is portrayed as being a good woman being chased by bad men, the sort of girl who, despite (or perhaps because of) her good nature, is sought over by the most vile of fellows. Her dealings with the courtship of Luzhin show that although she holds a certain deal of self respect, she is also very passive, and willing to endure hardships for the sake of her family.

Despite being family, Dounia does not act as Raskolnikov's confidante. Indeed, he seems perpetually irritated by her presence. Despite his seeming stand offishness, however, Raskolnikov is very fast to point out Luzhin for the scumbag he is, for which his sister seems grateful. Dounia, though kept in the background, does much in ways of moving the plot. Her character shows a tragic tendency of those who esteem themselves powerful: the desire to rule. She was the target of both Luzhin and Svidrigaïlov specifically because she was poor.

The moment that Dounia's character becomes the most powerful is shortly before the end of the book. When cornered by Svidrigaïlov, we see her less passive side. Although she is armed then, it is her own attitude that becomes her most powerful weapon.

LUZHIN

Although his role is comparatively minor, Luzhin is still noteworthy. This guy was the scumbag who was paired off to marry Dounia. He is shown to be extremely narcissistic, feeling his own title to be the most important part of his marriage.

He is also shown to be petty. When he slips the money into Sonia's pocket, it is an attempt to humiliate both her and the Raskolnikovs. This provides a nice foil to Raskolnikov's actions of charity. While Raskolnikov was so base as to murder an old woman, Luzhin was a gentleman in high standing. While Raskolnikov's actions are almost always done in an earnest effort to help those around him, Luzhin's efforts were a deceitful play for self-gain.

PORFIRY

This story's Inspector Javert, with one major difference: He's right. The similarities are astonishing. Porfiry's sole task becomes driving Raskolnikov to confession, despite not having proper proof that it was he who committed the crime. Going by a single newspaper editorial, Porfiry makes a bold accusation at Raskolnikov, then spends the rest of the book trying to do it.

Interesting to note is that in all their encounters, Porfiry's text is regularly interrupted with his own laughter. Porfiry's style of interview is playing mind games, something a great number of characters in this book do. Raskolnikov, of course, is anticipating this. The scary part is that Porfiry is really freaking good at his job. Raskolnikov finds himself outmatched at every turn.

Also of importance is that although he chooses to turn himself in, Raskolnikov refuses to confess to Porfiry. In this allegory, Porfiry represents forced repentance. It is something to be avoided. This route of forced confession would have led to the same end, but the emotional coming of age would be lost.

SONIA

Raskolnikov's morality pet. Although presented as being impossibly pure, she works as a prostitute. This, perhaps, is what draws Raskolnikov to her. He sees another destitute soul, and together they ask healing. Although the book focuses on the crime and punishment of Raskolnikov, it can just as easily be applied to Sonia.

Sonia is perhaps the closest thing this book has to a love interest for Raskolnikov. Again, this role is filled in an unusual way. Although there are no confessions of love, no public hand-holding or scenes that our mommies don't want us to see, there is a very obvious hint of love. Not the "you have a six-pack, let's make out" kind, but a deeper, emotional connection. Sonia fills the role Raskolnikov's family could not, pushes him toward confession, and does not shun him for what he does.

This is all the more noteworthy when we remember that one of the women Raskolnikov murdered was Sonia's friend, Lizaveta. Almost with impossible altruism, she forgives him, and gives him Lizavita's old cross. In a way, he is redeemed by taking up the burden of his cross, which could only be bestowed by Sonia.

SVIDRIGAÏLOV

A character that is scarily similar to Raskolnikov, and the closest thing the book has to an antagonist. The most obvious similarity is the weight of their crimes. Between the two of them, although they are enemies, they find somebody who understands what it is like living with the guilt of having killed someone. A more subtle common trait is their shared extreme charity. Additionally, Svidrigaïlov is, like Raskolnikov, visited upon by nightmares.

Interesting to note is that these actions seem to come almost in reverse for Raskolnikov as they do for Svidrigaïlov. Raskolnikov is first shown as being charitable, receiving his first of many messed up dreams, then eventually murder. Svidrigaïlov starts out a murderer, then is haunted by nightmares, then finishes with charity. Raskolnikov's journey ends in redemption, Svidrigaïlov's in disgrace.

That went way longer than intended.

Peace out, readers.