Privacy and Piracy

Privacy is an interesting thing.
If you've ever wondered just how exposed you truly are, go ahead and Google your own name sometime. It's remarkably disturbing, the things that pop up. I guess, since I have two different social networking accounts and a blog, I should be used to it.
So, if I'm all over the Internet (not really, but for argument's sake), then how much of my information actually belongs to me? The art I post on Facebook, the words I write here, do those still belong to me? Are they mine, and mine alone, or do they now belong to the world?
The same question applies to any other form of media. If an artist releases a video on, say, YouTube, does it really still belong to that artist? Does a song still belong to the musician after it's bought and paid for online? Or is it public property, free to be distributed at the leisure of the users?
I cannot help but feel that the Internet has caused art to head towards the latter, rather than the former. But is that really such a bad thing? If a person cannot share your art with others, in any way, does that promote your name? What benefit do you have from keeping your work bottled? While royalties might produce some income, I feel it's safe to say actual performances and appearances are more profitable. If notoriety increases your worth, isn't it more beneficial for you to gain popularity in any way possible?
People who share music do not claim to have created the song, nor do they claim to be the artist. That is where I feel a line should be drawn- I'm not opposed to the sharing of art and media, but I am opposed to plagiarism. If I saw my writing on another site, I would be flattered- until someone claims those words as his or her own.
But how does anyone enforce something like this, except on a case-by-case basis? There is no foolproof way to verify the creator of something, unless their rights to the creation are enforced absolutely. This, however, is an impossible feat- the Internet is far too large for an entity to monitor everything equally.
I suppose this is the motivation for Congress's latest, sad attempt to do such policing. In this proposed piece of legislature, the users would become the police, reporting websites they personally deem in violation of vague copyright laws. This bill, however, gives law enforcers the ability to shut down access to reported websites without the due process that has served as a cornerstone of our judicial system.
The bill is so poorly-written, so vague, that it can only serve to harm the free flow of information over the Internet. Giving a government agency permission to condemn any reported website so blatantly violates freedom of speech.
I guess the question here is whether access to the Internet is a right or not. On the one hand, it is a channel for people to express themselves. On the other, however, there is no such thing as free Internet- we are required to pay some company in order to gain access. Is it our right to make ourselves more vulnerable, to give away information about ourselves, or is it a privilege to do so? If being on the Internet means that we give up certain parts of ourselves, would information such as music and art not also fall under this truth? Don't artists give up their right to absolute control when they choose to be a part of the Internet?
These are questions that are not about to be answered on my blog, or any blog. It is entirely possible that there are no answers, that the best we can do is come to an agreement on how to handle the Internet. However, the current approach is outdated and dangerous; we cannot use arcane methods to deal with such a modern problem. We need a modern solution.

Thoughts on the 99%

After a man died at the Occupy Salt Lake City camp (a mixture of carbon monoxide poisoning and drug overdose is the current theory), our mayor ordered the camp closed. They arrested about twenty people, and they used a bulldozer to take down the tents.

A bulldozer. To take down a few tents. A piece of equipment that probably costs thousands and thousands of dollars to insure and maintain, and they used it on some Coleman tents and cardboard lean-tos. They wasted thousands of dollars, taxpayer dollars, to make a show of force.

In other places, the police have arrested and/or beaten everyone from Iraq war vets to retired state Supreme Court justices. They took the press badges from any reporters trying to cover the eviction of the Occupy Wall Street protesters. This is in the same country that's made a point of claiming we have "freedom of the press."

What, exactly, is the motivation for these police officers, these supposed upholders of the law, to so blatantly disobey the most significant document in our country? Do they not realize that their pensions were most likely tied up in a stock market that bottomed out because of this "1%" they are now supporting with their actions? Do they not acknowledge that they are a part of this majority being forced to shoulder the burden of debt that others have manufactured? They so easily strike down people my age, and people my parents' age, and people your age. For what? Because they were told to do so? Have they never read the transcripts of the Nuremberg Trials?

Now, I would never go so far as to equate police to Nazis. They are nowhere near the same. This aside, the justification of "being told to do so" has been used time and again as an excuse to commit any number of atrocities.

Of course, a person cannot simply be told to support a movement, even when confronted with any number of facts. No, people will only begin to agree with the Occupy movement when they have made an emotional connection to it.

My connection is simple enough to understand- I was raised by the public education system with the impression that if I worked hard and went to college, life would be set. Now that I'm a year and a half from graduation and thousands of dollars in the hole with student loans, however, prospects seem grim. I worked hard, I paid my damned taxes last year, and yet I'm being asked to not only pay an exorbitant amount of money for my education, but I am also facing the prospect of having social programs I rely on slashed, simply because the richest people in this country do not feel like paying taxes.

Where is the justice in that? More so, where is the democracy? We live in a country with the second-lowest socio-economic mobility of all developed nations on the planet. My being not-rich is not a fault of my own, except that I was born into the wrong family. Because, as much as Herman Cain might protest otherwise, the biggest determining factor in your wealth as an adult is the economic class of your parents. While there certainly are exceptions to this, exceptions do not set the standard.

No, I was raised with the idea that when you earned more money than most people, it was your responsibility to contribute that good fortune back into society. I worked in soup kitchens, I donate money, I volunteer. It is not driven by some moral standard; it is driven by the knowledge that a society heavily-reliant upon its people cannot be successful unless everyone contributes as much as possible. If these rich people are "job creators," where exactly are all the jobs? What have they pumped back into their community?

Being a country run by its own people, for its own people, is a serious responsibility. With the acceptance of being a member of this country, you acknowledge that we need people, of all kinds. If you are unwilling to contribute, get out of this country. When the society as a whole is healthy and provided for, it is more efficient. Jobs do not magically arise out of the ether; rather, they come from necessity. When more people spend money within the system, demand rises. The people most likely to spend a large sum of money in their community are not that mysterious one percent. A person who earns fifty thousand dollars is far more likely to spend almost all of that than a person who earns several million.

Why, then, are people who are statistically part of this "99%" willing to support the other one? Perhaps because the one percent has worked hard to create in the minds of Americans the idea that you, too, can become a part of their exclusive club, as long as you support them. Evidence, of course, would suggest otherwise.

I suppose that what we have here is a massive failure to communicate. The people who believe they can aspire to be rich have been fed these fallacies by the very group they wish to join. They have come to believe the 99% movement is one of "young, self-entitled people," which is entirely untrue (as the name suggests, 99% of the population consists of more than twenty-somethings). They have been told that it is unfair to expect these wealthy people to pay taxes, because they (the wealthy) create jobs that simply are not there.

It is an entire system built on misinformation, and the vast majority of people are tired of it. These backwards stalwarts can either find a legitimate argument against the movement, or they can join it, but those who sit comfortably behind snide commentary like, "McDonald's is hiring" or "I bet they don't even pay taxes" are only destined to make idiots of themselves. They do not have to go down to the camps and join the literal occupation, but they are welcome to contact their representatives, vote against policies maintaining the status quo, and use their money to support those companies and campaigns with which they find common ground. Being a part of this movement is not about being anti-capitalist; it is about making sure that corporations remember who really pays their wages. Capitalism, much like democracy, cannot survive if it alienates the people upon which it relies. Being a part of this movement means you feel the system in which you exist has forgotten you're there. Change is real, and it can happen- look at the mega-banks changing their policies in anticipation of losing customers to credit unions. This isn't about drum circles, or tents, this is about a movement so big, so significant, that it is not restrained by physical boundaries. They have occupied Wall Street, and Los Angeles, and Boise, but they're also occupying blogs, they're occupying news sources, they're occupying Twitter and they're occupying Facebook. They're in multiple countries, they speak multiple languages, they come from different backgrounds. You can choose to be one of them, or you can choose to be surrounded by them.

My name is Meg, and I am a part of the 99%.

A Story about Depression

One of my favorite bloggers has inspired this post. Today, she posted about everyone's favorite topic- depression.

Now, let me be clear- there is a huge cavern of difference between "feeling sad" and depression. Feeling sad is motivated by some occurrence, and anyone can suffer from it. People can suffer from profound sadness over any number of things. You can be sad because a relative died, and you can be sad because a hurricane devastated a group of people.

Depression is different.

Now, I cannot begin to vouch for anyone else's feelings, but I feel I'm pretty good at telling the difference between when I'm feeling sad and when I am suffering from genuine depression.

I was sad when my grandfather died last spring. I was depressed while living in Portland.

And I don't need to go into the minutiae of what my experience was like while being depressed, except that it was all-encompassing and overwhelming. I felt like I could not get out of bed, and what was worse, that no one cared whether I got out of bed or not.

And it builds on itself. I stopped going to class, I stopped doing homework, I made excuses for not socializing with my friends. I put off life itself because it was simply too much for me. I blew off my life, and shit built up until I felt like there was no way I could wade back into the thick of it. There were too many essays, too much homework, too great of a burden.

Everything just turned into one ugly, painful spiral, and I hated myself for it. I didn't understand how other people managed it so easily, when getting out of bed was an accomplishment for me. I cried in the shower, I cried myself to sleep, I cried walking back to my dorm after the few classes I did manage to attend.

I'm not going to try to illustrate that kind of self-loathing that I (and my guess is others) felt while in this great little shit-hole, the kind where you look in the mirror and hate everything you see, and everything you represent. If you've felt it, you know what I mean. If you haven't, you're lucky, and you're not about to gain any understanding from a silly little blog like mine.

Depression is like addiction- no one can tell you you've got a problem. No one can tell you to get better. You have to be willing to get help, and to help yourself. And that's how it ended- I helped myself. I started by forcing myself out of bed, forcing myself to work on homework, study for tests, go buy groceries. I put myself in that hole, and I dug myself back out of it. On a scale of the most painful experiences I have had, this was by far the worst, but I survived. In fact, I more than survived- I got myself out of Portland, transferred to a school I love, found a degree I love, and moved as far away from that place, mentally, as I could. I'm not making light of it; getting through that year was an enormous show of will power.

And that is not how I would advocate doing it. Regardless of my personal thoughts towards psychology, nothing is more useful when you're in a hole than a good therapist. I know that having a therapist is sometimes regarded as a personal failing, but get over it. If you need help, you need help. In my case, I forced myself back onto a track that worked for me, but that's not the way to do it for other people. Just as every individual's problems are unique, the solutions also vary.

The aforementioned blogger's turning point came when she realized she had no more effort left to give to being depressed. My own turning point came when, after talking about how awful living in Portland was making me feel with a friend, he replied that I didn't have to live there. He told me there was no reason for me to stay. A shocker, I know, but in my private spiral, it never occurred to me that I could leave.

So, I did leave. I got better. And I realized that I'd learned more about myself in that one year of hell than I had over the last 18 years. I found out that I don't need validation from other people, so long as what I'm doing is important to me. I found out that I will always have the ability to change something that's got me doubting myself. Most importantly, I found out that I'm a hell of a lot tougher, and more capable, than I ever thought I was. While I was stuck in that dark nonsense, I couldn't see my life possibly getting better. Now, on the other side of it all, I can see that nothing bad ever stays bad, but it will only change if it is forced to change. Even though that was possibly the worst year of my life, I would never go back and change any part of it.

I am me because of it.

Thanks for the Concern, Rick, but No.

I watch CNN frequently- not so much for the news, but for the entertainment factor. If I want news, I go somewhere that hires real journalists, like Reuters or the BBC.

On CNN, Wolf Blitzer, that king of the clueless, asked Rick Santorum (hehe, santorum) about abortion. Because, you know, white men still haven't come to a consensus on whether or not women should be in charge of their own bodies.

Anyway, dear Mr. Ricky claims that abortion is wrong because a fetus is a person. Fetuses can feel pain, after all. Women who get pregnant have to face the consequences of their actions.

Thanks for that, man. I'm glad that because you have a penis, you know better than I do. In fact, will you do my taxes for me, too? My feeble lady-mind just can't get that far. While we're at it, could you do my homework? I'm just worried that my overly-emotional brain will explode.

Let's go through some of those common arguments, starting with the one that some states want to incorporate into law.

"Fetuses feel pain." Well, yes. Sure. I suppose that, on a quantifiable level, it sends the same chemical signals that science has come to associate with pain. You know what else does that? Plants. Studies have shown that plants feel pain. Does that mean I never have to eat Brussels sprouts, either? You know, since we're never going to ever do anything that causes anything to feel "pain." While we're at it, let's add meat and fish to that list, since those things all feel pain, too. Oh, and don't forget- parasites can probably feel pain, too. So don't you dare try to kill those lice on your kid's head. They're living things, too. They feel.

"A fetus is a person." No, it's a group of cells. It relies on the mother in order to live. You what else exhibits that behavior? Tumors. A fetus isn't a person till it comes out of the womb (And not the stomach, Rick. Jesus fucking Christ.). Once it's out, it's a baby. Until it comes out, it's a fetus. Sort of like the whole lava-magma thing.

"Women need to face the consequences of their actions." Oh, that's creative. It's her womb, therefore, her problem. Furthermore, I love that we're considering children to be "consequences." I'm sure that hasn't created any sociopaths.

Let's talk about facing the consequences of one's actions. I assume that, since we're considering pregnancy to be a consequence, and are therefore condemning abortion, we're going to apply this to every kind of consequence for one's actions. This means, obviously, that doctors are now forbidden from setting broken limbs- falling on your arm while skiing was your choice, and could have been prevented, but you went with it anyway. Now you've got to either heal on your own, or die of blood poisoning. Also to be considered "consequences" are communicable diseases, natural disasters, and accidents of all kinds. After all, you chose to get hit by a car. It's not our problem.

Hopefully, this all sounds insane, and not your idea of a utopia. If it does, get away from me. But if you see how ridiculous any of these are, then you ought to see how absurd the arguments against abortion.

I love kids. I want kids of my own, someday. However, if I discovered that I was pregnant- for any reason- and I wasn't in a place where I could deal with being pregnant or raising a child, I would want the option to be there. It is unfair to everyone involved when a woman has a child she can neither raise nor emotionally support. I believe that abortion should be safe, legal, and rare, which means the attention needs to shift off of abortion itself and onto the way we raise kids to be sexually-aware adults. I know we're all secretly twelve and talking about sex is icky, but let's be honest- kids do it with or without your guidance. So suck it up, stop trying to force laws on my goddamned uterus, and do the adult thing. Condoms and birth control are a hell of a lot cheaper than children.

Then again, maybe Rick Santorum is willing to raise all those "consequences."

Parenting Tips

Let's talk about parenting.

As a twenty-year-old, I'm glad to say that I'm not one. I have every intention of being one, just not for another ten years or so.

So I'm not about to claim to be a parenting expert. But it's not because I don't have one, it's because I really don't think anyone can be an "expert" on parenting. It's just one of those things you do, and you do as well as you can, and if you fucked up, it's your spawn's problem. There's an app for that.

But I have a few bones to fucking pick with parents. I grew up eating dirt, and grass, and whatever managed to find its way into my mouth. I got my fucking vaccinations. If I threw a tantrum, I got in trouble- I was hauled out of a few public places by my parents, I'm not ashamed to say. Overall, I was a fairly well-behaved kid. I learned to cook. I learned to do laundry. I learned that there are about seven billion people on this spinning ball of rock, and I am not that special.

So when I run into these moms pushing around jumbo-jet-sized strollers, I am instantly annoyed. I mean, I could fit in one of these fucking things. They take up an entire sidewalk. And ownership of one of those seems to give these parents the idea that they are the center of the frigging universe. They steer right into you, assuming your going to move because, awwww, it's a wittle baby! Yeah, well, your "baby" can string together whole sentences. Time to learn to walk.

We went to a street fair today, and it was crowded. As in, no room to move anywhere but forward. And this woman jumps in front of us with her baby-limo and five kids orbiting her. She stops in front of us, so I say "Sure is nice to be able to just stop in front of people." She turns around and sneers, "Go around us, then."

You know what, kiddo? Fuck you. I feel sorry for your kids that they're going to be raised to be self-entitled little fucks. It's going to suck for them when they enter they enter the real world and find out they don't matter.

I mean, shit. These people act like they deserve a Nobel Fucking Prize for reproducing. My congratulations, you have achieved one of the most basic of human functions. It's right up there with eating and shitting. Now get out of my way.

And these are also frequently the "breast is best" supporters. Yes, studies have shown it is good for Junior. But there are women out there who cannot physically manage it. Do you really need to flaunt your gushing tits in front of them? Doesn't that seem a tad inappropriate? I mean, lactation is not special, kiddos. It's a qualifier for an enormous group of organisms, not a super power. If you breast-fed your kids, good for you. If you didn't, oh well. It's not the end of the fucking world. Get the fuck over yourself.

And then some of these people seem to be anti-vaccine. Like, how is that even a thing? There is absolutely no evidence that vaccines will do shit to your precious Junior, excepting the rare cases where the kid reacts to the shot. When that happens, it is unfortunate, but it is highly unlikely your precious crotch-spawn will have that happen. Vaccines like MMR are not bad for Junior. You know what is bad for Junior? Measles. Measles outbreaks have gone up substantially in the last twenty years. You know why? Because some ludicrous people seem to think it gives kids autism. You know where autism really starts? The WOMB. It's your fault, bitch.

Furthermore, these "I would never reprimand Junior because I believe in positive reinforcement" cop-outs typically buy into this "Special Snowflake" bullshit. "Junior deserves to get whatever he wants because he's special." You know who else is "special?" Every other one of the seven billion people currently in existence. You're not special. Your kid's not special. Your kid is a child, and if he's screaming his head off because he wants some fucking toy or candy, that is your problem. You chose to have kids, now deal with them. They are not my problem. I have been a babysitter, a nanny, and a camp counselor. I have made plenty of kids my problem. I adored every one of those whiny fucks. And if any of them lost their marbles, they got in trouble. Your kid might be bright. I was a bright kid once, too. And you know what's cool about bright kids? They find ways to amuse themselves. If your kid needs constant attention, he's probably not very bright.

Kids are like parasites- most people have one. Some even have two. When I have a kid, I will love that dumb little fucker to pieces. But I'm not going to kid myself- he/she isn't that special. They came out of a uterus, they eat food, and they shit a lot. They can do whatever they set their stupid little minds to, but they aren't the only kids to have ever existed. If they throw fits, they suffer the consequences. They won't know what a stroller is (baby packs are where it's at). They will eat the food they're given, they will be vaccinated, and they can eat mud to their hearts' content. And hopefully, that little sack of person-ness will turn out to be mostly normal. If it's my kid, chances are limited, but hey. Optimism never hurts. But when I'm in a public place and my kid suddenly stops in front of someone, I'm not about to make it that person's problem. It's not their fucking problem. The little fucker came from my vag, after all. That little problem is mine, and mine only.

Remembrance

Well, I suppose, given what this weekend is, this post is inevitable. Some people are good at talking through emotions. I am not one of those people, but I am good at writing out my emotions.

I was ten years old, and in Mrs. Elkins' fifth grade class. It was a Tuesday morning; I was eating breakfast.

"Michael," my mom called from their downstairs bedroom. "Come down here for a second."

My dad left the kitchen and walked down the stairs. Being an awfully curious ten yer old, I followed. The Today Show was on, just like it was every morning, but the picture was not what I was used to seeing. It wasn't their studio. It wasn't even Rockefeller Plaza. It was of two buildings; smoke poured out of them about two-thirds of the way up.

It was the first time in my ten years that I'd seen reporters lost for words. The buildings weren't anything special to me; I've never been to New York, and someplace called the World Trade Center sounded like a business office. As they explained that two planes had flown into the buildings, the confusion mounted. How could any pilot not notice two enormous buildings in front of him? How did two planes just end up in downtown Manhattan?

As I remember, and I could be wrong, both buildings were standing when I left for school. My friends and I crouched in a basement window that looked into the music room. We huddled together, a group of confused ten- and eleven-year-olds, and watched the towers fall. Even after school started, all we did was watch more coverage of it. The thought that we could be able to do anything else was laughable. Who can think about long division when potentially thousands of innocent people are dying? People who woke up that morning, the same as us, had breakfast, and went to work. People who just wanted to go home and watch television that evening.

I didn't know anyone who died in the World Trade Center attacks. I didn't know anyone who was in New York at the time. My remembrance of the attacks isn't about individual people, and it isn't necessarily about that day; it is about what happened to me, personally, as a result.

First, this was when I permanently gave up on Christianity. I gave up on the notion of God. In my ten-year-old mind, I couldn't understand why a "loving God" would allow three thousand innocent people to die simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I couldn't understand how people could do such heinous things to other people simply because they followed different religions.

Second, I realized America wasn't the greatest country in the world. I was not proud to be an American. I couldn't believe that we would allow such things as the PATRIOT Act and the over-the-top TSA security to exist, when they fly in the face of the ideals upon which this country was founded. I couldn't help but feel like these extremists had accomplished their goal; we had effectively renounced the values that made us the US. It took me several years, and a lot of studying, to get back to a point where I could claim to truly be proud to be an American. To this day, I resent much of what our country does, but I know we have the potential to be better.

Third, I became an activist. I wanted to not only understand things, but be involved in them. I wanted to protest, to give speeches, to prove that I was not about to take any of this quietly. I helped out at the Snake River Alliance because my father was involved with them, but three years later, I joined the ACLU. I gave a speech on the steps of Boise's City Hall. I marched in parades, I handed out pamphlets and worked booths at events. Every time I read about someone being discriminated against, someone being unjustly detained, someone getting hurt in a disaster, I was personally outraged. To this day, I have to nail my feet to the floor to keep from getting on planes and going to places like Haiti, or Somalia. The fringe group who launched on our country ten years ago, while they might have gotten the response they wanted from our government, caused me to want to be a better person. I wanted to help people, to try and make sure that no one would ever be alone when they needed help.

Every time I see that image of the two towers billowing smoke, I think of what it must have felt like, to be on the floors above, knowing you weren't going to be able to get out. Every time I see an image of the Hurricane Katrina aftermath, I think of what it must be like to see your possessions, your house, swept away in a flood of water caused by someone else's mistake. Every time I see images of people starving in a war-torn or corrupt country, I think of how unfair it is that we're dying of being too fat in this country. After 9/11/2001, I started to see the unfairness of the world, and I knew that I was going to spend the rest of my life doing something about it, one way or another. To do anything else just doesn't seem right.

To Sympathize with the Sardine.

Let's talk about mass transit.

I am a huge advocate for mass transportation. I do not own a car, and I hate walking uphill, so the best way to get to school is the train. (On that note, I could take the bus, but the train is easier. And while I believe in saving the Earth and its resources, blah blah blah, I also believe in conserving bodily energy-I'm lazy.)

Well, they've changed the train routes, and it has become slightly inconvenient for me. But I am persistent, and I will walk an extra block to avoid that stupid hill. However, the trains are packed with students all day long now. Maybe it's because it's become more convenient for them. Maybe it's because they have fewer trains running at peak hours. Either way, there are far more people.

I mean, packed. As in, we all become practically well acquainted enough for a second date. It's awkward, but because we're all college students, we embrace the awkwardness and get over it. For the most part, this approach works. Sometimes, though, it's just too much.

Like this morning. I ride the 7:30 train, because I am mentally unstable and I like to sign up for classes that are either far too early or far too late in the evening.

(Here was the internal dialogue- "I don't want to have to get up at six-fifteen to leave the house an hour later to catch a train to go to an early class." "But it's Human Biology! Diseases and stuff! That's what we love!" "I do not love it enough to get up that early." "Don't be stupid, yes you do." "Don't be stupid, you like sleep." "Not as much as I like science!" "We're insane." "Yes, yes we are.")

At seven-thirty in the morning, people are packed into the train like sardines. This morning, I stood next to a particularly-attractive football player type. He was very gracious about letting me shove my backpack into his stomach. It was packed, but hey, I could see out the window! The ride wasn't going to be that bad!

Well, here's the problem- I get on at the Library stop. There are two more stops between there and the school. At those two stops, there were thirty to fifty people waiting at each station. I guess what happens is that they see a few inches not being occupied by backpack or human, and they think they can fit into that space. Maybe they figure other people will just move around a bit.

Well, they won't. And there isn't space. When the door won't close until everyone is standing on top of each other, that is a sign there are too many people. That is a sign that no, actually, your bicycle will not fit in here with us. That is a sign that now is not the time for a phone call to your mother/boyfriend/proctologist.

It was the sad cherry on top of the awkward cake when the driver roared around a corner and caused me to stab Attractive Footballer in the chest with my elbow. I apologized, and he didn't say anything. That could be because he was trying to find his lungs after being impaled on the end of someone's humerus, or it could be that he was a gracious person. I'd hope for the latter, but I assume it was the former.

So, I have a few suggestions for the Utah Transit Authority, now that my morning commute has become as dangerous and predictable as a visit to a crack house.

First, add more trains to the University route. I realize that we aren't as big of a money-maker as other passengers, but still. Don't claim to have "streamlined" the route and then exceed maximum capacity on almost every run. It's dangerous, both to our physical and mental health. Having to ride for twenty minutes with someone's face in your breasts simply because they can't move anywhere else does not make me happy. It makes me violent.

Second, train your goddamned drivers. These newer trains respond differently than the old ones. They're fancier, and therefore respond to smaller amounts of power. When you drive them like the old ones, people fall over. When you have a large number of people in a small space, one person falling over causes them all to fall over. I'm thinking the amount of money spent to properly train your people is less than damages from lawsuits brought on by people seriously injured by being thrown across the train.

In reality, does complaining about UTA's follies here help me? No, not really. Does it make me feel better? Of course it does. I like to ride the train, because the stop at school is near the Anthropology building. I used to support UTA. Now, I'm thinking that hill might notbe so bad, after all.

Adventures in Xenophobia

So I went to the grocery store today.

It happens; you decide you would like nothing more than a doughnut and a pound of peas and you leave with two extra bags of crap. Annoying, but whatever. I tend to get carried away when it comes to fresh produce and nice cheeses.

But then I find myself waiting for the train in 90-degree heat, carrying a grocery bag on each arm and cursing my taste for good food. This business man butts in front of me just as the train pulls up, but whatever. I bite back my desire to tell him the Heavenly Father would not approve and take a seat behind him.

I then see these two quite beautiful North African women running to catch the train and I press the button to hold the door for them. They take seats in front of Mr. Business and proceed to have a lengthy, joyous conversation in what would seem to be their native tongue.

As the train rolls down the street, past the library and towards the middle of downtown, I find myself staring at them, admiring their beautiful headscarves (hijab). This is when Mr. Business, obviously made uncomfortable by these exotic people, leans back and says to me, I shit you not, "They should learn English."

I stare at him for a moment, horrified that this severely-sheltered white-bread-eater would have the gall to say something like that to a complete stranger in public. I can feel the back of my brain itching to introduce his face to my fist. (It is worth noting here that I have had almost no sleep in the last forty-eight hours and I am operating entirely on caffeine and spite) Instead, that clever demon that resides in a special corner of my brain takes over.

I frown at him and reply, "Je suis désolée, mais je ne parle pas anglais." ("I'm sorry, but I don't speak English")(It should also be noted that the previous French statement is written technically; the colloquial pronunciation varies more or less)

Lucky for me, the train pulls to my stop, and I exit, hopefully leaving that belligerently ignorant man-child horribly confused.

Thus is one of the most shocking problems our nation faces. We are so absorbed by our own small corners of existence that we neglect to really take note of those around us. Instead of seeing two fantastically-dressed Muslim women, this man saw Outsiders, people of another culture who refuse to conform. What he fails to recognize, however, is that English is not the technical native tongue for a large portion of the US's residents. Many of us are German, Spanish, Italian, French, Greek, et cetera. This kind of blind xenophobia is not only unsympathetic, it is hypocritical. Chances are good that we all have at least one ancestor whose origins were not in North America.

Did he need to share his personal views with me, a complete and total stranger who he neglected to take note of until I was convenient? Of course not, but he was seemingly so enamored with his own wit he felt the need to share.

Let us envision the situation, had he noticed me from the beginning. If I had taken his seat, and he took mine, I would have been free to sit by the women in question, and he would have been able to continue his existence in his pitifully-small bubble. If he's going to have irrational prejudices against people he doesn't know or bother to understand, why share that with me? Did he really think I would have anything beyond disdain for him? I can't help but suspect it wasn't about making an impression on me; it was about hearing his thoughts aloud, regardless of who they might offend.

It's like when I see someone at the store with a sandwich and Coke, and I have two weeks' worth of groceries. I let that person go before me in line because it is a way of making everyone's life a little bit better. When you demonstrate consideration of others, they (hopefully) will continue that act somewhere else. It benefits me personally to be courteous towards others.

So, do I have a moral to this story? Not particularly, because I try not to tell others how to live their lives(and I tend to fail at that, but moving on). But the next time you're getting in the elevator and you see someone running to catch it, maybe consider holding the door for them. Not because it's the "right thing to do," but maybe because you're going to affect someone else's day whether you act or not. Which impression would you rather leave with that person?

A fabulous little paragraph that deserves recognition.

This is great, and I cannot take credit for it. (author unknown)

Why are fire engines red?

Newspapers are read, too. Two plus 2 is 4, 4+4 is 8, and 8+4 is 12. There are 12 inches in a ruler. Queen Mary was a ruler. Queen Mary was also a ship at sea. The sea has fish, the fish have fins, and the Finns fought the Russians. Russians used to be red, and fire engines are always rushin’.

That’s why fire engines are red.

That is all.

Idiotic Beauty Contestants Insult My Science

Let us talk about evolution.

Of course, when I say "let us talk," I mean that I'll write nonsense and you'll read it. I am the enlightened despot of this here blog, and you are the voluntary citizenry.

Anyway, evolution. When Darwin studied it in the Galapagos, he described the observance of the variance of particular genetic traits in a population of finches, and how these traits proved to be more or less successful, depending upon the availability of certain types of food. That is evolution, in fact- the comparative success of certain genetic traits in a population through time, based upon the varying conditions of the surrounding environment.

Other non-science venues, however, insist that evolution means that "apes turned into men." Well, as a student of physical anthropology, I feel comfortable in saying that's a load of crap. There were no magic wands, and we were not magically transformed into people from something else. We trace our genetic history backwards through the history of Mammalia and further back. This is established; we have mapped out much of the human genome and discovered that we've inherited a surprising amount of coding from other species.

Let us get a few things straight. There is no "other side of the story." Evolution is not a theory in the common linguistic sense; it is a theory in the sense that gravity is a theory. It is quite uncommon to hear someone say "I don't believe in gravity," so why can someone "believe" in evolution? It's ludicrous to claim that evolution and "creation myths" are even on some kind of playing field. Creation myths are cultural legacies, cultural understandings of the world. Evolution is a scientific concept, a hypothesis that has had the scientific method repeatedly applied to it.

Yes, the scientific method, that thing you learned in school that involves making a hypothesis, testing it under controlled conditions, observing the experiment, analyzing the results, making a conclusion, and modifying the hypothesis if necessary. These are the standards you use in elementary school, and they're the standards you use when you're in college. These are the standards used to test evolution. Evolution is not something people just noticed and said, "hey, let's make that a thing." The scientific theory of evolution represents over a hundred years (at least) of research. To claim that something like the Book of Genesis is at all comparable to evolution is insane; there is no way to test religion using the scientific method, therefore, it cannot be treated as science.

I agree with people who say that evolution and religious theories should be taught in schools, but not because I think they're somehow different sides of some coin. Evolution should be taught in schools simply because it is a part of science that is a foundation for entire fields (physical anthropology, for example). Religions of the world ought to be taught in school too, albeit a different class. Religion is not science; science is not a religion. A person can have a scientific view of the world and still be religious. This is not a "one-or-the-other" situation.

Therefore, it is personally insulting to me when someone says "I don't believe in evolution," as if it is something in which a person can believe. Evolution is not a belief system- there is no Church of Evolution. Evolution is part of biological science. You can believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, love at first sight, and Peter Pan, but you can't believe in evolution. Like any science, you can understand it, you can respect it, and you can build a career out of it, but it's not something you "believe in." It simply "is," and that's all there is to it. Whether you grasp it or not is akin to whether or not you grasp cellular biology.

Thus the question stands: should evolution be taught in school?

Well, if we have to have classes like technical reading and writing, we had better damned have evolution, too.

A Year in Salt Lake

Moving to Salt Lake was probably the most daring thing I've done in my life.

I'm not kidding; the last time I'd been in Salt Lake, I was eleven and going to the Olympics with my parents. I had never really been here before. I'd never seen the University of Utah, and I had no clue what my apartment was going to look like. I truly moved here on a whim; Portland wasn't working out, and I wanted somewhere bigger than Boise, so (with the suggestion of a few friends) I picked Salt Lake.

I'll never forget coming around a bend near Tremonton and seeing the Wasatch for the first time. It was love at first sight; I'd never seen mountains so breathtaking before in my life. I'll never forget driving down South Temple for the first time on that hot, muggy day in June and seeing the view I now see every day. My father and I carried my belongings up those god-awful stairs, and I was in love with my apartment. It was quirky, and it was old. It had personality. I moved there without having ever seen the building previously.

I had no preconceived notions about what my experience would be like, and maybe that's what made it all so great for me. I came here because I hadn't liked Portland or Portland State, and I've never been so happy about a choice made at random. Instead of envisioning all of these plans for the future, Salt Lake was a kind of blind restart for me, absent of anything I'd planned.

Living here has taught me a lot over the last year, too. I've learned that living in the moment, with few expectations, is better for a person than trying to live for the future. I've learned from the Mormons that taking yourself too seriously just makes you look ridiculous. Most importantly, I've learned that when something isn't working for you, you have every right to change it.

I've loved this last year of living in Salt Lake. I'm sure there were moments I didn't like, but I don't remember them. Enjoying the adventure of living here has been so much more important to me than dwelling on the little things that go wrong. I love Utah, and I love Salt Lake. It was an impulsive choice that paid off, and I am so glad I had the balls to take that chance.

Back Pain Inspires Political Ravings

It's been awhile.

It happens; you get to doing all kinds of crap and while you see plenty of things to write bits about, you decide against writing. Which is not to say that I haven't been writing; come on, me not writing is like me not breathing. I haven't been writing in my blog for various reasons, mostly because I have summer school.

Well, today I'm not at school because last night, I somehow completely wrecked my back. Don't ask me how, because all I know is that I woke up around three and realized I could hardly move. So now, I'm sitting on the couch, wincing often, Icy-Hot patch and ibuprofen applied. I ought to eat breakfast, but that's looking like a long, uncomfortable walk to the kitchen. I'm sort of in a foul mood, and there's not better time to write than when you're caught in the midst of a smoldering temper.

Let's talk about Sarah Palin. If you haven't heard, she's an idiot who refuses to acknowledge that she's an idiot. She tries to dismiss her gaffes as "technicalities." Recently, she was quoted talking about Paul Revere, and how he (apparently) sounded bells and horns to tell the British that we were there.

Upon watching this clip of Palin's idiocy, I felt annoyed. Why is it that people with no real education can get this far in the political sphere, all the while spewing this kind of crap and being smug about it? Palin isn't the only one, either; in the midst of telling people Americans need to read the Constitution, one politician cited "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," a well-known quote from the Declaration of Independence.

Is this the new standard? Have the anti-intelligence masses become such a majority that well-organized, thoughtful arguments are a thing of the past? In any other developed country on this blue planet, those who are well-educated and worldly are considered far superior potential leaders than those who use blind, irrational fear to gain popularity. In any other country, people like Sarah Palin would be laughed out of town.

So is this what America has become? Is this the other side of democracy? We now consider people who don't even know their own country's history to be legitimate contenders. These are against people who have taught American law in universities, people who hold doctorates in political theory and have made a lifetime career of understanding the complexities of the US government. This is insanity, but it is also the reality of a democracy where the citizens have become lazy and uninformed.

Alas, I am in pain and I'm cranky. I'm missing a class I like and I'm going out of town on Thursday. Packing whilst suffering from back pain is akin to throwing myself down the stairs repeatedly. I'm not looking forward to it. And I suppose that's the problem with the nation in general- we all have stuff to do. The economy's weaving up and down like a drunken sailor, unemployment grew slightly, everything's on fire or everything's flooded. This, however, is the price of living in a country run by the people. If we are unwilling to pay attention to what's happening, who is left to maintain the watch? Not anybody we want to leave in charge, I'll tell you that.

For Edward Lahey, my grandfather

If there is one regret I have, it is his absence from my life.

There is no beauty in the image of the starving artist, let me tell you. There is no elegance in the tragic life and death of an underappreciated poet, and those who go in search of some kind of meaning in that are fools who have never seen such a thing first-hand. These people who romanticize the idea of being a tortured creative genius have never felt the pain inflicted on the family of sad genius. But there is a kind of magnificence in the kind of artist who suffers as he had and still makes art of it.

I don’t intend to glamorize his life in any way, because it’s not my place to do so. I never knew him on a personal level, not in the same way my mother, my aunt, or even my sister knew him. I didn’t have much of a relationship with him, and while maybe some of that is based in the lack of opportunities I had to be with him, it’s mostly my fault. It’s mostly because I viewed him as being old, and frail, and a broken person who was not worth my time. I was in the pig-headedness of youth, and some strange person with whom I’d had little personal contact was the furthest of my interests. He wrote me letters, and to some I may or may not have responded, but the vast majority were read and put away.

In my defense, I kept every letter he wrote me, so maybe that counts for something. I’m not sure why I kept them; perhaps it was easier to keep them to throw them away, but I think it’s more likely that I kept them to have some proof that he was in my life. He was in my life, even if it was merely in words written on paper.

I do not remember the sound of his voice. I do not even remember just how tall he was, or when I saw him last. I don’t remember the last time I spoke to him. I remember only snippets of the times we visited him, and even these are too abstract to place chronologically- there was a carousel one time, there was a stream with a foot-bridge over it another. I only have a handful of gifts from him, and of these I don’t particularly remember when I actually received them.

The way I know him is the way I would like to think he would prefer to be remembered. I know him because I know his writing. I know the cadence of his language, his choices of vocabulary. His writing speaks a kind of poetry that is not flowery or weak; it is concise and speaks in the voice of a real person, someone who sees the exquisite detail of the world, but trusts that the reader to see it, too. His writing is sensitive, and it is crude. It is a full-bodied range of emotions which few writers ever manage.

I would like to think this is a trait we share. I would like to think that when I write, I write as he wrote, with an exactness that leaves a certain amount of detail up to the reader. I would never claim to know him the way others knew him, but I would claim to know him in a way others did not. I think that writing for some people, for people like him, and like me, is not just a hobby, or a talent, but an extension of the brain. I write when I am upset, when I’m happy, when I’m angry or insecure, and my writing reflects my emotions in ways I could never convey any other way. I think that this is how I knew Edward Lahey- when there was no way to describe something in person, there was always a way to write it. Even if I didn’t speak to him, his writing spoke to me. His life was a hard one, and that shows through in his writing, but what shows through more was that it was a life. Behind those words, there was a person with thoughts and feelings. While I may not have appreciated him as a common person, I appreciate him for his writing, and for the unique artist that he was. It pains me to think that there are no more words that he will write. I don’t write to speak for him, but I certainly write because of him. I write because I was inspired in his manner of recording the world he saw. His view of the place he called home will be missed, and it will never be replaced.

Dads

So I'm reading Bossypants, by Tina Fey, and it is hysterically funny.

Normally, I don't go out and buy memoirs of celebrities because chances are good that it was written by someone other than the celebrity, but Tina Fey is a writer. Not to mention, there was a plethora of great reviews for the book. And I would like to think of myself as having the same kind of strange, sarcastic sense of humor as Tina Fey. So I bought her book, and I'm reading it like reading's going out of style.

She has a chapter about her father, Don Fey, and the kind of man he is. According to Tina Fey, her father was a pensive, deliberate kind of man who took shit from no one but did it in a good-natured enough way that people tended to be impressed by him.

Her description of her father, of his viewing everything as defective if he has to read the instruction manual, of his strings of well-chosen curse words when something goes wrong, and of his general attitude, reminded me (with a pang of homesickness) of my own father.

My father, of course, has some definite differences from Don Fey. My father, for example, cracks highly inappropriate, often semi-politically-incorrect jokes that make my mother say, "Michael!", make my sister blush and groan, and make me roar with laughter. My dad believes in DIY projects, and has a colorful array of swear words seemingly set aside just for those occasions. My dad is tough, not in the "military-father" kind of tough but the "oh-ten-below-zero-isn't-that-cold" kind of tough. He's the kind of gun owner who is extremely responsible about being gun owner (which kind of tends to be rare). His version of hunting does not involve ATVs; it involves hiking a billion miles up a nearly-vertical slope to get his elk, and when he does, he's going to carry that fucker out and harvest everything he can, by god. When I was a kid, and we'd be in the car going somewhere, I'd ask him to tell me things about the pioneers, and about wolves, and about everything else I could think of. And he usually came up with some pretty good responses.

One time, when I was in junior high, my friend and I were followed home by some strange guy. My friend, god love him, chased the fucker off when we reached my house. When my dad got wind of it, though, we got into his car and drove around the adjacent neighborhoods. My father was going to find that creeper, god damn it. I wasn't sure what scared me more; the idea of being followed by some strange man, or what my dad was going to do to that strange man.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, we didn't find him. But that was one of those teaching lessons where I really understood that my dad was a very nice person who took shit from no one.

It is from my father that I learned you do not have to beat people up to prove you're not one to be messed with. I've never had to beat anyone up in my life, never thrown so much as a punch, because I learned that as long as you have the right sort of attitude, people will respect you. My father isn't a violent person, not any more violent than I am. I've never seen him physically harm anyone. This aside, people tend to be impressed by him. Not because he has gun rack in the living room, or a tattoo across his chest that says "Badass." (In fact, it is from him that I got a deep fer of needles) He doesn't act like a kid because he's afraid people won't notice, he does it because that's who he is. He's comfortable being who he is, and he doesn't act like he's got something to prove. He has nothing to prove. The rest of the world needs to prove their worth to him.

And these are the attitudes that I have adopted, for better or for worse. I love the outdoors. I have a knife collection, and I'm comfortable around guns. I'm proud of being one tough bitch, and like my dad, I'm tough because that's who I am, not because I'm trying to make myself feel better.

I love my whole family, and my mom has done just as much for me as my dad has. But in reading that chapter about a father who knew who he was, I was reminded of my own father who knows who he is. And it's my father who made me the man I am today.

Where's That Birth Certificate?

What s it with this "birther" crap?

I mean, seriously, how is there even an argument? How can anyone question whether or not Obama has a birth certificate? Even if he wasn't born on American soil, his mother was an American citizen. Therefore, even if he was born on Mars, Barack Obama is an American by birth. The end.

But that's the problem. It's not the end. Some still demand that he has to produce a birth certificate every time anyone wants to see it.

The funny part is that I'm pretty sure no one wanted to see George's certificate. No one asked to see McCain's, and he wasn't even born in the US. He was born in Panama. His parents were Americans, though, so he was an American. No one wanted to see Mitt Romney's. No one cared to even see Sarah's, and she's GOT to be an alien.

The truth is that this push to see everybody's birth certificate is racism. It's easier to believe someone's American, apparently, if their skin has a low melanin content. People will insist that isn't what's going on, but I'm inclined to think they've got their heads so far up their asses that it's getting hard to breathe.

In Arizona, and now in Utah, you can be asked by police to produce a birth certificate if you're pulled over. If you don't have that document, you get to spend some time in the hospitality of the state.

My guess is that there aren't going to be very many Caucasians being locked up as a result of that, but here's the catch; the probably don't carry around their birth certificates, either. I certainly don't. I'm fairly sure it's still in Idaho. But I'm citizen. I was born here. My parents were born here. Some ancestor or another has been born here since before this was an ctual country that handed out birth certificates. I'm pretty proud of that, and even if your parents were off-the-bot, you're just as much of a citizen as I am.

To make things even more adorable, someone had apparently proposed that we pass a law saying the citizenship of candidates must be verified before they can run for president. I find this fascinating, and I propose we pass a law stating that all representatives shall be forced at gunpoint to read the entire Constitution before taking office. You see, if they had, they would know those clever founders have already put that bit about citizenship in there. Somehow, though, I'm pretty sure they all already know about that. I think they just want to reassure the logically-challenged teabaggers out there that they're taking Donald Trump very seriously.

We have seen this pathetic xenophobia in one form or another since some well-dressed men signed the Constitution. This too, I am confident, shall pass, if only so that we can begin to be blatantly horrible to a new minority. Because discrimination is, after all, the American Way.

Is It Really Rotting Our Brains?

I think television-watching statistics are silly.

I think this because I watch a ton of television- at least, the telly is on all the time. But I guess I don't really watch it. I write. I read the news. I read the forty-five thousand blogs to which I subscribe. I watch You-Boob videos. I read a book. I read the SLC Weekly. I screw around on Facebook. I play Solitaire. I go wander through the magical muck that is the internet. I write blogs.

I don't just watch television. I'm not sure how anyone just watches television. There are people out there who just watch television, I'm sure, but there are all kinds of people out there. There are people who read dictionaries. There are people who think Donald Trump would make a decent president. Like I said, there are all kinds of people out there.

(If you are the sort of person who can just sit and watch television and not get bored, I do not apologize. I merely offer the humble suggestion that you need a hobby.)

So when I hear stuff like "people are watching more television than ever," I cannot help but wonder about that. If by watch they mean leave it on so the room isn't too quiet, then sure, I buy it. But if they mean there are hoards of people out there who just sit and watch the boob-tube without doing anything productive, then I feel our species may be headed in an awkward direction.

Then there's all the crap on television- and I'm not talking about the actual shows. People choose to watch the shows. The commercials are what make me batshit crazy. I hate commercials. Between those goddamn toilet-paper bears to the fucking flowery tampon ads, they all make me nearly homicidal. I mean, seriously, someone has taken the "does a bear shit in the woods" question way too far. And red flowers for maxi pads? Really? Did y'all think of that gem all by yourselves?

And then there are the "corn sugar" commercials. Fricking corn interest groups. I mean, we produce around 40% of the world's corn. It's easy to grow, and thus everybody has a cornfield. Because of this, the people representing corn farmers have a lot of clout politically. Why else would we be using corn to produce ethanol? It's one of the lowest-yielding energy sources we have available (soybean and hemp seed are exponentially ore efficient).

Now they have all these commercials talking about high fructose corn syrup. They want us to call it "corn sugar," apparently. Because, you know, sugar is sugar.

I have news for them. They probably already know this, too, which makes it worse- not all sugar is created equal. Fructose and glucose(regular sugar) are not the same. Your body can convert fructose to glucose, but it won't do that unless there is no glucose anywhere else in you (highly unlikely). More likely is that fructose gets converted into fatty acids, and (basically) into fat. Glucose does a hell of a lot more for you than just that. Thus, fructose isn't glucose, you corn-molesting media whores.

I just hate the amount of blatant misinformation floating around out there. Not only is it disrespectful, it's harmful, and it should be illegal. When I am ruler of the universe, there will be no obnoxious commercials. They will all be creative, informative, and none of them will have "sugar is sugar" shit.

But I need to go and watch a bridal dress show. And by watch, I mean write another ten pages.

New Computer

The hardest part of getting a new computer is getting to know it.

I don't care what people say; computers have their on personalities. Not personalities in the human sense- I would not imagine they prefer green beans to broccoli, or that they have a favorite color. But I do believe that no two computers are the same.

My last computer was a fairly reliable little workhorse. I wrote more than one entire novel on it, and it worked well. This was until about four months ago, when it stopped turning on its screen. The display might come up after four or five tries, but i was clear there was something wrong. I took it in over spring break, only to find out that not only was it unfixable, but it was going to get worse. They told me that, in all probability, there would be a point when it would not come back on, ever again.

I ended up ordering a new computer, one that is a better, more powerful computer than my old one. It's great, and I like Window Seven as opposed to Vista, but it's not my old computer. We were friends, and this new computer, while being an awesome piece of technology, is a stranger.

The keyboard is laid out differently, and what's more, it has a different sensitivity. I get onto the internet and look for a bookmark, only to remember that it's not on this PC. It feels different than my old computer.

Which is not to say I had none of these problems with my last computer. I thought nothing would replace my old PC, because even though it was an antique, it was my friend. I'd really learned how to use a computer on that one. And so, now, even though I love my old laptop and I ordered a new one begrudgingly, I like this one, too.

In one of Tom Robbins' books, he talks bout using a new typewriter to write the book, and regarding it as being inadequate for the story he's writing. I guess I know that feeling- as I write on this new computer, I continuously argue with it and curse it under my breath for leaving out an A or putting in one too many Os. I spend just as much time fixing the mistakes as I do writing, and it's annoying.

I used to handwrite most everything, but since my tendons have begun to fail me, I've come to rely on my computer. Having a computer die on me is like being evicted, and even if the new home is better, younger, and shinier, the stove's not where it's supposed to be. There aren't as many electrical outlets in the living room as yo're used to having. Eventually, you get used to where the stove is, and you buy some extension cords. You start to appreciate it for what it is.

I loved my last computer, and I know I'll love this one, but getting to know it is a real pain.

So you'll hve to forgive any typos I make; it's me and my new computer building a relationship.

Who Doesn't Love A Good Magic Trick?

Isn't it interesting that, even when the economy is improving, states around the US are making insane cuts to programs they claim aren't necessary? How fascinating it is that, even after improvements in the stock market and job market, state legislators feel it's time to "make the hard decisions" and make cuts to Medicaid, education, and collective bargaining. Funny how, even though they claim we need to make these judgement calls, places like corrections and the governor's office don't need to take budget cuts.

I guess the upside to refusing to educate our kids and help low-income people with their medical bills is that we'll have a place for all of those newly-formed criminals to go.

What's even more interesting is that the programs taking the biggest hits around the nation also happen to be programs Republicans never liked anyway. In Wisconsin, legislators felt so ignored that the only way to get anyone to listen was to flee their state. Despite vicious protests, their governor insists on taking away rights that union workers have had since the Industrial Revolution. In Utah, Mormon state representatives are taking advantage of these "troubling times" to try and make it illegal to drink (again). In Idaho, lawmakers are moving swiftly to crack down on those most deviant of citizens, those damned teachers.

Funny how long of a period there was between the initial economic failure (2008) and when lawmakers want to respond to the economic failure (2011). For those who had their teachers taken away, that's three years. Three years of individuals losing homes, banks getting bailouts, and the government trying to keep things afloat. Finally, when things are starting to look good again, our lawmakers want to act like the sky is falling.

Even in Congress, they're acting like they're going to have to sell the White House to keep shit going. Of all the times to cut back on social programs, now is one of the worst times. These are lawmakers that apparently never took an economics class. They weren't informed that the best time to have social programs and, therefore, national debt, is during a recession. Once things have stabilized, you increase taxes and decrease social programs.

Let's put it in terms our white, middle-aged, overweight lumps "representing" us will understand- you take aspirin occasionally when you're in pain and need assistance. When your heart throws a clot, you definitely want to take some aspirin. So deciding to chuck the aspirin bottle whilst having a myocardial infarction is one of the dumbest choices you could make. The only time you could consider getting rid of aspirin, or reducing the amount, is when you don't need it.

Does that make sense? If not, sucks to be you.

Anyway, the truth is that this has nothing to do with "making tough choices." Do not fall into their trap, my friends. This has nothing to do with economics and everything to do with political maneuvering.

I'll use the congressional budget for my next trick, and as a bonus, I'll go slow while explaining.

To begin this magic trick, John Boehner (I know it looks like "boner," but stick with me) throws something outright ridiculous into the proposed budget, like cutting all funding for PBS.

Predictably, Democrats react unfavorably, and because they still control the important bits of the government, they tell him to try again.

Boehner refuses, and says the magical phrase, "We need to make some tough decisions about money right now." He'll probably also talk about how fiscally irresponsible Congresses past have been.

THIS IS THE IMPORTANT PART.

After saying the magical phrase, criticism shifts from the Republicans to the Democrats. Instead of the Republicans being uncooperative and uncompromising, blame shifts (magically) to Democrats, for being fiscally irresponsible.

Nifty trick, eh?

If you didn't see all of this as being pure political fuckery, consider the laws they're now trying to pass that have nothing at all to do with economics. The sneaky bastards that they are, two states- Texas and Idaho- have Republicans campaigning to allow guns on college campuses. Does that have a rabbit's fart to do with money? Of course not. But they're trying to slip it all in under the same umbrella, and unfortunately, a fair amount of people are buying it. What's more, most of these fine examples of what you don't want your children to be when they grow up are claiming that they have every right to ignore opposing arguments, simply because they were the ones voted into office. They are simply the vessels, my dears; this is what they will have us believe.

So there you have it, kids. Your children's education going down the tubes isn't Tom Luna's fault, just like the collective bargaining demolition isn't Wisconsin's governor's fault, and reintroduction of Prohibition down here in the land of Zion isn't our reps' faults. It's ours. We let them get into office, and now we're going to be cleaning up their messes for the next twenty years. Thank Buddha for democracy.

Makes you proud to be an American, doesn't it?

I Kind of Miss Those Damned Potatoes

I get asked a lot if I plan on moving back to Idaho at some point in my life.

This question usually comes after a discussion of where I'm from and why I left. I generally tell people that I have every intention of moving back to Idaho, but I'm starting to wonder about that. I'm starting to really think Idaho might never recover to a point where it's tolerable.

I lived in Idaho for the first eighteen years of my life. I lived in the same house, went to school with the same people, and enjoyed living there. Of course, there were times I wished I could leave. There were plenty of times I told everyone I was leaving Idaho and never coming back. Only after I moved to Portland did I realize just how much I loved Idaho. I realized that, despite being vegetarian, allergic to pine, and progressive, I'm a Rocky Mountain kid to the core. I love Idaho, and I love my new adopted state of Utah. They both have their definite quirks, but they both have a lot of aspects to love.

So when people ask if I'm ever moving back to Idaho, I used to say ten years. Sure, in ten years I could see myself back in Boise. But then Idaho's political scene pretty much lost its damned mind. A lot of states lost their damned minds, which is funny because the economy is getting better, not worse. In fact, at this point the only reason anything could get worse is because a bunch of states did irreparable damage to their economic scenes.

Idaho legislators do not value students. They do not value teachers. While they're fine with taking away what few rights educators might have, they want to cut the governor's budget by only 1.9%. It's heartbreaking to hear about these kinds of insane actions. It makes me wonder what happened to discussion. It makes me wonder if those Republicans who voted for Loony's insane plans care about the future. To me, it seems like they don't. It seems like they honestly couldn't care that the brightest and best students are leaving in droves because they feel like they don't matter.

I left the state of Idaho because I didn't feel like any of their institutions of higher learning had anything good to teach me. I felt like the only way for me to get a valuable education was to leave, and I was right. I'm considering going to medical school, and I have access to a plethora of departments and subjects. I don't think I could have had these kinds of opportunities if I had stayed in-state.

It seems pretty obvious that none of those legislators were thinking about the future of their state. If they were, they would invest more money in their state schools, hire more teachers, and come up with more comprehensive, personalized education plans. High schools, at the very least, ought to be more like college. Students ought to be able to have more choice available in their education. Primary schools should have more physical education and free time, not less- kids retain information better if they have more physical activity.

If they cared about the future, they'd want to make staying in-state more attractive. They would want people like me, people like kids I know who also left, to stay and participate in Idaho's economy. The future of Idaho does not lie in agriculture. The future of Idaho lies in a diverse economy, something that falls on deaf ears in the state legislature. I left Idaho because I didn't see enough promising opportunities.

So now, after watching the Republicans who are supposed to be representing the interests of Idaho dismantle the education system, I'm not feeling too optimistic. I almost feel like a refugee. I can't help but be glad that I escaped Idaho when I did, and I feel sorry for my sister, who still has three and a half years to go. I feel heartbroken every time I think about it, because I love my home state. The sad part is that while it's been run by morons my entire life, now the morons are actually doing highly destructive things to the state. The Republicans in Idaho always seemed like a mildly threatening joke to me, but now they've crossed the line from being slightly stupid to being legitimately harmful.

So I'm not going back in ten years. It's pretty sad when the people who represent the future don't even feel welcome in their home state. I don't think Luna or Otter value well-educated people, and I don't think they see the value in trying to attract educated people. Sadly, Idaho is really going to take it in the shorts for being so stupid, and I don't want to be there for that. I'll probably consider moving back in twenty years. Hopefully by the time I'm forty, Loony will be in a nursing home.

Recycling

I love recycling. I really, really do. I think it's pretty much the best idea ever. Why wouldn't we want to re-use the crap we accumulate? The fact that the school newspaper can be turned into more newspaper makes me actually read it every day. I don't feel guilty about using great big cardboard boxes, because I know it can be turned into more boxes once I'm done with it.

There hasn't been a period in my life when I didn't recycle. My family has recycled stuff my entire life. We aren't hippies or anything (maybe a little) but we recycle. It's not because we are crusaders for the salvation of Planet Earth, it's because it makes sense.

When I lived in Portland, you recycled. There was no question about it. They highly discouraged throwing out things that could be turned into new things. You recycled or risked your health and well-being. I recycled, even though I normally resist such totalitarian proclamations, simply because I was used to recycling.

So then I moved into my apartment, which I love dearly and have enjoyed every day since moving here. However, there is no recycling. That was a problem.

Now, my roommate is also a recycler, trained by similarly-minded parents. We've become pack-rats of sorts- we try to keep every potentially-recyclable thing that crosses our path. We clean out milk jugs, and jars, and plastic containers, and we sort them into different bins with the intention of taking all of this to a recycling center. Unfortunately, we're both too busy to do that.

So, lo and behold, today rolls around. Valentine's Day, my least favorite of the religious-turned-secular holidays. I was in a decent enough mood, but when I got home, my day brightened substantially.

We received a flyer stating that our apartment is getting a recycling service. No one could have given me a better present for the holiday celebrating Hallmark. I can't wait to get our recycling bin. The Higher Deity know we have some crap that needs to be turned into more crap.

Is Happiness a Warm Gun?

I do not own a gun. I do not own a gun, and I don't really want one.

That said, my family owns guns. I know plenty of people who own guns. mean, come on; I grew up in Idaho and now I live in Utah. If I had a problem with guns, I would not have stayed in "gun country." I've been around guns. I've held guns. I personally do not want a gun, but I understand the people who do want them and have them.

I also understand those who don't like guns. I can sympathize with those who feel that guns are dangerous and no one should have them. Maybe guns don't kill people, but they sure assist someone in doing just that. It's a lot harder to kill someone with a bunny than a gun.

Guns do tend to protect people. There's a pretty big caveat with that, though- guns are only effective in protection when wielded by someone who knows what the hell they're doing. The reason I don't own a gun is because I do not have training when it comes to guns. I would not trust myself to handle one properly when under the extreme stress that comes with a situation where you need a gun. Could I fight back if attacked? Sure, you bet I could. But could I trust myself with a gun the same way I trust myself with a bow or with knives? Not really.

The dispute over guns is one that will not go away, ever. Guns are a huge part of our history. Gun violence is also a part of that same history. We have far more gun-related deaths than other comparable countries. We also have far more relaxed gun laws than other countries.

The incident in Arizona was the catalyst that comes along every few years- it was Virginia Tech before that, and Columbine before that. Every time, it is the same back and forth- guns kill people vs. guns save lives.

We're not going to get anywhere any time soon with that argument. I could bring up the Second Amendment, and my personal interpretation of that, but it's not going to be particularly relevant. My suggestion is this- perhaps we need to take a better look at the way guns are treated, and the way they are tracked, rather than how many are sold and where they are carried.

Guns are a convenient tool for violence. Do they increase violence? I'm not sure, and I'm not sure that could be truly proven. Would there be violence even if we got rid of guns completely, world-wide? Of course. We've been beating the crap out of each other since antiquity, and we will continue to do so. But maybe it would be better if we actually understood who had guns, and where those guns were going.

We can track people by using Twitter and Facebook. We have security cameras covering the developed world. Why, then, do we not have a sufficient gun tracking system? Why have they not engineered some way to follow guns as they move through the country?

And why are weapons permits a state right? Why do states get to choose how certified a person can be to own a weapon that could potentially affect someone in a different state? What good does New York's attitude towards guns do if someone in Utah hardly has to do a thing to get a weapon?

With all the proposed legislation to allow guns on various college campuses, and legislation to designate "State Guns," trying to argue that we should eliminate guns is futile. They aren't going away. To argue that guns make people safe is ultimately just as futile, because guns were constructed to kill, not to save.

The argument is not whether or not people have the right to a gun. The argument ought to be how we assess whether or not someone is mentally and physically capable of using a gun in a "safe" way. The argument ought to be how we implement a system of assessment in a universal way, rather than state-by-state.

The reality is that guns don't kill people- people who can't use guns in a responsible way kill people.

And When You Graduate, You Get to Keep the Laptop!

Have you ever had something you really loved, because it seemed unique and designed especially for you? Have you ever had that thing turned into a mass-produced mandate that stripped away everything that made it such a good idea in the first place?

Recently, the Grand Poobah of Idaho Education decreed that he wants to give every student a laptop. He wants every student to take online courses in addition to their in-school classes. He has a whole slew of other "wants," too, but I'm not here to analyze all of his proposals.

My senior year, as I've said before, I only had two classes that were physically at school. The rest of my courses were correspondence courses. This system worked really well for me. I was able to work at my own pace on each, individual class. I finished Health in a day, because it was not a hard class and I did not need help with it.

This said, I am not about to say that this system works for everyone, or with every class. If I had tried to take calculus online, I would have failed. If I tried to take French online, I probably would not have done well. There are some classes- Technical Reading and Writing, Economics, Health, to name a few- where I didn't need a physical teacher. I knew enough about the subjects already, and I didn't need to really study the material. Now, that in itself could be a reflection on how ridiculous some of our graduation requirements are, but I'm not here to discuss that today, either.

I did well because the subjects were fairly simple, the work was fairly easy, I'm fairly smart, and I have a fairly good work ethic. That is all on a personal level. For someone like me, this system worked. The old system wasn't working- the moment I get stuck in a boring class, I mentally check out of it. However, the traditional butt-in-seat system does work for a lot of people. There are plenty of students out there who need something explained at every step. They need the motivation to do their work that comes with going to class. There are a lot of people out there who won't just sit down and read their textbook on their own time.

Beyond the fact that online classes don't work for everyone's learning style, there's the more glaring problem- computers. The idea of giving every Idaho student a laptop is ridiculous. It's beyond that; it's unfeasible. It's no going to save the state any money at all do try and put any of this into place. Think about it. Think about your own computer. Think about everything that it does, good and bad.

I paid a lot for my computer. It does a lot of cool things, and it's also a pain in the butt sometimes. If you don't stay on top of constantly updating software, drivers, graphics cards, et cetera, your computer doesn't work well. How is the state supposed to make sure all those laptops are up-to-date? How are they supposed to make sure those computers don't get viruses? Are they going to pay for virus checkers? Do you even know how expensive Norton is? How is the state supposed to stay on top of every computer and make sure they all are working? What happens when a kid's computer dies, or something is faulty? Do they get penalized for missing whatever material was online while their laptop is broken? Do they get a kind of proverbial doctor's note, signed by a technician instead of a physician? How exactly is all of this supposed to work, Loony?

Then there is the worst of all assumptions in his proposal- how exactly do students get access to their online materials? In a place like Boise, even if your family doesn't have internet access, there is free WiFi everywhere. Fast food restaurants have wireless internet now. However, what about the rest of the state? There's a pretty good chance that internet is scarce in a place like Ola, Idaho. A pretty high portion of the Gem State's population lives at or below the poverty line. They can barely afford food, let alone internet. (If you've been to WINCO at the first of the month, you know what I'm talking about) Even if they might have internet access, it has to be a certain speed for online classes to work effectively. That means if you have dial-up, you're just SOL, my friend.

It's not just unfeasible, it's insulting. Luna really cares so little for his constituents that he would suggest that if you don't have internet access, you do not deserve to be educated in our system. I'm sure to this he would say that students could stay at school to get internet access, after classes. For most people who are in a situation where they already can't afford internet in their homes, they certainly don't have the resources to spend extra time at school. The truth of it is that Luna does not care about Idahoans. He does not care about education. He does not care about students. The fact that correspondence courses worked for me because I have different education needs than my students is lost on him. His concern is the bottom line. His concerns lie with the people paying for his campaigns. He does not care that people line up by the hundreds at their grocery stores with food stamps during the first week of the month. He does not care that school lunch is likely the only meal a large number of kids will get during the day. He does not care that a majority of Idahoans do not have the means to deal with online classes for their kids. He cares about money, and he cares about getting elected.

Why, then, would he have won elections multiple times? If he was really so bad for education, why do people vote for him? The truth is that people will vote for anyone, so long as that person says the right things. Certainly, at a superficial level, getting a free laptop sounds great. Getting a free anything is great. But the moment you contemplate the implications that proposal has, as I did, you realize it's a trick. This will never happen, and it's insulting that Luna tries to sound like these are legitimate ideas. He's simply saying the right things to please those who put him in office.

It's akin to high school elections. It's like a person saying, "If I'm elected to be your student body president, there will be doughnuts for everyone, every day." Is that realistic? Of course not. There would be no way to provide for a promise like that. But would that person get elected?

Well, it worked for Luna.

2011

So it's 2011.

Thus far, it doesn't seem much different from 2010. Except that it doesn't look as nice when you write out the date.

We all made our New Year's Resolutions, and chances are good that we will forget them by March. On the flip side, though, I am really looking forward to November 11th. That will be a great day.

Thus far, we've done pretty much the same things we were doing last year. A crazy person attacked some innocent bystanders. It's tragic, and unfortunately, it's not the first time this has happened.

The economy is getting better, which is good, but it's still not where it was before this mess started. Better still, we're already slipping into the same habits that got us all into this mess. A huge portion of people are still living way beyond their means, and that's not good.

I'm still in school, just like I was last year, and the many years before last year. In fact, I don't really remember what it's like to not be a student. That's alright, though; I plan on being a student for pretty much forever. It seems far superior than living in the real world.

Some people still think vaccines cause autism. No, they don't have any medical training; their qualification is that they're parents. Sorry, but I think they should go to medical school, or at least take some pre-med classes, before speaking.

For-profit colleges are still robbing innocent, if ignorant, students. I can't wait for the federal government to crack down on them. I'm sick of those Everest College commercials that say I'm not doing anything with my life unless I go there.

People still bitch about paying taxes. I have a GIANT newsflash, people. Taxes pay for things. It isn't your government robbing you; it's an investment in your country. We are capitalists, therefore it is patriotic to invest in the US.

Sarah Palin is still an idiot enabling idiots. A lot of people said, in 2008, that we'd never hear from her again after Obama won. Unfortunately, she's still treated as a valid political figure, even if her only qualifications are a bachelor's in communications and being governor of a politically-isolated state.

Idaho still doesn't believe in education. Butch Otter still has his head somewhere other than on his shoulders. He still believes we should invest in agriculture and that the problem with the public education system is the teachers. I'm starting to think most Idahoans will continue to vote with their emotions, rather than with rational thought.

So what is different for me in 2011? Well, now that you mention it, one change is definitely on my doorstep. In a week, I will finally cease to be a teenager and will finally move into a more adult-like number. In my opinion, it's about damned time.

And then there are all the small surprises that go along with a new year. Last year, I made the decision to transfer away from Portland. Now I'm in Salt Lake, and I love it here. When I look at the big picture of last year versus this year, it feels like nothing's changed. But when I look back at everything that happened to me personally, I start to feel pretty optimistic. As we all move further into the new year, I hope that everyone out there stops listening to the media talking about all the things that have yet to change, and looks back on the changes that occurred on a personal level. Some bad things probably happened, sure, but some good things probably occurred, too.

So, for this grand new year, I wish a little bit of hope on all those people claiming nothing ever changes. Sure, everything changes constantly. That's why we never really notice.