The Road vs. Others

Group assignment #1: Compare The Road  to other post-apocalyptic books/movies

I am nowhere near as educated about this topic as some of my group members are. I’ve seen 2012, the Day After Tomorrow, I am Legend, the Book of Eli, etc and I read a series that would fit into that group when I was younger. But those are basically what I’m comparing the Road to.

The Road is different from all of those movies because of how it’s timed. At the beginning of the book, the reader isn’t dropped into mass chaos. There is no major crisis that the characters are dealing with. The world has already ended and now the only issue is survival. Despite it being a transient world, this book had a feeling of calm. Everything seemed to have its place. This is a weird concept, but that’s what it felt like. The dead people had been dead for a while, the cannibals had a system worked out and the boy and his dad knew what they were doing. They had settled into this routine from years of walking on the road.

Also this book is different because the reader doesn’t know what caused this grey state. There was no accident, natural disaster, zombie attack, massive nuclear/chemical warfare, or anything like that, unlike most other post-apocalyptic books/movies.

It’s never specifically stated why the Earth is so desolate and hopeless. That was different for me. I kept thinking that the dad would have a flashback, to the day that everything went crazy. I was waiting and waiting for that to happen…it never did. For all I know the Earth could have just died, getting more and more barren to the point where there weren’t enough resources to sustain everyone. Whatever the case, that aspect of the book is completely left up to the reader’s imagination. 

The Road, Part 2

Would I trust the stranger at the end of the book?

Surprisingly, The Road  has a happy ending. Well, as happy an ending as you could have in a post-apocalyptic world where there seems to be more evil than good. Even though the father dies, the boy is essentially rescued by some random man and taken to live with him and his family. That’s nice…and completely unrealistic. The author lets us know that they’re good and won’t cause any harm to the boy, but if I were in his or his dad’s shoes, I wouldn’t be so easily convinced.

The boy is still young. Despite the circumstances, his dad has made sure that he’s maintained a bit of his innocence. When the man finds him he’s a little wary, but after a few minutes he’s convinced that they’re “carrying the fire” as well, and he has no problem trusting him. This is dangerous. People lie, and there’s no evidence to say that the man wasn’t just putting on a ruse for the boy. His real intent could have been to cause harm.

Looking at it from the dad’s perspective, I couldn’t leave my child in that world without a guaranteed protector. When the dad is dying, the son's safety isn’t ensured at all. Maybe the dad hopes that he’ll be able to take care of himself, or hopes that there will be someone to help him, but he isn’t sure. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t have my child face the unknown alone. Despite being brought up in a world where survival is the only task, the boy is in no shape to live on his own. We’ve estimated the boy’s age to be around 8ish, and despite all his prior experience he’s just not ready. Yeah, he has the gun, but it only has one bullet. That means that as soon as he encounters an army or even just one person who’s bigger and stronger than him (of which there are probably tons, the kid is tiny), he’s done for. I couldn’t leave my child to that fate.

Maybe this is wishful thinking. I don’t know if I would actually have the strength to shoot my own child. But if the situation called for it, I hope I would be able to make the right decision despite the limited options. Plus, I don’t necessarily believe that death is “the end”. I don’t truly believe that there’s a heaven/hell or anything else…but there could be. And even though that’s as much an unknown as leaving the boy alive is, presumably we’d be facing it(whatever it is) together. 

Suicide on The Road

Would you kill yourself if you were in the position as the dad and the boy?

Hell no. I’ve been preparing for an apocalypse all my life. I’d grab my bow and head out to try and survive in the new world. Okay that’s a bit ambitious…but I’d probably be too curious to kill myself. Despite the hardships, I’d want to keep walking on the road, in hopes of finding something better. Anything that would remotely resembled my safe old world, or a part of the new world that’s better than the old one was. I think that’s the force that keeps our two characters going. The burden of “carrying the fire” and being some of the only “good guys” left  is their motivation for living. They walk in order to be a part of the new world that’s still sane.

They can do it, but I may not be able to. I am not a patient person, I don’t like struggling, and I might give up before I found what I was looking for. The world the father and son are living in is dull. It’s not an exciting place where there are shootouts and showdowns and every moment is spent fighting off some evil force. It’s boring. They’re cold and hungry all the time. Everything around them is grey. That’s not a life. In that case maybe I’d kill myself just for something else. I might do it just to begin a new adventure into the afterlife.

Dear Parents,

I wonder sometimes about how I ended up with such different views from you two. It could just be the times. All the youngsters seem to be more liberal these days. Or not. I could have ended up this way regardless of the time period. I wasn’t raised to think so freely, but this happened anyway. My parents haven’t noticed. They have lost me. Some days I see that as a bad thing, but today is not one of those days. I am so far away, but I like where I am and I won’t apologize for it.

Maybe there wasn’t a simple way to prevent this. But to all the other parents…all I have to say is know your children. You don’t have to understand them and you don’t have to be their best friends. Just know them. Know how they are, what they do, and their quirks. Know them and learn to trust them. If you care and if you’re a decent person and if you notice things you’ll pretty much raise them well. Hopefully they won’t be too wild (but no promises).

Civics

People should be honest. This doesn’t mean blurting out everything that comes to mind, or being so brutally honest to the point where it’s hurtful. It means being true. This idea seems like it should be simple. Sometimes it is. But often honesty gets passed over in an attempt to adhere to social norms. I hate that. I hate these little games we play with each other just because it’s viewed as the proper thing to do. There are so many people who put up a front everyday. Why?

One of the things that bothered me in Ordinary People is the sense of fake. In the charming world of Lake Forest everything has to be in good taste. Everything has to be perfect. That’s not how life works but so many people try to pretend that it does. The dinner party scene angered me the most. Why should it matter if the Cal mentioned that Conrad is seeing Dr. Berger? It shouldn’t. Somehow, we’ve adopted this twisted idea that not having every single detail of your life precisely in order is a bad thing. Well it’s not. It’s okay to be a little bit crazy. We all have skeletons in our closets.

Is Poverty a Choice?

I see the argument. I can completely understand how some people would view poverty as a choice. In some cases, I would even agree with that idea. There are definitely people who make conscious decisions to remain in poverty. But this is the exception, not the rule.

The “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” method doesn’t always work. There is only so much a person can do when the odds are already unbelievably stacked against them.

The argument that the drug dealer or the homeless man on the corner are choosing poverty because they don’t go out to get a real job is flawed. They’re not choosing poverty; they’re choosing to eat. They’re doing the only thing that they know in order to make money. What we may consider to be bad choices are simply things they have to do daily in order to survive. I will not condemn those people as “choosing poverty” just because they don’t have the resources, support, or knowledge necessary to change their lives. 

Integration

Integration in America is a myth. Regardless of if people want it or not, we don’t have it. Just look at Chicago. Each ethnic group has it’s own little neighborhood that they’re expected to fall into. Anything else would be unacceptable. I understand that people want to get together based on aspects of their culture, but I think in some cases it hurts our society. The separation between the North Side and the South Side has been going on for years. The differences between the two neighborhoods are something shocking. Someone who is not from Chicago could see the two neighborhoods and think that they are entirely different cities. It’s hard for most people to realize how different they are because they don’t know. They remain in their own little sphere and never see anything else. What’s the farthest North or South you travel everyday? If the answer is to Whitney Young, then we have a problem.

It’s also obvious that our society isn’t integrated because of the stereotypes. I think that if we were truly integrated they would not exist. Stereotypes are created to easily define and generalize what we don’t know. If our society weren’t so separate there would be less of the unknown and less of the stereotypes.

I wonder if it’s a subconscious thing. I wonder if we gravitate towards people most like us because we assume that they understand and we feel comfortable with them. It could be an issue of protection. The idea that there’s safety in numbers and if you are around people who are just like you, they’ll help you out if the situation calls for it.Maybe we’re all so separate because of fear. Or maybe we’re still so separate because people continue to harbor supremacist ideas, and therefore make no attempt to integrate.

There are exceptions to this rule. There are a few wonderful places, like Whitney Young where integration is happening. We are lucky to attend a school where people come from all around the city. There are still people who don’t use this to their advantage. Sometimes we still separate ourselves and put up these barriers. I hate that. I want integration. I don’t want to integrate with people who don’t see me as their equal. I agree with Malcolm X that this would be a waste of time. Fortunately, I do not believe that all white people are devils. There are some genuinely good people out there, regardless of their race. Those are the ones I want to integrate with.

Almost Never (Malcolm X Part 1)

Integration. Is it possible? Malcolm X is completely opposed to it. There was something he said specifically that rattled my perspective of the world for a bit. ”I don’t care how nice one is to you; the thing you must always remember is that almost never does he really see you as he sees himself, as he sees his own kind.” Woah.

I don’t want to blindly generalize an entire group of people. I can only make judgments from what I’ve experienced personally. Taking a realistic view of the subject, I’d say that Malcolm X is right. But the only reason I say this is because he leaves some room for exceptions. In the quote he says “almost never”, and those two words are what redeem his statement for me. The “almost never” leaves room for people who genuinely see everyone as equals. I believe that those people exist because I’ve met them.

As for the others…sometimes they don’t even realize it. Racism continues to thrive in our society. Racism is not solely alive in the South or in other environments that seem far away from here. Racism occurs every day, in Chicago, at Whitney Young, probably even amongst your friends. I’m not trying to put race into everything, not at all. I simply think that denying a problem’s existence is just as bad as supporting the problem. Denying that racism is still going on won’t make it go away. So what will? I’ll be honest and admit that I don’t have a solution. Change has to be individual before anything concrete is accomplished. So think, reflect, and do better.

            

Frankly Speaking

I could go on and on about how great this book was and why I like it and such…because that’s all true. Frankl’s story is amazing and I found his explanation of logotheraphy insanely interesting as well. But there was something that frustrated me. The existential vacuum. It’s not that I don’t understand the concept. I do, very well actually. I, like many others, sometimes find myself sinking into this state of restlessness. I know the feeling, I know the boredom and I know the sense of worthlessness. What I do not understand is the reason why. Why does the existential vacuum exist? How did life get to the point where the simple acting of being is not enough? Is this phenomenon attributed to human nature or has it recently developed because of the digital age? There are so many possibilities and factors to think about. There may not be answers to these questions, but at least considering them could be worth something. My hope is that through understanding the existential vacuum I might fall into it less. 

Music Review: Equal Worses

Equal Worses is a new band, but so far they’re showing tons of promise. Dr. Philosophy formed the band at the beginning of September, though I doubt even he expected the success it would become. Despite being its creator, Dr. Philosophy is not the lead singer of the band. In fact, his musical instrument of choice is a tall wooden stick, which can occasionally be heard in the background of their songs (but is mostly used to keep the rest of the band in check when they get too rowdy). It’d be impossible to list all of the band members and their respective instruments, as it has a total of 27 members. However each member contributes to the band in a way that leaves listeners intrigued, if not completely confused.

Most of Equal Worses’s songs are composed of a cacophony of sounds that can be portrayed as a deep battle between ideas that are equally as bad, hence the name Equal Worses. My personal favorite song by Equal Worses is “The Absurdist Existentialism of a Nihilist.” This track is 47 minutes long, and consists of, guitar rifts, triangle melodies, some a capella work, and an amazing oboe solo. However the highlight of the song is a hostile argument concerning the meaning of life. The band never reveals what the meaning of life is, but the song definitely gets you thinking.

Unfortunately, none of Equal Worses music can be found online. However, if you’re dying to witness the band’s antics, it can be found in room 201 during 6^th period.

Angels On The Moon

 These blog questions have been getting more and more personal as the weeks go on…sorry but I’m not feeling it. Alone is dark. Alone is empty. Alone is scary. Alone is real and I can’t tell such a real story through such fake means. I can’t tell my story to a computer screen. I can’t share intimate moments with you. Do you even care? I doubt it.

What I can do, is share an experience where I’ve had to portray feelings of loneliness, desperation, and solidarity. Naturally, this portrayal was through dance. Last year for the Guys and Dolls show (this year it’s on February 2^nd at 7 and it’s going to be amazing, so come out and support because we’re fierce) I was in a dance where Nica, our choreographer, wanted to tell a story using us. Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? That was basically the theme of the dance. Four people, all reflections of each other and all feeling alone. But of course when we’re alone we feel so isolated that instead of reaching out to others we reject the idea that anyone else could be feeling the exact same way. Therefore we retreat even more deeply into ourselves and lose the chance to relate to others. My “reflection”/ partner in the dance was Jocelyne. I danced with her doing the same movements at the same time but without realizing that there was another person there. And when I realized it, I became shocked at the notion that there could be someone out there who felt alone too.

Later in the dance, there was a part where I had to break free from the bubble of isolation and reach out to the other dancers. After dancing a solo, I had to run back to the others and let them know that they weren’t alone. I was their angel on the moon. The lyrics in the song at that point were “This is for all of us.” And it really was. It was for the dancers, for Nica, for the team, for everyone in the audience who had ever felt alone, and it was for you.

At first this was all choreographed. The expressions of shock, disbelief, fear, and hope were all things that Nica had told me to do, and so I did. But after a while, it became more than choreography and suddenly I wasn’t just telling a story of loneliness, I was telling my story.

I Know This Means Something

Is enjoyment enough to give one’s life meaning? I think so. So if you’re asking me what is something in my life that means something to me, you could just as easily be asking me what I like to do. But can that same thing have a deeper philosophical context? Sure.

Archery. Before I even continue, do not even start with the Katniss jokes. I do not try to be the Mockingjay. I’m not running around trying to save the citizens of Panem. I did not start shooting because of those books or that movie.  I started shooting 3 years ago, while in Virginia, because the opportunity presented itself, and archery was always somethig I had wanted to try. The mythology intertwined with archery is lovely, but it still carries a combative and sinister underlying tone.  

After trying it that summer in Virginia, I learned how beautiful it could be. When I returned to Chicago, I immediately started searching for a local range, and I found one. The range I go to is about 9 miles away from my house, but it happens to be the only indoor range in the city and the drive is completely worth it.

It started off as a few classes a month, then I joined a league, then I got my own bow and arrows, then my dad set up a target for me in my backyard, and soon I was competing and shooting at stray raccoons in my free time. Now I’m going to the range once a week, at least, and practice outside whenever the weather is nice(and oftentimes even when it isn’t). It is not just a hobby anymore, but it is not exactly a lifestyle either. Now it’s just a part of who I am. An archer.

Archery is simple. Load, pull, aim, repeat. If the shot is bad, all I have to do is keep trying until I figure out what needs to physically be changed. But archery comes with its complexities too. While I’m shooting it is as if I feel exactly what archery means to me as I hold the bow. The tension I feel while pulling back the string is more than just physical. It represents all archery has taught me and I feel all those little lessons accumulate into something greater that is waiting to be released. When the shot is finally released, it’s bliss. An arrow straight to the heart.

You're Not Golden(Direction This Class Should Take)

I don't think I can answer this question without saying something mean. I've tried patience. That didn't work. 

One of our first assignments was to read that thing in the "about philosophy" book. Did anyone do that? Seriously. One of the most important things that was in that chapter basically said that philosophy is difficult. It's difficult to learn about and it's probably even more difficult to teach. It’s rare that people will completely agree on what is being said. Anyways, the book said that to combat the chaos that the class could turn into was to have discussions and not arguments. I think what some people (you know who you are) in our class forget is that you don't have to win. You don't have to win because the class is not about you. We're all just here trying to develop and share our thoughts. And the truth is that no one really knows so no matter how zealously you defend your opinion, you could still be wrong. Instead of trying to be right all the time what you need to do is sit down and listen. Listen to what is being said and instead of trying to argue about it, just think about it. Let it marinate in your mind and lead you to new ideas. I can guarantee that everyone in the class would benefit more if we didn’t have to sit through numerous angry tirades. I'm glad you have so much passion about what you believe in...but calm down. 

You don’t have to be so LOUD. 

The Election

This is probably the worst blog question we’ve had so far. It deals with other people and it is way strange thinking for them. I have to guess Camus’s and Voltaire’s choices based on their writing and philosophies and the characters we’ve read about…ick.

Anyway Voltaire and Camus are voting for…no one. That’s right. Both men probably wouldn’t vote at all. Voltaire finds happiness in simplicity. In Candide Voltaire’s ending advice is to be content tending your garden. I think that he’d stay true to his own advice and be content in his garden without worrying about the world around him. This means that he would sit back, let the election happen, and deal with the results, whatever they may be. Also in Candide, Voltaire constantly demonstrates his disgust for politics and rulers. Governments are corrupt, man is evil and I doubt Voltaire would think that voting in an election would change that.

Camus is a bit harder to think for. His absurdist view on the meaning of life is tricky. There may be meaning, but there may not. So how who would he decide to vote for? Would he vote at all? Possibly he may think that his vote matters but more than likely he’d see no point in voting.

Don't Let Anyone Put You In A Box

Life has meaning.

No matter which way you choose to look at it, that is what I believe in. The very fact that I am alive means something. Have you ever thought about how amazing the single action of living is? I’m a medicine/science geek so the many abilities of the human body are mind-blowing to me. I have knowledge of words and I can make them represent something and I can sit here and type and my fingers do what I tell them and you on the other side of that screen, you’re reading what I’m saying and you can hear me even though I’m not physically there. Maybe I shouldn’t be so excited about a simple task, but I am. It’s extravagant.

 I think the question associated with this topic that I wonder about the most is will my life mean anything after I die? I do not know and I do not care. The fact that in the end, my life may not accumulate to anything does not discourage me. It does not matter whether or not I’ll mean anything after I’m gone because my life has meaning now. The possibility that in the grand scheme of things my life may mean nothing is completely fine. Within my personal life, I’m creating an entire world. I will fill my life with whatever I want it to include and I will give meaning to the things I like doing. Why? Simply because I can. The fact that I can give my life meaning means something. Some people give their lives more meaning than others and that’s fine. The very beauty of life is that you can choose what you do with it.

Candide's Punishments, Do They Fit His Crimes?

Candide has had some bad luck, to say the least. His life has been in danger numerous times and despite all he's been through he still doesn't have the girl. His lovely Cunegonde belongs to another man and there's not much he can do about it. Does Candide deserve all of the perils he's had to endure? It all depends on his crimes, but what are his crimes? Candide isn't a saint, he causes his fair share of evil throughout the book. But where does it all start? What is the first crime he commits? That would take us all the way back to his paradise. When he was first living with the Baron and Cunegonde. The first crime he commits is his relations with Cunegonde. All that happens to Candide afterwards is essentially because of that one act. So does Candide deserve being...wait. The better question is, what have Candide's punishments been? In every situation he's been in Candide has been able to land on his feet and sometimes in an even better position than he was before. Sure, there have been moments where his life has been threatened, but at the end of it all he's okay. When he's about to be shot by the Bulgars, the King of the Bulgars saves him. When Candide is almost boiled and eaten by "savages", he and Cacambo are able to talk their way out of it. Despite being robbed of his sheep, he gets them and their value back and ends up in Paris. During the auto-da-fe, his life is saved and he is reunited with Cunegonde.

So no. Candide's punishments do not fit his crimes. Candide has killed 3 men...and he got away with every one of his murders. I don't doubt that Candide has been punished, he certainly has. But his punishments don't coincide with his crimes.

how do you know what you know?

Answering this question could get very confusing very quickly. There's the argument that I don't know what I know and that I never really will. That what I think I know is actually a lie. But I don't think that's true. Not completely. 

I don’t think that there are ever behaviors or ideas that I just know. Everything I know has been learned. I’ve picked up lessons from the people I’ve been surrounded by, the experiences I’ve had, the questions I’ve asked, and the mistakes I’ve made. This consumption of knowledge happens gradually and that’s why kids stay kidlike for a long time. But eventually it happens and that’s why we grow up.

Everything that I’ve said so far has been on a broad spectrum. Narrowing it down may be even more confusing…but I’m going to try it anyway. If I wanted to narrow down exactly how I know the things that I know I’d say it’s from experience, and therefore from observation, and therefore from patterns.

I see life as a giant mess of patterns. Some patterns are composed of only a few elements, others go on for ages, and others are strung together coherently in a line. My favorite type of patterns are the circular ones. Chains of events and circumstances that link together to form causes and effects and causes and effects and so on and so forth. I learn from these by observing what happens. Testing out different decisions and paths to see where they lead me. Maybe I’ll end up at the beginning of the same circle or maybe I’ll find myself in the midst of an entirely new one. Who knows and who cares. Whatever happens, at least I’ll learn something.

There are some people who would be glad to be free of the circles. I’m not one of them. I live for circles and for patterns. I live in them. The more I learn, the greater my circles grow and the greater my circles grow the more I learn.

Movers and Shakers

The Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living? 

Worth. That’s a word that carries so much weight. In our society worth is determined in countless ways, which makes achieving it so much harder. How does one achieve a life that has value? Money, family, self-respect, gaining the respect of others, professional developments…the list could go on and on. I can’t answer this question without defining that word. Worth. And I don’t agree with any of those definitions either. So, I’ll make my own.

A life worth living means acceptance. Not a passive or submissive type of acceptance, but a progressive one. Sure, this is a contradiction, but that’s okay because most things in life are. Think about it. Progressive acceptance. It makes sense. It means understanding something and accepting it as truth, while still working to change it for the better. And as it changes, more acceptance and understanding is required, which makes the whole thing a grand process. When that starts happening is when life gains value. But acceptance can’t just happen. That’d be meaningless. To accept truth, it has to be examined from every possible angle. It has to be analyzed, critiqued, and seriously questioned. For a life to be worth living, acceptance has to happen, meaning that the truth has to be examined. That’s the only way.

I’ve thought about this. My ideas may not be clear and my words are definitely clumsy. It’s hard to understand, but it’s definitely possible. I’ve examined this. Have you?

Gadfly

That’s such a weird word. So I’m going to use another word that to me, has the same meaning. Shaker. 

“We are the music-makers, 


And we are the dreamers of dreams, 


Wandering by lone sea-breakers, 


And sitting by desolate streams. 


World-losers and world-forsakers, 


Upon whom the pale moon gleams; 


Yet we are the movers and shakers, 


Of the world forever, it seems.”

 – from “We Are the Music-Makers” by Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy

This poem says it all. Shakers are the minority in our society and commonly oppressed out of fear. Why fear Shakers? Because of what a Shaker does. A Shaker is a person who ruffles the feathers of the flock and dares to fly the other way. Shakers examine life and propose change. Shakers set things in motion. 

My Eulogy

Leslie did not really know who she was. Not completely at least. Leslie knew this and she valued it. The idea that she was still growing, the idea that she always would grow and learn. The idea that each day shaped her life, her thoughts, her feelings, and her beliefs. Leslie was not afraid to crash through life. She made big jumps. Of course there were times when she stumbled and failed, but that’s just how things work. Leslie’s knowledge that she was still figuring herself out made it easy for her to make mistakes. It even made the mistakes in her life valuable, as long as she learned something from them.

Even though Leslie was still figuring herself out, she knew who she was and where she was going. It is a paradoxical idea, but it’s true. She moved with the rhythm of her soul. She was who she wanted to be. She was shaped by her experiences and by the people she surrounded herself with while still maintaining a strong sense of self. One of Leslie’s favorite quotes was “those that were seen dancing were thought insane by those that could not hear the music,” and she applied that idea to her everyday life. “Dancing” as herself, both literally and figuratively.

Leslie started taking dance classes when she was only 3 years old. Her dedication took her many places and taught her values that could only be learned in the studio. Her love for dance was altered through the years, but it always prevailed. Leslie was a dancer in the truest sense. She used her body to convey ideas when words failed.

One of the most important things about Leslie’s life was that she did not live it for spectacle. Her life was balanced, without being mundane. Elegant without being flashy. Leslie was a constant shimmer of rhythm and that’s how she will always remain.