Many people, in an effort to show support of things their religion reject, share a statement to summarize their philosophy.
Hate the sin, not the sinner.
My own philosophy was based off of this statement, but not quite in the same way. I found this statement to not only seem close minded, but also a tad pessimistic. I felt that it was a glass-half-empty idea. As a result, I formed my own idea of how to take people in, using a statement I've borrowed from my friends.
Love thy neighbor.
Let's first address a possible thought that would immediately spring to mind should one read this: I understand that my friends did not come up with this statement, but instead it is from the Bible. Let me make clear: The Bible is part of my friends; indeed, it is the very heart of their beliefs, and thus it is my friends. While it may not define their every thought, it is still a part of them as though it were a limb; one's arm does not define their body, but it is vital to their identity as human.
After having watched a film in a class about the emotions and actions that take place to soldiers while stationed over seas, I have realized that my own philosophical summary is rather closed as well. Not being familiar with the context of the quote, I looked it up.
Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: I am the LORD.
Leviticus 19:18
Love thy neighbor as thyself. But what does one do if thy neighbor does not love thee? There is no address of this. Do we simply respect those who wish or inflict harm, despite their actions? Or do we treat them as they treat us? My small amount of research says both; the two main interpretations of this are conflicting with each other. Human emotions call for the latter, yet divine expectations call for the first. Humans are flawed.
"I do not believe in immortality of the individual, and I consider ethics to be an exclusively human concern with no superhuman authority behind it." -Albert Einstein
Monday, November 14, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Queen of the Crawlies
Awesome is the ability to put down all notes on a single note card in an organized manner. Wonderful is being able to find said note card each time you have a new note. Horrendous is losing the note card shortly before writing a new blog post.
Looks like I'm doing it by memory tonight.
At work, a little girl came behind the register and watched me while I checked out her mom's groceries. After some time spent examining me, she exclaimed "She has a tiny head!" Her mom tried to cover it up by saying, "Yes, she has a beautiful head."
Recently, in one of my classes, my professor handed me a stack of papers to pass back. I handed a few copies to those on my left, as there were only three people, and handed the rest of the papers to my left. A few minutes later, I realized I forgot to give myself one. And as I realized this, I said it out loud. My professor, having heard this, announced it to the class so she could procure another copy from the back of the room. This was incredibly embarrassing.
For the past couple of days, I have become detached from the world. This is one of those occasions where I am not all there. I realize it, but there is no fixing it. I have to wait it out, and hope that my peers understand and accept it.
These are the most valuable times for me, though. It is in this situation where I can understand the actions of fellow humans the most. This is when I can observe, predict, study, and conclude about the reasons behind behaviors. It is because of this odd detachment that I am most attached to the subconscious minds of others.
It is incredibly odd, though. This gift allows for me to understand things about others that they themselves are only just realizing. A simple twitch can denote anger if in the correct location. I see it, and then I retreat while they start forming defensive strategies.
This is not to say that I understand everything. Proof of this is that I still have yet to understand why so many become aggressive, and even violent, while discussing their religions with others. I myself am of a highly harassed belief system, yet I do not attack with Biblical quotes or ostracization. I rarely even talk about my beliefs, as I have discovered that by even mentioning them in an academic, historical context, there will always be others around who attack.
The title of this blog is not in the spirit of Halloween, but merely a reflection of a student of mine, who recently caught a praying mantis only to have it stolen and destroyed by another student.
"All wars are civil wars, because all men are brothers. " -Francois Fenelon
Looks like I'm doing it by memory tonight.
At work, a little girl came behind the register and watched me while I checked out her mom's groceries. After some time spent examining me, she exclaimed "She has a tiny head!" Her mom tried to cover it up by saying, "Yes, she has a beautiful head."
Recently, in one of my classes, my professor handed me a stack of papers to pass back. I handed a few copies to those on my left, as there were only three people, and handed the rest of the papers to my left. A few minutes later, I realized I forgot to give myself one. And as I realized this, I said it out loud. My professor, having heard this, announced it to the class so she could procure another copy from the back of the room. This was incredibly embarrassing.
For the past couple of days, I have become detached from the world. This is one of those occasions where I am not all there. I realize it, but there is no fixing it. I have to wait it out, and hope that my peers understand and accept it.
These are the most valuable times for me, though. It is in this situation where I can understand the actions of fellow humans the most. This is when I can observe, predict, study, and conclude about the reasons behind behaviors. It is because of this odd detachment that I am most attached to the subconscious minds of others.
It is incredibly odd, though. This gift allows for me to understand things about others that they themselves are only just realizing. A simple twitch can denote anger if in the correct location. I see it, and then I retreat while they start forming defensive strategies.
This is not to say that I understand everything. Proof of this is that I still have yet to understand why so many become aggressive, and even violent, while discussing their religions with others. I myself am of a highly harassed belief system, yet I do not attack with Biblical quotes or ostracization. I rarely even talk about my beliefs, as I have discovered that by even mentioning them in an academic, historical context, there will always be others around who attack.
The title of this blog is not in the spirit of Halloween, but merely a reflection of a student of mine, who recently caught a praying mantis only to have it stolen and destroyed by another student.
"All wars are civil wars, because all men are brothers. " -Francois Fenelon
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Terpsichore
I'm gonna dance dance dance
Without pants pants pants!
I'm gonna dance dance dance
Without pants pants pants!
I'm gonna do the twist
And shake my butt!
I'm gonna dance dance dance
Without pants pants pants!
This wouldn't let me go to sleep last night.
"Dance like there's nobody watching." -William Purkey
Without pants pants pants!
I'm gonna dance dance dance
Without pants pants pants!
I'm gonna do the twist
And shake my butt!
I'm gonna dance dance dance
Without pants pants pants!
This wouldn't let me go to sleep last night.
"Dance like there's nobody watching." -William Purkey
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Flatter Fawn
When I was at work the other day, a little girl said to me "Oh, you are so beautiful!" While it made me question her eyesight, the comment made my day.
While doing homework, I glanced at my fish tank. Something caught my eye, and I noticed that my black snail was slowly getting on top of my gold snail. I sat in fascination as the black snail climbed to the top of the gold snail's shell, pushed the gold snail off the glass, rode the gold snail all the way to the gravel at the bottom, and then move away as fast as a snail can move. Snails are incredibly ninja.
I would love to bring a squirrel to class, just to see how the professor would react. How awesome would that be? You sit down, take out your books, hand a peanut to the squirrel on your desk. Everybody's staring at you. The professor walks in, sets up the computer, begins to lecture, and suddenly, "Miss Water? Is that a squirrel?!" And you will say "I'm pretty sure, yeah. He followed me here." That is the moment I'm waiting for.
And I'm getting closer to it. The other day I charged a squirrel and it didn't run away.
I'm no longer on medication, and I seem to be doing fine right now.
I went to get a soda in the vending machine downstairs only to find someone crammed $4.20 in it and jammed the basket with seven cans of Seven Up. I told my RA about it, and once she unstuck them, she gave me some. It was pretty awesome.
This weekend, Chief, my mother, and I were driving around a very large city. The directions said to take a certain highway. The sign on the overpass said, "Certain Highway, Left Lane". I got in the left lane, drove a little bit, and saw that the turnoff for the highway was on the right lane...
There is nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept. -Ansel Adams
While doing homework, I glanced at my fish tank. Something caught my eye, and I noticed that my black snail was slowly getting on top of my gold snail. I sat in fascination as the black snail climbed to the top of the gold snail's shell, pushed the gold snail off the glass, rode the gold snail all the way to the gravel at the bottom, and then move away as fast as a snail can move. Snails are incredibly ninja.
I would love to bring a squirrel to class, just to see how the professor would react. How awesome would that be? You sit down, take out your books, hand a peanut to the squirrel on your desk. Everybody's staring at you. The professor walks in, sets up the computer, begins to lecture, and suddenly, "Miss Water? Is that a squirrel?!" And you will say "I'm pretty sure, yeah. He followed me here." That is the moment I'm waiting for.
And I'm getting closer to it. The other day I charged a squirrel and it didn't run away.
I'm no longer on medication, and I seem to be doing fine right now.
I went to get a soda in the vending machine downstairs only to find someone crammed $4.20 in it and jammed the basket with seven cans of Seven Up. I told my RA about it, and once she unstuck them, she gave me some. It was pretty awesome.
This weekend, Chief, my mother, and I were driving around a very large city. The directions said to take a certain highway. The sign on the overpass said, "Certain Highway, Left Lane". I got in the left lane, drove a little bit, and saw that the turnoff for the highway was on the right lane...
There is nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept. -Ansel Adams
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Banjo Brain
A few weeks ago, I had ordered a package. When the online tracking thingy said I got it, I checked my mail, and found it wasn't there. The next day, I checked again. Knowing from lots of experience that there is another Little Water on campus (same first and last name as me), I went to the campus post office and told them what was going on. They realized that they did in fact put it in the wrong mail box. I gave them my information, they said they were gonna call her, and things would be taken care of. Later that day, I had a voice mail from them, and my package. Being lazy, I never checked the voice mail.
Well, two weeks after they left me this voice mail, I decided I was finally going to listen to it. I found out that they called me to tell me that I was incorrectly given a package that belonged to the other Little Water, and that I needed to return it.
They called the wrong Little Water. Because I gave them my information for nothing. Me thinks I shall change my name.
And crank the heat up in my room. It's freezing in here.
For my education class, I was told by my professor that I would be helping out a nearby middle school with standard tests. She said it would be a one time, two hour thing. I got to the school, and found out that really she had volunteered me to be at the school twice a week for two and a half hours each time for the rest of the semester. The principal was confused when I said I had no idea what he was talking about.
Yesterday, she emailed my class telling us that if we had any questions about the assignments we'll soon be given, we can talk to those who were already assigned to the middle school. She told my class that I was assigned to the middle school before she told me.
But I work with an amazing six grade class. I really work with three separate math classes, but the kids so far are great. The class is really small, so it's a bit awkward being this wanderer through the mere five rows of students. But I've already helped a kid figure out something he couldn't get. It was awesome.
About five years ago, I was terrified of going to bed because my pillow would tick loudly like a bomb, and I was scared of it. I started sleeping more in the day and less at night. It's strange how when these things happened, I didn't think there was anything wrong with my mind, but now I question every thing. Today, I was walking to my dorm, and my head started ticking, like I had a clock inside.
"Look deeper into nature, and then you will understand everything better." -Albert Einstein
Well, two weeks after they left me this voice mail, I decided I was finally going to listen to it. I found out that they called me to tell me that I was incorrectly given a package that belonged to the other Little Water, and that I needed to return it.
They called the wrong Little Water. Because I gave them my information for nothing. Me thinks I shall change my name.
And crank the heat up in my room. It's freezing in here.
For my education class, I was told by my professor that I would be helping out a nearby middle school with standard tests. She said it would be a one time, two hour thing. I got to the school, and found out that really she had volunteered me to be at the school twice a week for two and a half hours each time for the rest of the semester. The principal was confused when I said I had no idea what he was talking about.
Yesterday, she emailed my class telling us that if we had any questions about the assignments we'll soon be given, we can talk to those who were already assigned to the middle school. She told my class that I was assigned to the middle school before she told me.
But I work with an amazing six grade class. I really work with three separate math classes, but the kids so far are great. The class is really small, so it's a bit awkward being this wanderer through the mere five rows of students. But I've already helped a kid figure out something he couldn't get. It was awesome.
About five years ago, I was terrified of going to bed because my pillow would tick loudly like a bomb, and I was scared of it. I started sleeping more in the day and less at night. It's strange how when these things happened, I didn't think there was anything wrong with my mind, but now I question every thing. Today, I was walking to my dorm, and my head started ticking, like I had a clock inside.
"Look deeper into nature, and then you will understand everything better." -Albert Einstein
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Schizoflipper
In all seriousness, I really do have problems. I shall call them part of the cloudiness, the mass of mental sickness that is taking place in my mind. When the cloudiness first showed up, I refused to mention it to anyone. I would maybe let on that I was possibly depressed, but let people know that I suddenly realized that the guy next to me was reading my mind? Or that my roommate had a camera in our room so she could spy on me? Or that I would hallucinate while talking to my friends so that I would hear them say awful things about me to my face?
Let me tell you how lovely these are. I came to realize that none of them were true at all (except that camera, only one I can't prove to be wrong; and I say this in a completely comical, not-serious manner), but it still made them difficult to deal with, especially when they began to affect the conversations I would have with my friends.
Which, seriously, guys? All that shit happened and you still were surprised to find out that Little Water here is a crazy head?
Many of the things I say sound ridiculous, like how my dad is a pothead, or how my sister gets the blood beat out of her whenever she's with her baby daddy, but they are true! What sick freak would make shit up like that?! And who would make up hallucinating fairies going through their stuff? Or that someone took a dump on the bridge?
I'm not smart; by all means, I may even be an idiot, but if I lie, it is either obviously intentional to make someone else in the wrong, or it is a lie without my knowledge.
Yet people always act like I'm lying. I can read the body language, I notice the slight head tosses and rollings of the eyes. I can see your eyebrow twitch, and hear your voice widen. I'm one of the best physical language readers I've ever met (which is ironic because I can't even figure out what I'm screaming at myself in my own head).
It's because of this that I don't talk about the cloudiness anymore. I'm having problems, but when I mention them, I get dismissed. I know... I know better than this, but I *know* that I changed the speed of time. Like, it's in my head, it's what I think, but while I know it can't be true, it's a truth in my head. And it scares me. I don't know how stable it is anymore, but I do know that because of my own stupidity I'm gonna be old and dead any moment now. Minutes are now mere seconds, and my ability to complete tasks in a timely manner is shot. My mind is moving at the same old, normal speed, but my body, the world, the time, it's going on faster than ever. And yet no one has noticed.
It's embarrassing to talk about this, but it's absolutely insulting and aggravating to confide in someone and then to be dismissed like I'm craving attention. I don't even want to talk to my counselor about it.
But it is time for me to go.
"If it weren't for the rocks in its bed, the stream would have no song." -Carl Perkins
Let me tell you how lovely these are. I came to realize that none of them were true at all (except that camera, only one I can't prove to be wrong; and I say this in a completely comical, not-serious manner), but it still made them difficult to deal with, especially when they began to affect the conversations I would have with my friends.
Which, seriously, guys? All that shit happened and you still were surprised to find out that Little Water here is a crazy head?
Many of the things I say sound ridiculous, like how my dad is a pothead, or how my sister gets the blood beat out of her whenever she's with her baby daddy, but they are true! What sick freak would make shit up like that?! And who would make up hallucinating fairies going through their stuff? Or that someone took a dump on the bridge?
I'm not smart; by all means, I may even be an idiot, but if I lie, it is either obviously intentional to make someone else in the wrong, or it is a lie without my knowledge.
Yet people always act like I'm lying. I can read the body language, I notice the slight head tosses and rollings of the eyes. I can see your eyebrow twitch, and hear your voice widen. I'm one of the best physical language readers I've ever met (which is ironic because I can't even figure out what I'm screaming at myself in my own head).
It's because of this that I don't talk about the cloudiness anymore. I'm having problems, but when I mention them, I get dismissed. I know... I know better than this, but I *know* that I changed the speed of time. Like, it's in my head, it's what I think, but while I know it can't be true, it's a truth in my head. And it scares me. I don't know how stable it is anymore, but I do know that because of my own stupidity I'm gonna be old and dead any moment now. Minutes are now mere seconds, and my ability to complete tasks in a timely manner is shot. My mind is moving at the same old, normal speed, but my body, the world, the time, it's going on faster than ever. And yet no one has noticed.
It's embarrassing to talk about this, but it's absolutely insulting and aggravating to confide in someone and then to be dismissed like I'm craving attention. I don't even want to talk to my counselor about it.
But it is time for me to go.
"If it weren't for the rocks in its bed, the stream would have no song." -Carl Perkins
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Pathetic Lad
Someone took a dump on the bridge that I have to cross to get to some of my classes. I want to ask, how drunk do you have to be?! But then I remember that someone took a dump on a couch at my high school right after a wrestling meet...
A hypnotist came to my school, and a friend of mine bought one of his CD's. He ripped it and gave me the hard copy. I decided to listen to it. I do not remember anything from between when the guy was putting me under and when the guy was counting down from five to wake me up. I couldn't move my arm for the rest of the day without pain shooting from my elbow to my hand and back.
To the slow ones out there, the arm pain wasn't from the hypnotist messing with me. It was because of the way I was lying on my desk. This should seem obvious, but I've already encountered two situations where I had to explain this.
I've learned that when I'm raging, I shouldn't talk to my friends. Now one of them is avoiding talking to me. I wasn't angry at that friend, but he sure got to listen to me rage about other things.
Part of the rage was due to this jerk in one of my classes. He showed up late one day, took an excessive amount of time to close the door quietly, came over to where I was sitting, bumped into me and my classmate, picked up my backpack (which was leaning against my chair), threw it behind my classmate (who was on the other side of me), got in the empty seat next to me, sat down, and put his backpack on the other side of him. I made mostly empty plans of stabbing him in the leg with my pen if he decided to do it again. Instead, he sat next to someone else and made those people miserable. I now understand why someone introduced him to the class as "This is Cook, he has no friends."
Which really happened. I promise. Except I changed the name.
Tonight I found out that my dorm is perfect for hot boxing. The air vents in our rooms take the air from our room, cool it down or heat it up, and place it back in our room. The only way you get new air is if you open your door or window. I found this out because the smell of pot has been exploring my building this evening, and a friend of mine's father works for the campus maintenance. We concluded that either someone was getting high in front of an input vent in a hall, or was walking around while high. My bet is on the latter due to the irregular schedule of the odor visiting my hallway.
My room is finally clean, and my homework is finally almost done, so if my work schedule is light this weekend, I might just be able to finally transform my room into a castle. This is very exciting.
Every day, I increasingly feel that my friends think I'm lying about everything I say. I know I stretch the truth a bit sometimes, but someone really did take a dump on the bridge. That asshole really did throw my backpack. I really do know what hot boxing is. This is why I can't tell them that I sped time up, and that I can't figure out how to slow it back down again.
I'm serious about that. I can't figure it out. They're gonna be mad when they find out life is short because I got impatient once.
"I stand up next to a mountain, and I, I chop it down with the edge of my hand." -Jimi Hendrix
A hypnotist came to my school, and a friend of mine bought one of his CD's. He ripped it and gave me the hard copy. I decided to listen to it. I do not remember anything from between when the guy was putting me under and when the guy was counting down from five to wake me up. I couldn't move my arm for the rest of the day without pain shooting from my elbow to my hand and back.
To the slow ones out there, the arm pain wasn't from the hypnotist messing with me. It was because of the way I was lying on my desk. This should seem obvious, but I've already encountered two situations where I had to explain this.
I've learned that when I'm raging, I shouldn't talk to my friends. Now one of them is avoiding talking to me. I wasn't angry at that friend, but he sure got to listen to me rage about other things.
Part of the rage was due to this jerk in one of my classes. He showed up late one day, took an excessive amount of time to close the door quietly, came over to where I was sitting, bumped into me and my classmate, picked up my backpack (which was leaning against my chair), threw it behind my classmate (who was on the other side of me), got in the empty seat next to me, sat down, and put his backpack on the other side of him. I made mostly empty plans of stabbing him in the leg with my pen if he decided to do it again. Instead, he sat next to someone else and made those people miserable. I now understand why someone introduced him to the class as "This is Cook, he has no friends."
Which really happened. I promise. Except I changed the name.
Tonight I found out that my dorm is perfect for hot boxing. The air vents in our rooms take the air from our room, cool it down or heat it up, and place it back in our room. The only way you get new air is if you open your door or window. I found this out because the smell of pot has been exploring my building this evening, and a friend of mine's father works for the campus maintenance. We concluded that either someone was getting high in front of an input vent in a hall, or was walking around while high. My bet is on the latter due to the irregular schedule of the odor visiting my hallway.
My room is finally clean, and my homework is finally almost done, so if my work schedule is light this weekend, I might just be able to finally transform my room into a castle. This is very exciting.
Every day, I increasingly feel that my friends think I'm lying about everything I say. I know I stretch the truth a bit sometimes, but someone really did take a dump on the bridge. That asshole really did throw my backpack. I really do know what hot boxing is. This is why I can't tell them that I sped time up, and that I can't figure out how to slow it back down again.
I'm serious about that. I can't figure it out. They're gonna be mad when they find out life is short because I got impatient once.
"I stand up next to a mountain, and I, I chop it down with the edge of my hand." -Jimi Hendrix
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