36 —Maestro, ¿cuál es el mandamiento más importante de la ley?
37 —”Ama al Señor tu Dios con todo tu corazón, con todo tu ser y con toda tu mente” —le respondió Jesús—.38 Éste es el primero y el más importante de los mandamientos.39 El segundo se parece a éste: “Ama a tu prójimo como a ti mismo.” (Mateo 22:36-38). Leemos este verso e inmediatamente preguntamos: “¿quién es nuestro prójimo?” Por supuesto, la pregunta es pedir la que no debía porque todo el mundo son nuestros prójimos. El sólo razón por qué la gente la pregunta es porque puede ser despiadado y no está dispuesto dejar su odio. El odio es su propia prisión.
Hace muchos años, un grupo de personas sabios propusimos algunas leyes con respecto al tratamiento a los prisioneros de guerra en la convención de Ginebra. El mundo estaban enfermo con guerra y un actitud de paz se perfilaba. Dijeron en la convención que no debe haber tortura, y aceptamos. Dijeron que, aunque en la niebla de guerra, los presos son humanos con derechos, y aceptamos. Pero menos de un siglo después, nos olvidamos la urgencia de la paz, la crueldad del genocidio judío se ha desvanecido en nuestra mente y ya no aceptamos que todos deben ser tratados humanamente. Participamos en la tortura de presos, y ¿qué podemos decir por nosotros mismos? Que los presos no estaban prisioneros de guerra. En “Preso sin nombre,” el autor describe lo que se siente al ser despojado de su humanidad, y como era recordarlo cuando encontré a un preso otro: “sabes bien cuan triste es cuando en la celda uno se dice a si mismo que es llora de llorar un poco, y uno llora sin armonía, con congoja, con sobresalto. Pero contigo pude llorar serena y pacíficamente.”
Para tratar a una persona como menos que humanos esta moralmente incorrecto, y para manipular definiciones a fin de hacerlo es la excusa más pobre de todos. Todo el mundo es humano y por eso tiene derechos.

BTW, what isn’t clear in this photo in that the white SUV right in front of my car was a cop. The air was thick with tension and you half expected a tumbleweed to roll through the intersection accompanied by old west dual music. But no, the light turned green and the cop drove off. Sigh.

I got my degree in the mail the other day so it’s official, I have a bachelors degree! Just don’t ask me to spell bachelors without spellcheck! CSUMB sent it in a cardboard mailer with this really awkward letter saying “we hope you enjoyed your time here,” which was strangely similar to the email Motel 6 sent me after I stayed there, and that was it. Even Seaside High gave me a little faux leather book-thing to put my diploma in! Oh well. I guess I should be grateful the thing isn’t written in crayon on newsprint considering the budget cuts (budget– another word you can’t ask me to spell without spellcheck.)

“It would be much bigger a catastrophe for us in case of any passenger plane crash.

…and began to breath a sigh of relief, until I read the rest of it:

“That would have a fatal, long-term consequences for the industry,” Okamura said in Prague.

I mean, double-u tee eff. I suppose it’s old news that major industries consider human lives in economic terms, but how is it that people are so willing to accept this valuation of their lives? I get the big industry mogul who thinks of human lives or injuries as a cost benefit analysis of lawsuits versus safety reform. I totally understand this evil. The puzzling thing is the complete acquiescence, compliance and even support of the people being devalued. It’s the people who read that quote and think of the health of industry, the danger to the economy, rather than the invaluableness of even one human life that totally warp my brain.

When I came back, I saw this:

To be honest, I really just stood there for a second looking at it. Maybe a few seconds, actually. Then, like any red-blooded true Californian would, I ran for my camera phone. Crazy fluke, or message from Buddy Christ? You decide.

That is all.

It was an interesting flick if you could get past the unoriginal plot and the glaring irony of a major corporation producing a movie where the idea of a major corporation is evil. But past all that, there’s something else which began to sink in as I peered through my 3D glasses: the missing villains.

Films about evil corporations are a dime a dozen, but they always present the story in such a linear way leaving out the link that makes it make sense.They present the story as if the evil corporation sprouted out of nothing and began raping the environment because it has a “raping the environment” fetish. This is just silly. The corporation in Avatar was after a substance called “unobtainium,” but said substance wouldn’t be valuable at all if there wasn’t a buyer. Yet they didn’t cover the buyers at all. This is, of course, a calculated move by the creators of these stories because we, the consumers who finance the extravagant American lifestyle, are the buyers of the unobtainium.

I kept trying to figure out why a corporation would produce such a villain in a movie but then I realized the intent– to create an alternate reality in which there is no buyer, or the buyer is totally guiltless, so as to produce the possibility of being a guiltless buyer in the real world. American consumers carry a great deal of guilt, and this is evidenced by our willingness to buy products that someone tells us are good for the environment in some way, even though we’re not willing to research these claims to make sure they’re true. Deep down most of us don’t want to know the truth because we’ve chosen to buy into the possibility that we could be guiltless, even though we know we can’t. This possibility allows us to keep taking thoughtlessly from the world around us in a socially acceptable way. In movies, the people are killed or sickened or mistreated by the corporation, but movies never explain the existence of the corporation. In real life, the people are the buyers who create the beast and the beast rewards their greed by destroying them.

So what? What can we do about it? It’s true that manufacturers often manufacture demand, but mostly we go along with it because we’re a bunch of hedonists. Stop buying into it. Hopefully this change will become easier when we lift the veil and realize how every time we buy something we don’t need we throw another axe at the great deku tree.

Anyone who has been to weight watchers knows what the “clean plate club” is, and for those who aren’t familiar with the term I think it’s pretty self-explanatory. We are people who feel a compulsive need to eat every speck of food on our plates. Over the course of my life, I’ve met some people who have this particular conditioned behavior something fierce. It causes them overwhelming psychological pain to see just one bite of food thrown away, even if it’s on someone else’s plate. I’ve witnessed people sit and miserably stuff themselves, sometimes on the brink of tears, because they just cannot bring themselves to “waste” it.

I’m ok with tossing a few bites into the trash now and then, but I don’t like it. The thought of throwing away half a plate of food is utterly disgusting to me, but the logic of overeating so as to not waste has always seemed a little . . . stinky. I’ve been rolling this over in my head, and last week I had somewhat of a revelation. The more we eat, the more our stomachs expand to fit more food, hence the more we need to eat in order to be satisfied. Serving sizes in restaurants reflect this trend; they are two, three, four times what they were 50 years ago, and growing ever more absurd by the day. Think of all that extra food each American eats over the course of their lifetime, consumed for no good reason but because of our ever expending stomaches; think of what an incredible, unbelievable waste of food that is.

The USDA estimates that the average American consumes a little less than 5 pounds of food per day.¹ I think we could probably get by with only 2/3 of that, but for the sake of simplicity let’s say we could train ourself to eat 1 pound less of food each day. That’s 365 pounds per American, which would be approximately 110,981,799,260 pounds of food per year saved.

That’s over one hundred and ten billion pounds of food, per year, saved.

Multiply that over the average American lifespan and you get a number that is so big it’s unfathomable to most people. I realize these numbers are a gross generalization and some people shouldn’t cut out a pound of food, but even if most people can’t, the people who can would still save billions of pounds of resources a year. At the beginning of the year I significantly lessened my food intake, to perhaps half of what I was eating before. Let’s say I eat 1.5 pounds a day less than I used to (I’m sure it’s more, but let’s go with that to be conservative) and I live another 60 years; I alone will save 32,850 pounds.

No starving children in Africa are benefiting from me stuffing my face. In fact, they might benefit from me not thoughtlessly consuming resources. I know the earth benefits from me consuming less and producing less trash, my health benefits from me weighing less, and my bank account benefits from me spending less on food. Next time you start to feel guilty for the food left on your plate, think of the food you could be saving after a few weeks of conditioning yourself to eat less. I think it’s time we started recognizing the clean plate club for what it really is: just another bad excuse to eat more food.

1. www.usda.gov

I don’t intentionally mean to pick on quiznos, but come on. How do you, as a sandwich shop, run out of everything it takes to make a sandwich and then just handwrite some note and tape it to the front door? What you can’t see in this photo is the type note just above it stating that they had some major equipment malfunction. Some kind of incredibly colossal failure happened at this quiznos; perhaps we’ll hear about it someday on battlefield detectives.

Ouch.

It’s one of those moments where white people everywhere get really uncomfortable while we wait to see how the black community reacts. If they react negatively, we throw Chris under the bus. That’s what’s currently happening, but read his whole comment and see if that changes how you feel about his “d’oh!” moment:

You know I was trying to think about who he was tonight and it’s interesting… he is post-racial by all appearances. You know I forgot he was black tonight for an hour. You know he’s gone a long way to become a leader in this country and passed so much history in just a year or two. I mean it’s something we don’t even think about. But I was watching him and said “Wait a minute, he’s an African American guy in front of a bunch of white people and there he is President of the United States and we’ve completely forgotten that tonight”. Completely forgotten it.

I admit, it doesn’t make it that much better, but it does change the flavor of the statement. I don’t watch TV and have never see Matthews’ show, so I have no background knowledge by which to decipher the intention of his comments, but these words alone make an interesting point about how far racial relations have come in just the last year. Think about it; for over 40 presidents and 200 years as a nation we’ve NEVER had a president who wasn’t white and male. From the time slavery was ended in the 1860’s, it was a full one hundred years later before blacks could even ride in the front of the bus.

Most of us figured that we would eventually have a non-white president, but it was anyone’s guess as to how exactly the nation would react. In liberal areas we take for granted the advancements in race relations, but I’ve spent some time in the midwest and the deep south where, everyday, you hear things and see things that make your mouth drop open in shock. Therefore, to think that we’ve had a non-white president for a year without major ignorant rioting (unless you count the tea parties, and I don’t blame you if you do) is kind of impressive. Not only that, but conservatives are beginning to move from hating Obama because he doesn’t see America “the way we do,” an obvious euphemism to his race, to hating him because he’s a Godless liberal who wants to take our money and indoctrinate our children like every other Democratic president. When you consider the aforementioned century to get to the front of the bus, the idea that this fundamental change could happen in less than a year is kind of amazing.

Maybe Chris Matthews says a lot of racist stuff in general and my view of this comment would be different if I knew anything about him, but I think it would add a great deal to the discussion if we didn’t automatically vilify white people who talk about race in this country. The way he worded his statement was dumb at best, but in general I like to believe white people try their hardest to be “correct” in their thinking on race relations, and crucifying anyone who doesn’t say something in exactly the right way leads to a less open dialogue with more ignorance about race in general. Most of the “would be hilarious if they weren’t so sad” sound bites you see on the news are made by people who actually have no idea how racist they are. It seems incredible, but it’s true. Maybe dialogue, rather than demonization, would be a more effect method for the achievement of true racial equality.

The question bugged me, and I remember specifically thinking about it for a long time. I rolled it over in my head. Which one did I have? Then I looked over the options for the state program and it asked if I had purchased a specific plan (if so, which one) or if I payed into the general fund. If I payed into the general fund, how much did I invest, etc. It occurred to me that once in high school I’d won a scholarship for high test scores, and that fund had won me some interest over the years . . . perhaps that counted?

After trying to figure it out and being unable to, I decided to call an information line. The voice I spoke to sounded like a run-down shell of a human being which told me with a distinct boredness that the state program was basically the same as the private program, but run through the state. I said I loathed private insurance companies from the core of my soul, and I would like to give the state program a try.

If you follow my feed on facebook, you know I have a lot of crazy dreams. Mostly my dreams are about dragons, mad scientists or heroines on horseback who fly through a moonlit sky and save the day. This dream, though, was so real, and it felt like so many dull experiences I’ve had in my life . . . but when I awoke I realized it wasn’t real and never would be.

I admire visionaries like Dr. King who have seemingly impossible dreams of a better world, dreams they work toward in the face of unbelievable adversity, because I could never be like that. It’s not that I don’t have the strength to fight people or do things outside the social norm; I don’t have the strength to keep my hope alive in such a cruel world. Once, when I was a senior in high school, I stood up in front of hundreds of people at the local university and asked senator Fred Thompson how we could feel justified in demanding the disarmament of other countries when we are the only country to have used nuclear power on another nation during a time of war. I can stand up and speak out, but the thought of letting myself hope just for an instant that a much better world is possible and we refuse it makes me shudder. I hear about things that are happening in my country such as the recent supreme court ruling that allows corporations to buy congress, and it cuts into me. I feel like a battered and beaten runner who tries to keep moving even though suffering from brutal injuries.

Maybe I am simply not a big-picture thinker, and there are people in the world right now planning for a better America. Maybe before I die I will see a portion of my dream realized, but until then, I will say “I had a dream.”

I just love that word! I could sit and say it to myself for hours. Well, I could say it to myself for minutes. It’s fun to say. Say it out loud, for yourself, right now. Let it roll off your tongue slowly and enjoy it.

Laaaahhhhhhzzzzzzeeehhhhnggge.

Yes! Ten brownie points to the people who actually just did that. Turns out, in this one instance, I’m not a complete freak because a lot of people have preferences for words because of the way they sound. Conversely, some people hate certain words for the same reason. Here’s a very incomplete list of words I stole from this website that people seem to hate inexplicably:

moist
slacks
ointment
impossible
vomit
panties
spew

“My impossible cousin spewed moist vomit all over my panties as I was trying to put ointment under my slacks.” I bet you have a really sour look on your face after reading that. I know I do. Did you know there are three groups on Facebook for “people who hate the word moist”? I agree wholeheartedly. Let’s banish it from the English language. But, I don’t like the word “wet” much better, and the word “ointment” makes me want to . . . well nevermind.

If I had all the money and time in the world I would love to do some real research on this phenomenon. But until then I will keep on childishly saying my favorite words like The Biggest Nerd Ever. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must away to extol the glories of a pineapple lozenge whilst spelunking.

from wikipedia

I heard a loud sound like a car horn, and turned around to realize I’d been standing in the middle of a parking lot without a clear idea of for how long. After having left the grocery store I remembered hearing the sound of an incoming text, and without thinking I’d stopped to dig my phone out of my purse and respond. Then, out of habit, I checked my email. There I found a couple notifications from facebook, but before I’d finished reading the sound startled me and I realized I was standing in the middle of the road. I scurried out of the way and realized for the first time how strange it is that tech savvy people these days live lives which are physically divided– real life and virtual life. I was cognizant for the first time of the look that must have been on my face, and ever since then I’ve been seeing that look everywhere, like their real-life body has been put on pause while they live their life in another world. I’ve grow a nasty habit of staring at these people and wondering if they know how strange they look.

Ever since watching Lain, one of the most mind-screwy animes ever conceived, I’ve been having these troubling thought experiments about the meaning of online existence. For example: lets say a person lives a profound and influential life in the virtual world but nowhere else. They never leave their home, never meet people in person, but online they accomplish a great many things. This is a though experiment, but certainly not impossible, and becoming more possible all the time. Can that person be said to have lived a meaningful life? I suppose that question is fundamentally unanswerable as the definition of a meaningful life is subjective, but it’s a fun question to ask.

Enter virtual suicide. Sometimes we get obsessed with things and realize far too late how strange and probably psychologically unhealthy they are. The other day I discovered this web-based way to commit virtual suicide, and I’ve been addicted to reading people’s “last words” testimonials. The website is essentially a shamelessly emo way to cancel your twitter or facebook account, completely with totally wrong puns galore, but I found myself being unreasonably interested from a philosophical/psychoanalytical standpoint. Why is this so fascinating to me? Is it because I’ve always wanted to know what my own funeral will be like? The idea that we could live a virtual life is interesting because once the notion of a life existing in two places can be accepted, then life after death becomes possible in a very real way. Uh, yeah, by the way, I have a cold and probably shouldn’t be allowed to post anything in a public way. Now that my head feels even more like a swimming pool I think I’ll go lay down

Boy, talk about a shit job. Poor Owen. But seriously, I snapped this photo at a Quiznos somewhere in Mountainview . . . doesn’t anyone read over these things?

Campbell’s tomato soup and V8 are the same thing. There, I said it. Now, I know what you’re thinking: how could I say such a thing? And to be honest, I’m not sure myself. But I know I have to speak the truth, consequences be damned.

To think that all those years I suffered through drinking cold V8 with the paltry consolation of the notion that it was good for me; no brothers and sisters, I tell you do not fall for this wickedness. To them who would say “but no, they are different, I assure you,” I respond with “denial is an ugly thing, but if you cannot handle the truth, then so be it.”

I made a joke the other day about going through a quarter-life crisis but apparently this is actually a recognized phenomenon which some people think is becoming more and more prevalent. Traditional American society is unraveling completely to reveal an entirely new group of totally dumbfounded 20 somethings who, not being bound by convention, have no idea what to do with their lives. That, or they have end-goals but not a clear idea of how to achieve them.

Well, I would write more on this but my quarter-life crisis has afflicted me with a terrible laziness against which I currently have no recourse. Instead, you should read this blog about it.

Drug policy in the US is such an overwhelming failure it’s hard for me to wrap my brain around it. Most voters seem to have a “lock them up and throw away the key” mentality, but they usually also have no idea what it’s like to watch a loved one suffer from addiction. The only way I can think to describe it is like this: watching a loved one slowly kill themselves with drugs is something like that moment in a zombie movie when your favorite character gets bitten. Only it’s not a movie.

So what can we do about it? I think we’re still figuring it out. This pamphlet is evidence of the stabs in the dark we’re trying to take at helping people on drugs. While I think the effort is somewhat amusing, it’s not the answer. Here’s the comment I posted on Katharine’s blog:

“I think the main problem with this pamphlet is not so much the information but the presentation. This pamphlet could just as easily be about how to not get injured while rollerskating. It sends a subliminal message to impressionable minds that authority figures are ok with shooting drugs as long as you take care of yourself.

I’m not against the circulation of this information, but it must be done directly, verbally, to people who are already using drugs. In print and complete with cartoon figurines it has the catastrophic potential to lessen the danger in childrens’ minds of heroin use. Falling into the wrong hands, this information causes more harm than good.“

The search for an effective drug policy continues. How can we really help people suffering from addiction? Shoot, if someone could prove to me that this pamphlet works and doesn’t encourage drug use amongst young people I’d support it. But the potential harm of it could be enormous and it seems impossible to measure the true harm or benefit of it. One thing is certain in my mind: money would be better spent on encouraging the idea that it’s ok to ask for help to quit drugs, not to do them safely.

Yes, I know you didn’t realize I had my capstone.That’s because I didn’t really tell anyone. Well here are my slides + video for the people I either didn’t tell or waited till the very last minute to tell so they couldn’t possibly come.

Here’s the very low quality video. Listen for the loud zipping noise; that’s my favorite part.

The most incredible part of the documentary was watching other concentration camp survivors bitterly and vehemently argue with the woman over her choice to forgive. But it soon became clear that the entire concept of forgiveness is just so bizarre and foreign to people that they don’t even know what it means, especially people who have survived unspeakable traumas.

In thinking about this post, I thought about whether I should talk about my family and some of the horror stories there. Well, I decided it wasn’t totally relevant to talk about specific stories, but allow me to suggest that I am quite qualified to talk about the concept of forgiveness in the face of incomprehensible brutality. Many people think forgiveness is about wiping the slate clean and letting your tormentor get away with whatever they did, but it’s really not about that person at all. Everyone defines forgiveness differently, but for me it is simply the notion that I will no longer allow myself to be hurt by something someone did to me in the past. For me, forgiveness isn’t giving the gift of pardon to an assailant, it’s giving away whatever hurt you’ve been holding in.

To be fair, I’ve never been tortured by the SS so I have no idea what they went through. But watching those people in the documentary so bitterly rage against this woman, so utterly unable to let go of their pain, so miserably engulfed and defined by it, I couldn’t help but think of what a tragedy it is to have survived a gruesome genocide only to live the rest of your life still giving such power to your tormentors.