A week ago I was playing my violin. When I had finished and put away my instrument, I walked into the living room and found my parents both watching a television program pasted together from bits of handheld camera footage of the September 11 attacks. I felt strongly compelled to sit down and watch with them, and as I did so I was impressed with the unfortunate irony of my abridged perceptions of that day.

On September 11, 2001, I was being driven to a violin lesson when my mother told me about the attacks. I just remember thinking, this is a lot bigger than I think it is. I knew then that I didn't understand. They had happened while I was at school, and no one had told me or my classmates. I did not see the news reports or watch with the rest of the country as the second tower was hit. All the adults around me hid their reactions. I did not know that three thousand people were dying, and that thousands more were being choked by smoke and debris as their lives were changed forever. I saw all of that, the real people and their responses, for the first time eight years after the fact. I realized that the desire to protect me had backfired.

I was nine years old and at a complete loss; nothing I had experienced had prepared me to judge anything of that magnitude and complexity. Because I didn't see adult reactions to the attacks, I didn't know how to react. Because I didn't see the attacks themselves, they had always seemed somewhat remote to me, like something from a history book. By most adults I was shielded from all but the shallowest implications and displays of paper patriotism, and I took the attacks only as seriously as they were presented to me. For some time I regarded them with a degree of cynicism, of which I slowly came to be ashamed as years passed. Now that attitude seems disgusting and alien to me, but I have no individual to blame but myself. I was nine years old, and people had to deal with my reactions as well as their own. I' m just glad that I have come around to some sort of understanding, broken as it is, after eight year

How I Write

Most of the time, which is to say when I'm writing for school, I really don't write the way Dr. Romano suggests. I write slowly, I think before each phrase and sentence. I consistently do poorly in any sort of situation where I am timed, unless I have had time to think ahead and prepare. When a teacher says, "Pull out you notebooks! We're going to write about -- now!" I'm often not in that "writing state of mind." I get lost in the thoughts before I stick them on paper. And how will I have time to revise and rewrite if I'm turning it in in five, ten minutes?

The subject matters, I think. I mean, just how passionate can one be, within the realm of decency, when one is writing about vacuum filtration in alum synthesis? A-Rod wasn't looking for me to rhapsodize. On the other hand, that sort of passion might create the sort of ease and fluidity that is valued in any writing, without necessarily a flowery aspect.

I am capable of the "gush," but people rarely see the result. I abandon it too soon, or devalue it, or decide to keep it to myself. What is beautiful in the park at 10:30 at night is too often garish the next morning. I hope that eventually I will develop a "writing state of mind" that is appropriate and useful in many contexts.

Guns, Germs, and Steel

I have heard many and mixed review of this book, from the former AP student, who groans at its mention, to my father, who has trouble keeping it "in stock" at our house because he is continually gifting it to friends and acquaintances. I now hear my classmates' languishings with some sympathy. Yes, it is a long book, and yes, it could be a third shorter shy the repetitions and reiterations, but it is also a beautiful, evolving masterwork.

In form it is almost 19th-century [1], and the painfully exacting logic which leaves no equid unturned was galling at first, but I began to appreciate it as I took in the vast scope and depth of Diamond's imparted knowledge. Guns, Germs, and Steel is a highly relevant multidisciplinary analysis of our planet: its geography, its inhabitants, and the massively complex underlying movements that got today's societies where we are today. That Diamond was able to make his research, which spans such various fields as biology, sociology, epidemiology, archaeology, and linguistics, at all accessible to the layperson is remarkable.

It saddens me that this book has received criticism for being racist. Diamond has been accused of prescribing racial deficiencies, for example, when he says that Native Americans "failed" to domesticate a local species of apple. This is preposterous. In Diamond's own words, "The objection to such racist explanations is not just that they are loathsome, but also that they are wrong." His theory of socioeconomic evolution is not only comparative, but comprehensive. He stresses again and again that, had disparate populations of humans been interchanged in prehistory, or local geographic and ecological conditions been different, Montezuma could very well have sent conquerors to Spain and brutally dethroned King Charles I, instead of the other way around.

In fact, it is the specificity of these contentious illustrative examples which makes Guns, Germs, and Steel so interesting and valuable. The sections which absorbed me the most were always the stories of real people and peoples, some of whom my Euro-centric upbringing had not even seen fit to mention. This book is very scientific, almost mathematical, in nature, but it was conceived and driven by a passion for human understanding. It shows the tribes and nations and races of our world not as alien curiosities, but as the cultural and material sums of millions of years of interaction with their environments. I believe that it is at least as significant, if not more so, for this image, as it is for its charts of cereals and carbon dates.


[1] On the Origin of Species could have been a pamphlet.

Is Google Making Us Stupid?

Yes, probably. Or at least it is making us shallow and diffuse. I too have been worrying about my changing reading habits, and it is refreshing to hear an adult admit to his own waning attention rather than pawning off his concerns on "today's youth."As a prerequisite to the course I took at Northwestern University this summer, I had to take a "web fluency" seminar, conducted entirely online. Many of the assignments, and all of the quizzes and exams, were timed. Although I feel I benefited from exercises, it bothered me that in almost all cases the information itself was secondary to the skills I was learning. It is as if all summer I have been living a double life as I switch between two ways of thinking.

I have also noticed that I write very differently in different media. When I write using a pencil and paper, I always feel more connected to my work. I need to carefully consider what I write before I write it because I cannot simply strike a key to change it or interchange sentences and paragraphs at whim. For this reason, I often write out my more important assignments and more personally valuable works longhand. When I type them into a computer, it is a part of rewriting and editing process. For me, this blog feels yet one more step removed. It is ethereal and transient, and consequently I tend to be lazy and careless with it.

I used thesaurus.reference.com to find the word "diffuse" for the second sentence of this post. I was not being stupid. I know the word diffuse, and I knew I wanted to use it, but I couldn't quite place it in my mind. It would have taken me some time to remember it or use a physical text to find it. Most people would deem this particular use of the internet "defensible," but soon thereafter the line blurs. Reference.com is meant to be used--well, as a reference. But the internet automatically changes any material into quick reference: it is there, not as a whole, but as a collection of phrases, bits of information to be sifted and siphoned by undiscerning browsers. The main substance of any length of writing lies in the connection and ordering of ideas. The "search" and "find" functions ultimately destroy the text as a cohesive entity and thereby obviate the authorship.

Carr has a point, though, in discussing past resistance to technologies we now take for granted. We can never see ahead, and there will always be late and early adapters. We can, however, be cautious and open-minded when considering how new technologies are shaping our culture. Each of us, individually, holds the power to become become a pancake or not. I still read books and long articles. Hell, I still memorize. I also use the internet frequently and extensively, and I feel I have benefited. Kudos to all of you who made it this far, who read this as a whole and not the sum of its parts, as well as to those of you who faithfully read the mouseover text on webcomics. Extra points for the use of the word "gewgaws."

http://baryka.blogspot.com/2007/05/and-he-ate-only-pops-that-were-lolly.html

Responce to Wollstonecraft excerpt

This was a bit of a shock after the meticulously logical (as well as modern) outline of Guns, Germs, and Steel. The title and date lead me to expect a carefully structured academic argument, not such a personal essay. Although I enjoyed a few of Wollstonecraft's more artful phrases (eg. "out Quixote Cervantes"), I at times found her argument difficult to follow when she began to discuss what she might have written instead, or why she wasn't going to write about a topic about which she was writing. Most aggravating were the tangential supporting arguments she squished in around the corners. Many of her metaphysical ponderings about the nature of love and evil did eventually relate back to her arguments for the moral capacities of women, but they were not always presented in an effective way, or even in one contiguous piece.

To do every thing in an orderly manner, is a most important precept, which women, who, generally speaking, receive only a disorderly kind of education, seldom attend to with that degree of exactness, that men who from their infancy are broken into method, observe.

So maybe it's not her fault. Or maybe people in general just didn't write in such an "orderly manner" during her time.

The greatest criticism I have of the substance of this essay is that it focuses exclusively on the upper class and bourgeoisie. Wollstonecraft names idleness, preoccupation with appearance, and lack of education as deficiencies in the required feminine character. During the late 18th century, a woman of the lower class could not afford idleness or a "fondness for dress." Education would be out of the question for her; her husband and sons would be lucky to be literate. In the lower class, sexism usually extended to subordination and condescension without the insulting pampering.

Wollstonecraft's social exclusivity is not the only indication that her mode of thought is strongly flavoured by the principles of the Enlightenment. The terms "natural" and "instinctive" are used numerous times throughout the essay as she asks the reader what is quintessentially "feminine." At a time when intellectuals were seeking the "natural" solutions to everything, and "natural" often meant "intended by God," it was easy for philosophers like Rousseau to leave women out of a social revolution by explaining that the natural, and therefore best, social structure places women below men, where they can best express their natural qualities of gentle deference. Wollstonecraft's refutation of "nurture" rather than "nature" must have been wildly unpopular. She clearly supports "natural" religious virtue for humankind as a whole, but refuses to accept double moral and social standards for the sexes. However, she chose to chop this provocative assertion up into little bits wedged into remote parts of the essay, and she rarely committed to more than rhetorical supposition. Was she trying to placate less receptive readers by interspersing it with the more familiar ethical preaching?

Skunk Dreams Response

I have never particularly disliked skunks (I actually rather like their smell, from a great distance), but I can't honestly say that I have ever thought of them as being spiritually transcendent.

Louise Erdrich writes universally, "The obstacles we overcome define us." In her own experience, she wants to preserve beyond her death the self she has created by laboring through obstacles. However, her desire itself forms another obstacle, similar to the fencing around the preserved wilderness of the game park. She encounters the impermeable barrier even in her dreams, which mirror her waking life rather than a disembodied afterlife without limits.

The author imagines that the skunk also has dreams similar to its waking life (although she admits she can't be sure). The skunk, on the other hand, sees no obstacles in either realm. It passes through the fences, does as it pleases, and does not fear death.

Erdrich carefully details her changing definition of out, which is similar to the skunk's ellusive state of serenity. It represents her maturing thirst for something greater and freer than her limited human experience. At first the only place she identifies as out is her childhood home, the familiar and obviously expansive West. Later, she learns to accept the new and complex environment of the Northeast even though it lacks the drama she required as a teenager. When she finally discovers and enters the game park from her dream, she defines out as in. Rather than looking outside herself for an afterlife, she finds preservance by overcoming her inner obstacles. She has gained the Confidence of the Skunk.

"Talk of the Town" Response

Please bear with me, as I have recently suffered a mild, jazz-related head injury.

I think that this article made a very pointed statement about how our society deals with violence. After a horrific shooting, people always look around for something to blame. They argue that it was the shooter's parents or classmates that pushed him over the edge, or vehemently condemn violence in media. While some of these claims may have bearing on a particular case, they lose sight of the larger issue. I agree, in fact I strongly believe, that the mechanics and values of a society can manifest themselves as domestic concerns. The problem I see with our society concerning guns is that we are so uncomfortable discussing certain aspects of the issue that we have failed to initiate an effective solution.

I find Tim Kaine's statement to be naive and destructive. The family members do need to be comforted for their terrible losses, the community does need to heal, and to do that they need to be allowed to ask questions and to look for the answers. The imposed squeamishness of outsiders is selfish. It is wrong and hurtful to require silence, to stunt our own growth, just so we can spare our own, far-removed feelings. Discouraging productive political discussion about guns is setting up the community--or the one next door, or across the country--to be hurt again.

OH. There's another article. I'd better read that.

My reaction to the second article is similar. It is another example of Americans dangerously mishandling a destructive event, but on a much larger scale. Once again people were more concerned with comfort than with practical safety measures, and the government's official attitude was coddling rather than constructive. I remember well my own thoughts and experiences in the aftermath of the catastrophe: my mother picked me up from school to take me to a violin lesson and was shocked and angry to find that I had been told nothing at school. In the following weeks I looked and listened and asked for what was being done to help the thousands dead and injured and hurt by loss, and I found sad paper flags and impersonal kind words.

We need more than flags and words. Our first reaction as a country should not be to step away from our problems and hide in our self-image. The farther we bury our heads in "self-righteous drivel" and the blinder parts of "deeply American belief," the less likely we are to rationally examine the success of European gun laws or understand Middle-Eastern suicide bombings.