New Mexico

I can hardly mention the state of New Mexico in my dorm. If I do, whatever statement I was planning on saying is inevitably interrupted by the moans of all of my friends. It’s not that they have any problem with the state. No, they complain because of me; it is safe to say that I reminisce about my home state at least once a week. For some reason, I have become unbearably nostalgic about the entire identity of New Mexico. The food, the weather, the scenery—I crave it all of the time.
New Mexican "rivers", home of the cutthroat trout. Yes, I memorized my state fish.



I did not always have this infatuation with Albuquerque. In high school, it was common to refer to Albuquerque with disdain. It seemed as if my friends and I had exhausted every benefit imaginable, so many of our nights were spent playing video games or poker. New Mexican food, because it was so abundant, was never something I craved. I simply ate it. Now, I can hear green chile calling me before I fall asleep. William Blake wrote in his poem, “A Divine Image,” that “The human face a furnace sealed, the human heart its hungry gorge.” [1] In my case, the furnace was the burn of the chile, and my love for the taste was the insatiable chasm. Here in Texas, where there is great pride in their attempt at Mexican food, I am seen as a snob or picky. Sadly, these people don’t realize how naive they are. In fact, I was naive until I came here. Now that I can’t find breakfast burritos or Christmas enchiladas (a mix of red chile and green chile), I am fully aware of the miraculous cuisine I left behind.

That green sauce that's on everything--that's what I love.


Even the weather is better in New Mexico. When an Austinite tries to explain how wonderful the “low-humidity” is, I feel obliged to modify Hopkins poem, “Spring”: “Nothing is so beautiful as Spring”—in New Mexico. [2] With zero percent Humidity and rain that has a scent, there are few places that compare. Again, while I lived in the state I never realized this fact. It wasn’t until my college search during senior year that I realized there was such a thing as 100% humidity. I also feel like I am losing touch with nature. This is probably due to my lack of a car, but there is something to be said about the scenery in northern New Mexico. Mountains of epic proportions are abundant, hikes can lead through aspen groves, and camping in complete isolation is easy. When I am hiking in these parts, I realize how powerful nature is. Like Barney says in the poem “On Greer Island a Copperhead Lies Slain”, the animals are “the owners of [the] isle.” [3] It makes me realize how unnatural humans have become.




If you haven't been through an aspen grove, I reccommend it.


I’m not sure if I’ll ever stop craving green chile, but I hope I don’t. It certainly dominates my diet whenever I make it back for a break. It, as well as the weather and culture, will always remind me of something that is more satisfying than food: home. Although people may not realize it, the place where they grew up is special to them for reasons they sometimes can’t explain—even New Jersey has its fans. Austin is amazing, and I am excited for the coming years in Austin. Still, if you want to hear anyone rave about the “Land of Enchantment”, you know who to talk to.

One of the many great New Mexican ski resorts.

[1] A 146

[2] A 164

[3] A 162

My personal image of Jesus may vary from the norm. However, after you read the evidence presented in this paper, you too may begin to see him as the man he really was.

The life of Jesus, as documented by the bible, which is formed of collections of writings written by unknown authors perhaps centuries after the man’s death, translated by numerous people in numerous contexts, then interpreted by millions of different people that emphasize different parts and readings to form countless derivatives of Christianity, is most likely complete and thorough. Why else, then, would it be deemed Holy by the Pope, the dude who can talk directly to God after he is elected to do so by a bunch of other dudes who want to talk to God? That’s right: there is no argument against this. However, there seems to be something that many people overlook. “Today, most scholars think that the Last Supper of Jesus and his disciples was a modified and transformed Passover.”[1] Interestingly, there is no record of Jesus NOT being able to lift the Passover table over his head.

Hercules wasn't just a TV show, he was actually a person!

My question is this: Could it be possible to argue that Jesus was able to curl over 250 pounds? It is important to remember that Jesus was half man and half God. Like Hercules. And Hercules was ripped. In fact, there is autobiographical evidence of Hercules holding up the earth while Atlas retrieved some apples. For the sake of argument, let us pretend that Jesus was only one one-millionth of the Man-God that Hercules was. This means that Jesus could shoulder press 6,000,000,000,000,000 kilograms[2]—a statement that is never refuted in the Bible. Now, it is reasonable to argue that Hercules could curl more than 250 pounds, but due to lack of hard evidence, we must search elsewhere. After doing some research, I found an interesting video of Ronnie Coleman, aka Mr. Olympia for nine years straight. Watch this video starting at 2 minutes 5 seconds:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TECV1DtFyRo
If my eyes aren’t deceiving me, that video indicates that Ronnie Coleman was able to preacher curl 240-260 pounds—a style of curling that Jesus seems particularly capable of. Now, if I may deliver the punch of my argument:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W1KD7cGRDDc&feature=related
This video is of Ronnie Coleman dead-lifting a mere 800 pounds, a task that would seem trite to Jesus and Hercules alike. If Coleman was able to dead-lift 800 pounds for every 250 pounds he could curl, then Jesus would have theoretically been able to curl 4,133,437,500,000,000 pounds. Hercules would be able to curl one million times more than this. As you can see, even if Jesus’ dead-lift to curl ratio was one one-trillionth of Ronnie Coleman’s, his abilities would have far surpassed 250 pounds.

Something that is even more interesting is apocryphal material that emphasizes Jesus’ muscular figure. For example, in Luke 22:19, it reads: “And he took bread, and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, This is my body which is given up for you: this do in remembrance of me.”[3] It is common knowledge today that when someone has a “body”, it means that they are well toned and/or muscular. Jesus must have looked at his massive biceps, after completely owning the bread by snapping it right in half, and been inspired to reiterate the beautiful muscular form that was about to be sacrificed.

These guys would have been no match for the Son of God, JC. He would have knocked their matching socks right off.

In sum, when Christians partake of the body of God, it is not a remembrance of Jesus’ spiritual and emotional last meal, but as a psychological blow when we realize our shame of not being able to lift even a tenth of what Jesus could, our identification with Jesus in all of his animal cries and grunts as he worked out, and our own affirmation of the struggle to work out and overcome our weakness. Ronnie Coleman captures perfectly the human condition when he prophesizes, “everyone wants to be a body builder, ain’t nobody wanna do bench-press.”[4] We must remain focused and partake in the sacred ritual of strength training that Jesus was so fond of—even through our toughest lifts. "It is only at this most vulnerable point of pain, uttering unintelligible cries, that God redeems all suffering and asks for our participation in the end of”[5] our workout.

Back and Biceps MF, Triceps and Chest TTh, Legs and Abs WS, and on the seventh day we rest.
Join me next week when I prove that Jesus could fly; how else could he make it to heaven?

The Wright Brothers were decades behind this guy.

[1] A 135
[2] http://science.howstuffworks.com/question30.htm
[3] A 132
[4] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nsh_JSX2pkY
[5] A 137

Why We Do What We Do

HOBOS THINK OF A LOT OF WAYS TO GET ME TO GIVE THEM MONEY...BUT DO THEY EVER THINK OF ME?

It is amazing to think about the staggering amount of people on our planet. It is not the numbers that impress me; humans have been extremely prolific by biological standards, but this feat is diminished in comparison to the resiliency of the cockroach. No, the thing about humans that baffles me is this: every person I see is leading a life that is as important to them as mine is to me. I know that this only makes me sound vain, but it always amazes me when I sit and ponder it. The bum that just asked me for some change (they even specifically tell me that it’s for beer here in Austin)? Normally I just say “sorry man” and keep walking without even a hitch in my stride. I’ve even mastered the whole putting-hands-in-pockets-and-shrugging gig. Sometimes after I walk by, however, I wonder what the rat is thinking about me as I pass. At first I think that he is thinking “What a jerk. He probably has change. He doesn’t even care to try to help me.” But to be honest, he probably doesn’t give half a poo about who I am. He just wants his beer. I then begin to speculate about what everyone thinks of me as I walk by. I don’t think it’s cynical to assume that not a single person I pass thinks about my life story in the slightest—which is all dandy, because I usually return the favor. This is where I get the funny feeling in my tummy; not a single person I see throughout my day cares about my life, and I rarely care about theirs, a far stretch from Gods command to “love one another…as I have loved you.”[1] With billions of people like this all over the planet, it is hard to imagine how—or why—we manage to accomplish the things that we do.

So, despite our general apathy towards each other, we still manage to make some astounding things. A combustion engine, a crane, a cell phone, nuclear power plants…these things that we take for granted are amazing bits of technology. Our highly developed capacity for intellect has allowed us to master our domain and harvest the power that nature has to offer. I am not implying that humans are necessarily superior to animals or nature, but this is a vast difference between our motives. As David Lurie states, “We are of a different order of creation from the animals. Not higher, necessarily, just different.”[2] While an animal is content with food, a mate, and shelter, man wants more food, more mates, and better shelter. There is no question about whether we can achieve this or not, but Dana has brought up an interesting point: do we deserve it?

WE ARE STILL TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHO IS DOMINANT.

After thinking about it, I realized that it doesn’t really matter. For in the end, does anything really matter? Virgo alludes to the inevitable rhythm of nature in his poem “Pollio”, saying “Erunt etiam altera bella, atque iterum ad Troiam magnus mittetur Achilles. Hinc, ubi iam fermata uirum te fecerit aetas, cedet et ipse mari uector, nec nautical pinus mutabit merces (New wars too shall arise, and once again some great Achilles to some Troy be sent. Then, when the mellowing years have made thee man, no more shall mariner sail, nor pine-tree bark play traffic on the sea, but every land shall all things bear alike).”[3] It is my belief that eventually the human race will die off or evolve, thus nullifying the issues that we grapple with each day. But until then, the real question is this: does anything deserve anything? What does a flower do to justify its existence? When has any organism proven to be essential to the existence of the universe? The obvious answer is never, and to the “real” question, the answer is no. Regardless, I don’t think that this means we should give up on living. If we make the effort to lead compassionate lives, entitlement becomes irrelevant.

But can we ever lead compassionate lives? (See this link for the dramatic ending: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1Y73sPHKxw)

http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=world%20ending&rls=com.microsoft:*:IE-Address&oe=UTF-8&sourceid=ie7&rlz=1I7GWYE&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&hl=en&tab=wv#q=galaxy+colliding&hl=en&emb=0

EVENTUALLY WE WILL BE AT THE MERCY OF PHYSICS, BUT UNTIL THEN WE ARE AT THE MERCY OF EACH OTHER...

[1] A132, John 13:34.
[2] A 77
[3] A 124

Pee Pee 3

“Are you going to change?” I asked. Ben Warren, a friend who lives in my hall, and I were going to ascend the UT tower on a warm autumn day. “Why?” he asked me with a puzzled look. It was Saturday afternoon, and we had been watching the UT football game on TV. We were both wearing sweatpants and slippers. “You can’t just wear sweatpants and slippers around,” I explained. Again he replied, “Why?” After thinking for a moment, I realized that I couldn’t think of a good reason other than “no one else does.” So we headed out to the tower in our sweatpants and slippers. I’m not sure if the outfit was directly responsible, but that day turned out to be one of the most enjoyable weekends of the school year. After the tour, we met up with some other kids from our hall and ate pizza before going to see the new James Bond flick at the cinema. The entire day I felt relaxed and carefree. The next day I reflected on the occasion to try to figure out what made Saturday so pleasant. Eventually I realized that it was the first time in a long time that I had spent an entire day simply relaxing. In fact, it had been a while since I had done anything for the sole purpose of enjoying myself. The experience was so rewarding that I decided to make a deliberate effort each week to do the same thing. It was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

I CAN TELL THAT THIS GUY IS READY TO HAVE A GREAT DAY. THE ONLY THINGS THAT COULD MAKE IT BETTER ARE SLIPPERS.

The fateful “sweatpants day” inspired me to reexamine my priorities, and has had a profound effect on my persona. Prior to the incident, I had been stuck in a rut of apathy. During my senior year in high school I managed to suppress my capacity for emotions. Applying for college was a somewhat traumatic experience, and for me there was a narrow margin of success. It had been my goal ever since I thought about the college experience to attend a school out of state. I had no qualms with the University of New Mexico, but the fact that I lived 3 minutes away from campus seemed to detract from the college experience I envisioned. In order to attend an out of state school, my parents informed me that I would need to receive enough scholarships to cover all of tuition. Although I wasn’t hopeless, the sheer difficulty of the task was intimidating and frustrating. In order to protect myself from disappointment, I adopted an apathetic view. The process was slow, but my subconscious defense mechanism was thorough; by the second semester of senior year, I didn’t have any strong feelings about anything. This is hardly an exaggeration. When I found out that I received the Dedman Scholarship, I had very limited emotional response. The lack of excitement made me feel uneasy about my decision to attend UT—was I making the right choice? Even when I tried to figure out why I felt uneasy about the decision, I dismissed the endeavor with the expression that seemed to define my existence: “whatever.”

I FELT LIKE I HAD AS MUCH EMOTION AS THIS GUY. IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN, I RECOMMEND IT--THOUGH IT IS DISTURBING.

Emotional awareness is something that I feel is intrinsic to happiness. When I forget to take a step back and examine how my actions make me feel, I inevitably feel overwhelmed. Since the beginning of this semester I have made a conscious effort to spend at least an hour a day doing something that I enjoy. One of my favorite activities is composing songs for piano. Lately, I have nocied a change in the way I approach composition, and I believe it is because of my newly egained emotional capacity. This may sound strange to non-composers, but for the first time in years I am able to hear songs I want to compose before I play them. Although it is possible for me to write songs by following music theory and generic chord progressions, pieces derived from this mechanical process are never fully satisfying to produce. I would even complain to friends about this stagnant form of composition, saying that I felt as if I was playing the same song over and over again. With my new approach, the song is driven by my feelings and intuitions instead of a rule or known chord change. The resulting songs are remarkably more personal. If the music I produce is any measure of my emotional health—and I believe it is—then my demeanor has improved tremendously from senior year.

FINALLY, I REALIZED THE SECRET TO COMPOSITION--EXPRESSING EMOTIONS!

One aspect of emotional intelligence that I have focused on since this assignment has been embracing my academic successes. My typical response to grades (especially from architecture) is to dismiss them; if I receive a low mark, I immediately put it behind me and focus on the next project—if I receive a high mark, I do the same. With this method I never fully appreciated the lessons that can be learned from each assignment. Instead I tread tirelessly through each course, working on each project as if it is pointless, nonessential busywork that stands between me and my degree. On Tuesday, we turned in two drawings in which we drafted parts from model airplane kits. At the end of the review, my drawings were selected to hang in the lobby of the school. My immediate response was to ignore the obvious compliment. “I can’t believe they chose mine; there are so many better ones. Whatever.” On my way back to the studio, several students congratulated me on my success. After the third compliment, I realized that there was something fundamentally wrong with my response. It was almost as if I was refusing to rejoice in my success so I wouldn’t be disappointed when my work wasn’t selected from the next assignment. What, then, was I working for? If I didn’t strive to be noticed and praised by the professors, I was setting myself up for failure; even if I produced high-quality work, there was no reward. I decided to enjoy the spotlight, and called my number one fans for a little encouragement. “They’re putting them in the FRONT? Send me a picture! Here, tell Dad,” exclaimed my mother. Their excitement fueled mine, and the endless work demanded by architecture seemed slightly less trivial.

ONE OF MY DRAWINGS THAT WAS SELECTED TO HANG IN THE LOBBY. I'VE REALIZED THAT ITS OK TO BE PROUD OF MY SUCCESSES!

If I haven’t made it clear already, I want to state it plainly: I am happy. By turning inwards and sorting things out in my own heart, I have gained an awareness of the emotions all around me. For example, last Sunday I attended church after constant pressure from my mom. I am still working out what I believe myself, and have dubious feelings about the role of the church. Most of the time I feel that mass is pointless and only attended out of obligation, but I saw something during the ceremony that erased my doubts. During one of the songs, the man in front of me was singing along quietly. He was moving subtly with the music, which at first annoyed me. As I watched, mostly to see if he was going to annoy me more, he turned his head slightly and I could see that he was smiling. Immediately my emotions changed; this man was happy, and whether it was because of the song, his faith, or the community around him was irrelevant. I was overcome with happiness, and I realized that the church, regardless of my qualms, was an essential part of the world for this reason alone. Even if there is no God, even if faith is as pointless as our human existence, it brings people happiness and guidance and love, and there is no basis to destroy an institution that provides these things. Each day I notice instances that resemble my church experience; the world, though it has its ugly sides, is full of beautiful things.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ztkd6VP8vHw&feature=related

LISTEN IN PARTICULAR TO THE PART WHERE HE DESCRIBES BEAUTY FLOWING THROUGH HIM--THIS DESCRIPTION INSPIRED ME TO LOOK FOR IT IN EVERYDAY LIFE. BELIEVE IT OR NOT, ITS THERE.

I have decided to make it my priority to enjoy these things. Don’t get me wrong—I do get upset, annoyed, and have every desire to experience the full range of human emotion. My intention is to embrace everything for what it is, and realize that it all comes together to form our tragically futile lives. Every day we are faced with decisions regarding our emotional states. It is easy to dwell on our failures, become irate with mistakes and incompetence, or curse the injustice that seems to pervade our existence. However, it is just as easy to realize that shortcomings can be improved, that people are all doing their best to enjoy what they have, and to make a positive effort to deal with the situations we find ourselves in. I know, it sounds cheesy. But if you do it right, by staying honest with yourself and true to your emotions, the happiness is real—and worth it.

The Afterlife

WHAT IS HEAVEN? A RAINBOW OVER A WHITE CASTLE?

A few weeks ago, during one of our discussions we were asked to imagine being dead. I closed my eyes and tried to comprehend the inability to comprehend, I tried to experience nothingness. Of course I could not, because the essence of nothingness, or death, is the fact that it is never experienced. Afterwards, we were asked to imagine eternity. I imagined sitting in heaven with my family, friends, perhaps observing the planet and the endless toiling of life. I imagined a future so distant that everything I knew and loved became irrelevant. The idea of the planet became so detached that I couldn’t see myself relating to it. Again, I failed to grasp the notion of infinity; however, I realized that I didn’t want to exist in such a state. The discussion continued on some aspect of animal rights, but my mind was focused on the inevitable experience of death. If I feared the concept of nothingness, and was disinterested in eternity, what end could satisfy me? Before I examine the end, I would like to clarify what I believe about its counterpart—life.

I have never been too keen on the idea of suffering in this life in order to secure admittance to heaven. Did God really create mortal life to tempt people into pleasure, only to damn them if they indulged? I love the quote in Sullivan’s preface, “put away anxious thoughts about food and drink to keep you alive, and clothes to cover your body. Surely life is more than food, the body more than clothes.”[1] However, I disagree with part of its message. Yes, spirituality is important to me, and the image of a loving and all-knowing God is comforting and something I cherish. I want to live my life in a good, respectable way that God and I will deem worthy. Where I differ is in the total glorification of the afterlife. Life is not only more than food; life is more than death. There are so many beautiful things on the planet that I find it dubious to dismiss them as “worldly.” The trend Sullivan observes, that many religions “emphasize otherworldly goals and rejected this world as corrupting”, is something that choose not to believe. In my mind, life here on earth may be trivial compared to the eternity of heaven, but it is something that can be beautiful.

THERE'S MORE TO LIFE THEN MONEY...RIGHT?

When I was young I thought that there was a distinct heaven and hell. My faithfulness and careful observance of the Catholic dogma was the only surefire way to get in, and I thought that God was judging my every move. This belief is frightening and stressful to me, even today. As I grew older, my views changed. The idea that God is immovably just conflicted with the description of him as a loving and forgiving entity. Ben Gibbard also noted this in his song, “I Will Follow You into the Dark”, saying “They told me ‘son, fear is the heart of love’, so I never went back.” In high school, I read the book On a Pale Horse. It was written by Piers Anthony, it is about a man who becomes the incarnation of Death, or the grim reaper. In the novel, sin was determined by what each person believed; that is, if someone acted against their moral code, then it appeared as a sin on their soul. This view interested me because it accepts all religious views, even atheism, as valid ways to live life.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vIOHUR2TWPU
BEN GIBBARD'S SONG, I WILL FOLLOW YOU INTO THE DARK.


So, assuming that I can follow my beliefs and live this life full of love and happiness, what would my ideal ending be? More importantly, can I choose what it is? Phillip Pullman, author of The Golden Compass series, has an interesting concept of death. When spirits die, they dissolve and become part of everything on the earth. This parallels environmental ethics, which states that we should have a “moral consideration for inanimate things such as rivers and mountains, assuming pain and suffering to be a necessary part of nature.”[2] If we become a part of everything when we die, that gives us all the more reason to respect and love the mortal life of flesh and bone. Another interesting view of the afterlife is presented in the film, American Beauty. At the end, there is a narrative explaining death. The character explains that the second that your life flashes before your eyes actually feels like an eternity, and one cannot help but revel in the beauty of life and everything they’ve experienced. Although each of these views is interesting, I find it strange that I often try to choose which one appeals to me the most. We will never know what the afterlife is, if there is a God, or our death will resemble the one we believe every other living creature experiences.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYrgHju3d-E

THIS SCENE WAS A SURPRISINGLY UPLIFITNG END TO AN OTHERWISE DARK MOVIE. IT ALSO ILLUSTRATES A VERY POETIC WAY TO THINK OF DEATH.

It is interesting to imagine what would happen if someone managed to “prove” religion. In Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, Mercerism, humanity’s religion of sorts, is proven to be an act. “Mercerism is a swindle. The whole experience of empathy is a swindle,”[3] an android states. J.R. Isidore, a human character, proceeds to have a panic attack and hallucination. Would the same thing happen today? The essence of faith is that one believes without knowing. Jesus even scolds the apostle Thomas who only believes in the resurrection after he feels Jesus’ wounds. Regardless of one’s faith, it is important to remember that everyone is essentially clueless. The sheer number of religions on the planet show that there isn’t one moral code that satisfies everyone’s beliefs. Although I may never follow the vegetarian code, “Thou shalt not kill for food,”[4] I am trying my best to follow the moral code I believe in. In the end, this is all we can really do. What happens after that isn’t up to me, so I may as well not dwell on it.
[1] A 96
[2] A 100
[3] DADOES 210
[4] A 110

Reaping What They Sow

When I was young, the only time I thought about the future was either for Christmas or my birthday. Long term goals typically involved finding a good snack to eat during a cartoon show. Emotions dominated actions, desires and motives; it may as well have been the end of the world when my mom wouldn’t let me have another pack of gushers. Snyder captures the essence of childhood perfectly when he describes the realm of the “primitive”: “Having no concern with history…no overriding social goals…such people live vastly in the present.”[1] In fact, most of my earliest memories involve immense satisfaction for very simple things. I can vividly remember eating the end piece of a French bread loaf, while watching Shaggy on Scooby-Doo do the exact same thing. The emotional connection obviously had a profound effect on me. Another memory from many years back (well, relatively—I am only 19) that still gives me warm and fuzzies was acting like Mortal Combat characters in the snow with my older brother. It was rare for him to want to play with me, and the remnants of gratification for being included still move me when I think of it today. At my current age, if I were to derive the same amount of pleasure from eating the same food as a cartoon character, I would most likely be teased. I guess we learn to suppress our emotions.

SUB-ZERO WAS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER--PROBABLY BECAUSE HE WAS MY OLDER BROTHER'S FAVORITE TOO.

As a boy, I did encounter the social pressure described by professor Bump. Crying was a definite sign of weakness, and I developed the ability to stifle tears completely around fifth grade. It may have been the result of social pressure, but the “rule” of boys not crying was also something I wanted to follow. After years of practicing this rule there are very few things that can make me even think of crying. I feel like this could have been the first step I took to end, and even reverse, growth in my emotional intelligence. Social standards emphasize the scholastic intellect over emotional awareness; there are no classes that teach empathy or self reflection until college. As a result our society as a whole seems to be more detached. People go to therapy to try to figure out why they are depressed, but even our solutions mimic what is causing the problem in the first place—drugs that neutralize peoples emotional capacities certainly help prevent feelings of depression, but they also eliminate happiness. One of my good friends quit taking her medication because she said she couldn’t “feel” anything. She said she hadn’t felt happy about anything for the past two years. The standards we hold ourselves to intellectually seem to have a similar effect. When will we stop taking the drugs?

THIS DUDE STARTED A WEBSITE CALLED "REAL MEN DON'T CRY"...JUST ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF WHAT WE GROW UP THINKING.

The complex spectrum of emotions that we comprehend are what separate us from animals. Crows, for example, exhibit remarkable problem solving skills considering the size of their brains. They can learn tricks and vocal patterns through repetition, much like a third grader learns their multiplication tables. However, a crow will never contemplate how it or its peers feel emotionally. In Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, emotions are the only thing that separate people from the robots. However, Rick Deckard was convinced that his fellow bounty hunter, Phil Resch, was an android. He was disturbed by Phil’s lack of empathy for an android, saying “[It’s] the way you killed Garland and then the way you killed luna.”[2] Phil’s ability to detach himself from his job caused Rick to question Phil’s humanity. What, then, would Rick have thought about a slaughter house worker? Phil, and many people today, are simply practicing what they are taught to from a young age. Maybe the answer in animal cruelty doesn’t involve making people feel for animals, but reminding them that deep down they already do. Hopefully I will be able to use P3 to regain a connection with my emotional intelligence—I know it will help me appreciate life to its fullest.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jF_0tZdbqo

THIS FIGURED OUT HOW TO MAKE A HOOK TO GET SOME FOOD. QUESTION: IS THIS MORE OR LESS HUMAN THAN IF IT WERE TRYING TO HELP ANOTHER INJURED BIRD?

[1] A 194
[2] DADoES 137

Mersault

I FELT LIKE THIS DUDE...A VERY MILD VERSION, BUT A VERSION NONETHELESS.

At the beginning of last semester I drifted through the days in an unfamiliar emotional state. For the first time I found myself lacking any type of feelings—good or bad. After reading the excerpt from “The Man Without Feelings”, I realized that I had been in a milder state of Gary’s alexithymia. I could identify perfectly with his statement, “I have no strong feelings, either positive or negative.”[1] This mindset was disturbing and frustrating, but it seemed like I couldn’t escape; anytime I sat and tried to figure out was going on, I would eventually lose the train of thought due to apathy. When I tried to explain it to people the closest example I could come up with was Meursault from Camus’ The Stranger. This was ironic and embarrassing for me because when I read that book, I abhorred that character. Luckily I am back to normal, though remnants of the alter ego remain and are probably what allow me to have a “chill” state of mind.

LIFE IS EASIER WHEN YOU'RE CHILL--AND MUCH LESS FULFILLING.

The transition into this colorless mood was slow and unnoticeable. It started during my senior year of high school about the time of college applications. As I reflect on it now, I realize that it was most likely a defensive reaction to the stressful time. College applications are pretty disturbing if you think about it; someone determines your overall worth by simply looking at test scores, grades, and an essay. It is disturbing because it doesn’t seem possible to do, yet it determines a profound part of one’s life. During this time I was careful to not get my hopes up too high. I wanted to get out of state, but this would require a hefty amount of scholarships—the kind where the chances of winning them are depressingly slim. In order to protect my emotions, I adapted the mindset that I didn’t care anymore. This soon transferred to my opinion of high school. Grades were suddenly less important and being number one was an afterthought. This technique is effective, but the consequences are unnerving. Not only was my life less enjoyable, I likely appeared to be aloof to others. Rick Deckard despises this quality in androids, and when he describes the demanor of the andriod he is hunting he says that "[It's] always the same: great intellect, the ability to accomplish much, but also this. He deplored it."[1.5]

I TURNED INTO A ZOMBIE TO PROTECT MYSELF. IT WAS GOOD UNTIL I REALIZED THAT I WAS A ZOMBIE.

In a sense I became an android myself. Instead of working to achieve my emotional goals I got into the habit of simply trying to make do with what happened, whatever that happened to be. Even my ability to have compassion was dampened—although I could pity my friends, I was never really “moved…by the desire to relieve it.”[2] As a result, life was much less disappointing, but inevitably less exciting. Even when I found out that I received the Dedman Scholarship, I had no real feelings about it. The only thing I had was “now what?” It was hard for me to make any decisions with confidence because I had no emotional response to the situations. Because of this I was never sure if I was “happy” with my decision to attend UT.

I WOULD OFTEN TELL PEOPLE HOW HAPPY I WAS WITH MY DECISION, BUT IN REALITY I FELT LIKE THIS OLD GUY.

Luckily my emotions have been returning to me. Maybe it’s because of this class, or maybe it’s because I’m returning to a comfortable emotional state, but I have realized my priorities in life and am slowly moving towards my new goals. In response to the prompt, I am not sure if I would have considered myself “human” during this period in my life. Today, I am working towards leading the most human and fulfilling life I can. It is much more enjoyable to have these goals, and I hope I don’t lose touch with my emotions again.

[1] A 62

[1.5] Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, 100
[2] A 41