I don't really know what got me thinking about the nature of risks and pros and cons involved with risk-taking, but I realized that it's an interesting dialectic (assuming that I even know what a dialectic is, which I don't think I do).
Risk-Taking:
Many people enjoy living life on the edge, taking chances all the way. These people tend to be more exciting and fun to be around than those who mostly play it safe. They also can be very successful in life if they chose the right things to gamble on and get a little luck to help them out. However, these gambles can often blow up in their faces. If they're not careful, they might take a chance when they shouldn't, and then they would be in big trouble. While these people might be happier than their more boring and methodical opposites, their happiness is very likely directly tied to their dangerous lifestyle.
Playing it Safe:
People who rarely or never take risks are a lot safer and more stable. Whereas people who always live on the edge can get a bit irritating or abrasive, people who live far from the edge usually don't rub people the wrong way, other than just being boring. Non-risk-takers might also be unhappy with their lives, feeling the monotony of their existence crushing them. They might also be fairly successful in their lives, but probably not due to anything they did.
The most interesting part of this dialectic is trying to strike the perfect balance of risk and safety. I think this struggle is captured perfectly in the movie Office Space (really, what complex and sophisticated idea isn't?). The main character, Peter Gibbons, starts out the movie in a humdrum existence, not taking any risks. He's stuck in a boring job and he is still with his girlfriend despite having the knowledge that she's cheating on him. Then, he goes to a hypnotherapist who inspires him to relax and take more chances. He dumps his girlfriend, asks out Jennifer Aniston, and starts caring less and less about his job. He eventually goes too far, though, when he decides to steal hundreds of thousands of dollars from the company. He realizes that he must find a way to balance risk and not-risk. He decides to quit his job, fess up to the theft (which becomes immaterial when Milton burns down his office), and get a job he likes better, as a construction worker.
Applying this dialectic to my own life will be fairly tough to do, mainly for the reason that I'm not sure whether I need a dose of risk or safety. Part of the problem is that there are so many aspects to my life, and I have a different risk-taking philosophy for each one. Within the confines of Six Flags, I would characterize myself as a daredevil. However, in many aspects of my personal life, I am pretty timid. I believe that in general, I could stand to take more risks and put myself out there more, but I will make sure not to lean too far toward one side or the other.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Blogging Around
Duece's blog dealt with Neo's choice between the blue pill (not finding out about the matrix and going back to his previous life) and the red pill (proceeding to be unplugged from, and learn about, the matrix). He also discussed the nature of memory, and the difference, or lack thereof, between "real" and "fake" memories.
Deuce,
I thought your perspective was interesting. In The Matrix, it is more or less taken for granted that Neo made the right choice by taking the red pill. In fact, the only character that expresses even an inkling of doubt or regret about not taking the blue pill is Cypher, the bad guy. You disagree with the movie's point of view, saying (more eloquently and less cliche-y) that ignorance is bliss. You also discussed the significance of our memories and how we could possibly know if there is such thing as "real" memories, and, if there is, whether or not they are necessarily superior to "fake" memories. I agree that just because a memory is real doesn't make it better than a "fake" one, though I'm not sure that I agree with your hypothetical pill selection. Your post was intelligent and interesting, and it really made me think about myself and how much I would want to find out about reality if I were given the chance.
Brandon
Jamie's blog was about the discussions we had in English two weeks ago. She talked about the value of these discussions and how good the collaboration was.
Jamie,
I agree with your opinion of our discussions in English. The most meaningful class discussions are always ones where input is spontaneous and where people build on each other's comments. Some of the discussions we have had in other classes have been so structured that they stifle creativity and valuable comments. Regularly, I can go a whole discussion with out saying a word, for the simple reason that I haven't thought of anything important enough to contribute. On the occasions that I do think of something good, I'll say it. However, when my grade depends on how often I contribute to a particular discussion, rather than the value of my contributions, I tend to say whatever comes to mind, intelligent or not. I do realize, however, the need for making sure everyone is engaged in the conversation, so I can see where teachers are coming from when they mark down participation points. I liked how you also talked about the future benefits of discussions like the ones we had in English about the short stories. I agree that these skills will be important later in life, so it's good that we can hone them now while we're still in school.
Brandon
Deuce,
I thought your perspective was interesting. In The Matrix, it is more or less taken for granted that Neo made the right choice by taking the red pill. In fact, the only character that expresses even an inkling of doubt or regret about not taking the blue pill is Cypher, the bad guy. You disagree with the movie's point of view, saying (more eloquently and less cliche-y) that ignorance is bliss. You also discussed the significance of our memories and how we could possibly know if there is such thing as "real" memories, and, if there is, whether or not they are necessarily superior to "fake" memories. I agree that just because a memory is real doesn't make it better than a "fake" one, though I'm not sure that I agree with your hypothetical pill selection. Your post was intelligent and interesting, and it really made me think about myself and how much I would want to find out about reality if I were given the chance.
Brandon
Jamie's blog was about the discussions we had in English two weeks ago. She talked about the value of these discussions and how good the collaboration was.
Jamie,
I agree with your opinion of our discussions in English. The most meaningful class discussions are always ones where input is spontaneous and where people build on each other's comments. Some of the discussions we have had in other classes have been so structured that they stifle creativity and valuable comments. Regularly, I can go a whole discussion with out saying a word, for the simple reason that I haven't thought of anything important enough to contribute. On the occasions that I do think of something good, I'll say it. However, when my grade depends on how often I contribute to a particular discussion, rather than the value of my contributions, I tend to say whatever comes to mind, intelligent or not. I do realize, however, the need for making sure everyone is engaged in the conversation, so I can see where teachers are coming from when they mark down participation points. I liked how you also talked about the future benefits of discussions like the ones we had in English about the short stories. I agree that these skills will be important later in life, so it's good that we can hone them now while we're still in school.
Brandon
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Best of Week: Story Fragments
Going into the process of writing our short stories, I was a little intimidated. The last time I wrote a story was in seventh grade, and it was about a time-traveling psychic rodent who had to save the world from an evil army of Roombas. The highlight of the story was an epic chase scene between hero Speedy Gonzalez, who was driving a golf cart, and evil mastermind Curious George, who was driving a souped-up tractor. While it came very close to winning a Pulitzer, I realize that Mr. Allen might be looking for something a little more sophisticated this time around. Never having written a short story in the style of Cathedral or the slightly more disturbing style of Boys, I was at a loss for ideas (other than my awesome screenplay idea, which is too complex to fit into a short story).
When Mr. Allen told us that we were to write a "story fragment", I initially thought that it was a waste of time to write things that would probably not even be in my actual story. However, when I sat down to write it, it was surprisingly easy and useful. I think it's a great technique to just put down ideas and not worry about how good they are. This allowed me to keep my thoughts flowing and write the whole thing in less than an hour. If I had tried to write a good (or even decent) short story the first try, I would have had to stop and edit myself so many times that I probably would have strangled my own creativity. Next time I have to write a short story (or maybe even a different kind of writing), I will be sure to utilize this technique to help avoid writer's block.
When Mr. Allen told us that we were to write a "story fragment", I initially thought that it was a waste of time to write things that would probably not even be in my actual story. However, when I sat down to write it, it was surprisingly easy and useful. I think it's a great technique to just put down ideas and not worry about how good they are. This allowed me to keep my thoughts flowing and write the whole thing in less than an hour. If I had tried to write a good (or even decent) short story the first try, I would have had to stop and edit myself so many times that I probably would have strangled my own creativity. Next time I have to write a short story (or maybe even a different kind of writing), I will be sure to utilize this technique to help avoid writer's block.
Monday, February 16, 2009
What If?: The Matrix
In English the last couple of weeks, we watched The Matrix and read Heart of Darkness. Both of these, but especially The Matrix, got me thinking about the fact that our world could be totally fake and we would have no way of knowing it. In the movie, everyone stuck in the matrix thinks that it is all there is, that it is the "real world". Only Morpheus, Neo, and the rest of the people on their ship know that it is a hollow substitute for real life. They are the only people that know it is just a computer program designed to imitate the real world. What the world as we know it was really the matrix? How would we know?
The answer I came up with is a simple one: We wouldn't. Unless we were shown from the outside, like Neo was in the movie, we would have no idea that the world as we know it was, in fact, nothing more than lines of code. This possibility is a little unsettling, but I also have no reason to suspect that it is true. For the sake of my own mental well-being, for now I think I will look at the world from an empirical point of view and decide that The Matrix is a nonfiction movie.
The answer I came up with is a simple one: We wouldn't. Unless we were shown from the outside, like Neo was in the movie, we would have no idea that the world as we know it was, in fact, nothing more than lines of code. This possibility is a little unsettling, but I also have no reason to suspect that it is true. For the sake of my own mental well-being, for now I think I will look at the world from an empirical point of view and decide that The Matrix is a nonfiction movie.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Connection: Heart of Darkness and Iraq
While reading Heart of Darkness, I noticed that Conrad was injecting many pointed criticisms of colonialism into Marlow's narrative. Even things that Marlow doesn't directly condemn, Conrad seems to completely despise. This made me think about what Conrad's opinion would be about the United States invasion and subsequent quasi-colonialization ("occupation") of Iraq. Though more humane and altogether less oppressive, the occupation of Iraq draws striking parallels with the Belgian colonialization depicted in Heart of Darkness.
For one thing, Marlow's disgust at the incompetent mismanagement and overall ineffectiveness of the Company could just has easily been a scathing critique of our government. The way the Company seems lost and confused in the Congo parallels our apparent strategy (or lack thereof) in Iraq, at least at the beginning of the occupation. Furthermore, Kurtz's self-serving exploitation of the natives for his own profit mirrors certain American businesses taking advantage of the chaos in Iraq to reap abundant monetary rewards.
If any lessons can be taken from Heart of Darkness and applied to our world, I think that the evils of colonialism is an important theme that is extremely relevant in modern times. Though we are not as blatantly imperialistic in our motives, the result in Iraq is the same as what happened in the Congo such a long time ago. Perhaps if those who made the decision to go into Iraq had read Heart of Darkness, the world would be a better place. Actually, there's no way George Bush would have made it past page 5.
For one thing, Marlow's disgust at the incompetent mismanagement and overall ineffectiveness of the Company could just has easily been a scathing critique of our government. The way the Company seems lost and confused in the Congo parallels our apparent strategy (or lack thereof) in Iraq, at least at the beginning of the occupation. Furthermore, Kurtz's self-serving exploitation of the natives for his own profit mirrors certain American businesses taking advantage of the chaos in Iraq to reap abundant monetary rewards.
If any lessons can be taken from Heart of Darkness and applied to our world, I think that the evils of colonialism is an important theme that is extremely relevant in modern times. Though we are not as blatantly imperialistic in our motives, the result in Iraq is the same as what happened in the Congo such a long time ago. Perhaps if those who made the decision to go into Iraq had read Heart of Darkness, the world would be a better place. Actually, there's no way George Bush would have made it past page 5.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Blogging Around
Jamie's blog was about the process of revising her poem, which is also what my latest blog was about. Reading it, I discovered that she had a slightly different view of revising than I did. She said how valuable the revisions were for her and explained her thought process while revising.
"I agree that you sometimes have to be willing to let go of your original poem to make it better. For this poem, I think I didn't do a very good job of that and that is why my revisions aren't the greatest. For my next revision, I will have to try harder to take risks and sometimes even get rid of things that I think are good to make room for things that are great. I'm sure that these skills come with practice, so the fact that you had a lot of practice with excessive revising in junior high has probably helped you be a good reviser in high school. Hopefully, I will get to the point where I am willing to take risks and make drastic changes to improve my poem soon."
Emily's blog made a connection between King Lear and something she's very passionate about (the Bible). She talked about the similarities between King Lear and the story of the Lost Son. Though I hadn't read this story, I thought it was an interesting and valid connection.
"I liked your connection with the bible. I can see the many similarities between King Lear and the lost son story. I think a big difference that's important to note is whose fault the situation is. In King Lear, Cordelia, while she is being very stupid and short-sighted, is not really doing anything wrong. Rather, Lear is being childish and unreasonable. In the Lost Son, it is the other way around. I think the important similarity, though, and probably the main reason that this is a good connection is that both families reconcile and are reunited at the end of the story."
"I agree that you sometimes have to be willing to let go of your original poem to make it better. For this poem, I think I didn't do a very good job of that and that is why my revisions aren't the greatest. For my next revision, I will have to try harder to take risks and sometimes even get rid of things that I think are good to make room for things that are great. I'm sure that these skills come with practice, so the fact that you had a lot of practice with excessive revising in junior high has probably helped you be a good reviser in high school. Hopefully, I will get to the point where I am willing to take risks and make drastic changes to improve my poem soon."
Emily's blog made a connection between King Lear and something she's very passionate about (the Bible). She talked about the similarities between King Lear and the story of the Lost Son. Though I hadn't read this story, I thought it was an interesting and valid connection.
"I liked your connection with the bible. I can see the many similarities between King Lear and the lost son story. I think a big difference that's important to note is whose fault the situation is. In King Lear, Cordelia, while she is being very stupid and short-sighted, is not really doing anything wrong. Rather, Lear is being childish and unreasonable. In the Lost Son, it is the other way around. I think the important similarity, though, and probably the main reason that this is a good connection is that both families reconcile and are reunited at the end of the story."
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Metacognition: Revising Poems
I hate revising.
The revision process is, by far, my least favorite part of writing a poem. An analogy I would use is walking my dog. I'm enjoying myself, walking along, enjoying the fresh air. Then, my dog starts to go #2 and I know there's an unpleasant task in the immediate future. That's what revising is: picking up the poop in my poem. While I know it's necessary, it's always a pain, and sometimes if I forgot to bring poop bags, I just fake it. In this poem, I felt really good while I was writing it. I suffered very little writer's block, and I was able to make it a stream-of-consciousness type of thing while still picking each word carefully and making it flow.
When I got the first feedback from Mr. Allen, most of it made sense and, after the revisions, I noticed a small improvement in the poem. Even though I struggled through the revision process, I could see the positive results. However, when I got the second feedback, I had a very hard time keeping the feel and essence of my original poem while still applying as many of the suggestions as I could. I don't know why, but amid all the "more imagery" and "more specific", I had lost my original poem. I guess that's okay if the original wasn't that great, but I thought it was one of the best poems I've ever written. That's not saying much, but for me, it was a very good poem. After my final revisions, I looked back at the previous draft and realized that I liked it better than the new one. When I wrote the first poem, I was following my instincts and setting down actual feelings. In the third draft, it was Thesaurus Time.
I realize that this poem degradation is mostly my own fault, but I still think it would be a better idea (at least for me) to keep revision to a minimum, at least for poems. I understand that essays need to be revised several times to be the best they can be, but I think that it's a whole different story with poems. Next time, I hope that I can do a better job of revising, but I think the problem could be avoided entirely if there was simply less revision.
The revision process is, by far, my least favorite part of writing a poem. An analogy I would use is walking my dog. I'm enjoying myself, walking along, enjoying the fresh air. Then, my dog starts to go #2 and I know there's an unpleasant task in the immediate future. That's what revising is: picking up the poop in my poem. While I know it's necessary, it's always a pain, and sometimes if I forgot to bring poop bags, I just fake it. In this poem, I felt really good while I was writing it. I suffered very little writer's block, and I was able to make it a stream-of-consciousness type of thing while still picking each word carefully and making it flow.
When I got the first feedback from Mr. Allen, most of it made sense and, after the revisions, I noticed a small improvement in the poem. Even though I struggled through the revision process, I could see the positive results. However, when I got the second feedback, I had a very hard time keeping the feel and essence of my original poem while still applying as many of the suggestions as I could. I don't know why, but amid all the "more imagery" and "more specific", I had lost my original poem. I guess that's okay if the original wasn't that great, but I thought it was one of the best poems I've ever written. That's not saying much, but for me, it was a very good poem. After my final revisions, I looked back at the previous draft and realized that I liked it better than the new one. When I wrote the first poem, I was following my instincts and setting down actual feelings. In the third draft, it was Thesaurus Time.
I realize that this poem degradation is mostly my own fault, but I still think it would be a better idea (at least for me) to keep revision to a minimum, at least for poems. I understand that essays need to be revised several times to be the best they can be, but I think that it's a whole different story with poems. Next time, I hope that I can do a better job of revising, but I think the problem could be avoided entirely if there was simply less revision.
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