Creative Title

So, I’ll now be here: http://hazelbhenley.wordpress.com/

Be sure to update your links or whatever you use. I decided upon the move because, frankly, blog.com kind of sucks (sometimes won’t let me make new posts, sometimes won’t let me get to older posts in the actual site, etc.) and I’ve yet to hear anyone complain about Wordpress. Plus, it just looks an awful lot spiffier.

Any knowledge of how to transfer content from here to there is welcome. Otherwise, I also just made myself a Twitter for some reason I can’t quite figure out. No one really cares what I’m doing at all times, I know, but I think I just felt like having somewhere to put my random thoughts. Something like that. Anyways, see you all on the other side!

UPDATE: Killed the Twitter. Allows for too much creepiness, and my thoughts apparently can’t be contained in 140 characters or less. Blog change still stands, though.

“Are you so eager to die? I will be happy to accommodate you…”

Night post, because my suitemates are (as usual) being loud, and I don’t entirely feel like starting my Aristotle readings yet (though I’ll need to get that done by tomorrow night, as it’s due Thursday and I’m celebrating my birthday Wednesday night (a week early, for various reasons)).

Perhaps a month or so ago, my mom posed and interesting question at dinner. I believe it was worded something like this: is freedom inherited?

Well, obviously, that wasn’t the absolute clearest choice of words, but I understood it enough–and let me know if I misinterpret this–to mean, “Can a love of (or need for) liberty be inherited?” Well, this is the oldest question in recorded history: the ol’ Nature v. Nurture problem. Seriously, Plato’s Meno asks this about a closely related topic (virtue), where the great, wise Socrates determines (after 30 frick’n pages), essentially, “damned if I know”.

Well, I tried to be a little more helpful at dinner. I responded with a suggestion that it is for some people, but the idea needs to be implanted into others’ heads from some outside force. Somehow, I believe I related it to intelligence–not IQ, necessarily, but ability to rationally see and understand the world around oneself. Perhaps more like being able to know the difference between right and wrong. Thinking back, though, this relation seems to be missing a certain need that must be present within the person to prefer what’s right (unless, of course, I, myself, have a skewed view of what’s right and wrong and it turns out that oppression happens to be right).

So, now, it seems, I’ve made the question of a love for freedom dependent upon one’s virtue and am covering ground already plowed over 2500 years ago. So, by the Ancient Greek definition, virtue is whatever makes any given thing a good or great [that thing]. They (and we) are talking of virtues of the soul, of which they had four (and, frankly, I can’t particularly think of anything to add to these): wisdom, justice (sort of changed now to morality), temperance, and courage. My current hypothesis, then, is that in order to have a love/need for liberty, one must posess these four things. Wisdom: to be able to know what’s going on in the world around you; justice: to hold a moral system that correctly knows what is right and wrong; temperance: basically, “I control myself just fine, no one else has to”… or something of the sort; and courage: ability to do something to increase one’s own or the general population’s freedoms.

Ehh… scratch that, it doesn’t seem quite right. A soul needs a certain amount of passion and spirit to feel this need. Not to mention, there are plenty of examples of freedom-loving men who lacked in one or more of these faculties (see, for example, Ben Franklin’s time in France or anything about Thomas Jefferson and slaves). Oftentimes, also, there can be some unwise people who love liberty, or some who just won’t do anything about it. Back to the drawing board, then.

Is the need for liberty inherited? See, any nature/nurture debate is difficult to answer because most people are raised by their biological parents, thus, the same people are providing both the nature and nurture for that one individual. Sure, there are friends and siblings and teachers and whatnot influencing the child, but the large majority comes from the parents. Now, of course, there are adoption studies and the like, but those can be somewhat limited and… well, I have yet to find one on this particular issue. Frankly, individuals that feel very strongly about this don’t reveal themselves until freedoms upon the public have been severely restricted, which hasn’t happened in America for, oh let’s see, 230 years or so? Obviously, it’s not that there haven’t been people like that this whole time, but the limit at which they would be willing to risk anything for it had yet to be reached. Thus, it would be hard to do any form of generational study on it.

Theoretically, one could look at the culture of certain countries in an attempt to answer this–I, myself, have often joked that bravery has essentially been bred out of Europe, since all those with that quality have long-since moved to America. But that could just as easily have been cultural influence being passed down through the ages (hah, 200 years=ages. right.)–frankly, I can’t tell. Chances are, though, that it’s a mixture of the two. That’s the way these things typically are found to be: there’s a certain love of independence that is most definitely innate in some people, but a child with even the most extreme amount of that can become a complete slave if taught that restriction is the best and most necessary thing for them.

Of course, I could be wrong one either guess. If either one, though, it’s most likely an inherent trait, for once in a while, if the need is strong enough, the love of liberty can not only be nurtured but thrive and boil over in even the most tyrannical of states. I can’t necessarily say that that person will live very long under that regime, but I’m sure it can happen (unless I’m just fooling myself with hope, which I really pray is not the case). Whether this would be a thing taken genetically or given by God or something, that’s a topic for another post, but I just have a doubt that it can by any means be untaught to an entire population.

Yay, quick 2-hour nighttime post! Later, guys, I did the best I could for the moment on this one.

Don’t worry, that and Foundation are on the top of my list of things to get with my Christmas Barnes & Noble gift card.

So yeah, I’ve been intending to make a post over the past couple days while I’ve been sick, but I ended up catching up on some classwork, getting a reporter in touch with SCCC, and watching Sliders. My mom trained me mighty well in rationalization and excuse-making.

A couple of weeks ago, my parents and I went shooting with our shooting instructor and his wife. We went through a stage from the last IDPA match with various guns and a 9mm 1911 my mom was thinking about buying, then started playing with shotguns a bit (my dad had just bought a Saiga 12 and… well, you can guess). It got to be my turn, though I beleive this was with my mom’s pump-action shotgun (man, that thing was fun!), and my dad repeatedly told me to lean into it before I started shooting. I obeyed to the point of nearly falling over, and he continued ordering me to do so, at which point I yelled back (keep in mind: ear protection), “I am!”

At dinner afterwards, our shooting instructor seemed to have taken issue with my assertion, and gave me a speech about accepting the truth when one tells it to you. In response, I took issue with his assumption that it was out of pure emotion and disrespect for my father that I “talked back”, if you will. My dad jumped in and defended me, explaining that he was just trying to help me find my limit of leaning forward rather than me not leaning in enough. He asked our shooting instructor (let’s shorten it to D) to lay off me for the rest of the night, which was kindly obliged.

Now, the point was not necessarily D’s absolute misunderstanding of the entire dynamic between my parents and I, and the fact that my dad’s actions of telling me to lean in repeatedly after I’d been leaning in as much as I could (and he knew it) are rather common in my father’s way of parenting (the “help make you do it and learn yourself” kind). Albeit, that’s what bothered me most about it–hence the 4-line long sentence–but it’s not the point of the post. It’s the fact that he–D (though my father as well, but I don’t have a problem with him)–has spent two years now, and some rather unothodox tactics, trying to get me to be bolder and stronger and to think more on my own, but then says to simply shut up and “accept the truth” once I begin to do so.

You see, it bothers me so much because it’s taken a helluva lot for me to think critically even the slightest bit. In my early life, I basically saw my sister as the end-all be-all of opinion in the world–copied her every move and believed that whatever she thought was right. Then one of my friends turned 12 and had a birthday party. One of her gifts was the most recent Britney Spears CD, and she was absolutely ecstatic about it. But… but The Sister doesn’t like Britney Spears anymore… What is going on here!?

Seriously, the things that will change your life.

Only then did I even begin to consider the possibility of thinking for myself. When I was 14, my parents started getting into guns and encouraged independent thought more than ever in us. Eventually, as I advertise like crazy, I decided to homeschool (and I just remembered exactly why, while catching up in Logic during my cold–that guy had spent 3 classes trying to explain this stuff to us, and I was completely lost, but after 15 minutes with the book and some Kaji Meiko (or whichever of her names goes first), I got it down pat), which I probably only considered because of the aforementioned experiences–I mean, The Sister didn’t; why would it be an option?

Yet I still had a very enclosed, somewhat follower-type of mindset. It’s just my natural tendency to be gentle and not display a lot of spirit (though not always for lack of caring). So I have three trainers who have been trying to knock that out of me and get me to become a stronger person–my dad, D, and my Tang Soo Do instructor(s). Natural forces, of course, also deserve some credit–the very action of living away from home, for example–but those men are the primary reason for any change in my attitude. They have all worked dilligently to decimate any hint of weakness in my personality–my dad by doing things like the shotgun example earlier; my TSD instructor by having me do warm ups, teach forms, and various other things that require immediate leadership strength; and D from… well, unorthodox means that I may explain if asked in person… along with his various speeches on liberty and such.

And you know what? They’ve succeeded. Thus, I’ve begun to question what people tell me if I happen to believe that they are wrong or mistaken or something. Especially those in a position of authority (authority being age, status, physical size, or even knowledge of what we’re talking about). Mind you, I don’t by any means disrespect any of them–particularly not these three teachers of mine–but I want to find out the absolute truth of any matter. Thus, if they say something in which I find a hole, I’ll ask that they explain the discontinuity. If they say something I flat-out disagree with, I’ll express my own thoughts, to which they are welcome to reply and convince me otherwise. Frankly, that’s the only way to find the truth. One must think as critically as possible, ask for evidence when an argument appears to lack it, and only accept what’s being told when all holes in logic have been satisfactorily filled in.

That’s what these people have been teaching me to do–especially D, with all the love that he has for freedom and liberty, those things which my generation has been taught are so unnecessary. The power of independent thought is among the most precious commodities of this generation, because it’s being stomped out at such an alarming rate, and I’m not going to let it go–no matter who’s ordering me to do something.

My next goal: thinking to say these things in the middle of a conversation so that it actually has an effect on the person for whom I intend it.

Thank God for Hulu and a 3-4 hour break between classes.

Overall impression: Flippin’ awesome.

Now, this turned out to be in absolutely no way what I was expecting, save for the cop that was part robot. You see, for someone who had never really found out anything about it, the name “Robocop” sounds kind of… lame. Like, perhaps, Ghostbusters, Transformers, [insert mildly threatening word]man or any other various 80’s type of story that only the most hardcore nerds really know much of anything about.

So basically, I was expecting something very far from the R-rated film that it is. Obviously, I was very, very wrong. But I’m glad I was, because that was a pretty kickass movie. Sure, it had stop-motion, but it’s not like they really had computers with which to generate images (and that ED-209 could completely tear up anything Hollywood might come up with these days (should they ever actually come up with anything)). But the plot was fantastic and really pulled you in, the script was good (apparently, since I didn’t notice any flaws–same goes for the acting), and… well geez, the story was just really, really awesome. And one of the best parts: it’s still pretty relevant and plausible (I mean, as much as a story about a robotic cop can be) today–heck, I didn’t even notice an absence of cell phones!

And, now, I missed this kind of thing: clear right and clear wrong–no moral ambiguity or anything. Criminals=bad. Robocop=good. Most normal cops (save for that one lady… and wait, did she die?)=kinda dumb and corruptible, but generally try to be good. ED-209=I guess technically kinda bad, but still awesome.

So, uhh… yeah, I loved it. Loved the emotion brought forward by the plot and acting, loved the action that it had (action, by the way, should move the plot forward, directors…), loved the characters, loved seeing that guy from That 70’s show in something other than That 70’s Show (obviously, I’m still short a few things), and, well, everything. It’s just a great movie.

…please don’t tell my sister. I’d never hear the end of it.

So… lately I’ve been sort of blanking on the whole “stuff to talk about” front. I’ll probably get back into the groove of things sooner or later, but I’ve decided to just play around for a while. What constitutes this playing? Well, The Sister, way back when, came up with an ingenious idea: Before He Eats (original–duh). She messed around with a few lyrics and got some rather entertaining results (“I dug my teeth into the side/of a double-quarter-pounder with cheese and fries/spilled my Coke onto the leather seat…”). Lately, I’ve had to read a lot of Plato. Now, I like reading Plato, but not tons and tons of it every other night. Thus, I needed a way to procrastinate on it: finishing the song.

So I finished it and emailed it to The Sister, at which point she called me a dork (long story short, she’s taken to relentlessly making fun of my increasing geekiness–I’ll explain later). Luckily, I haven’t and don’t intend to tell her about this here blog. So, with a YouTube account, camera, singing ability (optional), and instrumental versions of pop songs, I would totally rewrite and post a number them on YouTube. Well, at least I can rewrite, eh? Thus, without further ado, since a YouTube search for “Before He Eats” brings up some (albeit crappy) results, today’s pop song that I’ll make tolerable by changing the lyrics is this’un (you wouldn’t click it if I told you the name). Lyrics are below the fold, because it won’t let me un-double-space. Enjoy:

This is nothing like what I want,

Not my rebellion.

I got caught up kissing Han

On board the Falcon.

He’s not like a nice man,

But locked in Carbonite.

Luke’s gotten his new hand,

Let’s start the fight.

 

I tried to rescue Han Solo,

But got caught during my attempt.

Wore a bikini made of gold,

Then killed Jabba out of contempt.

Han knocks down Fett,

The sarlacc’s fed,

No one is feeling regret.

I tried to rescue Han Solo.

Han Solo…

 

No, I will not give up the base,

It doesn’t matter.

You blew Alderaan into space,

All with my father.

You scruffy nerf herder,

We all know you shot first.

Short for a stormtrooper,

I shouldn’t flirt.

 

I tried to rescue Han Solo,

But got caught during my attempt.

Wore a bikini made of gold,

Then killed Jabba out of contempt.

Han knocks down Fett,

The sarlacc’s fed,

No one is feeling regret.

I tried to rescue Han Solo.

Han Solo…

 

Ewoks defeat the empire.

We blow up contractors for hire.

Luke burns our father on a pyre.

Darth Vader is repented

Such a big deal, the Jedi’s back.

 

I tried to rescue Han Solo,

But got caught during my attempt.

Wore a bikini made of gold,

Then killed Jabba out of contempt.

Han knocks down Fett,

The sarlacc’s fed,

No one is feeling regret.

I tried to rescue Han Solo.

Han Solo…

Any suggestions for changing this or of new songs to write/steal/mangle are welcome!

WARNING: This post may contain mild profanity. Reader discretion is advised (if you happen to be a complete pussy).

So… I tend to naturally be pretty meek. Empathy, caring, and general shyness (perhaps combined with a tall, extremely controlling sibling… and yeah, some of that “moral upbringing” stuff) creates a need to fulfill the needs of others–any others–before my own. People (primarily various self-defense instructors) have been yelling at me about this over the past couple years because, well, it’s kind of a stupid way to live in the long run–particularly from a self-defense point of view. So I’ve been trying to change it over the past couple years.

Frankly, it’s a lot harder to act confident and strong than shy and unable to even look at people’s faces while walking (interestingly enough, if you look at their faces, you’ll find that there are many more memorizing the details of their shoes than anything else). But I’ve been doing it because it’s safer than having a vulnerable appearance. There’s also the whole theory of “the way you act is the way you feel,” which, while not complete BS, really doesn’t work that great. If you’re pissed off and try to pretend you’re having the time of your life, you’re only going to get more pissed off. And if you try to act bold and unafraid to stare at people in the eye, you’ll only start feeling odd and worried that you’ve somehow done them an insult by overpowering them… or just wonder why that person was staring at you, which is only obvious from a third-person perspective. So it becomes even more difficult to keep your eyes up because you know that some people are going to stare back at you and create that awkward sort of moment.

But I did it anyways, even after a day like today when I’m out of my dorm for 10 hours (after four hours of sleep, possibly due to a Cherry Coke at 2pm, my stupid, loud suitemates being loud and stupid, and (probably the most likely reason) being rather upset about something). I get damn tired on these days, and the last thing I feel like doing is walk the whole way across campus practically staring down complete strangers. It’s a (frankly, surprisingly) difficult thing to do, having to act like you have confidence, but it’s (frankly, also kind of surprisingly) safer than the alternative.

But I’m not sure I’m having to pretend anymore. Perhaps it’s the formation of friendships, perhaps just the natural course of life, perhaps this acting crap is working and I haven’t noticed, or perhaps it’s this random story I’m about to tell. See, I went to the local gun show a couple weeks ago and bought my first piece of movie memorabilia: a super-awesome Indiana Jones knife:

Yeah… that’s 18″ of steel right there, full tang and all–incredibly well-made. I love it to death. So my dad took it and “sharpened” it with one of these pieces of crap to cut a tree bush branch. Now, I love my dad to death, and it’s usually kind of neat when he does stupid stuff like that (last weekend, burning branches in the front yard - me: is that gas? Dad: No [pause] it’s diesel fuel *pours it on the fire*), but this was my knife and “nerdchandise”, and he took it from me while I was there and made the edge so jagged that the thing’s practically a saw (alright, a slight exaggeration (the above picture was taken after this event), but it’s definitely noticeable if you look close enough (with a blind eye, mind you) and it can certainly be felt.

The thing is, I was there and only whined. I don’t want to do that any more, so I won’t.

…but then again, I did have the audacity to somewhat question my rather intimidating shooting instructor the week before that (and, well, it was more of a request for information than a challenge), and had been actually talking and expressing opinions in my Ancient Philosophy class (why are all the interesting subjects for me 2 words… and the initials AP?), so perhaps it was just a simple change in thought that was taking place anyways–for whatever reason. On the other hand, it may have needed something to push it over the edge.

…and therein lies the problem with absolutely any Psychological research. Too many damn variables.

So, boldness is a difficult thing to achieve, particularly for someone who, say, less than six months ago had social anxiety to the extent of trembling in social situations (…and for the longest time, I thought it was just cold. It actually took me a while to take into account the actual temperature). Apparently, it’s possible coming with just age, wisdom, and people yelling at you, but I’m sure something making you very angry that you could’ve stopped probably helps.

Well, let’s minorly switch topics here, since, as all readers should know, the length of a normal post is just far too little for me. Males, along with all of mankind, have been shaped into total wimps by today’s society. Or… at least, that’s what this culture tries to do, thus creating a generation of men who aren’t allowed to be manly (and, come to think of it, women in the mindset that housewivery is practically a crime). It’s taught that women should have more power–not because it’s kind of stupid to act vulnerable, but because they’re supposed to deserve it from what happened in the past.

I know what you’re thinking. “Hazel, you already wrote about that last semester, and you link back to it every. Other. Post. We know what you think of feminism, give it a rest already!” Now, hear me out here. I’m not blaming women for modern society’s problems… alright, so I got a little off track in the last paragraph, let me retract and try again with mankind as the primary focus (because, frankly, I doubt I’m inside men’s heads enough to speak for a gender of which I am most assuredly not a part), because women are also not taught to be bold.

I mean sure, the public schools spout crap about gaining self-esteem and “you can do anything if you put your mind to it!” and maybe the occasional mention of leadership (I never really fully got that, actually… but let’s explore it in a later post), but it somehow doesn’t work (probably somewhat due to the fact that it is crap, and they try to sell it like crap). I still see downturned faces walking to and from class every day.

Ooh… I’m suddenly not quite sure where I was going with this topic. Well, not exactly not sure, but I keep trying to think of arguments for what I’m trying to say, but immediately disprove them all–mankind’s wimpiness isn’t caused by today’s society–not completely, anyways. Most people have always been sheep–or at least the ones who weren’t died in battle and unfortunately were unable to reproduce (or, rather, reproduce as much), otherwise we wouldn’t have had the Mesopotamian, Egyptian, Greek, Persian, Roman, Aztec, Mayan, Chinese, Russian, British (and so on…) empires. Then, trying to think of the topic simply in terms of men… well, first, I don’t know for sure what the hell I’m talking about, and second, I was going to say something about there being so very many douchebags, but reading Plato’s Republic, the character Thrasymachus is a pretty accurate embodiment of such people–and it seems they weren’t terribly rare then, judging from the other readings. I’m really not sure, thus the lack of a conclusion. I really need to think these things through before I start writing.

Sorry guys, here’s some German rap to make up for it

Now, everyone always says that, even if you never had to study in high school, you’ll have to do so in college–like, it’s harder material or something. Really, though, I just don’t see it. Perhaps it’s just the subject matter I’ve had to learn thus far–it is, after all, only my third semester–but I don’t believe I’ve studied once since I came here. Heck, didn’t even really read most of the Greek Tragedies last semester (my Ancient Philosophy teacher now, though, came up with the rather effective method of having us answer questions on it the night before), and somehow managed to pull a B in that class (without once opening cliffnotes, thank you very much).

Maybe I’m just relatively intelligent and soak up information easily–actually, that’s a lot of why I was able to pull off homeschooling as easily as I did (no bragging intended, but I learn essentially anything very quickly)–but I’m thinking it’s possible that it was more just a staple of the humanities I’ve been stuck in during my time here–that is, that they’re F-ing easy. After all, an Engineer asks, “how does it work?”, a Physicist asks, “why does it work?”, and a Liberal Arts major asks, “do you want fries with that?”

See, there’s this interesting thing that my teachers have been doing: almost every one of them has said something to the effect of, “I’m making the final (or midterm, as it were) as easy as possible for you guys.” Only my Greek Tragedy teacher (a rather elderly woman named–I kid you not–Ms. Packman) said anything near, “I’m making the final challenging.”

And it was fairly challenging–I rather wish I had studied, though apparently (thank the Lord) my GPA didn’t suffer too much from this. But it got me thinking (you know, the way a floor tile might–it doesn’t take much) that the professors I’ve had haven’t been too concerned with reasoning through problems–well, I guess I shouldn’t really expect them to be (after all, there aren’t really any problems in these subjects through which one can reason). No, scratch that. It’s that they’re not concerned with deep understanding of the material (there we go!), so much as letting those who are incapable of deep understanding pass the class and give the professor a good end-of-semester review. And that’s basically what it all comes down to–temporarily memorizing enough of the material to get as many people the best grades possible so that the professor gets… well, I’m not sure, but I guess so their department doesn’t get downsized (not like the really good ones can get a raise or anything at a public university. Yay, negative reinforcement!)

Frankly, I’m just annoyed by the lack of active thinking that’s been going on here, and how the professors don’t even try to really challenge our minds–even in my Logic and my Ancient Philosophy class. Yeah, Plato does challenge the mind to a certain extent in his writings, and it’s obvious that the students are looking for challenges to their thinking (probably more than they know) by the fact that we probably spend around half of every lecture with people just raising their hands to comment on and find loopholes in the arguments presented by the readings, but the professor himself seems to be more or less like the others–but I could be wrong; if you’re terribly curious, I can let you know after our first exam.

Perhaps it’s just humanities. Perhaps there’s no need for a deeper understanding, since there are no lines of classes (like, say, Calculus, which comes in three semesters) and no information relying on previous knowledge. Perhaps this simply isn’t exactly the right subject-matter for me. But I’m inclined to think it’s just the time and culture we’re in (My unhappiness? Totally not my fault)–after all, my old Greek Tragedy teacher managed a challenging final–and that’s literature, for goodness’ sake! Really, it’s possible to make young people think (no matter what the old coots say)–I mean, actively think. Like, critically, with their left frontal lobe–and it just disappoints me that this doesn’t happen.

Then again, perhaps I’m overestimating the mental capabilities of my peers… in which case, they should be encouraged more towards trade school and less toward scholarship where they’ll only stay a couple years dragging the rest of us like this, and drop out to work at McDonald’s.

Well, that was a rant to an extent. I guess this answers my question about whether or not I want to go into a more science-oriented sort of path, though.

Yeah, yeah, lack of friends=lack of seeing things in theaters. Blah blah blah, just using the excuse while the number of people with whom I regularly associate is still in the single digits (already more than I’d like, actually. Not the number of people, but one just keeps trying to spend too much time together–gets annoying.

Anyways, the one who keeps trying to spend too much time with me (DAG, actually) invited me to watch Iron Man with him and his roommates after we ate lunch so I could give him back V for Vendetta (it was better than the movie of it, to say the least). Since I’d heard good things about Iron Man, I’d been almost avoiding him like the plague since before finals, and DAG is really kind of a fun guy if you factor out the too much time, I agreed. So that’s how I got to watch Iron Man on a snow day half a year after it came out.

Overall Impression: pretty darn awesome.

The thing that struck me most was, of course, the character of Tony Stark. Having never really been a comic book aficionado (I’ve been through Watchmen, Vendetta, and The Ring of the Nibelung (Yes, the rest, too)–that’s it), I clearly had no real idea of what to expect. All I’d heard was “so awesome” and something about conservative values from all the conservative blogs I frequent. Go figure.

But I digress–back to Tony Stark… and I really don’t know what to say, other than simply the fact that he was charismatic (and somewhat reminded my of my shooting instructor–same look behind the eyes). He was a far cry from the typical superhero personality–you know, the mild-mannered tortured soul who lost everything and wants retribution until some horrid experience makes him realize that he should be saving people, and vows never to kill again. That’s not this guy–this guy’s a cocky bastard who unapologetically blows up terrorists and gets every hot girl he can (or… did that last one change with the whole being-captured-by-terrorists thing in the beginning?). I love Batman, Spiderman, X-Men, and so on, but frankly, it was quite refreshing to see a superhero who’s actually kind of fun and happy. Just saying.

So yeah, I highly recommend that everyone see Iron Man some time or another. Well worth it just to see that character–and terrorists being blown to smithereens, if you’re into that kind of thing. Additionally, the ending was actually really unexpected, so I’ll be looking forward to the sequel–something very rare for me after Dead Man’s Chest (cautious about The Avengers at the moment, but it’ll go on my list if the trailer looks any good).

Also, Stan Lee as Hugh Hefner was really cute.

A couple months ago, this campus organization that I go to–the Society of Independent Thought–held a discussion on the topic of the death penalty–namely, whether it’s wrong or right. At least, that was the intended discussion; most everyone agreed that there are immoral acts punishable by death. However, this one girl kept asking whether or not the state had the power to enforce it (if you will).

Well, we went over that ground as best we could, considering that such conversations rarely end in an absolute answer. It got to be 10 pm, and we all went our separate ways. I, myself, got back to my dorm and got in vent with my mom and our NJ WoW friend, during which time my mother brought up her own opposition to the death penalty. I asked her about it the next day, and her argument was essentially the same as the girl’s: the state shouldn’t have the power to decide.

Now… I get it. I have a deeply-held belief that governments should essentially have as little power as possible. But what is the alternative? Well, the only ones I can really come up with are we either don’t execute anyone, thus causing even more prison overcrowding, or have some form of vigilante justice–and we all know how that can turn out in the end if the vigilantes don’t naturally form into groups followed by systems of leadership… also known as a government (though, admittedly, it’s pretty awesome at first. Yes, I know they’re both fiction; the characters in the former are based enough in reality that my point still stands).

“Well Hazel,” you say, “if you’re so smart, what’s the solution?” But see, that’s what I’m trying to say: there is no solution. There is no perfect system. There will always be innocent people executed, just as there will always be guilty people freed on basis of technicality or bribery, no matter the system. But that doesn’t matter, so long as the large percentage of people who deserve such a punishment get it, and most people who commit no heinous act get no comeuppance. Tragedy and mistakes are nigh unavoidable, and death wholly so; might as well do what we can to keep law order justice alive where we can, but injustice is inevitable in any system (and surely without one).

Besides–and I must make this point lest someone mistake me for someone ignorant of our particular system (yes, I brought this up in the meeting)–the government itself is not necessarily the one deciding upon a sentence (or, perhaps, verdict). I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s a jury that has the primary voice, yes? I’ll concede that a jury can be led, tricked, shown falsified evidence, simply a bunch of idiots, and so on and so forth, but guess what? They’re human. A government is made up of humans. Humans, in essence, are a little… imperfect. We still have yet to create a perfect sphere, the atomic clock’s accuracy is 10^-9 seconds (which, yes, is impressive to say the least, but still not 0), heck, rarely-if ever-can any one person do something as simple as draw a straight line (without a ruler–and heck, even with one it probably looks like crap close up). We’re imperfect beings rather used to fooling ourselves into thinking that we can completely solve anything, much less something as complicated and that attracts such corruptible people as a government system.

So what do we do? Have a computer make all the decisions? Right, that’s always* a good idea. No, all we can really do is just live with it, I guess. It doesn’t matter anymore that Jack the Ripper was never found; the guy’s long-since dead anyways. If an innocent man gets executed and a guilty man lives, everyone dies. Sure, keep having these seemingly endless talks on the matter; refine the system so as to allow the absolute minimal amount of mistakes and tragedy. By all means, work as much as possible to make it better, but don’t expect it to ever be flawless. You’ll only disappoint yourself.

*Three links splitting the word. Just wanted to prove more than one point (and yeah, two are pretty similar).

Hey, I must be getting better at this; I actually made a point.