Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Movin’ On Up

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.

Posted by Hazel at 23:05:30 | Permalink | No Comments »

Today in WoW…

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

Posted by Hazel at 15:04:30 | Permalink | No Comments »

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

An Ancient Question… Totally Not Answered Here

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.

Posted by Hazel at 03:42:01 | Permalink | Comments (1) »

Thursday, February 12, 2009

I’d probably quote 1984 here if I’d read it by now

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.

Posted by Hazel at 16:56:26 | Permalink | Comments (1) »

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Movie Review: Robocop

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.

Posted by Hazel at 20:36:37 | Permalink | Comments (1) »

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Some Fun

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!

Posted by Hazel at 19:04:45 | Permalink | Comments (1) »