Success: Revisited, Revised, Reevaluated

I want to be successful. I've wanted to be successful ever since I knew that there was a possibility that I won't be. I think we all want to be successful, yes? But at what cost? I've never seen "success" as a negative thing, and I probably shouldn't; to me achieving success is reaching a point where you've accomplished something that you want to do and are happy with the outcome. Lately though, I've thought about success in a different way, what I refer to as "popular success", where you've achieved something that not only you want, but that 'benefits society', or some cliché like that. And when I think about success this way, I think about it in a much more negative way, like, "what will I have to sacrifice to achieve success?"

A lot of this thought has been prompted by looking into the future, and thinking about stuff like "where do I see myself in 20 years?" Frankly, I don't know. I don't know where I see myself in 5 years, or even 5 days. I don't know what I want to do with my life, how I want to spend my time, reach my goals, or even what goals I want to set. I have a (rather short) list of criteria for my life no matter how I choose to spend it: 1. Enjoy my life and truly like how I live each day 2. Be an all around 'good person' to people around me. That's it. I just want to be good to myself and the people around me. Based off of this it seems like I have an infinite amount of ways to achieve "success", but if I don't truly enjoy what I'm doing then it's not really being successful.

The inconvenient, perhaps even unfortunate, truth that I've realized is that success isn't guaranteed. Of course there are many ways to define success, and maybe through someone else's eyes everyone finds their own form of success, but it seems like my version of success isn't granted to everybody. I don't know, and I'm not going to know exactly how the rest of my life will pan out, what I'll do for a living, if it will actually be for a living, what will motivate me. I used to think that all this was lain out for me and all I had to do was follow the right path, but apparently I have to create my own. Sure there's a lot of freedom with this, but then I have to start worrying about the two types of success, the one where I accept my life and the one where everyone else does too. What if I want to be  filmmaker? Or drop out of school? Or become a prizefighter? Can I do that? I probably can, but will I be successful? Will I be satisfied, and will everyone around me, at least to some extent, also be satisfied? This is the part that I'm having trouble coming to terms with; I simply don't know.

I don't know where I'm going in life after high school, much less how I'll get there, and even less if I'll be happy where I end up. I wish all I had to do was stay on the straight and narrow to find my way and be successful, but it looks like I'm going to have to carve my own path. Something that sounds all nice and cliché, the only problem being I have no idea what I want it to look like. Maybe it's too early to get caught up in all this figuring out, maybe I still have time to enjoy my relatively simple style of living before I get bogged down with all this deciding and guessing and uncertainty. Nothing is set in stone, and I suppose I can always change my life at any given moment to reach success, but even that seems like a very laborious and pessimistic way to look at my future. Come to think of it, I consider myself successful now, I'm pretty happy with my life now, and as far as I can tell the people around me don't seem to have a problem with it. I don't think I got to this point by planning for the future and plotting out everything I'll do for the next few years. That seems to be my best way to achieve success, just keep doing what I've been doing for the past 17 years, and if that's really the secret to reaching success, then maybe everything will work out after all

1st Semester Blogging Reflection

I’m not trying to be cynical or overly critical, as my blog lens may suggest, but being brutally honest I can’t say I’ve learned much from blogging. I suppose that doesn’t really accurately address the prompt though, since I’m not supposed to be reflecting on what I’ve learned from blogging, but what I’ve learned about blogging. In this case, the simplest and most universally true answer I can give is that blogging is very much an investment. An investment of time, effort, personality, and priority where what you receive as enriching and stimulating takeaways is directly proportional to the work and care you put in to the blogging process.

It is probably for this reason that I’m still skeptical of blogs. Before engaging in the process myself, I didn’t have the most positive perception of the productivity and usefulness of blogs. I pretty much assumed that they existed in their own little microcosm of the internet, and more often than not the only people who cared about the content and quality of a particular blog is the author themselves. Obviously this sentiment isn’t true, but it is definitely problematic; as a form of media, part of the purpose of blogs should be to engage people in thought and conversation about some important topic. The open-endedness seems to disadvantage blogs though, where they tend to drown each other out in the chatter, purely as a product of their existence. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to give a dissertation on why blogs, are counter productive, I’m just trying to convey the point that I didn’t have the healthiest view of how blogs could be advantageous prior to having to write one myself. Parts of this hyper-negative point of view has definitely subsided over the course of maintaining my own blog, but unfortunately it some of it remains.  

I haven’t been able to bust my preconceived notion that blogs exist predominantly in their own respective microcosms of the outrageously vast internet. What I have found is that this isn’t entirely a bad thing. If the target audience for a blog happens to be pretty limited, like that of our Academy class, then blogging can actually be an appropriately sized forum for us to communicate ideas. We’ve effectively carved out a little section of the internet to collaborate and communicate amongst ourselves, something I value as one of the most important aspects of the Academy program. The most constructive and useful blog posts are those like Matthew’s on Wal-Mart, and Ross’s on the ICC, because they’re cogent, original posts, followed by a bevvy of equally interesting and stimulating comments from others. I know my own thoughts and opinions thrive off of other people’s, which I consider to be a healthy sign of openness and sympathy. As old fashioned as it may sound, I’m a firm believer that the best, most effective form of communication is face to face conversation, but blogging has been interesting in the sense that it’s extended ideas from our class and conversations to places where we can let ideas sit and ruminate, later reconvening online to further discuss them. This is probably the ideal use of blogs, to serve as a supplement to continue dialogue that already exists amongst a group of people, and a platform to revisit ideas deserving more attention.

It would make sense that the ideal usage of blogs emphasizes what I consider to be the single statement I’ve learned to be absolutely true of blogs, that they’re an investment. I’ve found my own blog to be most significant and interesting when I write posts that other people comment on and use for discussion. Whether people agree with me or not, their interest alone validates what I’ve written about as important and worth sharing. This is part of the reason I picked a blog lens that could potentially be pretty inflammatory, and Jacob’s comment on my first real post saying, “I love the fact that you raised this issue,” was comforting in a vindicating sort of way.

As we continue with these blogs, I think the healthiest thing for our blogging community would be more investment. This definitely entails an element of group effort, but for myself I’d like to continue to write posts that stir conversation and inquiry amongst readers. Through increased comments and continuing to incorporate what might be becoming my blog’s trademark phrase, “is this such a bad thing?,” I just want to keep things interesting and entertaining.

Word Count: 746

Islands Don't Naturally Look Like Palm Trees

The stipulation for this blog post is that it must be related in some way to either Islam and/or the Middle East. With that in mind, I'd like to talk a little bit about two things that have always fascinated me: cities and culture.

Without getting into the discussion on whether Islamic/Middle Eastern culture is accurately appreciated and understood by Americans, I think most intelligent/moderately globally aware people can agree that the Middle East has long been a breeding ground for very rich, proud cultures. From the days of the ancient Persians, to the Ottoman Empire, to modern day Saudi Arabia, these cultures deserve a massive amount of respect for how deep and bountiful they are to the people who inhabit the Middle East.

It is for this reason that headlines like this intrigue and annoy me so much. Is Dubai the future of cities? I sure hope not. Sure, it may be an economic marvel that Dubai exists today, and their business-first mentality might be the sort of competitive mantra that will propel the world into a fiscal golden age, but is it worth the crimes they've committed against Middle Eastern culture and cities everywhere? Allow me to offer my sympathies to those who (vehemently) say no.

I've been mystified by cities for a long time (thanks Chicago). There's obviously something special about tall buildings and population density that yields unprecedented economic and cultural growth. While it is amazing that cities and urban centers can be hubs of both kinds of growth, I've watched enough inspirational Chrysler commercials to realize that the cultural heritage and customs of a city run deeper than its economic prosperity, often growing despite economic woes. It is for this reason, the fact that the cultural ties of a city take precedence over its affluence, that the concept of a city built like Dubai can be exasperating. Instead of being built on culture and the traditions of various groups of people, Dubai is built entirely on the prospect of quick wealth, exploitation of natural resources, and fierce economic competition. The fact that roughly "95 percent of the city's population is not even naturalized," proves how little culture plays into the identity of Dubai. This wouldn't be such a problem if people weren't trying to pass Dubai off as being a model for the future; its disregard for cultural traditions and customs flies in the face of the deep cultural connection felt by other peoples and cities throughout the Middle East region. Whether intentional or not, the city gives off a very fake vibe, like even the art museums and galleries that exist in the city are contrived and manufactured, much like the shape of Emirates' islands themselves. These modern economic boomtowns have every right to exist as long as they know their place; they can churn out resource exploitation on a massive scale, they just can't also expect to be seen as a respectable cosmopolitan culture. Think of it like Middle Eastern Disney World, profitable? Yes. Tourist attraction? Yes. Rich cultural experience? Unlikely. Model for the future of urban centers around the world? We can only hope not.

Do It Yourself(ie)

Beating out some real gems of our modern language like "twerking" and "bitcoin," the word "selfie" was named Oxford Dictionary's 2013 Word of the Year. For those of you not in the know, a "selfie" is simply a picture you take of yourself. Often taken with a smartphone (and promptly uploaded to some social media website), selfies have been all the rage this past year, with the term being used and abused by celebrities and teen girls left and right. Does a word with such a slang feel to it say something about our society and the ever diminishing quality of our shared vernacular? Well, seeing as last year's Word of the Year was "hashtag," no, probably not, but apparently some people believe it speaks to the narcissism that is sure to consume our interconnected societies and life as we know it.

And it's not just Dallas op-ed writers who seem dissatisfied with this years unanimously decided Word of the Year, and NPR poll shows that roughly one third of the general public would not describe "selfie" as a good choice for Word of the Year. With an unexpectedly large amount of people apparently dissatisfied with the rise of selfies, it makes it a little hard to determine exactly which devil I should advocate for. Because I think people who support selfies (again, this demographic is largely comprised of teenage girls) could use a strong defensive argument more than vindictive op-ed writers and cynics, I'll offer my sympathy to selfies, and try to see the positive attributes of the Word of the Year.

It's worth noting that the compulsive need for people to take pictures is nothing new. Selfies seem to be just another avenue for some people to fulfill this desire to be photographed, potentially replacing the old ways of going to a professional photographer and shelling of a lot of money for someone to snap some pics. Is it possible that people start sending out their selfies as Christmas cards? Absolutely. And I think this would be cause for celebration, if in fact people forego expensive studios and planning in favor of spontaneous pictures taken by themselves, of themselves. Any given selfie reflects at least a small amount of spontaneity, given that selfies are expected to not have the best quality or most thought out photographic features. It may be a slightly idealized concept of most people perceive selfies, but I'm personally in favor of the idea of simply taking a picture of yourself when the mood strikes you, rather than devoting more time and resources to what could very well be a less authentic, albeit "professional," photo.

Contributing to the DIY philosophy of selfies is the idea that they are largely universal; almost anyone (provided they have access to some sort of camera) can take a selfie, from the hundreds of high schoolers that flood my Facebook newsfeed, to my main man Snoop Dogg. The point being, the value of these self-taken pictures is directly related to the thought and effort the person put into the picture themselves, no one else contributes to the quality (or lack thereof). Most arguments blasting the rise of selfies call them (among other things) pretentious and self-abosorbed. While it may be true that not every selfie ever taken was fueled by some altruistic motive, there is nothing inherently harmful about pictures that come off as self-absorbed. I think a fact that most people fail to accept before judging the morals of selfies is that people simply take a lot of pictures these days. Like, an obscene amount of pictures. Again, this isn't necessarily a bad or harmful thing; obviously we have the ability to store an incredible amount of pictures with our constantly improving digital technology, and it seems like as there is a way, there will be a will to fill our empty storage drives with pictures (more and more of which will be selfies).

Considering the sheer amount of pictures people take nowadays, coupled with all the things that people could be taking pictures of, selfies, at the very least, emphasize the importance of the people taking the pictures over the pictures themselves. Maybe there is something inherently humanistic about selfies, shifting the focus from what could be a bland or generic photograph to the distinct individual taking the photograph. Scrolling through Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram for a few minutes will make it pretty obvious that some people post pictures purely to attract attention. If this is a trend that will inevitably continue, I'd have to say I agree with Ezra Koenig (lead singer of Vampire Weekend) when he says, "I don't need to see a picture of the sky, the trees, plants. There's only one you."So, while everyone wants to be a photographer, and accomplishing this seems to be increasingly easy every day, selfies should stay. At their core, selfies are humanistic. Take it yourself, take it just like anyone else, and make sure the subject is unique. All of these simply reflect a burgeoning respect for people, which doesn't sound like such a bad theme for the Word of the Year.

Early, Late, Who Cares?

I'm late. This post is a little late, I should say; allow me to get a little metacognizant with this blog for a second to explain. Technically, this blog post is due at 10:00am this morning, a due date set by my English teacher, as this is technically an assignment for my English class. Despite the fact that I'm starting this the morning of its due date, I'm not really concerned, not really feeling the pressure. For one thing, it's 8:48 and one hour and twelve minutes is more than enough time to write a quality post, but on a deeper level, dates really don't mean much anymore. The concept of being early, late, or right on time seems to be losing value by the day in our society.

A lot of what I observe with regard to dates and deadlines comes from the way I follow new music; I think it's very exciting to anticipate an album's release and look forward to the day of its release for weeks in advance. At least I did, until these predetermined release days became completely arbitrary and irrelevant. Take alternative rock giants Arcade Fire for example: they're 2010 release The Suburbs won a Grammy for Album of the Year, making it understandable that a considerable number of people would be looking forward to this year's follow up Reflektor. As a religious follower of Pitchfork (a music oriented internet publication), I kept myself pretty informed with when the album would be released, by what means, and how I'd be able to get my hands on it, as did many other music fans. But a few days before the highly anticipated October 29 release date, Pitchfork posts this little article, essentially offering the album to the public for a limited to time before its actual release. As much as I was excited to hear one of my favorite bands' new music, I was a little annoyed with the idea that a band (aided largely by the media) could build up so much hype around a particular release date only to casually undermine it a few days early.

This isn't a confined case either. Many other albums this year have foregone their predetermined release date, choosing to put their music out a few days early, regardless of the hype and anticipation surrounding their original date. Even the US government seems to be holding less and less of a regard for dates and deadlines. The most recent government shutdown fiasco was averted, but not until the very last minute, proving that the eleventh hour is becoming more and more popular as well. What do albums coming out early and governments passing legislature late have in common? They both show a blatant disregard for the concept of "on time."

Is this really all that bad though? As frustrating as it may be for time oriented people who put a lot of stock in dates, how negative are the effects of this emerging trend? While some people might take offense to the implications this may have on a person's character, it could be a trend that proves beneficial. If nothing else, it keeps people on their toes; when you can't trust dates and deadlines, you're forced into a greater sense of awareness for the unpredictable. The government shutdown really was as interesting as it should've been to people until the very last minute (when failure seemed tangible), and bands who put out music early might just be looking for fans devoted enough to latch onto their music at any time or place. Timeliness is dying. Maybe it's already dead, maybe it'll be dead by tomorrow, but the point is, it doesn't matter.

Time to Peel Off the Bumper Sticker?

The only parameter for this blog post, as set by my English teacher, is that it must in some way be related to the continent of Africa. While there are a plethora of news stories coming out of the continent every hour, and the focus in both my English and Social Studies classes have been largely on Africa lately, I've decided to focus on something that piqued my attention as I was cleaning out my inbox this evening. Right around 18 months ago, the famous (maybe infamous now?) Kony 2012 campaign was launched by the nonprofit organization Invisible Children. I'll assume, based on millions upon millions of views the video received that the premise is well known, and admit that I was one of the millions drawn in by their clever marketing campaign and signed myself up for their periodic newsletter. I did not think that I'd still be getting email updates from the organization over a year and half later, and the fact that every time I do get an email from them now it goes straight to the trash is probably an indication that their campaign wasn't exactly the smash hit they had hoped for.

The criticism and skepticism of the organization that followed the release of the campaign's first video are almost as well known as the campaign itself. Long story short, a few millenials (people roughly between the ages of 15 and 30, aka my generation) got too excited by faux-activism and social media, and we all learned the hard way that not everything you see on the internet can be fully trusted, and Africa can't be saved by the click of a button. Old news. But, a year and a half later, have we learned anything? About six months ago, prompted by the one year anniversary of campaign's first video and subsequent failure, Invisible Children released this follow up video, which attempts to restore hope amongst their target audience and rejuvenate support for the campaign. In the video, around the 1:25 mark, the campaign's enthusiastic director Jason Russell, in what appears to be an inspirational speech to supporters of the campaign, tells the audience gathered before him that they'll be able to claim they "showed up" to the Kony 2012 campaign. As if that's what the organization is all about, "showing up."

What does "showing up" even entail? Buying a nice little activism kit online, putting a bumper sticker on your (most likely hybrid) car, and then showing all of your friends the evidence that you care about Africa? Granted, this is an unnecessarily cynical look at a campaign that really meant no harm, but the underlying message still appears to be, we don't actually care enough about Africa (or the plight of child soldiers, or the instability of the DRC, or the turmoil that currently plagues Sudan) to really make any sort of difference. The one goal of the Kony 2012 campaign was to capture a notoriously brutal war criminal; no matter how lightly we'd like to put it, that goal was not achieved. Around the same time I subscribed to the Invisible Children newsletter, I also subscribed to the newsletter of another organization that seeks to promote awareness of crimes against humanity, known as the Enough Project. I still take the time to read most of their letters, as they're often more substantive, but even the most recent email I got from them presents facts about the ongoing Sudanese revolts more as a Buzzfeed compilation than a serious piece of journalism.

It seems like our current perception of Africa is just one more thing to read about when we're avoiding that thing we have to do, one more internet diversion that serves our procrastination more than our activism. If we continue to see Africa only as a place of unpreventable conflict and inspiration for catchy pop songs, we can never expect to seriously make contributions to the betterment of the continent. The most logical first step to activism should appear to be education, not blind bandwagon jumping and swift credit card transactions to prove you care about the children, or something. So as you peal that bumper sticker on your car, consider what drove you to make that mistake in the first place. If in fact the plight of Africans living in constant fear of a tyrannical warlord is still interesting to you, by all means educate yourself on the topic, and proceed with caution and intention from there. But if not, don't feel bad, a wise man by the name of Mr. Whipple offers his genuine consolations, as "activism isn't for everyone." Find another way to contribute to this world and you'll be all set. Just please, no more 30 minute viral videos.

You Can't Say That!... Can You?

I mentioned in my first post that I love music; this is true. I pride myself on listening to a wide variety of music, so I'll probably be referencing that a lot throughout this blog. Recently I've been listening to a lot of rap music, and I've noticed that rap lyrics are often more colorful than other genres. And our everyday speech, for that matter. The word "nigger," for example, pops up all the time in rap songs, which seems a little strange given its history as a word used to propagate racial discrimination, and the fact that the rap/hip-hop community is largely black. Maybe rappers have an excuse because they use offensive language in an artistic way; whenever I casually drop "nigger" in conversation I can almost always count on receiving a dirty look, or at the very least some hesitancy. The same goes for words like "faggot" or "bitch," whether or not I use them in their historically offensive ways, I always get somewhat of a cold response.

So should I eliminate words like these from my vernacular? Well, they were at one point (if they aren't still today) used to promote racism, sexism, or some other form of discrimination, giving them an inherently negative and disrespectful connotation. On the other hand, many words like this have been embraced as terms of endearment now, and when they're used in conversation or as song lyrics, they're used for a reason; although sometimes they might be hurtful or shock-inducing, that's kind of the point.
A Tribe Called Quest, a rap group from the '90s known for their socially and racially conscious lyricism, offered an interestingly progressive opinion on the use of "nigger," on a song off of one of their platinum selling albums, appropriately titled "Sucka Nigga." Rapper Q-Tip tells us, "It means that we will never grow, you know the word dummy. Other niggas in the community think it's crummy. But I don't, neither does the youth cause we em-Brace adversity it goes right with the race. And being that we use it as a term of endearment. Niggas start to bug, to the dome is where the fear went. Now the little shorties say it all of the time." 
Obviously the word can be flipped into something positive, even among a demographic of people that were at one point subjected to its negativity. It's still a word condemned by many as largely disrespectful, including the NAACP.  Used in the right context though, what is barring these words from being deemed okay? Another, more contemporary rapper, Tyler, The Creator weighed in with his views on the context of language after being accused of penning potentially homophobic lyrics, "I just think f*ggot hits and hurts people. It hits. And, gay just means stupid. I don't know, we don't think about it, we're just kids. We don't think about that shit. But, I don't hate gay people. I don't want anyone to think I'm homophobic."
So, is language that might be offensive to some people off limits? Absolutely not. The onus of being offended falls on the audience, the speaker's only job is to convey their message as accurately as possible. Is it possible that you'll be offending someone being not thinking twice before throwing out a "nigger" or "faggot" or "bitch" in your conversation? Yes, but that may very well be because you're trying to be offensive, making it all the more appropriate. The number one priority is for a speaker to make their message clear and intended. Considering the array of meanings these words have accumulated in 21st century conversation, and their expressive, colorful nature, there should be no reason why we can't accept their places in our vernacular.