hidden treasures

So, recently, I've been going through some old stuff at my parent's house, and I've been finding all kinds of hidden treasures. Today, I found a copy of the December 1995 edition of my high school's newspaper, The Panther Press, in which I wrote a guest editorial criticizing what I felt to be unfair treatment by the staff:

CLHS Staff Treats Some Like Second-Class Students
By Jason Merritt

It's just my opinion, but I believe the staff at Center Line treats a number of students unfairly. I am one of them, in particular. Just because I have long hair, a different style of clothes, and a slightly different view on life, they see me as a second-class student.

I am surprised at their lack of open-mindedness. Teachers don't regard me as a normal student, but they assume I must be a trouble-maker just by the way I look.

I am not the most perfect student, but, if you asked, most people will tell you that I am quiet and usually do my work. (On some occasions, I do slack off, however.) When the teachers talk to me, they sound as if I'm a waste of time.

The rules are also unfair to me. I wear clothes that I can afford, fit well, and appeal to my tastes. Normally, that is not a problem...except here. My shirts, my pants, even my way of life is inappropriate. I have to turn my shirts inside out and look like a total idiot.

What? A hole in my pants? Well, there's a two-mile walk to change them, and another two-mile trot back--four miles because of a hole? Do you want to know what the administration's view was? They don't care! Gee, that's nice.

I though the goal of the school was to worry about the student's education, to prepare them for life, so that they will be successful, not to make their loves hell by constantly being like a communist regime, telling us what we can wear, say, and how to act. That's our parent's job. Why does the school have to interfere with that?

Shirts--Why must we change or turn them inside-out? Because they are inappropriate? What does it matter; it is a free country...I thought. If you believe in God, you can wear a cross or a big, "I love Jesus" shirt, but if a skull or the word Satan appears, you are automatically scum.

The reason I heard was, "Christianity is a viable religion." So is Satanism. If you have any doubts, look up the Constitution and find the part that states: We the people have freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and all those other good things.

Plus, I thought the law about separation of church and state made it illegal for a school to impose a religious belief on a student, which makes it by law none of their business.

So, what is the problem? A skull is supposed to symbolize death. (I thought it just looked good on a shirt.) So, everything symbolizes death; we all are going to die sometime. Are they just trying to forget that?

This school would be a lot better off if they left it up to us to run our own lives; I don't need help to fix what isn't broken. So, to the staff of Center Line, I would like to say, "Get your own life, and stop messing with mine."

Part of me cringes at some of the grammar and language, not to mention my naive invocation of the Constitution; but part of me is proud for at least having the courage to publicly express my feelings and challenge what I felt to be discriminatory treatment, knowing that it'd only make the powers that be single me out even further. Reminds me of the comment left on one of my kindergarten report cards: "Occasionally, Jason misbehaves, or will not respond to authority."

On a lighter note, I also found a copy of the June 1996 edition of The Panther Press. For my "Where We'll Be In 2006" entry, which they did for all the seniors that year, they wrote: "Jason Merritt sells babies to the black market and is finally caught and serves time on planet Dune with his cell mate, a guy named Lucy."

rough day

Sometime I feel like screaming. Loudly. Violently. So hard it hurts. It's like things get so bottled up inside of me that I feel like I'm going to burst, like there's a dam inside of me that has to give way and release all the pent up anger, frustration, sadness, and whatever else I have seething in my soul.

I've known for a long time there's something different about me from most people psychologically. I'm not sure what exactly, but something. I've always had trouble expressing the things that I'm feeling; even to the psychiatrist I never bothered to go back to after the first visit. I've self-diagnosed myself as either manic depressive or clinically depressed, though, having long periods of sullenness interspersed with bursts of childlike happiness that temporarily displace the despair I normally feel. I also see things differently, being more perceptive of the negative in everything than the positive. I have little patience and a quick temper. The smallest things make me rage inside.

I hate being this way, especially because I feel like there's nothing I can do to change it. I've tried medication (Paxil). I've tried talking, writing, and thinking about it. I've tried altering my lifestyle. But no matter what I do, no matter how many things I try to do to counteract my negative thoughts and moods, they just keep coming back even more relentlessly than before. I think everything sucks. I think everyone hates me. I hate myself. And the whole time, I just want to be happy and enjoy life and make friends and all the other things regular people seem to be able to do with less effort.

I think a lot of the people who suffer from depression and end up killing themselves do so just because they're tired—tired of always feeling like this; tired of constantly fighting it and trying to get other people to understand what their world is like. They're simply worn out. Day after day of feeling this way and fighting to keep sane, to keep smiling and trying to act normal despite it all, just eventually wears you down until you don't have any energy left to fight back anymore.

Depression is like an ocean, and you're in the middle of it. Whereas other people have boats and only rarely fall into the depths of despair before managing to pull themselves back up, people with depression don't have their own boat and are constantly treading water. Eventually there comes a point when they simply get too tired to continue and stop swimming. It's not that they're weak, they've just been pushed to the limits of their endurance for so long that everything simply gives out, and the ocean greedily pulls them under. For them, death is almost a respite, a sanctuary from the never ending torment their mind inflicts upon itself.

That's how I see it, anyway; how I sometimes feel. If it wasn't for all the friends and family members who have held out their hands and held me up over the years, even for a few moments, I might have stopped swimming a long time ago.

a quick thought

I was listening to David McCullough's biography of John Adams today, and there's a part where he references a line from a letter written by Abigail Adams in the spring of 1776 to her husband: "I have sometimes been ready to think that the passion for liberty cannot be equally strong in the breasts of those who have been accustomed to deprive their fellow-creatures of theirs [referring to slave-holding Virginians]. Of this I am certain, that it is not founded upon that generous and Christian principle of doing to others as we would that others should do unto us."

My initial reaction upon hearing this was to wonder if the same sentiment couldn't also be applied to capital in relation to the wage labourer, at least in the sense of how the latter is coerced under the capitalist mode of production to surrender their labour-power to the former in exchange for their means of subsistence, which is always less than what they actually produces, as well as all rights over the product of their labour. In essence, from one point of view, both slavery and wage labour can be seen to infringe upon individual autonomy in their respective ways, with former more obviously so, but the latter no less potentially oppressive. As Frederick Engels wrote in 1847, "The slave is sold once and for all; the proletarian must sell himself daily and hourly. The individual slave, property of one master, is assured an existence, however miserable it may be, because of the master's interest. The individual proletarian, property as it were of the entire bourgeois class which buys his labor only when someone has need of it, has no secure existence."

Maybe a bit of a stretch, but something to think about.

memories

Just went through some old boxes of mine in my parent's basement. Items found within included: a saw; a copy of Ernest Hemingway's classic, The Old Man and the Sea; a letter my mom wrote to me dated 8/21/88 from "the top of Pine Mountain" in Pineville, KY, where her and my dad were staying, promising me they'll bring me there one day and that they're bringing me back a surprise (which turned out to be a box turtle, if memory serves me right); an old Nintendo Power from 1988, complete with "Super Mario 2 18-page spectacular"; a cassette of Poison's Look What The Cat Dragged In; a Luke Skywalker folder with a picture from a Furby colouring book in it; and one of my kindergarten report cards dated 2/3/84, with the comment: "Jason is bright, does his work willingly, and behaves well. He was very shy (not too verbal) 4 months ago, but he's become much more extroverted; verbal, assertive. Occasionally, Jason misbehaves, or will not respond to authority."

second day of spring

The second day of spring. Hot. Dull. My mind wandering to everywhere but here, an almost empty cafe in a sprawling suburb of Detroit. I love coffee, but I hate feeling trapped. I wish I could go outside and enjoy the breeze. At least the nighttime ride home should be pleasant. I heard it snowed it Portland. Just doesn't seem right.

I've come to dread the sound of the heavy, squeaking front door, the terror of another customer. It's the anticipation that makes me uneasy. Once they place their order and I start to make it, I'm fine. But the waiting and not knowing, the fear it's going to be a big order, or something I don't know how to make... It's really kind of silly, and I have no idea why it stresses me out so much. Another sign that I may have some kind of social anxiety disorder, perhaps.

Why I'm sipping hot coffee on such a hot day eludes me, as well. We've got plenty of cold coffee in the cooler. There's just something about a hot cup of coffee that I can't resist. It borders on an obsession. I remember one time when I actually flipped out and angrily declared that coffee was the only pleasure I still had left in life. I can be such a melodramatic idiot sometimes, a perfect poster child for the 'first world problems' meme.

And yet I manage to get by, my social anxiety or whatever it is that makes me want to run and hide whenever somebody new walks in notwithstanding. I can fake a smile if I have to. I can be polite. I can make a decent espresso. It's almost a labour of love. I love coffee. I love being useful. I love making people happy. And I've always loved coffee shops, those traditional meeting places of artists, writers, lovers, thinkers, revolutionaries, and misanthropes of all sorts. I love being a barista, even unofficially in my volunteer capacity. It's a badge of pride, useless as it is.

So hot. Can't wait for that bike ride home. The cool night air. The solitude. John Adams on my iPod. The promise of a new day just around the corner. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Maybe just another dull, hot day. But maybe, just maybe, something a little more. And I'll be there, ready, waiting, with a coffee in my hand and smile on my face. Maybe even a genuine one.

the growing anti-protest movement

Following what I find to be an alarming trend by local, state, and federal authorities to subdue political protest and dissent, the Arizona legislature is working on a bill to make any form of passive resistance a class 1 misdemeanor. Brings to mind the recently revised 'Trespass Bill' signed by President Obama, which essentially makes protesting (peacefully or otherwise) a federal offense if it occurs at "(1) the White House or its grounds or the Vice President's official residence or its grounds, (2) a building or grounds where the President or other person protected by the Secret Service is or will be temporarily visiting, or (3) a building or grounds so restricted due to a special event of national significance." Also reminds me of last November, when UCPD Capt. Margo Bennet justified the police's use of batons on UC Berkeley students by claiming their passive resistance in the form of linking arms when told to step aside was an "act of violence." Before you know it, even thinking about protesting something will be considered a thought-crime and punishable by law. /1984

an ode to aaron burr

A poem that I wrote for a friend of mine as a troll about a year ago, which was inspired by the artwork of C. C. Barton.

Early one July summer morning, the grass still wet with dew;
Aaron Burr faced Hamilton,
Below the towering cliffs of the Palisades.
Arriving by barge, ten paces apart they stood;
The mist of the morning sun hanging heavy with their fate.
In the dense Weehawken woods,
A duel between a cur and a gentleman.
Hamilton fired first, his trick pistol sending the shot high.
The scoundrel undone by his own dishonor,
A look of shock and surprise.
And there stood Burr, majestic, defiant,
With a glint of victory in his eye.
Burr, unwavering, returned the shot;
Hamilton reaping what he sowed.
His honor defended, his work here done,
Burr turned about in silence, and marched back towards the barge;
Whereupon seeing a coney eating a strawberry,
He wept quiet tears of joy.

kony 2012: help or hype?

Joseph Kony certainly isn't a nice guy, and anyone doing what he does (i.e., trying to establish a theocratic government in part by abducting children and turning them into soldiers or sex slaves) definitely needs to be stopped. That said, my opinion of the viral KONY 2012 documentary is that, while it does a good job of tugging at your heartstrings and is a great marketing tactic for Invisible Children Inc., there are a couple of things that bother me about it. One is its approach, which I found too reliant on emotional appeals and sensationalism. Another is its oversimplification of the issue and events in Uganda in general.

As for the group itself, they're not without their fair share of controversy. For example, according to a 2011 Foreign Affairs' article, Invisible Children "manipulated facts for strategic purposes, exaggerating the scale of LRA abductions and murders and emphasizing the LRA's use of innocent children as soldiers, and portraying Kony -- a brutal man, to be sure -- as uniquely awful, a Kurtz-like embodiment of evil." And according to financial reports, Invisible Children only spends about 31% of total funds on directly helping anyone (e.g., last year they spent roughly $2.8 million out of $8.9 million directly on projects in Africa, with the rest being spent on things like salaries, transportation, awareness programs, and production costs for films). In addition, they many also help support the Ugandan government/army and the Sudan People's Liberation Army financially, both of which have been accused of committing their fair share of atrocities, including things like rape, looting, and the use of child soldiers.

In short, I like the idea of people trying to make a positive difference in the world, and I think the video is an innovative way of raising social awareness and inspiring people to get involved in a good cause, not to mention a brilliant piece of marketing; but you may want to think twice before donating to Invisible Children and/or spreading this video around. And if you do want to help but don't feel comfortable with Invisible Children, there's a host of other organizations out there to donate to. For example, The Daily What suggests Africare, AMREF USA, Children of the Nations, and Water.org, all of which have "a sparkling four-star rating from Charity Navigator, and, more importantly, no interest in airdropping American troops armed to the teeth into the middle of a multi-nation tribal war to help one madman catch another."

Update (12:56pm): It seems that Invisible Children has responded to all the criticism surrounding their KONY 2012 campaign, addressing most, if not all, of the issues mentioned above here. I don't really have the motivation to dig deeper and respond to their response, so I figure I'll leave it up to those who want to donate to Invisible Children to decide whether they're legit. I was simply suspicious of Invisible Children due to all the negative things I read about them, and just wanted people to think twice before throwing their money at them.

library.nu

In another victory in the ongoing battle to expand intellectual property rights and privatize knowledge, the publishing industry (which has had its fair share of beef with public libraries) has successfully shut down the unauthorized internet library Library.nu and protected their profits, while poor students and scholars lament the loss of a virtual fount of knowledge:

The disappearing virtual library

Sure, I realize that most people want authors to be 'fairly compensated' for their work, and many probably even feel the same about publishers and booksellers (especially local ones). However, looking at the bigger picture, many of the people who want or even need these texts are denied easy access.

It wouldn't be so bad if intellectual property law and the repeated extension of copyrights (particularly here in the US by copyright holders such as Disney, Time Warner, etc.) weren't becoming increasingly more unreasonable, or if publishers didn't routinely ignore certain markets (predominately non-Western ones). But they are, and they do.

birth control bs

It appears that political discourse in this country has sunk to such ridiculously low depths that women who think health plans should include birth control are literally thought of and overtly labelled by some as sluts and prostitutes:

Dear Rush Limbaugh: Birth Control Doesn't Work Like Viagra

(Then again, maybe it's always been this low.)

Besides the stupidity of the comparison (as well as the current debate surrounding birth control in general, in my opinion), I think it illustrates the prevalence of misogynistic double standards that still pervade our predominately patriarchal society. It seems to be culturally acceptable for men to have lots of sex, not to mention for them to use drugs to enhance and facilitate sex; but God forbid a women suggest her health plan cover birth control!

It's even funnier coming from conservatives who are so dead set against abortion, seeing as how they're essentially fighting tooth and nail to deny women easy access to things that actually help prevent unwanted pregnancies. The insanity of this logic blows my mind.