Literature and Civilization II
Friday, December 18, 2015
Okay, so I realize this is a photo with no humans in it, but if you don't realize what it is, it is blurry a picture of an airplane wing with frost on the window. It is supposed to be a video, but apparently I fail at technology and could not get the proper format of the video embedded in this post.
Now for the backstory of the photo supposed to be video. I traveled home on Thursday and on my flight from DFW to Salt Lake, I planned on trying to find people laughing. Turns out, it is extremely hard to find people laughing in an airport at 6 AM on a busy travel day. However, once on the plane, I got the perfect opportunity. I shared a row with a mom and her three kids. All of the kids were probably below the age of ten. By the end of the flight, all three of them began to get pretty restless. The youngest brother would touch the sisters face while sleeping and the other boy kept taking the youngest's stuffed animal to get a rise out of the youngest. By the end of the flight, there laughter and squeals could be heard through out the plane. The mom, who was sitting next to me, started to panic as she became embarrassed of her children's volume. I understand her embarrassment, but the children were not fighting and just trying to make a stressful day more fun. Meanwhile, all the rest of the adults on the plane looked exhausted and worn out. Here is a perfect example of how it is easier for children to laugh and adults to just stay frustrated.
If the video would have worked, you could hear the children giggling and their mom softly scolding them. Overall they were a nice family and I didn't want to try to film them directly, so that is why I filmed the window as we landed in hopes to hear their conversation.
Thursday, December 10, 2015
A time when I was afraid...
SPOILER ALERT IF YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN STAR WARS
The prompt is actually quite relevant to my life right now. Last night, I watched the Sixth Episode of Star Wars for the first time. A few weeks ago, I mentioned to my roommate that I had never seen any of the Star Wars movies. If you do not know my roommate, you should probably know that her texting ringtone is literally the sound R2D2 makes. I would put her about ten levels above a serious Star Wars fan. When she found out I had never seen the movies, she called me “uncultured” and decided the next few weeks before the new movie would be devoted to watching all six previous movies. When I enthusiastically agreed to watch them, I did not realize that each movie was over two hours long. After arguing with two other friends on whether to watch the first three episodes first or last, we officially decided to start with Episode One and finish with Episode Six (a decision we ended up regretting later on in the process). By Episode One, I fell in love with the precious child version of Anakin Skywalker. In Episode Two, I grew to appreciate Padme Amidala and Anakin as a couple even though it took me awhile to get over the age difference. In Episode Three, I decided that I fully supported Padme and Anakin’s relationship and balled my eyes out when Anakin turned to the dark side and became Darth Vader. For the next trilogy, I sat on the edge of my seat as I cheered Luke on and prayed that he and Leia never get together because that would be so awkward due to the whole being twins but not knowing thing. I smiled when Luke discovered Yoda, the little green elf-thing, because love Yoda, how do you not? My friends yelled at me when I referred to Darth Vader as Anakin because I still believed he had the good side in him even though they told me he would never be good again, such liars. Every episode had been a rollercoaster of emotions for me, so when I finally made it to the final episode, I knew it would be a rough, but a thrilling two hours. The whole movie was fine until it got to the point where Yoda died. Honestly, how dare George Lucas? Yoda made Star Wars. You do not just kill off the best Jedi in the galaxy and expect an inexperienced Luke to take over. I cried. When Luke ended up facing his father, I actually lost it. I was so scared the entire time because I was under the impression that either Luke dies or he has to kill Anakin (Darth Vader), none of which I wanted to see. When I was watching the scene, I was holding my friend’s new puppy, Murphy, and my friends had to take Murphy away in case I accidentally hurt it out of the stress I was experiencing. It got to the point where the Emperor was killing Luke and I panicked because I could not see how this would end well. You can imagine my surprise and pure joy when Darth Vader found his good side and returned to Anikan by killing the Emperor and saving Luke. I actually cried, because that was all I wanted. Actually I wanted Padme, Anakin, Luke, and Leia to all be a happy family, but I will settle for Darth Vader becoming good again out of the love for his son (my theory is that he actually became good out of his love for Padme). Overall, I loved the Star Wars series, and I realize that I probably should have spent the twelve hours studying for my Interest Theory exam or even writing these blogs instead of watching the movies, but I will blame that one on my parents for not introducing me to Star Wars early on in life. At least my roommate now thinks I am cultured. People say that I can sometimes become too attached to characters, and being that scared during Star Wars is probably unreasonable, but why not let myself have a little imagination and fun? You will find me in line for the next Star Wars movie. May the force be with you.
The prompt is actually quite relevant to my life right now. Last night, I watched the Sixth Episode of Star Wars for the first time. A few weeks ago, I mentioned to my roommate that I had never seen any of the Star Wars movies. If you do not know my roommate, you should probably know that her texting ringtone is literally the sound R2D2 makes. I would put her about ten levels above a serious Star Wars fan. When she found out I had never seen the movies, she called me “uncultured” and decided the next few weeks before the new movie would be devoted to watching all six previous movies. When I enthusiastically agreed to watch them, I did not realize that each movie was over two hours long. After arguing with two other friends on whether to watch the first three episodes first or last, we officially decided to start with Episode One and finish with Episode Six (a decision we ended up regretting later on in the process). By Episode One, I fell in love with the precious child version of Anakin Skywalker. In Episode Two, I grew to appreciate Padme Amidala and Anakin as a couple even though it took me awhile to get over the age difference. In Episode Three, I decided that I fully supported Padme and Anakin’s relationship and balled my eyes out when Anakin turned to the dark side and became Darth Vader. For the next trilogy, I sat on the edge of my seat as I cheered Luke on and prayed that he and Leia never get together because that would be so awkward due to the whole being twins but not knowing thing. I smiled when Luke discovered Yoda, the little green elf-thing, because love Yoda, how do you not? My friends yelled at me when I referred to Darth Vader as Anakin because I still believed he had the good side in him even though they told me he would never be good again, such liars. Every episode had been a rollercoaster of emotions for me, so when I finally made it to the final episode, I knew it would be a rough, but a thrilling two hours. The whole movie was fine until it got to the point where Yoda died. Honestly, how dare George Lucas? Yoda made Star Wars. You do not just kill off the best Jedi in the galaxy and expect an inexperienced Luke to take over. I cried. When Luke ended up facing his father, I actually lost it. I was so scared the entire time because I was under the impression that either Luke dies or he has to kill Anakin (Darth Vader), none of which I wanted to see. When I was watching the scene, I was holding my friend’s new puppy, Murphy, and my friends had to take Murphy away in case I accidentally hurt it out of the stress I was experiencing. It got to the point where the Emperor was killing Luke and I panicked because I could not see how this would end well. You can imagine my surprise and pure joy when Darth Vader found his good side and returned to Anikan by killing the Emperor and saving Luke. I actually cried, because that was all I wanted. Actually I wanted Padme, Anakin, Luke, and Leia to all be a happy family, but I will settle for Darth Vader becoming good again out of the love for his son (my theory is that he actually became good out of his love for Padme). Overall, I loved the Star Wars series, and I realize that I probably should have spent the twelve hours studying for my Interest Theory exam or even writing these blogs instead of watching the movies, but I will blame that one on my parents for not introducing me to Star Wars early on in life. At least my roommate now thinks I am cultured. People say that I can sometimes become too attached to characters, and being that scared during Star Wars is probably unreasonable, but why not let myself have a little imagination and fun? You will find me in line for the next Star Wars movie. May the force be with you.
Something that I broke...
In high school, I would not describe myself as popular or
even remotely close to that kind of status. In all honesty, I could have cared
less. I had my close best friends and they were all I needed to be happy. In my
high school, your status was determined by if your parents were both rich
enough and neglectful enough to let you throw huge parties at your house. These
parties consisted of a bunch of dumb teenagers unable to control or handle even
a sip of alcohol. I was way too busy to go to any of these being a three-sport
varsity athlete with four AP classes. Also my parents were extremely strict.
For the most part, I did not have any interest either because my friends and I
saw the facade behind these parties and were much more content with going to
concerts downtown and eating tater-tots and our favorite restaurant on a Saturday night. However,
junior year, one of my really close friends threw one of these parties and
instantly became the most popular kid in class. With that popularity, he pretty
much cut the rest of us out of his life and stopped talking to us. As hurt as I
was about the whole event, I became curious as to what was so great about
these parties and began to think that maybe I was missing out on something.
During my junior year, my brother transferred to a boarding school in Idaho. My parents went
to go visit him often, which left me home alone on many weekends. I really
enjoyed this time alone in my house because I got to make my own dinner and
blare music throughout my whole house. One weekend, my friend Jackie pointed
out that I was missing out on an extremely obvious opportunity. I needed to
throw a house party. My curiosity around these parties kicked into full gear as
we planned for an epic party at my house when my parents were in Idaho. We
invited all of my friends, all of the “cool” people at my school, and pretty
much everyone who went to the public school in my neighborhood. Everyone was so
excited for the party and I started to see the fun behind it. We planned a
whole excuse as to why Jackie had to spend the night at my house, so neither of
our parents were suspicious. The plan was quite flawless. We bought snacks,
planned on taking people’s keys at the door (we were responsible people), and
had one of my wealthy older neighbors bringing an appropriate amount of alcohol.
Finally, I could be like my friend who had moved up on the social ladder.
Around thirty minutes before the party, I received a call from my dad. I
answered just expecting it to be him checking in, but immediately he said “you
about ready for the party you are going to throw in thirty minutes?” I froze
inside and immediately knew the trouble I was going to be in. Apparently my
friend Savannah did not realize this party was a secret so she told her mom. Her mom
texted my mom asking if Savannah could bring any food for the overnight party.
My dad had already called Jackie’s parents and they were on the way to come get
us and lock up our house so no one could get inside. I had to text everyone that
could possibly have been invited that it was over. Turns out about thirty
people still showed up to my dead and dark house. I broke my parents trust that
weekend and even though that was a terrible thing to experience, going to
school the next Monday and being known as the girl who “tried to throw a party, but
failed miserably” was also a real bummer. A few weeks later I even went to one
of these infamous parties and it ended up being one of my most boring nights of
high school. It took me breaking my parents trust and embarrassing myself to
realize who I was. I am a girl who does not need alcohol to make friends and
memories. Savannah, who spoiled my party, turned out to be one of my closest
friends still to this day. We laugh about that night and I thank her every time
for telling her mom because honestly my house would have been trashed. We both
realized that our friendship is more important than putting out a fake image.
Sometimes breaking thinks can be good.
A time when I observed hateful injustice or prejudice...
In high school, most of our All Student Body (ASB)
executive team was made up of guys. You would get the occasional female on the
team, but that was usually because she was extremely popular. It frustrated
because a lot of my qualified female friends who had such big and great plans
for the school would run, but would never be voted in. Most of them knew by
running that they would not win because my class would only elect the funniest
speech and everyone in my class believed that girls just simply are not funny. First
of all, this whole process is ridiculous because we should not be voting in the
funniest person, but we should be voting in the person who will put the most
effort into their job. During my freshman year, we voted in Jason. Although I
grew up with him and he is one of my good friends, his entire speech was on the
downfalls of being Asian with “tiger parents.” Apparently, this kind of humor
appealed to my predominately white class. I believe the Superiority Theory of
humor was at work in this scenario. He had no plans for the future of our high
school, but his self-deprecating humor landed him as the President of our
entire high school. I wonder how he felt when he realized that he truly only
got votes by making fun of his race, family, and heritage. Probably not too
good. The fact that my class thought this was even remotely close to okay is
beyond me. The second part of the ASB process that frustrated me was that all
of the men in our class constantly commented on how females “just are not
funny.” Excuse me! Amy Schumer, Amy Poehler, Sarah Siverman, Ellen DeGeneres,
Mindy Kaling, Melissa McCarthy, and Kristen Wiig just to name a few of the
thousands of funny and brilliant women that have blessed this world. A group of people judged someone on not
being funny before they even got to the podium. If they were a female, they
were automatically not funny and no one listened to what they had to say. The
saddest part of all of this is that even some of my girlfriends fell into this
mindset and would discount a female classmate because she just was not funny. I honestly felt like I would have been a good candidate, but I was too
scared to run because I knew that people would only judge be based on my gender
and ability to make people laugh. When did humor become about gender and why do
we have the perception that men are funnier than women?
We should never have to tear-ourselves a part or be a
certain type of person to get people to laugh and like us. Humor should be
about inclusiveness. Humor should be about bringing a large group of people
together to relate to something. Humor should never be used
to segregate. As much as my high school taught me and prepared me, it was a
community of segregation. Boys were “popular” based on if they could make
people laugh and girls were “popular” based on their looks. Humor is unique to
the individual and thus should not be used to determine the status of one
person to another. Men are often portrayed to be the “jokesters” of the class,
but when did we stop telling girls that they cannot be funny too? Women have always
been told to be polite and indirectly this has come out as us not speaking our
minds and being funny will offend others. I often laugh more at females anyways
because they often use humor and do not offend anyone in the process. This is
why I respect female comedians because they have penetrated a world where they
are not theoretically meant to be funny. From now on, can we please just tell our daughters that they have every right and the ability to be just as funny as the boy sitting next to them in class?
Uncontrollable Laughter 2
I found Literature and Civilization II extremely interesting
because we focused on something that we took for granted every day. Laughter is
a huge part of my life and honestly, I find that a person’s sense of humor
directly relates to their personality. However, I never gave much thought to why I laugh at specific things when other people do not find them
funny. I just assumed it was some random function of the brain and too complex
for me to understand. The class taught me that humor truly is complex because
so much of it depends on culture and our perceptions of the world, but
there are basic reasons or theories as to why humans laugh. Now that I have
taken the class, whenever I laugh I always try to relate it back to some theory
or try to figure out why I actually think that it is funny. I have realized that I
laugh at some things because others are laughing, but I do not truly think they
are funny. I have also grown to truly appreciate some of the things that I think
are extremely funny. One of those things would the television show The Office. When I kept trying to find a time that I laughed uncontrollably, my mind kept going back to any time I watched an episode of The Office, so I decided to cave and write about why I think The Office is my favorite TV show.
If you know me well, you would probably know that I hold a deep obsession for The Office. I started watching the television show in middle school and I have probably seen every episode at least four times. Keep in mind that there are 201 episodes of the office. That is roughly 308 hours of my life dedicated to this show. It is the only show that I can re-watch episodes and still laugh out loud and the only show where I balled like a baby during the finale. Now that I have established my obsession of the show in it, let me tell you what this class has taught me about my love for an office with just fifteen main characters.
If you know me well, you would probably know that I hold a deep obsession for The Office. I started watching the television show in middle school and I have probably seen every episode at least four times. Keep in mind that there are 201 episodes of the office. That is roughly 308 hours of my life dedicated to this show. It is the only show that I can re-watch episodes and still laugh out loud and the only show where I balled like a baby during the finale. Now that I have established my obsession of the show in it, let me tell you what this class has taught me about my love for an office with just fifteen main characters.
Most television shows include people with extravagant and complex lives that as an ordinary person, I find really hard to relate to. The Office, however, is a show that documents the lives of about fifteen ordinary people who work in a paper distributor office. It cannot get more ordinary than that. The Office’s premise is the sarcasm of ordinary life. It takes people with basic lives, but with weird quirks and exaggerates how people live ordinarily. Although I have never worked in an office, I still found a lot of the sarcasm hilarious and relateable. A lot of the people think Michael Scott, the boss of the office, has very sexist and racist jokes. I agree that his jokes definitely have that undertone, but that The Office executes them in a way that sarcastically pokes fun at idiot people who make those jokes in real life because we all know someone who finds offensive things funny. No one in the office agrees with Michael’s jokes and in fact most of jokes offend someone in the office, so by exaggerating his actions they sarcastically portray a person people often hate being around.
Ask me who my favorite character in The Office is and I
will probably never give you a straight answer because I would honestly feel
bad for not naming one of the characters as my favorite. If my life depended on who
my favorite character is, however, I would have to choose Jim. Out of everyone
in the office, Jim would probably be the most normal. He is the one who falls
for the receptionist, Pam, plays constant pranks on his desk mate, Dwight, and
is known as the “attractive” one in the office with nothing going for him.
Jim’s normalcy makes everyone else seem like a complete wackjob in The Office. He
is what you would call a fish out of water. By being the normal person in The
Office who always tries to do the right thing, everyone’s quirks and annoyances
are highlighted and even more humorous. Jim is known for that stare into the
camera with a little shake of his head when someone does something ridiculous
making the ridiculous thing even way funnier. When his eccentric coworkers put
him into uncomfortable situations, his reactions and how he deals with them make
the show because we can all relate to being the normal one, even if we are the
eccentric one. Overall, The Office is a show that makes you fall in love with
every character no matter how annoying they can be. I followed their lives to
the end and saw a piece of myself in every single one of them. Yes, I cry at
the last scene where they all come back to The Office for one final time, but
that is because every character taught me some sort of lesson during the 201
episodes. It will forever be favorite show.
Learning Experience 4
I often think one of the most fascinating parts of humor
and comedy is the paradox behind them. Some of the most brilliant comedians
often deal with intense depression. Although we often view laughter as being
happy, laughter often comes from a much darker place. One of the more recent
examples would be Robin Williams. He was a heart-warming man who knew how to
make every generation laugh and smile. Unfortunately, he committed suicide just
over a year ago. When I first heard the devastating news, I questioned how
someone with so much liveliness on film could be so torn apart inside. Now I am
not naïve to think that people’s characters on television directly relate to
their personal lives, but I would think that a person who has a job
specifically to bring people joy would be joyful as well. I believe the Relief
Theory plays a large role in why comedians often deal with depression. The Relief Theory states that people use humor as a means to
relieve tension. Comedians can use humor as a means to deal with their internal
struggles, however humor does not truly fix the issue. The comedian may go up
on stage or on film for an immediate relief, but after the audience laughs and
they leave, their problems still exist. In order to truly fix depression, one
needs intimate human contact. Although an audience might seem like a form of human contact, an audience is only a façade. An audience only sees an actor on stage
and does not understand the internal struggles of the person standing in front
of them. Audiences go to shows or watch movies for a laugh, not to uncover
someone’s personal problems. The removal of the audience from the performer is
the reason why so many people were shocked when Robin Williams passed away. On
film, people perceived him as a happy and lively man, but never understood his
deeper pain. Although comedians may use the Relief Theory to drive their
comedy, they only experience a limited form of relief and do not find a long
term solution to their pain.
Although comedy can be entertaining, the comedian will
always sacrifice a part of themselves to be at the service of other’s joy.
Comedy then becomes extremely dangerous for the comedian because the audience
will only see the “actor” or the fake self and the comedian becomes stuck in a
world that does not know his or her true self. When Robin Williams died,
President Obama sent his condolences to the Williams family by saying:
“Robin Williams was an airman, a doctor,
a genie, a nanny, a president, a professor, a bangarang Peter Pan, and
everything in between. But he was one of a kind. He arrived in our lives as an
alien – but he ended up touching every element of the human spirit. He made us
laugh. He made us cry. He gave his immeasurable talent freely and generously to
those who needed it most – from our troops stationed abroad to the marginalized
on our own streets.”
Although I understand where Obama was coming from by making this statement, it is important to remember that Robin Williams was never just a character. Williams was a misunderstood man who
dealt with real human problems and depression. I believe that people’s purpose in
life should never just be for the entertainment of others. Individual needs should
always come first, and unfortunately we only chose to perceive Williams as the
characters he performed and not the actual man himself. Comedy is a gift and
enjoyable, but we must remember that the person performing is more than the
character on stage. Robin Williams sacrificed a vital part of himself, his
happiness, in order to make the rest of the world happy. As noble as that
sound, it should never come to that point.
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
The view from my bedroom window...
My bedroom view required me to cover it with curtains. During
my sophomore year of high school, my family moved to a different house in
Portland that was in an extremely wooded neighborhood. In fact, it did not
really seem like a neighborhood at all, but rather our house isolated in the
middle of a dark, creepy, and wet wooded area. To make, matters even more
depressing, my room was alone in the basement looking out into a forest. Now it
may seem like I am setting this up to be a horror story, and that is true
because this is a horror story. At first, I honestly thought I lucked out on
getting the room in the basement because of more privacy that would allow me to
play loud music, but three months into living in the house, I realized that I
made a mistake that would haunt me for the next three years. One day, a friend
of mine from the area was talking to me about how a man was found dead in the
woods right outside my room. At first, I totally thought he was joking because
this friend typically messed with me. When I asked his father, however, he
confirmed that a neighborhood kid actually found the dead man and had to go to
counseling for years to get over the incident. Still in disbelief that I was
living in a house potentially haunted by a dead man that died right outside my
room, I decided to do more reach. Unfortunately, the internet only confirmed what
I did not want to be true. A man was found dead right by my room, but even
creepier, he was found dead with no lacerations or any kind proof of murder or
suicide. It was as if he just went, laid down, and died there. Although he most
likely overdosed on something, I still think it is the creepiest thing ever.
For fear of seeing his ghost outside my window, I closed my curtains and never
once opened them again for the rest of the three years I lived in that house.
Actually, I think once during senior I opened the
curtains because I wanted some sunshine, but then quickly closed them when the
menacing woods reminded me of what happened. I have always been one to let my
imagination get the best of me. I know deep down that his ghost would never
have greeted me at the window, but I processed the actually quite sad event as
fear. I let a man’s unfortunate ending that happened years ago escalate in my
mind and keep me isolated in a dark room for years. Now that I am living in
Texas, a place without towering pine trees and deep forests, all I want is the
view from my old bedroom. To be honest, I truly do not even know what it looks
like, but I imagine it all the time. My family recently moved to Idaho, but
when we visited Portland over Thanksgiving, we drove through my old
neighborhood. All I could think about was how I shut myself out from such
beauty for so many years. I realized that I let a nonexistent fear control my
life. Part of growing up is differentiating between real and non-real fear.
Although it took me awhile to realize how childish I had been in that house, I
now know to evaluate the fears that I have. Fear often disguises itself as
something that does not exist. I try not to waste my life on fake fear now, but
I still run into it from time to time.
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