Do ghosts exist? Are there really beings that have either failed to “cross-over” or have left pieces of themselves to wander the earth for the rest of time? I don’t have either of those answers, and honestly, it’s hard for me to even speculate about things like that, but I want to try to understand some things about why a person might believe in ghosts.
I don’t know much about ghosts – other than what I’ve seen in movies, read in books, or heard from others. I want to read up on them and do more research before I make a final decision, but there seems to be plenty of evidence for both cases – those for and against the existence of ghosts.
Can scientists, the “practical minds,” prove that there are no such things as ghosts? Can science thwart itself and prove that there are indeed ghosts?
If there are ghosts, are they more akin to Casper or Patrick Swayze’s character in ghost? Are there friendly ghosts, “malevolent” ghosts, or both?
I am truly interested and I like to think that I can keep an open mind about many different things so I will, in the next few weeks, research and try to find out my own opinion about ghosts.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Conformity?
I’ve just realized that I’m well on my way to becoming what I’ve tried to avoid for a long time; a stereotypical girl.
I have five bags and two purses (I never used to know the distinction between them!). I have eleven different pairs of shoes; including running shoes and “nice tennis-shoes” (?!). Not to mention a makeup bag (who needs that much makeup?) Luckily, I have never used it all at once, but still, just the fact that I have all that scares me.
I’ve always thought of myself as a nonconformist (I play the bassoon for heaven’s sake), but I think I’ve come to think that it’s not so bad to conform sometimes, if only to mix in with society better, or to not stick out so much.
I don’t necessarily believe that having bags, purses, and a horde of shoes makes me a conformist though. I’ll put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before I’ll even consider wearing a dress (unless of course all my jeans are in the dirty clothes hamper… like today).
But then again, I’m a conformist because I don’t wear dresses, you see? Because I’m conforming with other nonconformists; and when I wear the dress, I’m a nonconformist to all the nonconformists. You see how complicated it can get? Almost everyone is some sort of conformist/nonconformist. It’s very hard nowadays to create any truly “original” style because we’ve been influenced by what other people have done in past decades and centuries.
I have five bags and two purses (I never used to know the distinction between them!). I have eleven different pairs of shoes; including running shoes and “nice tennis-shoes” (?!). Not to mention a makeup bag (who needs that much makeup?) Luckily, I have never used it all at once, but still, just the fact that I have all that scares me.
I’ve always thought of myself as a nonconformist (I play the bassoon for heaven’s sake), but I think I’ve come to think that it’s not so bad to conform sometimes, if only to mix in with society better, or to not stick out so much.
I don’t necessarily believe that having bags, purses, and a horde of shoes makes me a conformist though. I’ll put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before I’ll even consider wearing a dress (unless of course all my jeans are in the dirty clothes hamper… like today).
But then again, I’m a conformist because I don’t wear dresses, you see? Because I’m conforming with other nonconformists; and when I wear the dress, I’m a nonconformist to all the nonconformists. You see how complicated it can get? Almost everyone is some sort of conformist/nonconformist. It’s very hard nowadays to create any truly “original” style because we’ve been influenced by what other people have done in past decades and centuries.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
I've slept since then
What makes life fly by? I don’t even really mind that it’s flying by so fast, if only I could remember it! I have vague ideas about what I did yesterday, and I could name a few specific instances, but I can’t remember everything about yesterday (much less last week). I have this journal that I’m supposed to write in for my Elissa class, but I’ve gotten to where I’ll write anything in it that I want to remember, or I’ll write down a particularly good day, or bad, depending on how bad and if it seems important. In fact, I just finished writing about my Saturday, because I was too tired Saturday night. And, going back to my forgetfulness, I had to really think about what I did so I would remember everything, and even then I forgot some key moments in my day which I had to add on as an afterthought.
Oh, and you know that expression “I’ve slept since then?” It’s totally a legitimate excuse. I’ve gotten to where I go to bed late then take a nap during the day after class and I swear, it feels like it’s the next day when I wake up, and I can barely remember what I did that morning sometimes. I should probably try to go to bed earlier so that I don’t get tired during the day, but that would have me going to bed at 9:30 and that’s just unrealistic if I want to have even a semblance of a life, so I don’t and I’ll sleep whenever I’m tired (unless I’m sitting in class, then I generally try to stay awake).
Oh, and you know that expression “I’ve slept since then?” It’s totally a legitimate excuse. I’ve gotten to where I go to bed late then take a nap during the day after class and I swear, it feels like it’s the next day when I wake up, and I can barely remember what I did that morning sometimes. I should probably try to go to bed earlier so that I don’t get tired during the day, but that would have me going to bed at 9:30 and that’s just unrealistic if I want to have even a semblance of a life, so I don’t and I’ll sleep whenever I’m tired (unless I’m sitting in class, then I generally try to stay awake).
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Baby Mama
I went home this weekend to see my baby niece... and my parents of course. My sister had dropped her off with my parents so she (my sister) could move all her stuff from California to Florida without the added stress of a baby (and so our parents could watch her… of course).
Anyways, I went to Wal-Mart to get some things for my dorm (a swiffer and a hand vacuum) and I had Addy (my niece) with me in the little cart. I was walking down the aisle looking for the swiffers (which turned out to be all folded up in a box – who would have thought?!) when this lady comes up to me:
Lady: She’s so adorable - her blond hair and blue eyes
Me: *smiling* yeah
Lady: How old is she?
Me: Just turned a year in September
Lady: *stares at me with a pointed look at my hand* Her mother must be so proud
Me: Yes, she is... I'm her aunt
Lady: oh of course…
I guess I can understand her thinking that Addysen was my daughter (and I’m a little flattered, because she is one of the most beautiful babies I’ve ever known), but her stare was pretty rude. So if Addy had actually been my baby, would she have judged me by what she thought my age was (because she certainly hadn’t asked my age)? I mean, who gives looks like that anymore?!
Ok, but can I really judge her for thinking badly of me? Because not only do I look young (ok, maybe I am young), but I also wasn’t wearing a ring, and she was probably one of those “sex out of wedlock is evil” people (which of course is me judging her now)
You see how convoluted judging can become?! By her judging me, I began judging her, and the cycle goes on. Everyone makes split second judgments on other people, but my new goal, for this week at least, is to try to suppress my judgments and keep an open mind. We’ll see if that works out…
Anyways, I went to Wal-Mart to get some things for my dorm (a swiffer and a hand vacuum) and I had Addy (my niece) with me in the little cart. I was walking down the aisle looking for the swiffers (which turned out to be all folded up in a box – who would have thought?!) when this lady comes up to me:
Lady: She’s so adorable - her blond hair and blue eyes
Me: *smiling* yeah
Lady: How old is she?
Me: Just turned a year in September
Lady: *stares at me with a pointed look at my hand* Her mother must be so proud
Me: Yes, she is... I'm her aunt
Lady: oh of course…
I guess I can understand her thinking that Addysen was my daughter (and I’m a little flattered, because she is one of the most beautiful babies I’ve ever known), but her stare was pretty rude. So if Addy had actually been my baby, would she have judged me by what she thought my age was (because she certainly hadn’t asked my age)? I mean, who gives looks like that anymore?!
Ok, but can I really judge her for thinking badly of me? Because not only do I look young (ok, maybe I am young), but I also wasn’t wearing a ring, and she was probably one of those “sex out of wedlock is evil” people (which of course is me judging her now)
You see how convoluted judging can become?! By her judging me, I began judging her, and the cycle goes on. Everyone makes split second judgments on other people, but my new goal, for this week at least, is to try to suppress my judgments and keep an open mind. We’ll see if that works out…
Monday, October 5, 2009
What makes a home?
Where is my home? I have called my parents house home for as long as I can remember but now I have another living space that I have started calling home: my dorm room. I do live there, but it doesn’t have nearly as many of the qualities my parent’s house has, so how is it a home as well? I have heard people say that they have “made their house their home” after they have lived in it for a while, but I don’t like considering my dorm home because it is not what I would want in a home.
What makes people accept a living space as a home? Why can some people call the dorm “home,” when it makes me flinch to call my dorm home? I have called it home, if only because I live there and I wish so much that I could consider it home.
Does a home need to be an actual house? Are there certain elements that distinguish a house from a home? Because according to my thesaurus, the two are synonymous.
Why do I have such a problem considering my dorm my home? Is it because my home has my loved ones in it, my dog, my bed, my past?
Most people like having a place where they “belong”, and I’m no exception to that generalization. But can one person have multiple homes or places they belong? Is that possible: to feel you belong in more than one place? Because if it is, then I have a home and a temporary (if lacking) home.
What makes people accept a living space as a home? Why can some people call the dorm “home,” when it makes me flinch to call my dorm home? I have called it home, if only because I live there and I wish so much that I could consider it home.
Does a home need to be an actual house? Are there certain elements that distinguish a house from a home? Because according to my thesaurus, the two are synonymous.
Why do I have such a problem considering my dorm my home? Is it because my home has my loved ones in it, my dog, my bed, my past?
Most people like having a place where they “belong”, and I’m no exception to that generalization. But can one person have multiple homes or places they belong? Is that possible: to feel you belong in more than one place? Because if it is, then I have a home and a temporary (if lacking) home.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
My College Life - First Impressions
College: a world unto itself. There are so many things to learn; not only do I have to learn things for my specific classes, but I also have to learn the college language and relearn the process of making friends. In high school, our schooling was broken into groups: year, semester, nine weeks and four and a half weeks. In college, so far, I’ve only heard one distinguished time frame: semester. You have to take four semesters of a class, not two years. I’m in my first semester of college, not my first year. If I want to take a SCUBA class, I just have to wait till next semester, not next year.
In college, not everyone is within four or five years of each other. I have seen people as young as seventeen and as… “not young” as sixty. There are people who have been in the military (or still are), people who are/have been married, and people, like me, who are fresh from high school feeling as though they’ve been placed on another planet and are still trying to find themselves. I have made friends with people within all of those groupings, plus some, and it’s amazing to me that so many different people with completely different backgrounds are able to mesh well together, forgiving petty differences, and become friends.
Even though I sometimes feel lost, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
In college, not everyone is within four or five years of each other. I have seen people as young as seventeen and as… “not young” as sixty. There are people who have been in the military (or still are), people who are/have been married, and people, like me, who are fresh from high school feeling as though they’ve been placed on another planet and are still trying to find themselves. I have made friends with people within all of those groupings, plus some, and it’s amazing to me that so many different people with completely different backgrounds are able to mesh well together, forgiving petty differences, and become friends.
Even though I sometimes feel lost, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Indigenous Rights Essay - Who Owns Culture?
Speaking about “owning” culture, I have to mention the story I was told when I was very little about the warm fuzzies. It can be a long story, but the main idea is that everyone had plenty of warm fuzzies and everyone shared their warm fuzzies until one day people started becoming possessive of their warm fuzzies, so they became obsolete and no one was appreciated anymore.
Think of each person’s culture as a warm fuzzy and when culture is shared and appreciated, the people are more or less content. However, when people ridicule others’ cultures, or become possessive of their own cultures, then no one learns anything and as long as culture is something to possess, it will never be understood or appreciated to its full potential. In spite of, or because of, the fact that the “warm fuzzy” analogy is rather juvenile, simplistic, and idealistic it somewhat works.
No excuse good enough can be made for the editor, businessman, author, director, or singer who ridicules or exploits an indigenous peoples’ culture; however, to try to patent a culture and “own” it is very selfish: once again, the ethical dilemma. There are laws in our country against slander, yet there are also rights of free speech. Where does one end and the other begin?
I completely understand why indigenous people would want to “own” their culture. Too many of the things depicted about indigenous people are inaccurate or biased. Old – time western flicks rarely showed the Native American in the correct light, but I honestly don’t know enough about Native Americans to know what would have been the right depiction: my textbooks rarely went in depth when it came to Native Americans. Now, whether that was because they were ignorant or too lazy to find out, I do not know.
Think of each person’s culture as a warm fuzzy and when culture is shared and appreciated, the people are more or less content. However, when people ridicule others’ cultures, or become possessive of their own cultures, then no one learns anything and as long as culture is something to possess, it will never be understood or appreciated to its full potential. In spite of, or because of, the fact that the “warm fuzzy” analogy is rather juvenile, simplistic, and idealistic it somewhat works.
No excuse good enough can be made for the editor, businessman, author, director, or singer who ridicules or exploits an indigenous peoples’ culture; however, to try to patent a culture and “own” it is very selfish: once again, the ethical dilemma. There are laws in our country against slander, yet there are also rights of free speech. Where does one end and the other begin?
I completely understand why indigenous people would want to “own” their culture. Too many of the things depicted about indigenous people are inaccurate or biased. Old – time western flicks rarely showed the Native American in the correct light, but I honestly don’t know enough about Native Americans to know what would have been the right depiction: my textbooks rarely went in depth when it came to Native Americans. Now, whether that was because they were ignorant or too lazy to find out, I do not know.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Autobiography
Hello, my name is Lauren. I am a freshman at Texas A&M at Galveston, majoring in Maritime Studies. My goals are constantly changing and I only ever have vague ideas of what I want to do once out of college. The one plan that I have had the longest is to join the Peace Corps after I graduate and before I attempt grad school. I would like to eventually start a family, but I am in no hurry to experience that particular miracle. I have ridden horses on and off for eight years. I have a dog that I absolutely love (even though she doesn’t always mind me.) I love to travel and so far, the most glamorous places I have been include: St. Petersburg, Russia; Helsinki, Finland; Tallinn, Estonia; and Maui, Hawaii. Although those places are spectacular, I never pass up the opportunity to travel within the country and even Texas, because I love going to new places, no matter how close or far away they may be. I have a list of things to do before I die, and I am only just starting that list.
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