And so another school year comes to a close. It’s been a year: a lot change, a lot grief, a lot of laughs and hopefully a lot of learning. The world is not the same as it was yesterday, and we all keep changing and growing and moving forward. The best of luck to everyone on this final week of the semester, and remember you are almost there. Summer vacation is just around the corner. The Boylan Blog will be taking a break for the summer, but it will be back at the start of the Fall Semester. Thanks for reading!
Imagine being a farmer and waking up one day to find that all of your crops have exploded. Yeah, pretty weird. This is exactly the situation watermelon farmers in the Jiangsu province of Eastern China are facing right now.
At first, the media attributed the exploding fruit to the use of growth-promoting chemicals. The media believed many farmers were trying to increase profits by using chemicals to make fruit grow quickly and ahead of “peak season time.” In some cases this was actually the truth; farmers admitted that they had been using chemicals. However, there are also farmers who are not using these chemicals and their fruit is still exploding. Agricultural experts can’t really explain why this is occurring. Yet, many are citing weather or just the “abnormal size” of the fruit.
China has approved the use of chemicals on their crops under certain restrictions for a while, but this does not help assuage public concerns about whether the food is safe to eat. Many are calling for better tracking of the chemicals used and details on the stages of food growth. I’m by no means a farmer, but exploding watermelons indicate that now might be the time to start regulating the way food is grown and the chemicals people use.
In some enlightened circles, liberal philosophy has reduced absolute value judgments to the fundamental social preconceptions that construct it. Global movements have empowered the intellectual fields of feminism and civil rights to reveal the social organization that establishes gender roles, racist hierarchies, and the conditioning that compels the behavior of communities. As a result, women are considered equal to men and homosexuality is as reasonable as heterosexuality. Cultural relativism characterizes this liberal school intellectualism. The intention? To broaden, or better yet, erode, the definition of the status quo in an effort to offer individuals the full spectrum of expression in a community that supports and encourages them.
Largely a reaction against the pseudoscientific conclusions of philosophers hailing ideologies such as Social Darwinism, cultural relativism will presumably benefit humanity as the semantic meaning of “community” is stretched into globalized terminology. Individuals will be equipped with the critical tools necessary to understand a community’s values and its reasons for them; consequently, prejudice may become an antiquated social phenomenon.
Under the pretense of cultural relativism, declarations of a biological social order are generally rejected.
So here’s the terribly flashy and crude subject matter of this news brief: Are men’s genitalia important? Is it necessary to preserve the masculinity coded in the functionality of the male reproductive organ?
I would hope no one would argue against the implicit answer to these questions (Hell Yes!), but the social terms for the male identity may require much further probing if some recent and startling scientific research proves to be true. According to The Independent UK news reports, poisonous chemicals from mass-produced plastics are leaking into our water and food. The effect of this poison when consumed by pregnant women bearing boys is a reduction of the size of male genitalia and a disruption of hormones necessary for male development.
This entry is intended to make the public (or however many Boylan Blog readers there are out there) aware and outraged by the harmful effects of industry. Additionally, I hope readers will attempt to expand their understanding of male behavior and male desires: if the consequence of the American lifestyle is fewer or more effeminate men, it is essential that we accept the social developments that will subsequently occur. The status quo, already unstable, may need to be done away with entirely. Out of consideration for those affected by this phenomenon, testosterone may need to be excluded from the list of male qualifiers.
Whenever you think your hands are busy enough, here's another load to consider: the color and condition of your hands can be the first indicator of deeper health problems. It turns out that women with index fingers smaller than their ring fingers may have a heightened risk for osteoarthritis and polycystic ovarian syndrome, a hormonal disorder that can disrupt fertility.
Hands include nails and there are signs to look out for here as well: “Nails should turn white when you press on them, then return to pinkish when you release,” says Anthony Martinez, M.D., assistant clinical professor of medicine at the University of California in San Diego. “If your nail stays white for more than a minute or two, you may have anemia or low iron.” Iron deficiency can lead to fatigue or, in serious cases, heart problems.
Itchy, burning red palms may point to eczema, a chronic skin disorder that can worsen when you’re stressed; to limit irritation, avoid potential chemical triggers by opting for soap-less cleansers and wearing gloves when cleaning or gardening. One exception: If you’re pregnant, don’t sweat red palms. During pregnancy, blood flow increases throughout the body, causing temporary redness in more than half of expecting women.
For those (like myself) who don't have health insurance, looking at your hands is a good way to know if you are in good health. But of course, this is no substitute for a doctor. So the next time you hold your girlfriend or boyfriend’s hand, look at them very closely. They will thank you for it.
As I sd to my friend, because I am always talking, -- John, I
sd, which was not his name, the darkness sur- rounds us, what
can we do against it, or else, shall we & why not, buy a goddamn big car,
drive, he sd, for christ's sake, look out where yr going.
Robert Creeley(1926-2005) was born in Massachusetts and later attended Harvard University. Prior to becoming a poet, he was both an ambulance driver and a chicken farmer. Later on, he became a professor at SUNY Buffalo .
Robert Creeley was largely influenced by William Carlos Williams and believed that “the words of the poem should speak for themselves.” This means that he would put the words on the page and let the poetry convey its message without him needing to explain it.
What I enjoy about the poem is its sense of optimism. The poet is speaking to a man named John and even though the evening darkness sets in, there is the need to “drive and look out where yr going.” John brings that voice of optimism to the poem and tells his friend to just stay focused. I get the feeling that the poem is urging to push forward through life despite times of struggle and hardship.
-Seth Nadler
Image source: http://www.poets.org/images/authors/rlowell.jpg Source: Vintage Book of Contemporary American Poetry
It was two a.m. and I was restless. So I went on a walk with a friend through the neighborhood, nowhere special. On our way home, we noticed a box of books outside a house. Something gold caught my eye. And out of the pile of baseball etiquette books and sci-fi throw-aways was an old, dark green, leather-bound book with intricate gold etchings. The top of the binding was damaged on the spine, worn away to reveal some kind of wooden material. Underneath was the name “Ben Jonson.”
Now I’m not a huge fan of Ben Jonson, but I can definitely appreciate this kind of find. It probably isn’t worth anything to anyone but a book-lover, but inside were yellowed receipts from when the book had changed hands. It started in Boston, and then St. Cloud, Minnesota. The last ones were from California: Promenade Deck Antiques and then Yesterday’s Books. Inside bible-thin pages, written in ink, were names of the book’s previous owners and the corresponding years of ownership. And somehow, this book published in 1853 ended up on a Brooklyn sidewalk. Now it graces my bookshelf as the oldest book I have.
What was Once Old is Funky Again: Louisiana Sun Kings
Looking for funky rock ‘n’ roll, rocking funk, rhythmic metal, or metallic R&B? Look no further than your own backyard, where you can catch the Brooklyn-based Louisiana Sun Kings jamming for a brief time before their summer tour across the country. This progressive band features the musical stylings of Noelle Tannen, Nikolai Shveitser, Eli Lamb, and Oliver Lamb, who happens to be one of Brooklyn College and the English Majors’ Counseling Office’s very own. Just a reminder, as we all slowly come out of our academic reveries, that sometimes the most exciting new creative talents are right in front of your face.
The Louisiana Sun Kings blend so many different genres of music together, it’s difficult and somewhat unnecessary to try to pigeonhole them into just one. It’s clear from even a brief listen that their musical influences cover a wide spectrum. But while there are elements of metal, progressive rock, funk, soul, and good old rock ‘n roll mixed in their style, the Sun Kings meld these genres together to create a sound distinctly their own. There’s no doubt that this band has roots but it’s equally clear that they’re not willing to stay tied down by conventional forms. With Tannen providing soulful vocals, Shveitser shredding the lead guitar, and the Lamb brothers bringing it all together with Eli providing the drums and Oliver the bass lines needed for a solid rhythmic foundation, this band is one to which you can definitely find yourself swaying along. The Louisiana Sun Kings are fostering their own artistic vision—one that is at once visceral and intelligent—and there’s an essential collaborative spirit amongst them that allows that vision to become manifest.
When we attended their show at the Red Door (though not exactly a club) on Saturday, we were not disappointed. The Louisiana Sun Kings presented a really strong set that had the crowd grooving and cheering. The band’s ability to foster a seemingly contradictory atmosphere of both intensity and chill enjoyment makes for a unique experience as an audience member. Every great musical artist or group starts somewhere, and the Louisiana Sun Kings are starting here in Brooklyn. So get on the bandwagon now; in just a short time they’ll be hitting the road and spreading their sound across these good old United States. If you don’t check them out now, you won’t be able to say you knew them back when. So if you’re a fan of live music, listen up: On June 3rd, they’ll be at Party Expo at 929 Broadway in Brooklyn, and on June 17th, you can catch them at Trash Bar at 256 Grand Street, also in Brooklyn.
Or if you’re feeling ambitious this summer, follow them on their cross-country journey and show your support for some local, deserving talent. There’s so much great music out there that it’s easy to fill your ears with the sounds of the great classics or whatever’s on the radio, but music becomes something truly worth celebrating when we can find it on the rise and identify genuine talent among the faces we see every day. Look below to find out how to access videos, music, and info about upcoming shows. And if you just want to tell Oliver how fantastic you think he and his band are, comment below!
- Brigida Pirraglia, Nora Curry, and James Rodriguez (A PBnJ Collaboration)
Enjoy one of our favorite Lousiana Sun Kings jams:
While my time behind the wheel of the Boylan Blog is coming to an end, the blog will continue to roll ever forward for seasons to come. In that spirit of progress, I bring you Adventure Time, Season Two.
Adventure Time - Season Two
Boylan Blog devotees will be familiar with Adventure Time from a post by our very own Celia Vargas last semester. (Thanks for putting me on, Celia.) So why cover the show again? It's that good. Really.
Season Two of Adventure Time came to a close at the beginning of May, and it was even better than the first season, if at all possible. The show picks up right where it left off with its completely off the wall sense of humor, and (more importantly), sense of fun.
Each episode of Adventure Time can be watched independently since the plots are self-contained, but Season Two still manages to build on the back-stories and relationships of its characters. You get to meet Marceline's (the Vampire Queen) deathless father from the Nightosphere, Lumpy Space Princess (pictured) becomes a hobo, and Finn the Human turns 13.
The second season of Adventure Time is exactly what a season two of a good show should be: progression. It takes everything that made the first season so great, and moves it forward without ever taking a misstep. With season three set to premiere this summer, if you're not already watching, now's the time.
Nataly A.: I think about my amazing boyfriend and how lucky I am to have him. And how, without him knowing it, he saved. It is so lovey-dovey, but that's what I've been thinking about lately.
Dan K.: They would hear a lot about the supernatural incidents I see everyday.
Perri L.:They would hear me constantly complain about not being in a relationship! Why am I single?!
Marina B.: "Did I leave anything at home?"
Peter F.: 9:58 - Man, why did I leave my pillow in the fridge again?
10:14 - I can't believe she dumped me. I think it's time to start eating cheese and listening to Limp Bizkit again.
10:27 - Well I never thought I'd top a picture of Charles Nelson Reilly as the strangest thing I've masturbated to today but flying buttresses are as sexy as they sound...
10:43 - I think the most annoying part of being run over would be my retina adjusting to the bright headlights the moment before being mangled in the wheels.
11:02 - Majoring in Theoretical Foosball was a poor life choice. At least I'll always have my Numismatistism Minor.
11:30 - Thank god I was born with blood pumping in my veins instead of mashed potatoes...
11:33 - OH MY GOD WHY IS THAT GUY OVER THERE STARING AT ME LIKE THAT? HE CAN READ MY MIND. SHIT. Think of something normal. PUT ON YOUR DEEP VOICE. Well I certainly didn't murder anyone today. DAMNIT THAT WASN'T NORMAL. QUICK THINK OF SOMETHING ELSE, YOU IDIOT. Hey, look at the time! Jerseylicious is almost on! DAMNIT THAT WAS WORSE.
11:49 - Hey, Jerseylicious is almost on!
Alexia F.: The Song Tough Lover by Christina Aguilar. It's been in my head for like a month.
Joel C.: I tend to mentally make observations of the people and things around me. He or she would probably hear a lot of those mental notes.
Dominique C.: Waiting for junior year to be over and wanting an excellent GPA.
Ashlo M.: "I want him, right now. Oh...he's cute...mmhmm." That's what usually runs through my mind.
The mind of human beings. It is the one thing that separates us from any other species on earth. The freedom to make our own judgments and decisions, to resist or control certain natural impulses, and to keep the workings of our thoughts to ourselves is quite a phenomenon.
Around this time of year, I always find myself thinking back to the childhood classic The Little Engine That Could, and that famous mantra "I think I can." I've never actually read the book, but I think I got the gist of it. As we chug along that train track to the end of the semester and into the sunset that is the summer, exhausted as we may be, always remember to give it your all and make that final push up the hill. Just like that train in the book did. I think.
-James
Oh, and if this week's Poem of the Week isn't enough poetry goodness for you, check out your fellow BC students reading their poems at Live from the Barker Room.
The first cell phones ever used among civilians were about the size of small bricks. Today, we have smart phones that allow us to search information, listen to music, write documents, and store books. It seems that soon, the smart phone will not only do all of the above (in addition to making phone calls), but they will also be paper-thin and won't use power when idle. This new technology does away with the all-the-rage touch screens and functions on mere folds and bends of the thin circuitry layers between sheets of plastic. Said to be the antecedent of paper computers, this phone can be filed away like the paperwork we’re all drowning in and want to ignore. It can be slipped into your pocket like the spare change you won’t find until your next laundry day and unlike the bulge it creates in your back pocket, it begs to be stolen. Welcome, readers, to tomorrow’s phone.
********************************************************************** Most College Grads Move Back Home
Graduation is just around the corner for most high school and college seniors. For the latter, however, graduation isn’t as exciting as it once was. It used to be that graduation meant the first apartment and that entry level job. Unfortunately, with one of the lowest job markets in history there is a mass migration of most grads back home. Not only are there no jobs out there but most students are also plagued with thousands of dollars in debt. Most college students take out loans that average $50,000 to $100,000. Twentysomething Inc, which is a young adult consultant firm, estimated that about 85% of students are moving back with their parents because of the combination of no jobs and massive debt. The Census Labor Bureau has recently reported that half of all graduates younger than 25 are so strapped for work that they are even to part time jobs as servers and bartenders. While we don’t know what the future will hold we can only hope that the graduates of 2012 will have it a bit easier! (If the world hasn’t ended by then).
Worried about finals, papers, or what you’ll do after you graduate? Fear not, because according to Family Radio and many others, the end of the world is just around the corner! The nonprofit evangelical Christian group based in Oakland, CA predicts that Judgment Day will be May 21, 2011 and encourages people to “save the date,” as seen in the above billboard and the hundreds like it across the country.
Anne-Marie Dorning reports that Family Radio selected this date after interpreting the Bible and calculating that it would be 7,000 years since Noah’s flood from the Old Testament. However, interestingly enough, Harold Camping, the president of the Family Radio network, and spokesperson Tom Evans, maintain that the group has “no use for organized religion.” Instead, their mission is to inform as many people as possible that doomsday is upon us.
Before you decide to drop everything and cower in an underground bunker, though, take comfort in the knowledge that Camping and Family Radio previously predicted the apocalypse would occur in 1994. Still not convinced that you’re not in danger? Leave a comment below and I’ll comment back to let you know when it’s safe to come out.
Phil Anselmo assumes his position at the front of the stage and a surge of pressure erupts. I feel my back twist and my shoulders crack as the mass of people behind me simultaneously try to move forward, compressing the space between themselves and the gnarled bodies around them. Sweat, carbon dioxide, split beer, and various sources of smoke clog desperately choking lungs. In an attempt to leap and claw my way up to something with a closer resemblance to breathable air, a flailing, screaming, 600 pound-shirtless man uses my head as the first pillar supporting his crowd surfing. And I am pressed back down into the suffocating muck.
The front row in the crowd of a metal show is a highly treasured and savagely sought after position. In fact, despite the relative dangers of suffocation, trampling, and neck breaking, it is a relatively safe position to assume: several bodies behind what can only be described as a highly pressurized and overflowing mass of people is essentially an open brawl, more spacious, but far more threatening and fatal. I recall one Metal patron remarking that the worst carnage he had seen was at a Slayer show, where someone was slashed with a box cutter by a manically Moshing punk.
Generally the Mosh pit is confined. However, a smaller Mosh circle may suddenly flare into fists at any given point, anywhere in the crowd, anytime. I have found myself crumpling into a rolling fetal position to avoid a fist or an elbow weighted with three-hundred pounds of drunken fury more than once.
So why pay $50 to get the Sh*t kicked out of you? For some strange and inexplicable reason, the kinship of shared violence seems to invoke a profound sense of camaraderie among the metal and punk patrons. And there's always an etiquette, you see, an unspoken protection granted in the course of the concert fellowship: after one metal show one of my fellow Moshers blundered up to me with excitement, "Metal Brother! That was one hell of a roaring good time! All for the sake of a good time." He then nearly knocked me to the floor with a brotherly slap-on-the-back.
Violence is fatal, highly destructive, the single leading ruin of civility. Yet, it is alluring, so much so people will work from nine to five to pay for a social space that supports and encourages it.
And sometimes I can't help but endorse the test of personal strength: I recall the fun of elementary school boxing in the playground as a kid, contained in the jungle gym, cheering fans swinging all around me.
I certainly do not want to live in a constant state of anxiety where my life is threatened at every turn. But thinking of a culture entirely free of direct physical contest and strain seems... hollow?
In any case, look out for and observe the Mosh next time you're at a Brooklyn rock show. Not to be mistaken for a punk or metal show: the rockers are usually by far more tame. Or perhaps just a little smarter.
The Power of Poetry is no secret. It can inspire greatness, serve as a therapist, and summon epiphanies. Its versatility is astounding. Therefore, it's to be expected that Poetry can fall on deaf ears.
Rives reveals this amazing attribute of Poetry. He discusses the Poetry he watched while working at a high school for deaf students. Rives’s skills with sign language, which is the title of the poem, allow him to reenact the students’ poems that were spoken through hands. This intensifies the delivery of his own poem.
The poems he mentions range from sweet to humorous to serious. Despite the students’ inability to hear, their poems still scream. Loudly. Their poems are felt, heard, and watched. Regardless if someone is deaf or mute, he or she still has a voice and Poetry is a way of having it heard.
And this is why Poetry is so great. It knows no bounds.
- Joel Cruz
Image Source: http://sharkreef.org/wp-content/uploads/BW-sign-languageDSC_0118.jpg Video Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbtVepS53t0
Solutions to the Mysteries of the World and Burning Questions
Imponderables: they’re everywhere. Why are elections conducted on Tuesdays? Why do other people hear our voices differently than we do? How are cats able to see in the dark? Why don’t movie theatres pop their own popcorn anymore? Which fruits are in Juicy Fruit chewing gum? Why do White Castle hamburger patties have five holes in them? Why are Wendy’s burgers square? Why are green olives packed in jars and ripe olives packed in cans? Why do some Baskin-Robbins stores charge 5 cents more for an ice cream cup than for an ice cream cone? What causes the holes in Swiss cheese? What’s the difference between an introduction, a foreword, and a preface of a book? Why are there two title pages in most books? Why are boys associated with the color blue? Why does an “X” signify a kiss? Why is June the most popular month for weddings? Why do we cry over happy endings? And so many more questions to ask!
David Feldman and Kas Schwan attempt to answer such questions in their book Imponderables: The Solutions to the Mysteries of Everyday Life. They do extensive research to find the solutions to imponderables that seem simple enough, but end up being much more complex than we ever thought.
With the semester coming to an end, we can put those textbooks down and concentrate on something more entertaining and still educational! This is the book that can answer those mysterious questions you may have had for a very long time. It’s a fun read and highly recommended!
For those who don't know, Technical Difficulty is a weekly BC radio show hosted by our very own Celia Vargas and her partner in crime, Pete Finnen, Thursdays from 1-3 p.m. in Whitehead Hall.
Celia has wanted a radio show to broadcast her craziness across campus since her freshman year at BC, and while the suits in radioland were iffy at first, Technical Difficulty has been up and running for three seasons now.
Technical Difficulty is a difficult (see what I did there?) show to categorize. It's not really talk radio, and it's not really about any one genre. Maybe it's best to just describe Technical Difficulty, and the word fun might be the best way to do that. It's hard to predict what you're gonna get on Technical Difficulty, but you can always bet on hearing some cool music (from any range of genres, movies, or video games) you probably never knew existed, and some ridiculous conversations you probably wish you could partake in.
Video might have killed the radio star, but the radio show is still as lively as ever, even if it's a little bit difficult.
- a Kerri Byam and James Rodriguez collabo
Oh, and for the skeptics that need some proof, check out this semester's season premiere: http://soundcloud.com/technical-difficulty/tracks Yes, it's worth it.
Do yourself the favor and check out Technical Difficulty and the schedule of shows for next semester at http://www.mywbcr.com/
If you were walking in lower Manhattan that summer morning, you might have seen people staring up at the 110-story buildings of the World Trade Center with their mouths open, with tears in their eyes. New Yorkers were shocked; the event was unprecedented. A 24-year-old performance artist from France by the name of Philippe Petit was walking on a wire between the Twin Towers. As one of the police officers who arrested him proclaimed, it wasn’t fair to call him a walker. He was a dancer—a dancer whose movements were so graceful, whose acts were full of such beauty, that virtually everyone who saw him that day was affected profoundly.
August 7, 1974, the day that Petit spent 45 minutes performing on his wire between the towers, is not the summer day we tend to think of when it comes to phenomenal events at the site of the World Trade Center. Yet the 2008 documentary Man on Wire tells the story of Philippe’s adventure without once mentioning the events of September 11, 2001. The film is layered with implicit memory, but it’s hardly somber; Petit’s animated vitality permeates the interviews and the real and recreated footage of the preparation and execution of the walk. Man on Wire is cognizant of its own inevitable cultural and historical associations, yet it is perhaps all the more adamantly a narrative of creation rather than destruction because of this self-awareness. We see the towers being built rather than destroyed, and we see creative reenactments of the story rather than stock footage. The film is at once a story of both truth and performance; themes that are aptly captured in the form of creative documentation.
After watching Man on Wire, I found myself questioning why it felt more like a narrative for our time than one for the 1970s. And I think the answer is not just that the sight of the World Trade Center carries such heavy and unavoidable implications for our culture; it’s a narrative for our time because it’s a narrative we need in our time. Our world today is about practicality—about money and production. If we can’t hold something in our hands or use it to further our individual or political purposes, then, as a whole, we tend not to place much value on it. But what if we had more moments like Petit’s dance across the wire? More moments in which our contentious political and social climate could be transcended by the creation of beauty for the sake of beauty, beauty for the sake of tears? Maybe we can’t. Maybe the nostalgic undertones of Man On Wire subtly remind us that those kinds of realizable dreams and pure beauty are a thing of the past—acts for a pre-9/11 era. But then again, maybe Man on Wire is a story of hope. Perhaps the divisive state of current world affairs is the greatest possible impetus for us to create moments that exist for no other reason than to take our breath away.
Check out the trailer below to see footage of the feat and hear some of Petit's enthusiastic soundbites.
- Nora Curry
Image Source: http://media.chattarati.com/photos/2008/09/man_on_wire.jpg Video Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EIawNRm9NWM
With Summer just a few weeks away, the English Major's Office asked BC students what books they'll finally be getting to after a long semester.
Jennifer .S: Sorry, but after a semester of six classes, I am done with books this summer. The only thing I'm reading is my plane ticket to California.
Lizzy B. :I'm taking a heave load of summer courses so I'm not sure if any pleasure reading will slip in, but I hope to read Edinburgh by Alexander Chee.
George L.: I am switching my major from poly-sci to English so I am going to brush up on Western Literary classics like Milton and Chaucer.
Amanda H.: I have a huge stack of poetry books to dive into. It will be a nice reprieve from reading textbooks.
Samuel W.: I'm a big fan of fantasy fiction and am hoping to start the Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan.
The Undergraduate Play Reading Extravaganza is nearly upon us! In one week, you can enjoy original plays written by Playwriting 2 and Independent Study students. This event is open to all so come see the performances in the Woody Tanger Auditorium on May 17th from 12:30 pm to 2:30 pm. Please show your support and tell your friends!
While the warm weather is supposedly on the horizon, don't let the fact that you can't sprawl out on the beach yet get you down. The ocean's overrated. Instead, celebrate that the end is almost here (academically speaking) and you just have to sweat out the remainder of Finals and you're home free. So while you're waiting it out, breeze through this week's Boylan Blog! - Kate
Imagine that you're a detective investigating a culprit accused for stealing bouillon. You enter the home where you suspect this item is located. As you scrutinize the area, you come across a horrid sight: a six-year-old naked child caged in a crib. It's obvious that this child has been neglected because she is covered in her own feces and shows signs of bed sores and starvation.
You approach the mother and ask her why the child is living under such conditions. She responds, "My child has Down syndrome and cerebral palsy. I keep her in the cage to keep her calm."
You're appalled and disgusted. You ask her if the child has been fed. You discover that the child receives one Pop-tart in the morning, one in the evening, and occasionally gets a sandwich.
You continue to quest for answers and question the father. You're informed that he created the contraption, which is a crib turned cage that contains the innocent child. You immediately remove the child from her prison and place the parents in jail.
This was a reality in Gloucester, Virginia, when investigators went into the home of Shannon and Brian Gore. They were charged "with felony, child neglect, attempted capital murder, and first degree murder."
Personally, what these so-called parents did was unforgiveable. A child should never be subjected to these conditions regardless of the reason.
A new study conducted at Boston College in Massachusetts finds that people who think they can multi-task are usually not too good at it. The research consisted of forty volunteers who believed they were "pretty good at multitasking." They were placed in a room and told not to use their cell phones but can do anything else they please. Investigators set up cameras with the main focus being how many times the volunteers switched from the television to the computer. Results showed that the average was about 120 times in 27 and a half minutes.Volunteers believed that they switched their focus only 15 times the entire time. Now it makes sense why it takes such a long time to finish a project or homework assignment while watching television. When occupying your time with something it's best to stick to that something rather than throwing in something else that would most likely distract you. Watching television and attending to another task proves to be difficult because we have to redirect our focus every time we switch from the screen back to the task.
We were born into a hectic world, one which demands sometimes too much from our every day lives. As much as we want everything to get done at once, there is only so much our minds can handle at one time. It's great to be a multi-tasker, but after this study, we should ask ourselves how good are we really at doing more than one thing at once and how much better it would be if we took it one step at a time? It's okay to slow it down and focus on one thing at a time.
Between April 17 and 19, Sony's Playstation Network and Qriocity services were subject to an "unauthorised intrusion." The services, which allow Playstation 3 users to play games online, as well as purchase media, were initially believed to be the target of a Denial of Service attack -- a hack that simply made the services unavailable to its users. In the days the followed however, Sony revealed that there may have been subsequent attacks that comprised user information. Sony has still be unable to trace the source of the large-scale hack, but has released a statement saying that the personal information of its tens of millions of users, including credit card numbers, could have been obtained.
Sony's online services have been down for nearly a month, with still little coming in the form of answers. The company has stated that it would consider offering a type of "good-will" package for users, as well as the possibility of a membership in a credit report company, thought details are not yet concrete. For now, Sony is encouraging its users to keep an eye on their credit card statements for any suspicious activity. Comforting.
Not being able to play your favorite games online for a few weeks is certainly a bummer for some, but the severity of the recent Sony hacks has much larger implications. It raises the question of digital security, even concerning something as innocuous as a playing video games. As more and more aspects of our lives, and our transactions become digitized, it's important that we are able to recognize the security of our information just as we do our wallets. That a long standing, and credible company like Sony could be targeted by a hack this severe is certainly disconcerting, but should serve as a reminder of the degree of reality that exists behind the screens that separate us.
Chances are if you’re reading this blog post, you’re well accustomed to the routine act of using a computer to get your information and produce your written work. Many of you, like me, have probably never had to use another source to write papers, poems, or communications. Thus, the reign of the typewriter was widely regarded as long over when last month the world’s supposedly last typewriter manufacturer, located in India, announced that it would no longer be selling or producing the once popular and necessary machines. Though the art of typewriting was quickly declared dead across the media and Internet, various companies and individuals spoke up to claim that typewriters were alive and well in office use. But with the glory days of Remingtons and Underwoods far behind us, what does it mean to say that such an object or practice is dead? It may be a question worth considering before we start marking tombstones.
When objects are phased out of everyday use and our ways of doing things change, how do past methods and instruments fit into our collective and individual memories? When people use objects like typewriters for years, the items are not simply technical instruments that can be replaced and superseded by better methods; they actually become part of culture. We tend to think of such objects as antiques once they’re no longer useful—as small parts of our history. Yet they can be ways of tracing history and culture in a larger way as well, from the stories of the companies to unconventional uses, and, perhaps most excitingly, to the iconic works of literature produced on these machines.
As is often the case when things become extinct or archaic, a divide of extremes has been created in the typewriter “culture.” 99% of the world easily forgets that an item or way of life ever existed (after all, you can’t check your Facebook on a typewriter) and most of the remaining marginal percentage invests time, passion, and energy into preserving the past through collection, restoration, and, ultimately, the creation of a kind of subculture around the object of the past. Even as the world discusses the death of the typewriter, there are people who are making both hobbies and careers out of collecting and restoring typewriters, creating jewelry and other products out of the pieces, and providing information and histories about various models.
As I’m pretty sure half of my brain and heart are living in the literary and musical world of the 1950s and 60s, it’s fitting that computers still make my head spin and my restored 1930s Underwood typewriter feels like a more peaceful and organic instrument through which to produce written work. I don’t think I’ll ever adjust to using a typewriter for everyday writing; it would be impractical and time-consuming to ignore technology’s advances when trying to produce academic papers, and the grace with which well-trained fingers glide over a modern keyboard is difficult to replicate on the slightly rusty keys of an eighty-year-old typewriter. Yet when I write poetry, the transition from scribbled notes on scrap paper to the glaring computer screen seems somehow disingenuous, as Microsoft Word underlines all of my creative stylistic choices in red to inform me that they’re wrong. But if I take those words that were produced in feverish but quiet passion and type them up on my Underwood, there’s something about the sound of those keys that breathes a celebratory life into the words I’ve written. Something about the sound of those keys that challenges anyone who has begun to give typewriters their last rites.
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.
Maya Angelou is considered an iconic figure in poetry as well as autobiographical fiction. She was one of the first African American women to open her life publicly with an autobiography. She personally overcame struggles that no person should be forced to face. Angelou has a unique ability to evoke a sense of identity in every reader. Since its publication in 1978, the poem “Still I Rise” quickly became an anthem for minority groups around the country, making specific references to African American slavery (lines 39-40) as well as a woman’s strength (lines 25-28)—specialties of Angelou.
Like one’s confidence, illusions that Angelou uses are very much intangible. Like the air that moves (line 24) and the “hopes springing high” (line 11), one’s self-esteem cannot be seen; it can only be felt. She reminds us that a sense of one’s self worth, stems and only seems to strengthen in the eyes of adversity. “Still I Rise” calls on everyone to remind themselves and each other that of all mortal things, the human spirit is not one of them.
“Still I Rise” promotes a timeless theme—rising up against those who wish to see you fail. So to the victims of bullying, the suppressed voices in governments around the world, the verbally abused, and the part of you that thinks you may not be good enough, I invite you to rise, as Maya Angelou did.
I’ve come to the realization that I no longer know how to relax. College can do that to you, but a bit of light reading puts me at ease and can really do the trick when attempting to take it easy. Although I have an insane amount of work, I decided that I wanted to read a fun book that did not require me to write a paper. Enter The Sheriff of Yrnameer, by Michael Rubens, a wacky, totally out-there, sci-fi, space-comedy. The main thing to take away here is that this novel is a comedy.
The book centers on protagonist Cole, who is perhaps not the ideal “hero.” Cole is a space-renegade/smuggler who is deeply in debt and must run and run fast, unless he wants an alien laying eggs inside his skull. In fact, think more Han Solo, but Chewie is replaced with a rogue-alien bounty hunter and a ship full of frozen, orphaned children. It is while running away that Cole finds himself inside a top-notch space cruiser that in fact belongs to a true space hero, Teg; however, with Teg away Cole decides to play and steals the ship. Cole is unaware that the ship is actually filled with two humanitarians, a despicably gross alien, and frozen children. Somehow, Cole ends up having to deliver the children and the two humanitarians to the planet Yrnameer, short for “your-name-here,” which is considered utopia, a place simple and free from big companies and selfish corporate sponsors. Once on Yrnameer, Cole is again expected to do the right thing and fight against the thugs who wish to exploit the citizens of this peaceful planet.
The sharp and quick language, and the colorful (and sometimes way too up-close and personal) descriptions of aliens are what make this book awesome. It’s well written; the story isn’t so original, but the characters are. This is Rubens’ first book and he does a very good job of capturing humor and parodying the space adventure story.
Lord, Grant Me Thy Bounty, Thy Gratifying Identity
Musing On The Meaning of Fortunate Son
Staring down a copy of the Socialist Worker, numb and exhausted from sleepless nights and restless days, downtrodden with disgruntled conceptions of the future, a sudden burst of rage draws me from my mad ramblings. The overwhelming sensation burns into the edge of my palm, fingers clenched into a revolting fist. But as I a survey the Brooklyn landscape, I can’t help but collapse impotently onto a nearby bench, entangled yet again in the despair of inaction, confusion—who might I even protest? Where should one raise his or her erect fist against in objection? Am I simply twisted in a knot, obscured in the sensual fog of intrinsic bellowing hormones natural to young male adulthood? Is there no one to raise even a pointed finger against but myself?
All at once warmth and satisfaction round the corner in a rusted Oldsmobile. Always when in depths of the most tumultuous introspection, some seemingly reactionary element of the foreground responds to reorganize my tumbling thoughts. Lo and behold, an old hippie is blasting Creedence Clearwater Revival as he bounces down the cracked pavement—one of my favorites of the group too: Fortunate Son. As I listen to John Fogerty belt above a classic R&B inspired backing band, I realize that social frustration is an American tradition, better yet a worldly tradition. I glance back down at my $1 newspaper and cool off with determination: I may be staring down the monstrosity of our strange nation, but my vision is not illusory. Well, at the very least I’m not alone. And thank the fortune of my time and place that I don’t have to worry about being drafted.
So if you're in an angry fix, listen to Creedence. And if you're feeling lively, try to shout along with them. It's one hell of a fun challenge.
When I was in elementary school, there was a time when I would read only detective books: Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, and Encyclopedia Brown. Since I was just a kid myself, I never thought about what might happen if these characters grew up. Granted, Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys were already depicted as teenagers, but what about Encyclopedia Brown? Would he have eventually given up his detective agency and gone to college, or would he have continued to solve cases for twenty-five cents? The sidesplitting film Mystery Team seeks to answer this question.
The Mystery Team, comprised of Jason (Donald Glover), the “master of disguise,” Duncan (DC Pierson), the “boy genius,” and Charlie (Dominic Dierkes), the “strongest kid in town,” has been in the neighborhood crime-solving business since they were seven years old. Now, ten years later, everyone wants them to leave the mysteries behind. Jason is convinced that the gang just needs one big case to convince the town that they’re “serious, grown-up detectives.”
When a little girl named Brianna (Daphne Ciccarelle) appears, asking the team to solve her parents’ double homicide, it seems Jason has his chance to solve a “real” case, and win the heart of Brianna’s older sister, Kelly (Aubrey Plaza). Naturally, high jinks and hilarity ensue as the immature Mystery Team struggles to piece together clues without getting killed in the process. However, this is not your little sister’s detective story: a strip-club chase scene, a gun-wielding drug dealer, and a foul-mouthed playground punk earn the film its R rating.
Of course this isn’t a film for everyone (what film is?), but if you were a mystery reader once upon a time or you’re a fan of Glover’s work on Community as Troy, you’re more likely to appreciate the raunchy and ridiculous humor of Mystery Team.
It's never too early to submit to the Junction! Send in your poetry, short stories, and artwork to bczinesubmissions@gmail.com and bring a hard copy to 3416 Boylan.
The Poetry Club meets from 12:15 pm to 2:15 pm every Tuesday in room 2307 Boylan. Poetry Club is open to all creative writers, so stop on by!
Stop by 3416 Boylan during the week to pick up a copy of the latest Junction and information about majors, publishing opportunities, internships, and more!
Created by Dr. Roni Natov's English Majors' Counseling Office Executive Editor: Dr. Roni Natov
Editors: Kerri Byam, Katherine Conte, Joel Cruz, Nora Curry, Kerry Gertner, Sarah Gonsalves, Tumpa Mira, Margaret Sarsfield, Ryan Skrabalak, Ocean Vuong
News Brief Editors: Kerri Byam, Nora Curry, Ocean Vuong
Culture Corner Editor:
Ryan Skrabalak
Poem of the Week Editor: Joel Cruz
Currently Reading Editor: Sarah Gonsalves
Currently Listening Editor: Nora Curry
Currently Watching Editor: Katherine Conte
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