My Idea of Why the Future doesn't need us

My Idea of Why the Future doesn’t need us

          I will base my last blog assignment on Bill Joy’s excerpt from “Why the Future Doesn’t Need Us”. In reading this short story I found the author to use a style of writing that tries persuades people to share his point of view. I personally am not really convinced, although it does present a few valid concerns about the advancement of technology.

          His story is seen as the glass is half empty point of view, or what can go wrong will. I call this the “blue bird of happiness” theory. His choice of the title alone can make one easily see that his vision of the future is dismal at best.

Bill Joy is worried that robotics will ultimately be the undoing of mankind. That our own technology will destroy us, that we are the hand of our own destruction.

The article does a fairly commendable job in presenting compelling images. Like the concept of true artificial life, robotic style. He goes so far as to suggest that we as humans will ultimately be intertwined with robots. Such imagery entices one’s emotions, especially when it comes to people’s fear of the unknown. Man fears what man can’t comprehend or understand.  However, due to the lack of evidence and his tendency to jump to such drastic doomsday predictions without carefully considering the current state of technology, this article has a hard time convincing me, since I am  someone who doesn’t already share his own expressed opinion.

Overall, “Why the Future Doesn’t Need Us” manages to present its topic in an interesting and attention-grabbing way. I was amused by his taunting of robots taking over humans, but the persuasiveness of the article in my opinion remains fairly weak and questionable, due to the road technology is taking. It sounds a little too much like the plot of “Terminator” to me.

The Mind...To Trust or Not to Trust is The Question

Chapter Nine: Write an entry that reveals how the mind can and cannot be trusted.

The mind is an awesome think tank full of marvels and mysteries, but can you truly trust it? In this blog I will explore the trustworthiness of one’s own mind.

           

        We as humans are constant thinkers. We can’t shut our minds off. Our minds are a tool we use daily. We use our mind as the tool to make decisions involved in everyday tasks. Other than decision making, I see the mind as a junk collector. The mind has many corridors of memories stored within it. I don’t trust a lot of good memories in my mind due to the fact it is based on perception. A good memory makes a person want to feel that way again, and has nothing to do with what happen or where you were. This in turn can cause a person to live in the past and want to feel that way again purely based on the minds perception of feeling, or want to look to the future instead of living in the here and now.

          I have also determined the mind is such a powerful tool that we are programmed by it early in life. The mind will lie to you and that causes us to believe and see different aspects of life as not safe or unhealthy. This causes a hesitation to approach your problems head on. This in turn can cause anxiety and lead to a lifetime of avoiding issues due to the mind portraying things as unsafe. It also has the ability to cause undo worries, as it constantly causes us to dwell on thoughts we have or fears, this stress is not good for the body.

          I trust my mind when it comes to money matters, doing daily task, and school work. I trust my mind’s voice to help me make conscious decisions and if I have a feeling that something is not on the up and up, I go with that feeling. I think our mind does give us common sense and free will to know right from wrong.

         

             The mind is a powerful tool, and in its perception it creates a reality. A person just needs to learn to rethink and reprogram this tool to live in the now and face issues. 

Chang and hip-hop

Chapter Eight: Do you agree with Chang that hip-hop has come to be the way an entire generation sees their world? Does that make it more or less, as the caller suggests, “mainstream”?

 

          My next blog will be based on Chang’s outlook that hip-hop is a way an entire generation has come to see their world, and the suggestion that hip-hop is now “mainstream”.

                                                          Chang and Hip-Hop
          

            I do agree with Jeff Chang that hip-hop has become a way that an entire generation views their world. Hip-hop has given many voiceless youth as well as adults a way to get their opinions and thoughts heard. It has also given them a way to address change, rebel against society views with words, not actions, and be productive in a money making empire. It is good to see the young and old alike being able to express their creative side and be proud of it.

            The average person has had a misconstrued view of exactly what hip-hop is. Hip-hop is now evolving as basically a way of self-expression. This genre of music can be associated as a “Culture” all of its own due to bringing people together regardless of race or religion. Hip-hop has crystallized a multiracial generation and has definitely transformed views of the mainstream music lovers.

              No matter how a person feels, the notoriety of hip-hop has reshaped and become mainstream. Most people hate change, but music evolves just as everything does. In the 1960s it was peace love and the “hippie” pushing the movement. Hip-hop is no different. It’s a genre of music that unites generations and tells what a lot of people are feeling that don’t stand up and say it themselves. It’s an expression of one’s self about views of society in an artful way.

W/C 235                                                            

Environmental Awareness

This blog will concentrate on Chapter Seven: What is the importance of environmental awareness and / or environmental activism?

        

        After reading Chapter 7, I decided to write on the importance of environmental awareness. To start with environmental awareness is crucial to us and the earth. We have taken so much from the earth, and we have to give back, or the earth will be no more. You do not need to be an environmental activist to care and do something about our environment. One just needs to be aware of our environment.

       We have a serious problem with the greenhouse effect. It is causes so many changes throughout the world with climate changes. Look at the polar ice caps; they are melting at a high rate of speed. This melting is causing the ocean levels to rise. This rising of ocean water is causing mass flooding to low lying areas.   

          One person can have a lasting effect when it comes to environmental awareness. There is something you can do, no matter how small it may seem to you. Don’t litter the earth is one. Learn to recycle. Proper waste disposal helps out more than you think. You can plant a tree, and help the oxygen levels. These 2 small steps contribute greatly.

The biggest step one can take to conserve our environment, is make people aware of the issue. Education is the key, and it has to start at home. Teach your children from an early age. These small steps ensure care for our environment, and are of great importance to everyone.  

Prison System

Chapter Six: Foucault claims that there is a reluctance to be rid of the prison system. Why do you think this is so, given its failures, as described by Foucault?

          

In reading this short story by Michael Foucault, I discovered he had some very strong feelings about the prison systems. He truly felt that prisons actually enslaved criminals to the government instead of rehabilitating them. He feels that prisons are popular because of the failures they give birth to.

          Foucault felt like the prison system should teach an inmate a trade, and not issue meaningless tasks. He felt the task that were assigned were to further keep an inmate on an inmate track in life. I think Foucault was saying if you give a man bread he will eat for that day, but teach him to bake bread and he will eat his whole life.

He had a theory that the prison system was made up of 2 classes, the upper and lower. The upper class would be the guards on up the chain to government officials, and the lower class being the incarcerated. He said this system allows the upper class to further oppress the lower class, and train them to stay that way. This process is done most effectively by locking a person up, isolating them, and further controlling them by the means of economics. I think he was saying if you keep a man caged, he will act like an animal, and if you do not teach him a skill, he is doomed to go back to a life of crime in order to survive.

I think Foucault’s theory that there is a reluctance to get rid of the prison system may have some merit. Most offenders are doomed to be repeat offenders. The inmates seem to lack in education and skill, and if the prison system refuses to teach them in order to properly rehabilitate them, they are set up to fail. It keeps the hierarchy right where they want to be with their subjects tied down by oppression.

Foucault rationalized that the isolation placed upon the inmates, and being ruled and dominated with force at times, created monsters within the meekest of inmates. He didn’t stop there, he further claimed that this mind set spilled over into society as a whole and left two options. The first, if you resisted the deprivation and struggled with the constraints placed upon you by society, then you gained the label of being a criminal. The second option was if you succumb to what society wants and expects, then in doing so you lost your own identity. Foucault felt the loss of one’s identity was a far worse crime than rebelling what society sees as a norm.

I think we need a prison system. I think in a lot of ways it should be more regulated. There are prison systems that are way too lax and I feel this encourages repeat offenders. There is no fear of being incarcerated. They don’t have to work, worry about what to eat, or where to sleep. This concept keeps the doors of the prison revolving. The constant revolving door manages to stuff millions of tax payers’ dollars in the pockets of the government. The amount they receive is not the amount put back in to rehabilitate inmates. It keeps the hierarchy happy and they in turn build more prisons. If an inmate was forced to work, in order to learn a trade and earn his keep, I think this would spill over into the inmate’s non-incarcerated life. Education is the key to preservation, and I think that is the same point Foucault was making, only he did it much more eloquent than me. I feel like he almost felt the prison system was a conspiracy, and in a lot of ways it probably is. The higher class always wants the power, but we must remember that absolute power corrupts absolutely. Foucault makes a person think.

War Stories

Chapter Five: Write about your reactions to any of the war stories presented in Chapter Five.

  

          My Blog will now take a different direction. I will begin posting on different chapters of my English Comp.II Book. This first blog is directed towards an excerpt from Chapter 5 titled "Two Words" Isabel Allende. After reading this excerpt, I found myself left with a feeling of love not war. I think this passage had a lot of undertones to it that had to be revealed.

        

          In the beginning the story started out telling of a young woman born into poverty. She was so poor she did not know how to read, write, or even have a name. It was a chance encounter that led this strong woman to her fortune. She learned early the power of one’s word. She was so articulate when she chose her name. She chose the name Belisa Crepusculario, in this she felt she had found poetry, due to her name translating into beauty and twilight. Belisa Crepusculario, may have been born poor, and considered beneath many, but once she mastered the art of words, she had influence over others and was the one in command.

          Belisa Crepusculario was hired to write a campaign speech for the most feared man in all the land. He was a Colonel, which struck terror in the hearts of all. This was a legacy he did not wish. He wanted to be adored, loved if you will. He wanted to see admiration in the eyes of the people, and win over their hearts. The Colonel had Belisa Crepusculario write his speech, and once it was done, she had to read it to him several times, for he could not read.

          Belisa Crepusculario only saw a lonely man when she looked upon the Colonel, so before she left she gave him a gift of two words. Before she whispered the two words in his ear, she explained to him, that the words were his alone. That he could use the words as often as he wished, because they belonged to him. I believe this was the turning point in the Colonel’s heart. He looked upon her differently after she had softly whispered those words in his ear.

          The Colonel delivered his speech from town to town, and each time he left hope with the people. He had captured the people’s heart, just as he had wished. The Colonel’s trusted confidant, El Mulato, thought that Belisa Crepusculario had cast a spell upon the Colonel. He set out to find her and bring her back to remove the words she had whispered. When Belisa Crepusculario looked upon the Colonel, she no longer saw a lonely man. His eyes told a different story, he had softened.

          The two words were never revealed in this story by the Author. I think it left a reader with a more powerful impact. You could believe the two words were any type of combination, and the list was endless. I myself believe she delivered two words that had a meaning of you are not alone, or you are loved. Perhaps the Spanish words "Te Amo" were used for I love you. This is what he longed for the most, to be loved. Those words would have had a profound impact on him since he had never heard anyone say them to him.

          I think this short story delivered a message of the kindest words can melt the coldest heart. Let’s face it, hate breeds hate, yet love has the power to change the world. 

W/C 583

The Power of Love

                                                             The Power Of Love

          

           I first saw my husband at work. I had just been in an accident involving me being pinned to my home by my SUV. I must have looked a fright. I was only able to wear loose fitting pajama pants with my matching pajama top due to the injuries I sustained. To make matters worse I choose to complete my apparel with my house slippers. As he walked by I noticed him glance at me. I wanted to crawl beneath the booking counter and hide.

          After seeing him I made it my mission to actually meet him. I choose to work some over time on his shift and learned his name was Greg. We bonded instantly and became the best of friends. We were the best buddies for a few years. We played the flirting game, yet both dated others that never truly made either one of us happy, until the day came we were both single.

          I will never forget him riding up to my house on his motorcycle, with the pretense of “checking on me to make sure I was ok.” We laughed and hung out as all friends do until it came time for him to leave. For the first time ever, he told me he thought I was beautiful, and then in that moment he kissed me. I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. From that moment on we were inseparable.

          We decided to keep our dating a secret. We both worked for the Sheriff’s office, and even though there wasn’t a policy about 2 Officers dating, we didn’t want people in our business. After keeping our secret a year, we decided to go on vacation. Since we were both putting in for the same days, the secret was out.

Our Vacation

          The next year flew by, and at this point we decided to move in together. After living with Greg for a year, he asked me to marry him on December 1^st of 2010. I will never forget how happy I was at that very moment. I finally had found the love of my life and he loved me. It all sounds too good to be true right, well little did I know what dark cloud was looming for the next year.

My Beautiful Engagement Ring

          It was early June of 2011, and we were busy planning our wedding and honeymoon. We had picked October 20 to get married, and he was taking me to Gloucester Massachusetts, where we were intended to go Whale watching. Our plans were made and we were about to send the down payment on a romantic little cottage we found. We referred to it as our little slice of heaven. Then that day, that awful dreadful day occurred.

          I will never forget the date. It’s the one date that I can never forget. June 25^th, 2011. Greg was sick, so he was unable to report to work that night. I stayed over for an hour to help out, and then drove home to be with him. As I entered the house, Greg was sitting at the table trying to clean his 40 caliber glock I had bought him as a present. I placed my bag I carried to work every day on the table and asked him why was he up messing with his gun as sick as he was. He replied,” I had to remove it from the car since I sold it today, so I wanted to make sure it stays in good working order.”  I kind of scoffed at that idea and walked across the room to the kitchen to get a glass to fix myself a diet coke. As I reached the cabinet I heard something hit the table, I turned and looked to see the magazine had been released and fell on the table. I just shook my head and continued with my quest for my diet coke. It was at that moment I turned to walk to the freezer to get an ice tray that he was attempting to slam the magazine back in the glock and it went off.

          I lost consciousness and when I came to I was on the floor. I don’t remember seeing anything, but I could hear all the panic in Greg's voice as he was talking with a 911 operator. I knew at that point what had happen, I had been shot. I started to feel around my head and felt the blood encompassing my head. I knew it was serious, and I was in trouble. I made a vow to myself that I would not die laying on that floor. I tried to comfort my fiancee, I told him I was ok and everything was fine. My last memory was a Deputy entering the house, and I could hear Greg sobbing, even begging for him to help me. I didn’t know if I was going to live, so I wanted to give a statement to the Deputy to let him know it was an accident, and in no way was there any malice intent on the part of my fiancée. The Deputy told me everything was fine and I needed to save my strength.

Hospital picture

          I was life flighted to Shands Hospital. I do not have a memory of ever leaving the house, or what took place in the hospital. I have only had my Mother, Doctor’s reports, Detective recordings, and Lawyer reports to research those events. I had to have emergency brain surgery. The bullet struck just under my right eye and hit my cheek bone. I suppose this is where being hard headed came in to play to help save my life. Once the bullet hit my cheek bone it shattered it causing bone splinters to embed deep in my brain. The bullet continued an upward path and exited behind my upper right ear area.

 

Exit wound

 
 

My family was called in and informed I had a 25% chance of living and it was basically up to me to fight to survive. I made it through surgery and remained in ICU for several days. I had tubes and hoses everywhere my Mother said.  As I stated earlier, I have no memory of this and my Doctor’s say that it is for the best. Apparently I was unable to feed myself, get out of bed, or even speak normally. I was told at one point I had regressed to being a child, and often called out for my Mommy. I was told a week went by and my Mother took me home. I still was not even aware of whom I was or even cared I was in the world.

          My first memory, 2 weeks later, was waking up at my Mom’s house and wondering where I was. I had no memory of what had happen. My Mother then told me I had been shot, and Greg had done it. She further told me the Detectives had arrested him for premeditated 1^st degree attempted murder. I could not believe it. I remembered Greg, and all I could remember at that moment was our love, and there had never been one ounce of violence in our whole relationship. I couldn’t convey my feelings to my Mom. I remember I felt like I wasn’t me, that somehow the Lori I was no longer was there…like a prisoner I was trapped somewhere deep in my brain. I truly can’t even begin to explain how I felt.

          I had no memory at this point of what had really happen. I just had a feeling something was truly wrong. I couldn’t walk without a walker, I couldn’t speak well, and when I did talk I didn’t recognize the voice I heard. My eyesight wasn’t that great and I had no hearing in my right ear, I couldn’t even form a thought in my head. I remember just crying uncontrollable sobs, because I couldn’t think or get my thoughts out for anyone to understand me. I knew in my heart that Greg had not tried to hurt me intentionally, I couldn’t remember, but I knew.

          I finally was able to talk to my sister, and I took my time so that she could understand me. I needed her help. I told her something was wrong with this situation, and I made her promise to help me find out the truth. She first found out where Greg was being held. She called the detective, and he blew her off. He told her I was an emotional wreck due to being a battered woman. This set an alarm off with my sister. She knew I had always been the strong type, and if anyone had ever tried to hurt me in any way, I would not have allowed it. She told the Detective something was wrong with the whole story he was telling her, that things just didn’t add up in her mind or mine.

That conversation led to the Detective driving 80 something miles to yell and cuss at me. He painted me a picture of an abusive relationship I had been in. He told me how I had packed a suitcase, and it was on the table ready to go. He told me my fiancée never tried to help me, that he never called 911. That my fiancée admitted he shot me on purpose, and that he showed no remorse what so ever. As the detective continued yelling at me, I could hear a familiar voice in my head, it was my voice, my real voice saying, “It’s not true Lori, don’t listen, get rest, be strong, and remember.” I went to bed sobbing. I felt like I was a prisoner in my own body, and the captain was someone else. I was totally out of control.

          My sister continued to help me, and I was able to get in contact with Greg’s Aunt. She was able to obtain a copy of the 911 recording and I listened to it. I can’t describe how weird it sounds to hear your voice and not remember saying it or being it that situation. As the 911 tape played I heard the operator say, “911, what is your emergency?” and then I heard Greg’s frantic sobbing voice begging for help to come as fast as they could. This was the first lie I discovered the detective had told me. I remembered him pounding his fist on my Mom’s table telling how my fiancée wouldn’t even call 911 to help me.

          As the days past, I was getting stronger, and my desire to walk unaided became a must. I can remember when my first memory started to form. It was like a small light glowing in the darkness of my mind. I could remember coming home and Greg at the table. I remembered sitting my work bag on the table, and how thirsty I was and how badly I wanted a diet coke. I remembered hearing the loud sound of the magazine hitting the table, and I remembered turning to walk to the freezer. I remembered lying on the floor and not wanting to die, and the last thing I could remember was talking to my fiancée, asking him to hold my hand. My memories were coming back.

 I called the State’s Attorney right away and told her I didn’t have all my memory back but I knew Greg had not shot me on purpose. She blew me off. No one wanted to believe me.

Over 3 weeks had passed, and Greg was going to a bond hearing. I had been in contact with his lawyer and his Aunt. I wasn’t back to being the Lori I was, but slowly by holding on to my love for Greg I resembled a little of myself at least.

 I had to fight for over 6 months to straighten the whole mess up. Greg and I were kept apart for the entire time. We could only communicate by phone, but at that point I was happy to have that. We both went through a lot, but our love saw us through it all. The bond we shared could not be destroyed. My love for him was so strong that my heart allowed me to see when my brain was so damaged it couldn’t. The power of love can work miracles. I fully believe my love for Greg helped keep me alive, because if I had died, no one could have told the truth of what happen…what really happen, and an overzealous detective would have “painted” his picture of the truth to achieve his next undeserved award. I will tell you this, that person is no longer a detective, and I will let it go at that. I do not want to take away from my overall theme of just how strong the power of love truly is. I love you Greg!

W/C 2177

    

         

Us 8 months after the accident!

May 2012

Love Conquers All

Lessons Learned From a Small School

 

Chapter Three: Write a narrative from your school experience that encapsulates an important lesson you and perhaps others were able to learn. How did/has this experience shape(d) you?

     
         I went to a very small country school called Lee Jr. High School. Our motto was "Little but Proud". I started playing softball in the 6th grade. I was so proud to be a Lee Rocket! Our school was very poor, so we could not afford uniforms or safety equipment. I played catcher, so safety equipment would have been real nice. I once asked my Coach, why I didn’t I have all the safety gear the other catchers had. I will never forget his response. He leaned down and whispered, “Lori Anne, you don’t need that stuff, you are tough enough”. 

        
          The comment has stuck with me throughout my life, and whenever I was facing some real hard areas in life, and I would wonder “Why me?” I would hear my coach’s voice saying, “Lori Anne you are tough enough.” Those simple words whispered to a child in order to shield me from knowing that we simply could not afford fancy equipment, yet building me up to keep going, gave me strength in other areas of my life. We were a small group of kids in a poor community, but we played our hearts out, we rarely won a game, but I don’t ever remember not having fun. We did it for the love of the game and the fun of playing it. In the end we were all tough enough and we were winners!