Week/end of Morality - Part 2

... continued from "Week/end of Morality - Part 1".

... or so I thought. I mean, of course I do the regular things like eat my lunch/breakfast and sit and talk with my friends about the latest news or happenings and such - as anyone would - but the girls thing is quite the problem. Now, of course, it's always a problem when you don't have a girl, so to speak, but I'm talking about something a little different. Naturally, lunch and breakfast time are the best times to socialize and further your interest (wink) but when you start looking forward to these social hours to look for prospective soul mates, you start going down the ladder (and you don't want to go down, you want to go up) of Swiss psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg's "stages of moral development."

Lawrence Kohlberg. Photograph from LIFE.

Just yesterday - Friday, the first Friday/weekend of my junior year - I was texting said prospective soul mates on my computer, using Google Voice (which I might say is an excellent SMS device when your cell phone doesn't work). And, as I did, I started to think about my selfishness in doing so. I mean, who am I benefiting when I send flirty text messages to girls, trying to eke out the next "awwww" or "maybe we could meet up and talk about that sometime"? No one but myself, really, at least until said flirting turns into a mutually beneficial situation where both the guy and the girl benefit from talking to each other. Of course, simple flirting and trying to sweep a girl off her feet are sometimes the first steps to a relationship, so you might be thinking that my concluding that it's selfish is kind of stupid. Well, I agree - it is. But when you become overly concentrated on said initial flirting and sweeping, that's where the selfishness becomes evident and detrimental to your personality.

The person you're talking to might end up liking you, might end up never talking to you again. But when you're sending SMS flirts, the only thing you're exercising is your social and conversational skills. You're not making anyone happy, you're not helping anyone. I realized this after I discussed the night's flirts with a nonchalant friends of mine whom could, at least during our conversation yesterday, care less about flirting and trying to talk or get with a girl. What did she care about at the time? Well besides the weekend's imminent homework time, she spent the greater half of our conversation talking from a higher level of moral thinking, labeled in Kohlberg's stages as the post-conventional  rung on the ladder of thinking. She talked about how she wanted to do something for her friend's upcoming birthday, how her and one of her friends had hung out that day and studied together and gotten ICEEs at the local 7 Eleven. As I heard her talk about such simple, ultimately beautiful desires and events - as I heard her talk about the beauty of spending time with a good friend, a time that both people involved benefit equally from each others' company ... I realized how absolutely selfish I was being in getting worked up over texting these girls whom probably could themselves care less about what my intentions were.

A bit of strong comic work, I know, but it's hilariously true!

Now, I don't mean that in a "giving up" tone. Trust me, I really am not that concerned with whether anything good comes out of these flirtish endeavors (though it'd be nice if it did) - what I am frustrated about is in either preserving or fostering my own selflessness. For as long as I can remember, there's been numbered occassions where I've thought about doing something nice for somebody else - leaving them a card in their locker, making them brownies. All that good stuff that makes people feel happy inside. That's what I'm feeling blue about. When you get to the level my friend was talking from yesterday - Kohlberg's post-conventional level of morality - that's when you achieve true selflessness.

Yeah, maybe we should spoil our countryside a little.

So to aid my bothered conscience, I've decided to start doing something for my friends. But I won't tell you what. 

'Til next time, friends. Good night, everyone.

Week/end of Morality - Part 2

Years Pass and How Do I Feel?

 A bit of poetry from me, which I don't write at all, really. I write the following, not in an act of spite or vengeance, but simply to express my feelings. May my feelings be right, and may they be defended by whomever decides my fate. Oh, and tell me what you think of my poetry skills!

For two years

since I knew you to be friendly, I tried

and thought I succeeded

in breaching your human barrier. 

But at times I felt

like I'd been pushed back to square one. 

I can't blame you for who you are

But I can't let this pass either

It's difficult to decide

in an age of words unspoken and of words that hurt

when to consider your feelings the truth

and when to discard them, for they are not true. 

I tried for a long, long time

to try to equal those whose affection you sought.

But through the passage of time, newfound

understanding has led me to think differently.

It would be a crime to say

that we've not spent good times;

times where we connected in a way

that only the best of pals do.

But those times are the exception, 

not the norm. Instead, 

feeling like it didn't matter, 

dealing with you not caring, 

dealing with your indifference,

dealing with your bipolar soul, it seems, is what I usually find myself doing.

And as of recently, 

dealing with the truth. 

There is sympathy and unconditional positive regard in you;

that is what I seek. 

Why don't you value my intentions

instead of pleasing someone else?

I give it to you in layman's terms -

it strikes my last nerve

when I see you acting out of character

to please someone whom you oftentimes considered unworthy. 

I cannot be adamant about hate, 

for my condition forbids me, 

but I can be adamant about that which makes sense. 

And what makes sense to me today

is that you've got me on a leash. 

That you relish a challenge, 

that you don't care for your allies, 

and instead aim to please the enemy. 

These are someone else's words, 

and they can only do me one of two things -

make me acknowledge the truth of things

or hurt, hurt, hurt our labored friendship. 

I hope, 

for the better of myself, my conscience, 

and you, 

that these words are wise, and correct. 

I'm not religious

but I'm sure that He only rewards 

those who do the right thing. 

I pray and look to God when I hope that this is the right thing.

Good morning, America. 

Good morning, world. 

Good morning, friends and family. 

Hold my hands and lead me to salvation, please.

Years Pass and How Do I Feel?

Week/end of Morality - Part 1

Hey guys! Golly, gee, I feel that I should tell you how my junior year's started off! So I will!

This past week has been quite the week. All new teachers, with the exception of my TV Production teacher (a class that I now have in the morning instead of in the afternoon, which I'm still undecided over whether it's better or not); all new people, since I share my new classes with new classmates this year; and classes that are Advanced Placement level!

This last characteristic of my junior year classes; I should stress, seeing as it's caused some important "life" changes. Mainly, a rigid schedule that I developed (and took a good amount of time to do so) well before school started.

It basically says, "wake up at 6:00 AM, go to school until 2:20, come back home by around 3:00, eat and nap until 5:00, do homework and everything you gotta do, including eating and chores, from 5:00 to 10:30, and be asleep by 11:00 PM."

But the most interestingly constructed portion of it is that big span of time from 6:30 AM to 2:20 PM! Let me tell ya about it.

OK, so I wake up at 6:00 AM and between bells and whistles, by about 6:30 - 6:45 I'm at school. Now, of course, besides eating the free, school-provided breakfast, you're pretty much free to do absolutely anything you want during the time between my arrival at school and 7:20 AM.

You could do homework, you could talk to friends, you could make out on the staircase, you could talk with your teachers, you can go to the library, you could buy a drink, you could make a baby ... well, OK, maybe that's going too far.

Hey, don't give me that face! Don't tell me you didn't think about these things when YOU were in high school!

But my point is, the majority of the eight or so hours that I'm at school has been fitted with a tight, merciless schedule - 7:20 to 9:20 AM, first period; 9:20 to 11:20, third period; and so on. But that small, teensy-weensy hour or so that takes place before school commences at 7:20, has been left completely unattended!

Taking 3 AP classes, and having to balance that with being the videographer for the school band, a secretary on the district student government association, and being part of a community service club, it would be the death of me if even this small hour were not assigned some particular purpose.

So, I went ahead and decided to assign specific tasks that must be carried out during this period, as well as the midday lunch period - an even smaller, half-hour period that's also been left terribly negated, and a period in which some of the craziest things can happen. I can't just go out and experience these breaks without a clear mission! So I began to think - what things do I not accomplish during the rest of my day that I could possibly do during these misguided time slots? Let's see ... well, the rest of the eight hours in school, I can't really do much about since it's all reserved for five different classes. The time between dismissal and starting my homework ... well, I'm not touching that! I gotta nap! And then, the time between 5:00 and 10:30 PM, that set aside for homework ... well, it's homework time!

Then I had an epiphany, and realized that those small half-hour to hour periods before and during school were to serve as the great social hours of the week! Thus, I made it clear one summer afternoon when I was pacing around my house, talking to meself, working out this fine daily itinerary - in the morning, and during lunch, I need to completely let myself go and partake in as much social activity and interaction as possible.

That means: flirt with girls, talk with friends, attempt to get girls, talk with friends, be frustrated over girls, talk to friends, meet with teachers, look at the sky, walk the halls, help/mock the freshmen, tie my shoe ... oh yeah, and I have to eat too, cause if I don't ... well, I might die, Doctor. I mean, it's either doing all this during the morning and lunch ... or like, working at Smoothie King, so ...

to be continued in Part 2 ...

Week/end of Morality - Part 1

Annual Reflection: Becoming a Junior

Sometimes you'll be doing something you don't want to do and you end up finding something inspirational whilst doing it. Then you feel inspired and you have to write, even if it's been such a long time. And it's tradition. 

   

Hey, everybody! Man, I haven't blogged in ages! I think the blog is collecting virtual dust! Look, there goes a virtual dust bunny!

But anyway, I've got lots - LOTS to tell ya.

Over the summer, I was granted the opportunity - well, following an application process - to be part of the James Ansin/Peace Sullivan High School Workshop for Journalism and New Media, a completely free program held every summer at the local University of Miami in which twenty or so high school students are brought in to live in the campus' freshman dorms for three weeks, during which they're given access to the University's School of Communication and produce a newspaper of their own, with a central theme binding the publication's twenty or so stories (at least one per student), replete with student photographs and design input. In recent years, audio and video work has also become a part of the workshop's curriculum, extending its length by about a week (it used to be only less than two weeks) and allowing students to partake in the new dynamic of journalism - web video. Based on their written stories, and the people they've interviewed along the way, the students make short documentary style web videos about eligible stories.

Not only all this, they're also taught by former journalists and current UM professors, video editors, as well speakers regarding the topic(s) they write their stories about (our topic this year was the Jan. 12 Haiti earthquake). And to top it off, field trips to the local newspaper and TV station are included. 

Did I also mention free food? Well that too. 

I feel privileged - truly privileged - to have attended this workshop. It was life-changing, a quality of the workshop they'd advised us about from day one. 

Sure, it meant three weeks away from home - only somewhat though, since I live biking distance from the University - but it was worth it. I made unforgettable friends - from cocoa butter loving Mupi, to seasoned video producer and editor Stoltz, as well as award-winning Haley and concert-loving Melissa. 

My interest in journalism only grew larger - interviewing people from my local neighbor to a geology professor in Mexico, dealing with the frustration from multiple rewrites to my story, learning about ethics, understanding the importance of story, and what makes a good one ... it was a beautiful, truly beautiful experience. 

To see our work, visit http://workshop.com.miami.edu/2010/.

And of course, one of the highlights was dorm life. We were spread out across two floors - boys and girls - but the fact that we were freely able to walk out into the hallways and down into the second floor at eleven o' clock at night made it very thrilling. 

It was like a little town - downstairs was Haley's Internet Café (she was the only one with a laptop), next door was Danny's Space Pudding Restaurant (some weird chocolate/peanut mix, I think, that she always shared with everyone); across the hall was Mupi's Arcade (he'd brought a 60-inch television and an XBOX 360, complete with a Logitech sound system). 

It was a world I'd like to live in - truly a taste of college life - and fortunately, despite all these distractions, I stayed focused and concentrated on writing the best story yet. 

Yes, that's me. Did I ever give that blanket back?

Luckily, so was everyone else, which only added to the experience - I was surrounded by people who shared my love of journalism, my love of talking to people, my love of writing, my love of making the best end product possible. That's something you don't always get in school, but here, dedication was alive and well. 

And so now, being only a week away from the first day of junior year, rushing just a healthy bit to finish my summer assignments on time, I take my five-minute break, sip on a nice, refreshing, ice-cold can of Coke, and I think about coming back to school. After the workshop, I feel like there's so much more I can come to school with now. Of course, I can bring new ideas to my TV Production/Journalism class - as you can well imagine, I learned a plethora of skills and concepts I knew little to nothing about beforehand - but there's a social component too. 

Experiencing dorm life was as beneficial from the workshop as was the "work" part of it. I got to talk to awesome people, but more importantly, people of just one or two years older that went to high schools in the next county (only four from the group went to a local high school). 

That small age difference, as numerically insignificant as it is, showed quite the leap in personality, in maturity, and in knowledge in these older peers of mine. Upon talking to them, I realized that they were already driving, working, having more "committed" relationships ... regular stuff you expect seniors and juniors to do and sophomores and freshmen to wish they could do, right? 

 

Sure. But it's just so unbelievably amazing - to me personally - how, at age 16, you could be eating dinner every night at the dinner table with your parents, riding bike to school, and having to come back home before 10; and only two years later, at age 18, you could be driving a car to school three-fourths of the year, and to work during the summer; paying for your cell phone bill, picking up friends from their houses or from their two-day parties and riding to the beach at your considerable leisure. 

Isn't it just amazing how fast we grow up? I for one will be sticking to the humble bicycle transportation option for now, but regardless - I wouldn't be surprised if I see a report in the Herald tomorrow regarding how fast this generation (whatever its name is) is growing! It's crazy! Absolutely mindblowing. 

My friend and I, for example, have been soul searching for a while, and so I often reflect on what it means to be in a relationship. 

Two years ago, it meant kissing and making out, if you got lucky. Today it means ... well, whatever it's supposed to mean. And two years from now, it'll probably mean something completely different again. Him and I are "talking" to prospective soul mates at the moment - "talking" being another dynamic of relationships that only entered existence for us less than a year ago - and it's really only now that we're enjoying newfound interest in the process that is getting to know someone, complimenting them occasionally (for fear of coming on too strong), being yourself, maybe going to go see a movie together, talking about important life stuff together. 

Our spiritual needs have changed, him and I - but who's to say they won't be completely different two years from now? Maybe the "talking" aspect of it all won't be a source of frustration in the future (it surely is now). Who's to say relationships, and our attitudes towards them, won't be completely different again next year?

Everything else is!

Regardless of any and all generational change - summer's ending, and the chance to keep growing during the school year soon returns. Summer is sometimes like a checkpoint, where you can reflect on who you've been, and who you'll be. 

Whatever happens, though - here's to an excellent junior year of high school!

Annual Reflection: Becoming a Junior