Sunday, December 14, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Ironically, while reading through my research for the paper, the show Animal Police came onto the television (Animal Planet is one of three or four channels I watch, or know what channel they actually are). I sat back and watched it for a while, hoping for some inspiration to push me through writing this paper.
The show always angers me. Many times, animals are left abandoned by their previous owners, without food and adequate shelter. Other times they are removed from their active owners, who have physically abused them by malnourishment and beatings. What always bothers me is this:
why do some people think they are so much better than an animal that they can treat it however they want?I look at these people as scum. They are the lowest form of a human being who deserve to be treated like a murderer or a rapist, they deserve to go to jail.
Whether human being or animal, any human being can recognize the look of pain in the eyes of a living creature. Those with compassion can also see suffering, hunger, and loneliness. Every human being is born with the ability to exhibit compassion, but many choose to ignore it.
This can be related back to my paper in many important ways. One of the questions that philospiher Peter Singer writes about is this:
To tie what I wrote into my argument above, if an animal can be hungry just as a person can, it should have the right to food. If an animal can feel physical pain in the same ways that a human can, than an animal should have the rights to not be submitted to abuse. Many other rights of animals fit into this formula, and should be recognized when debating the equality of animals with human beings.
[In regards to the equality of woman] "Many feminists hold that woman have the right to an abortion on request... Since a man cannot have an abortion, it is meaningless to talk of his right to have one. Since a dog can't vote, it is meaningless to talk of its right to vote" (Singer, 319. Animals and Environment).
This is a topic that has always hit home with me since I was a kid. I grew up in a family that always had animals. From cats and dogs to guinea pigs, turtles, chipmunks, and horses, we've had them all plus more. Even animals that are viewed as "scary" such as bats seen in horror flicks or horses that tower over the average person in size can exhibit emotions that any human being can relate to. Any human being can engage in many stages of empathy with an animal if they allow themselves to do so.
Personally, I think that my love for animals has come hand in hand with my love and compassion for people. I can cry for a person just as I could cry for an animal, and could never treat either one in a poor manner. I'll admit that there has been times when I have treated another person poorly, everyone has and it is only human, but a true good person can recognize this, repent and "patch it up," and learn from it. It sounds stupid and preachy, but it is something that I have learned through school and being around people, and has helped me have many diverse relationships with many diverse people. Some of the people who you think can't teach you anything are actually the ones who can teach you the most.
The same goes for animals. They will teach you much about life if you can learn to listen.
This blog really has jump started my paper. I'd better get back to it.
I'll try to keep my blogging more consistent...
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
I wish I were in California, or somewhere warm. I wish I were outside, on a beach or in a forest. I wish I could feel alive again, among other's who carried me high and all longed to live and breathe for good and not "just because." I want to do more with my life, better things, and I wake up so many days feeling that I'm wasting my days putting half of my effort into school and slowly letting myself fall behind.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Today, sitting with my family of close to thirty people, I did a lot of thinking about my life. I thought about the direction I really want to take my life, and listened as I heard stories from my aunts and uncles about when they were young, and heard my other cousins talk about their dreams, loves, and failures I wish I could spend more time with them, they really mean a lot to me.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
I'm not too sure what to write about today; there was a terrorist attack in India and 78 people have been killed. Apparently the gunman were targeting Americans--go figure.
I don't want to talk politics on this blog whatsoever, but I feel like I as well as most other Americans are becoming so numb to all the murdering going on overseas. It's funny how the only way I found out about this terrorist attack was because I was checking out CNN's website.
I became numb and entered a mini-depression last year when I learned about Darfur. It's not my disappointment with our country that depresses me, we clearly can't help everyone. What makes me sad is how people can kill one another, and how others can allow it happen. By others, I don't just mean the U.S. However, I don't think most people in our country value life the way people in the East do; we have never been refugees, experienced genocide first hand, and for the most part, never experienced starvation. Yes, some people are hungry in our country, but it's not often you see an entire society who cannot find or afford to feed their children.
I don't like to talk about genocides and other terrors going on overseas. In my multicultural education class at Springfield College, a class that was created for teachers to learn to teach all students equally, we spent a great deal learning about bullying.
That's why I don't talk too much about genocides and terrors; what have I done to stop them? Nothing.
If you're teaching a class and you hear a student mutter a name under his breath, or push another student in such a way that it would be easy to overlook it, and you do overlook it, you are just as much responsible for the bullying as the bully is. The term referred to is inaction. If you watch a kid get beat up on the playground and you don't help him, you're as much at fault as anyone else.
At one point I helped raise money and awareness for Darfur. I donated money to the website. I volunteered almost nightly at a local Springfield food pantry, and for the first tie in my life, I felt like I was making a difference.
Now I don't do anything. This is partly because I'm busy with my new school, writing, pledging for a fraternity, and other selfish things. Sometimes because of this I feel like I'm losing myself. Becoming "numb" to things comes hand in hand with a loss of care, kindness, and compassion. I never want to fully lose that.
I started off with not much to say today, but I actually ended up writing a few words, huh? Everyone have a happy Thanksgiving, and as lame as it sounds, try and think about how thankful we really should be for the food on our table. Oh, and have some fun :D
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
"If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I'm about to do today?"-Steven Jobs.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
It only seems right that the first post in my blog be an introduction of a sort. I should tell you what I plan to blog about, a little abut me, and why I even have a blog; why I'm "blogworthy."
The purpose of this blog is to serve as an outlet for me. It is written in direct parallel to my website (www.thewritingofrob.com) in which I'd like to give great thanks to the designer of it Dave Estes, an amazing artist and my best friend from my hometown of Wallingford, CT. You can check out his website at www.dave-estes.com.
I need an outlet because, as we all know, life's not always good. I'm not a nihilist, yet I tend to write some depressing stuff. On this blog, I'll try just to write, good and bad, weird and strange, truth and lies. I will not, and I repeat, WILL NOT, report on my life, crying to you about whatever seems to be going bad for me at that particular point in time. This is not my journal; I hide that under my bed and write in it when I can transpose my emotions into a story or idea... or when I don't want to cry to a publicly read blog.
Plus the idea of writing whatever I want to be read by whoever wants to read it sounds pretty cool to me.
You can't categorize me just as you can't rally categorize my writing. Some people see me as intelligent; others see me as dumb, wacky, and crazy. Some see me as a writer, others as a student, and others as a personal trainer. Some look up to me while others hate me. Some days I dress nice, others I dress in my athletic-wear. I love animals, sci-fi, sports, poetry, my family, exercise, and all forms of art. What I want to be when I grow up is someone who makes a difference.
I believe that actions DO speak louder than words, and I am NEVER all talk. I agree that ignoring something that is wrong is just as bad as partaking in it, and I support anyone who stands up for what they believe in.
I also support passion. I support anyone who is passionate about anything: overcoming a fear, beating a record, athletics, graduating or doing well on a project. Passion is always accompanied by love, willpower, care, and compassion. Those are the traits that I look for in people that I choose to surround myself. They are the most important to me.
I can't half-ass anything. This gets me in trouble a lot because I'm an extremist; I love fitness so I become a personal trainer and aspire to be a bodybuilder; I volunteer at an animal shelter so I sneak home a bunny even though my moms allergic and my dad threatens to throw me out of the house; and I love to write so I create a blog and a website.
I'm busy with school right now. Most of the time I'm behind because I'm a procrastinator, I love to dream (and sleep), and I ALWAYS take on almost more than I can handle. I write when I can, and am working on trying to write a page a night. Here in this blog I'll keep you updated on my current projects.
Thanks for reading and I hope you'll revisit time after time and check out what I'm up to. If you don't, I can't be mad about it, because I probably don't know you. If I do know you and you decide not to visit my blog anymore, don't tell me because I'm really sensitive. I'll write a poem about it, or cry myself to sleep.
Until next time...