I have a complex relationship with social media, and I suspect most other people do as well. On the one hand, there is something entertaining about easily staying in communication with friends and family. People are reunited across great distances as if they were still in the same town or neighborhood or school. But this idyllic impression of social media is soon lost in practicality. On the other hand, social media can waste time at best and engender abuse, horde personal information, and spread falsehoods at the very worst. We are at a point where, I speculate, social media is responsible for the decisions made in most facets of our lives. This is mostly not provable, because the entities of Facebook, Twitter, et al. are so broad.
It is easier to look at social media as two separate concepts: “social” plus “media.”
For a long time, I have been struck by the ridiculousness of the seeming validity of social media. To judge oneself by the amount of friends, followers, likes, and reposts is not an accurate representation of our true selves. But the social qualities of various platforms is undeniable. It is a quick, easy way to surround yourself with like-minded individuals, united around themes and conversations. This can form, however, the dreaded “echo chamber” of too many people all in agreement. How social is that?
Furthermore, the virtual nature of these products means participants in online conversations lose the physical interaction. This means people can say whatever they want to whomever they want with little or no repercussions. For the vast majority of us, human decency is enough to keep us civil. But for a few people, hiding behind a screen is all that is needed for negativity to come out, which will only spawn more hatred. No social media platform is safe from rampant meanness.
The other larger problem with social media is the actual media half. The common complaint with media, however well-founded, is that it is a business and only shows us a sensationalized picture. Unfortunately, social media does the same thing. When you have a system of individuals sharing ideas, the same stories are naturally going to rise to the top. Therefore, readers have to work harder to evaluate information, work which is not always done. We have all been guilty of misreading a story online.
All that said, I still turn to social media as a lens for events. Instead of being the be-all-end-all integral to the goings-on of our world, social media is an effective tool to cultivate and bear witness to mass opinions. It is a forest, and our opinions are the trees. But we cannot get lost in the forest. And when discussions lose civility, I’ve had enough. Social media is just a tool; it shouldn’t be turned to drive people apart.
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Friday, July 27, 2018
Health: A Weird Heat Companion
Health is undeniably a good thing. We strive to stay in good health for the obvious benefits of a happier and longer life. No one ever wants to be sick, so we work to remain on the opposite side. Isn’t it interesting, then, that the work we do to stay healthy is not often considered “fun”? It’s not at all that being healthy is bad, but the practice of staying healthy is actually quite boring.
Look at the stereotypical examples of health. What do you have to eat to stay healthy? Fruits and vegetables are the top of the food pyramid, certainly not chips and candy. What makes a healthy person “in shape”? Going to the gym or running, not reading a book or watching TV. Even sleeping soundly, which is supposed to increase our overall well-being, isn’t particularly exciting1. I suppose the counterpoint to this is sitting, which purportedly takes years off a life, is not very interesting either. It is, however, when coupled with something rad like video games.
Of course, many people enjoy fruits, vegetables, and working out. I eat some combination of my daily value every day for lunch and dinner. But I would never claim an apple--the paragon of health--to be enormously fun. Not as fun as a bag of Twizzlers. Some people get a rush out of physical exertion when working out. But that feeling is usually coupled with aches, pains, and exhaustion.
Put another way, think of what we use to reward ourselves and others. If a child does something admirable, they earn a piece of candy. After we finish studying for an exam, we allow ourselves an hour of TV. What is conventionally considered “unhealthy” is typically a positive reinforcement! There is an opposition here.
In the end, what is considered healthy may not be exciting, but they are unquestionably beneficial. If something tastes good, there’s a chance it was processed to be that way and is lousy for you as a result. Meanwhile, just because something is bland doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be eaten2. As with American literature, Moby Dick may not be much fun, but it is definitely important.
1 But it is excellent.↩
2 I have a celery stalk nearly every day for lunch.↩
Look at the stereotypical examples of health. What do you have to eat to stay healthy? Fruits and vegetables are the top of the food pyramid, certainly not chips and candy. What makes a healthy person “in shape”? Going to the gym or running, not reading a book or watching TV. Even sleeping soundly, which is supposed to increase our overall well-being, isn’t particularly exciting1. I suppose the counterpoint to this is sitting, which purportedly takes years off a life, is not very interesting either. It is, however, when coupled with something rad like video games.
Of course, many people enjoy fruits, vegetables, and working out. I eat some combination of my daily value every day for lunch and dinner. But I would never claim an apple--the paragon of health--to be enormously fun. Not as fun as a bag of Twizzlers. Some people get a rush out of physical exertion when working out. But that feeling is usually coupled with aches, pains, and exhaustion.
Put another way, think of what we use to reward ourselves and others. If a child does something admirable, they earn a piece of candy. After we finish studying for an exam, we allow ourselves an hour of TV. What is conventionally considered “unhealthy” is typically a positive reinforcement! There is an opposition here.
In the end, what is considered healthy may not be exciting, but they are unquestionably beneficial. If something tastes good, there’s a chance it was processed to be that way and is lousy for you as a result. Meanwhile, just because something is bland doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be eaten2. As with American literature, Moby Dick may not be much fun, but it is definitely important.
1 But it is excellent.↩
2 I have a celery stalk nearly every day for lunch.↩
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Cooking: A Weird Heat Companion
I am not really the right audience to appreciate cooking as an art form. I don’t much enjoy doing it myself. Cooking a beautiful meal takes time, and unfortunately, I would rather spend my time in other ways. I also have a rather Neanderthal concept of food. I get about as much enjoyment out of a boxed mac and cheese as I do with an extensive meal. After eating, as long as it tasted fine and I’m no longer hungry, I consider it a success. Of course, I can realize when I have had especially great food, but I do not feel the need to dedicate an amount of time to recreate it.
When I watch cooking shows (usually for the human drama as opposed to the actual cooking) the actual process leaves me mostly baffled. I can follow directions, and my results usually match the accompanying picture. But the creative ability to experiment? It is alien to me. I do not understand how to turn the right dials to make adjustments and improvements to meals.
It is this experimentation which does fascinate me. To me, it’s the difference between preparing a meal and capital-’C’ Cooking. Almost anyone should be able to follow the step-by-step directions and accomplish a meal. That ability to analyze a set of ingredients, though, is what impresses me.
Like other art forms, cooking fulfills the individual. It is about having a finished product at the end and feel pride. On the other hand, people enjoy cooking for others as much as they do for themselves. In this way, the art of cooking is different from the others. A meal is inherently consumable. Sure, critics can express admiration for a painting or a song, but a recipient can really love an exquisite meal. That bond is special.
Even though I do not feel the same way about actually cooking myself, I can appreciate those who compare a finished meal to a freshly painted canvas, to a work of art. Arriving at the right combination of spices and flavors takes practice. There is no question to me: an elaborate meal--like any work of art--takes time, effort, and emotion. I sometimes wish I had an expert tasting palate and could tell exactly what makes up a meal. In the meantime, I’ll leave it to the professionals.
When I watch cooking shows (usually for the human drama as opposed to the actual cooking) the actual process leaves me mostly baffled. I can follow directions, and my results usually match the accompanying picture. But the creative ability to experiment? It is alien to me. I do not understand how to turn the right dials to make adjustments and improvements to meals.
It is this experimentation which does fascinate me. To me, it’s the difference between preparing a meal and capital-’C’ Cooking. Almost anyone should be able to follow the step-by-step directions and accomplish a meal. That ability to analyze a set of ingredients, though, is what impresses me.
Like other art forms, cooking fulfills the individual. It is about having a finished product at the end and feel pride. On the other hand, people enjoy cooking for others as much as they do for themselves. In this way, the art of cooking is different from the others. A meal is inherently consumable. Sure, critics can express admiration for a painting or a song, but a recipient can really love an exquisite meal. That bond is special.
Even though I do not feel the same way about actually cooking myself, I can appreciate those who compare a finished meal to a freshly painted canvas, to a work of art. Arriving at the right combination of spices and flavors takes practice. There is no question to me: an elaborate meal--like any work of art--takes time, effort, and emotion. I sometimes wish I had an expert tasting palate and could tell exactly what makes up a meal. In the meantime, I’ll leave it to the professionals.
Wednesday, June 27, 2018
Growing Up: A Weird Heat Companion
Whenever I hear the phrase “growing up,” my first thought is the lyric from the blink-182 song, “Dammit.” Of course, it is interesting the band I listened to most as a young person and still claim as my favorite band today never fails to remind me of my younger days. Immediately, I start to think of old friends and skateboarding and staying up late, things which are increasingly rare as I do, in fact, grow up.
Naturally, growing up is a good thing. When we are young, we talk about what we want to be when we grow up. It is always in this sense of wistful, hopeful dreams. What we “want to be” is the most idealistic concept of our futures. Regardless if those dreams are attainable, it is exciting to think ahead to what will come.
After we grow up, life is very different. We have established lives, happy marriages, delightful children, full-time jobs or any other measure of success. We are independent and can make decisions to better ourselves. At the same time, though, we have unavoidable complexities, like bills and responsibilities, we never used to have. We look back on childhood as a simpler time.
Part of this is the lens of nostalgia. We are able to look back on our former lives with warm thoughts. Unfortunately, we are not able to look ahead at the unknown, so we can only compare against the past. It may be a case of “the grass is always greener” where we do not know one side and cannot go back to the other.
The band, blink-182, was narrating their own lives when they sang, “Well, I guess this is growing up.” They were also narrating the experiences of their fans. Sure, there is some sadness in losing the innocence of childhood, but there is also a sense of empowerment as we advance in the world. I could still put on “Dammit” and go out on my skateboard, but it would not be the same. Not better, not worse, just different.
Naturally, growing up is a good thing. When we are young, we talk about what we want to be when we grow up. It is always in this sense of wistful, hopeful dreams. What we “want to be” is the most idealistic concept of our futures. Regardless if those dreams are attainable, it is exciting to think ahead to what will come.
After we grow up, life is very different. We have established lives, happy marriages, delightful children, full-time jobs or any other measure of success. We are independent and can make decisions to better ourselves. At the same time, though, we have unavoidable complexities, like bills and responsibilities, we never used to have. We look back on childhood as a simpler time.
Part of this is the lens of nostalgia. We are able to look back on our former lives with warm thoughts. Unfortunately, we are not able to look ahead at the unknown, so we can only compare against the past. It may be a case of “the grass is always greener” where we do not know one side and cannot go back to the other.
The band, blink-182, was narrating their own lives when they sang, “Well, I guess this is growing up.” They were also narrating the experiences of their fans. Sure, there is some sadness in losing the innocence of childhood, but there is also a sense of empowerment as we advance in the world. I could still put on “Dammit” and go out on my skateboard, but it would not be the same. Not better, not worse, just different.
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
Crying: A Weird Heat Companion
Most of the time, crying has the unfortunate association with sadness. Whenever we see someone cry, it is automatic to assume the worst kind of tragedy. Certainly though, this is not always the case. Crying is the ultimate feeling of empathy. We cry when we are emotionally affected, out of sadness, joy, relief, and so on. It is not a bad thing to cry; rather, it is quite the opposite.
As one half the theater masks, sock and buskin, the Greek concept of catharsis describes the restoring feeling of emotional release. Crying is the purest form of catharsis. I like to think we are slowly acquiring emotions over time. When we cry, we are releasing this pent-up level of emotion--good or bad--in an effort to feel better. This feeling better is a return to emotional normalcy.
For me personally, I do not feel ashamed of crying, even if I do not make a show of it. To me, crying at an art form is commonly a sign of quality. If I feel that emotional tug, it means I am connected to the characters, the setting, or the events. If I am watching a sitcom, for example, and I get choked up when two of the characters get married--not an unhappy event--it means the show was successful at connecting me to the characters. The show was able to make them feel more real, more like people. Crying is a validation of these emotions.
Stepping out of the realm of art for a second, of course, we have to cry in our real lives as well. Some events, both happy and sad, are powerful enough to lead us to a state of crying. It is just as much of a release for true events in our lives as it is for fabricated events in fiction. While we accuse people unable of crying as emotionless robots, not crying is not an immediate sign of sociopathy. Instead, some people may be capable of carrying more emotion internally.
It is unfortunate we so often associate crying with sadness. It is perhaps more unfortunate that we generally perceive crying as a sign of weakness. We all build up emotion, and we all deserve the right to release through the comfort of tears.
As one half the theater masks, sock and buskin, the Greek concept of catharsis describes the restoring feeling of emotional release. Crying is the purest form of catharsis. I like to think we are slowly acquiring emotions over time. When we cry, we are releasing this pent-up level of emotion--good or bad--in an effort to feel better. This feeling better is a return to emotional normalcy.
For me personally, I do not feel ashamed of crying, even if I do not make a show of it. To me, crying at an art form is commonly a sign of quality. If I feel that emotional tug, it means I am connected to the characters, the setting, or the events. If I am watching a sitcom, for example, and I get choked up when two of the characters get married--not an unhappy event--it means the show was successful at connecting me to the characters. The show was able to make them feel more real, more like people. Crying is a validation of these emotions.
Stepping out of the realm of art for a second, of course, we have to cry in our real lives as well. Some events, both happy and sad, are powerful enough to lead us to a state of crying. It is just as much of a release for true events in our lives as it is for fabricated events in fiction. While we accuse people unable of crying as emotionless robots, not crying is not an immediate sign of sociopathy. Instead, some people may be capable of carrying more emotion internally.
It is unfortunate we so often associate crying with sadness. It is perhaps more unfortunate that we generally perceive crying as a sign of weakness. We all build up emotion, and we all deserve the right to release through the comfort of tears.
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