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Saturday, March 31, 2012

A Persons Choice or Enslavement?

           



The following is an essay I wrote in college. In this essay I explained how people aren't allowed to make their own decisions on their own free will. That other forces are put into account and they tell us what is right, wrong and how we should be in our lives. This essay received an F due to a "Radical Viewpoint" and "Personal Thoughts Based On No Facts".  




In the 1990s a rapper known as Ice T released a musical album underneath the name Body Count. Within this album was a track titled Cop Killer. This track was in response to the growing police brutality in the Los Angeles area. Within the song Ice T claims that—in reaction to police brutality— the people should head out and kill any kind of authority that resembles the police. “I got my brain on hype, tonight will be your night. I got this long-assed knife and your neck looks just right. My adrenaline's pumping, I got my stereo bumping, I'm about to kill me something. A pig stopped me for nothing” (Ice T). Reaction was fierce. Within a short time of the songs release, riots and police shootings formed around the country and government organizations wished to remove the song from its existence. When an individual shows obedience or disobedience to a certain person or group—whether it be an organization, god, famous figures or your peers—and if you have the conviction to do everything they tell you to do, you will be changed. From whom you were to what they desire to turn you into.
            
Examples of this are shown all throughout history ever since the beginning of time—even if you believe in the Bible. In 1973 a man known as Philip G. Zimbardo conducted a psychological experiment to find out about the effects of prison life. Zimbardo, a well known psychologist, created a mock prison and placed ten prisoners and eleven guards—from all over the United States—inside the basement of Stanford University’s psychology building. He wanted to simulate the psychological state of prisoners in this mock prison by making the sense of time lacking, the feelings of being powerless and make everyone de-individualized.

Within the first night riots broke out and the twenty-one individuals of this prestigious town took a turn for the worse.

”At first they (the guards) insisted that reinforcements be called in…. The guards met and decided to treat force with force. They got a fire extinguisher that shot a stream of skin-chilling carbon dioxide and forced the prisoners away from the doors; they broke into each cell, stripped prisoners naked, took the beds out, forced the prisoners who were ring leaders into solitary confinement, and began to harass and intimidate the prisoners.” (Zimbardo 736)

I personally think that these people wouldn’t act like this in a natural environment. Zimbardo claimed that they were all mentally stable, physically healthy, mature, law-abiding citizens. So why would a person as healthy and as normal as these individuals act in such a way that they become threatening to their peers? Why would the prisoners choose to disobey their present keepers, even though they new the present danger of such actions? Zimbardo followed with further research.

Zimbardo states that slowly after time the prisoners started to accept where they were and even started to behave even with the inhuman things the guards were doing to them. In recorded conversations changed from girlfriends, career plans and hobbies to escape plans, food complaints and irritating tasks guards were asking. “These immediate survival concerns made talk about the past and future an idle luxury” (737) Prisoners soon became violent and guards started to reign over them like dictators.  A guard wrote that a prisoner started to attack him and in response he hit him with his club, the guard became aggravated and wanted to start a fight with him.

Violence grew more and more as days passed and in thirty-six hours Zimbardo was forced to release a prisoner because of extreme depression, uncontrollable crying and fits of rage. A completely healthy individual became unstable just in a course of thirty- six hours within a mock prison. How could this happen? How could you be totally involved by an experiment that you believe that the fake aspects of life can actually be true? Do you actually have to believe in what’s happening or does your surroundings make what you believe in? I believe in the later. Naturally people believe in what is given to them, they take what popular culture says what is right. America paints the perfect human is lean, muscular and fair but is this true beauty? Outside of America it seems to be different among other countries.  Do Americans believe that this picture of an individual is perfect? It seems so because that is what we are served on a day-to-day basis.  

After six days Zimbardo’s experiment was assigned to set to close due to continuing violence and growing insanity.  David Rosenhan (A colleague of Zimbardo) states, “…Once a sane person (pretending to be insane) gets labeled as insane and committed to a mental hospital, it is the label that is the reality which is treated and not the person” (742).  Furthermore, previous to Zimbardo, personnel from Illinois role-played mental patients and staff in a weekend simulation of a mental ward. Soon after the start, the mock mental patients started to show signs of uncontrollable weeping, depression and hostility to further confirm the belief that the environment makes the person.

In several years prior to Zimbardo in the 1950s an experiment by Solomon E. Asch, a psychologist at Rutgers University, was conducted about opinions and social pressure. He showed a group of seven to nine college students’ cards with lines on it. One with one line and the second with a set of lines, the objective was to match the card with one line to a line on the second card. You would think simple but after several trials Asch began to change the responses. In one variation one person was varied to fifteen others. The subject was supposed to pick the right line while the others chose otherwise. When one said different than the correct answer the subject was swayed little, when two said different the subject accepted the wrong answer 13.6 of the time. When three claimed that the wrong answer was the right one the subject’s lack of choice turned to 31.8 percent (Asch 728-29). How could one individual accept a wrong answer even if the physical proof says otherwise? You can obviously see that one line is longer or shorter than another. Peer pressure plays a great role in a person’s decision; not very many individuals’ wants to be the “odd ball” in a whole group. One wants to be no different than the person next to him, this influences styles and thought processes from culture to culture—which makes humans unique. But every once and a while one person stands up from the social norms and demands change. This person becomes great in the eyes of his fellow people, isn’t this what we all want to become? Then why do majority of us in every day society act like everything is just a cookie cut to another?

Lastly In an experiment in 1963, Stanely Milgram (a Yale psychologist) wanted to know what motivated the Nazis to go so far to inflict pain on another person with desire to commit genocide. The experiment consists of three people the teacher (who gives a electric shock), the learner (The person who receives the shock) and the experimenter. The learner is set into an electric chair and is read a list of word pairs and he will be tested on the second pair. If the learner creates an error he will be electrocuted from small to increasing intensity. The catch is the learner receives no shock and the experiment is to see how far an individual would go when he is ordered to inflict increasing pain another individual. Milgram predicted that about six percent of the teachers would go full distance (Milgram 696). On the first trial the teacher asks periodically if she should continue, the experimenter says yes. As soon as she reached 210 volts of electricity she had no longer a desire to continue the experiment and left. 

After a while Milgram found that his predictions were wrong. Out of all of his subjects twenty-five of the forty teachers actually obeyed the experimenter all the way. When the experimenter accepted all responsibility of what happened to the learner the teacher. “The essence of obedience is that a person comes to view himself as the instrument for carrying out another person’s wishes, and he therefore no longer regards himself as responsible for his actions” (702).  A person feels no anguish for another when he accepts that he will get no punishment for his doings. So does this motivate serial killers to do all they can because they fear no punishment in the future? This may be so because serial killers seem to be emotionless including the sense of fear.

When do we as individuals stop obeying what we are given and told and actually think for ourselves? When do we have enough self control to have a voice for ourselves but also are above anarchy? Individuals show obedience and disobedience every day to break social norms and to do anything for their own self gratification all this is motivated by organizations, famous figures, your god, your peers and anything else that can surround you in everyday society. Ever since we were born we are blocks ready to be molded from the day you take your first breath to the day you lay six feet below. Forces of an unforeseen nature attack us everyday and choose to change our morals and how we view things. Humanity as we know it is getting more and more vulnerable to this force everyday, how will you be changed?



Asch, Solomon E. “Opinions and Social Pressure.” Beherns and Rosen 683-87.
Beherns, Lorence and Leonard J. Rosen, Eds. Writing and Reading Across the Curriculum. 11th Ed. New York: Longman, 2011. Print.
Gore, Tipper. “Hate, Rape and Rap.” The Washington Post 8 Jan 1990: A15.
Ice T. Cop Killer.
Milgram, Stanley “The Perils of Obedience.” Beherns and Rosen 692-704.
















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Thursday, March 29, 2012

Your Bright Lights



Bright lights,
Looking like your eyes
Looking like sunshine
As I touch your skin

Through a window.
What do you see love?
This may be,
the night of our lives,
tonight.

The sun goes down
and I wake you up.
We pretend to shout.
Saying 'How the hell can this be?'
Washed away in a sea.

Sleep in your room.
With your bright lights.
I swear I was blind.
Until I saw your shy eyes.
I was tossed around in the sea.
Till the day that you saw me.

Forever, 
in the skies.
Forever, 
in your eyes,
Forever, 
the sun is just to much.

Its ok,
if your crying.
Its ok,
if you feel like dying.
Its ok,
I am still right here.
For years I'll still be here.

The sun goes down
and I wake you up.
We pretend to shout.
Saying 'How the hell can this be?'
Washed away in a sea.

Sleep in your room.
With your bright lights.
I swear I was blind.
Until I saw your shy eyes.
I was tossed around in the sea.
Till the day that you saw me.




















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Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Listening For That Sweet Tune-Chapter 5: Chasing Silhouettes, Talking to Shadows Pt. 1




STOP
Have you read the preceding chapters?
If not then read it from the beginning
or
Read the preceding chapter...



Go to the beginning:

Preceded by:



I was yelling help on the top of my lungs to such a point that a gentle whisper was all that my voice could muster. No one was walking on my side of the street and when I ran to the other side to catch up with the people walking back and forth, they only walked away ahead of me and disappeared in the fog. I turn around to see other people on the side I was previously on and when I head back where I was, there they are again, behind me. I felt like they were just laughing at me in the distance, hidden in the fog but I never could find out. They were always to far away, hiding in the shadows, starring. A feeling started tingling from my head to my toes, I shivered the entire inch it traveled down my spine and a rush of cool air followed. 

This place is silent, almost like there is nobody here. I heard a giggle. Childish laughter that sounded so joyful I could be fooled on where I was. I looked around in several directions hoping that I could figure out where the laughter was coming from but the thickness of the fog made everything so muddled. For a few seconds I could have sworn I heard children all around me, ready to strike for a kill or play some game of detrimental proportions. I saw movement in the corner of my right eye, I turned quickly to get a better glimpse of it but all I could see was a silhouette. Whatever it was, it wasn’t trying to hide from me because it was skipping along its path. I was almost sure that whatever it looked like was indefinitely a small child. I looked behind me to see the body in the alleyway all tangled up and bloody but there was nothing I could do. I wondered who the man was and even if he was the one that I was chasing previously, he wasn’t going anywhere, so I left him.

I followed whatever was in the fog, beginning where I first saw it. I ran to my right hoping that I would be able to catch another glimpse but I didn't. It was like I was just chasing shadows but now, I can only wonder if I really ever did see something in the distance, maybe I was just seeing things. It’s strange on how your mind plays tricks on you. There could be nothing in front of you but if you don’t pay attention to what you really are thinking, you get that feeling of seeing objects in the corners of your eyes. After walking several yards I couldn't find any traces of what I saw in the fog—I couldn't even hear any laughter. Eventually I came to the point to where the apartment complex that I lived in was approaching in the distance. After a few more steps I realized that it wasn't how I left it prior when I was chasing that man, who is evidently dead now.

What was previously a large glass door was now covered in old wooden boards and plywood, through all the cracks between the boards I could see inside; everything was a wreck. I was confused—nearly given—how could this have happened and where was I going to go? I tugged on a few boards that covered the doors but it was solid—I wasn't going to get through with just my hands though I still tried. I looked for something that at least looked loose but everything was tight like someone just put it up—which is what happened—but I couldn’t understand how. Though I was a little a ways and I couldn’t have seen anybody, you think I would be able to hear at least something but no sounds echoed through the streets. 

Just then I heard a strange echo coming from inside the building. It wasn't a laugh as I have heard many times before but a moan of despair and fear. I looked towards where I first heard the noise came from but nothing appeared itself to me. The moans turned to crying, and then to anguish—it was the sound of a poor woman. Her sobbing turned very faint to the point of a whisper and then I could hear whispers but not from one person but two. The other voice sounded deep so I could only figure it was a man and I knew by now that the other was defiantly a woman's.

The mans voice talked most of the time—being in a very consoling, caring tone—while I heard the woman's crying in the background, from what it sounded like, the man was trying to help her to make through something that no one could have any control of, not even herself. The direction in which the sound was coming from became finer and from what I could make out, one of the voices was coming from Serenity. I could tell by how she spoke, though it is a hard thing to figure out but when you only remember one voice, that voice sticks to you for the rest of your life—like being deaf and then hearing your first sound. 


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Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Only You Two

The waves flowed our way.
While we sat by the beachside,
where we took our parts.
A right just to stay,
but the owners say that you were blind.
They told me to leave you behind.
I just want you to be alive. 

All I know, is what’s inside.
Sail away, to find our new lives.
I locked all the cupboards
and said our goodbyes
They wondered about us 
but we know what’s inside.
He tried to hold back
what he felt for you dear.
She loved you so much 
before you even cared.

So can you hear her tonight?
So can you hear his cries?
She walked to your door
just an hour ago.
He stood by the docks,
watching the light show.
There was a cuddle then crash
in the next room.
I checked just to see,
but it was, 
only you two. 
only you two. 

So I walked away.
It was only you two,
so I turned back and said.
'Where can I be? 
If you really care for love,
you need to give it away.
You may just get lonely,
for a period of time
but when I find the one,
I know that she will be mine

All I know, is what’s inside.
Sail away, to find our new lives.
I locked all the cupboards
and said our goodbyes
They wondered about us 
but we know what’s inside.
He tried to hold back
what he felt for you dear.
She loved you so much 
before you even cared.

So can you hear her tonight?
So can you hear his cries?
She walked to your door
just an hour ago.
He stood by the docks,
watching the light show.
There was a cuddle then crash
in the next room.
I checked just to see,
but it was, 
only you two. 
only you two. 














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Monday, March 26, 2012

The Child: Entry 22


STOP
Have you read the preceding chapters?
If not then read it from the beginning
or
Read the preceding chapter...



The Beginning:


Previously on The Child:


In comparison from where we were to the time of day, it was sundown and our journey today had only begun a few hours ago. It’s been a few days since we last ate something but Ville tells me that, that is a good sign.

'Where we are headed to is in a place that was once a desert a long time ago. Through the years the city has nearly vanquished the desert in which it was founded. Though the sands that were once there are under a thriving city, the climate remains as if the desert was still there.' From all the stories he tells me of this place I could only imagine how beautiful this city will be when I finally get to lay my eyes on it but for now, finding something that could help us live for at least another week till we reach this city would be much more appreciated.

As I was following Ville to the house I noticed that he walked very lethargically. There was no bounce to his step as there once was—it was like he was sleep walking. Though looking at his pace and then mine I noticed I wasn't gaining any length on him whatsoever, so it's most likely safe to say that I was in the exact same condition as him.  The air was dry and it became harder with each and every breath like I was eating cotton. Ville then turned to look at me—he was about a few yards away from me but even further from the house—his eyes were that piercing black again but he looked angry, almost like he was an animal himself and was willing to kill everyone that stood on his territory. Though he looked furious his actions were still calm but I was sure that something was bothering him.
      
'I know this place.' Ville said. 'It’s a place I went to a lot when I lived in the city, which means we are fairly close but there is something that needs to be done first.' He pointed at the building as he finished his sentence, which brought my attention to the condition of the building. It wasn't livable so I would be surprised that this is a present place where somebody lived. Maybe that is what bothered him but I wouldn't know for sure.

'This man taught me a lot of things; he was very wise and compassionate. I have to go inside.' Ville jogged towards the house as I followed. As we got closer I noticed more fine details about the houses roof, windows and even the wood that made up the house. All of which were broken and or had holes in them. I looked more at the wood and it had scorch marks everywhere and the wood looked partially burned but something stopped it because the wood was still firm and able to hold weight. From what I could tell, the house was a one story, one room, cabin like building; it leaned to my left nearly looking like it was going to fall over but something was still holding it together. By this time Ville was at the front door and I was only seconds behind him. He looked through the window to the side of the door by cupping his hands against it; he stayed like that for a while as I caught up to him. Ville was the first one inside and he looked around noticing that the place hasn't really changed since that he was last there other than the mess of neglect.

'I’m sure he is still here, he never wanted to live inside the city, he has to be here.'
    
'What do you think happened?' I asked. 'It looks like the house was on fire at some point, do you know if he had any enemies?'
    
'This city has many enemies Emery, every city has dark secrets and more than often as the days go by, the city is nearly comprised of dark secrets. It’s sad to say this but this is what has come to and we need to see if there is still anything left. I agreed and we looked around the house to see if there was anything valuable. I—in fact—didn't even know what I was looking for but Ville seemed to have an idea so I just followed his lead. He picked up several books and looked at the covers for a few seconds then tossed them aside, then pieces of glass and other assortments of jewelry. As soon as I got somewhat of an idea of what Ville was interested in I walked into the lone bedroom within the house passing a couch and flipped over tables and chairs.

When I entered the room I instantly found something that would be of interest to Ville. Connected to the bedroom was a rather small bathroom, I knew this because the door was open but within the bathroom laid a man having one arm up into the sink above him and another in a bathtub while the rest of his body was dangling on the floor. It looked like he may have slipped but when I paid more attention to his hand in the sink I realized that his wrist was tied to the faucet with a piece of rope. 'Ville?' I hesitated for a second. I was still in the doorway but Ville approached the room very quickly pushing me aside and running into the bedroom. He stopped in his own tracks and he looked devastated instantly while his eyes changed back into their natural colour and sorrow filled his soul.

Seconds passed and he became furious again; he ran to his right approaching a wardrobe and he threw it to the side and then proceeded to tear the room apart. He looked at me for a moment’s time and yelled something about me leaving the house and giving him some time. I walked out while cracks and shatters broke the silence. I sat in the living room while I heard screams of desperation and anger, this was the first time I’ve seen Ville like this and I hope it will be my last. 



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