Yes, I’m a hip, tech-savvy twenty-something. Yes, I’d like to have access to the markets available on twitter. Yes, I know I need twitter to see what’s “trending” and keep up in this hyper-saturated, hyper-competitive, media marketplace. No, I couldn’t stand to be reduced to getting my news from TV and Time Magazine. But really world? Twitter?
As an aspiring educator, I’m supposed to help students get to a cognitive level that allows them to grasp abstractions. Ironically, since we cannot see an immediate product, we will continue to kill our educational system by inches.
My Beck-binges wouldn’t matter if I didn’t always believe him. Unfortunately, I find myself shaking in my combat boots at least once per broadcast. Perhaps I can blame my fondness for conspiracy nuts and willingness to consider their arguments, but I blame Beck’s utter sincerity. Who can doubt his commitment to America when he starts tearing up and shouting? It takes more cynicism than I can muster.
Despite Daria’s strong sense of right and wrong, she rarely participates, or tries to improve the world she describes as hell. She applies her knowledge of global catastrophes toward mocking her peers for their ignorance. Her growth throughout the series addresses this mocking and her self-handicapping, but skips over the larger problem: the world can be a lot like hell. Any attempts to make it seem otherwise are trite, shallow, status-motivated efforts to look good.
By now you may be thinking that if I’m too anything it’s too sentimental, and I’m temped to agree. But why not push forward into an era of renewal, light, and love? Leave your bitterness behind and join me as we become the best we’ve ever been.
A brief break from a more brutal spell this season, but from the window the scene does not seem atypical: The streets are white with salt, an old and frozen snow coats the grass and rooftops, and the sidewalks seem as lifeless as ever. I suppose I look apprehensive from the cold from habit. Some twelve degrees Fahrenheit; “So much for global warming” is the topic of conversation at the local Border’s Bookstore cafeteria. A corpulent and balding gentleman resting his coffee on a closed accounting textbook and his wiry counterpart lead the discussion among a diverse group, regulars, it seems, of all ages, or else a study-group affiliated with the local community college. “Better stop breathing or all that carbon dioxide will destroy the planet” et cetera.