A Measure of Caution

As a child, I recall exercising a great deal of caution in many arbitrary aspects of my life, mainly due to fears that, while logical at the time, seem completely irrational to me now. When visiting an amusement park with my family, I often evaded attractions that weren't entirely visible to me from the cue line (after all, I had no idea what happened to that ride cart when it entered the tunnel!), and before viewing any movie, I would extensively watch trailers and read reviews to ensure that I wouldn't be surprised by any loud moments of sudden action. Now, as a fan of both action movies and rollercoasters, when I look back at my childhood self, I find it comical that I used to be so concerned about those things. But the reality is that while the subjects of my hesitation may have changed, my apprehension towards diving into anything I lack information about has been steadfast.

However, I hardly think I am alone in harboring this mindset. Sure, there are some people that are comfortable enough with risk that they're willing to raise their hands in class before a teacher has even finished asking a question, but the majority of us require more knowledge before we are willing to put ourselves out there. And while in many instances, this attitude can lead to limitations - some of the best experiences come from stepping outside of our comfort zones - maybe it is with good reason that we have certain information requirements that must be met in order for us to accept risk.

In "A Measure of Restraint," Chet Raymo discusses various stories that "illustrate the risks that are sometimes imposed by knowledge." While the piece is brimming with irony, what I found to be most captivating was the fact that in instances like Marie Curie's, it was not necessarily her pursuit of knowledge that led to her demise, but that fact that she didn't pursue enough knowledge. As soon as it was discovered "that radium killed bacteria," "a thousand and one uses were proposed for the material," inspiring a "radium craze" that caused a number of deaths before "the physiological hazards of radioactivity were [finally] recognized" in 1930. Maybe the Curies' initial desire for discovery was partly responsible, but it seems to me that the "reckless misuse of radium" could have been avoided if the same caution and need for information that we apply in much of our lives had been present in this story. So in spite of its hindrances, perhaps the doubt we exercise when weighing risk simply stems from a place of preservation and is not something we should try so hard to force ourselves to depart from.

Hypocritical Humanity

With the slew of Earth Day activities that our school engaged in this past week, I couldn't help but reflect on how hypocritical the vast majority of us are when it comes to environmental efforts. If questioned, I imagine very few individuals would be willing to admit to indifference regarding the fate of our planet and its resources, but how many of those same individuals truly go out of their way to recycle in times of inconvenience?

At marching band rehearsals in the summer, we take water breaks about every 30 minutes (if we're lucky) in order to combat the intense heat that so often stifles the field. This ends up allowing for 3-4 water breaks in the span of a 2.5-hour practice, and while I greatly appreciate the efforts of the parent volunteers who tirelessly fill up 250 plastic cups with water in preparation for each break, I know there must be a less wasteful approach to this system. We could avoid discarding almost 1,000 cups at just one practice if kids were forced to be responsible for their own water bottles, so though our school is doing great things in its attempt to raise awareness about environmental issues, I think multiple flaws still exist that we must confront before we are able to claim to be truly "green."

Of course, it's not just the realm of conservation efforts in which people are hypocritical. With Steven Pinker arguing that "hypocrisy is a human universal," this trait does seem to infect nearly every aspect of our lives. It's become such a frequent encounter to witness someone criticizing the political climate and government of our country, including those who remain idle, refusing to do so much as vote in an attempt to use the small power they've been granted.  But why is it that humanity remains incapable of avoiding hypocrisy?

In the case of "Words Don't Mean What They Mean," I think many of us are afraid of the truth. Despite what we may say about our desire for "people to say what they mean," honesty can be painful, and it often becomes much easier to sugar-coat problems, phrasing things politely to account for the fact that most of us aren't accustomed to the bluntness we claim to crave. But as Kakutani argued in "The Word Police," "calling the homeless "the underhoused" doesn't give them a place to live" any more than nonvoters impact the politics of their community. Perhaps the seemingly universal hypocrisy of humans is the problem we must first confront if we are to create lasting issues for solutions elsewhere in society.

Finding Middle Ground

Everyone struggles with perfection. Whether that takes the form of pouring over a project for hours after its completion because it still "doesn't seem good enough" or shying away from new opportunities for fear of failure, all of us place pressure on ourselves that's immeasurably larger than any expectations we reasonably hold of other people. But in a society that puts so much emphasis on perfection and finds such value in the "all or nothing" attitude, the commonality of this mindset shouldn't come as much of a surprise.

As someone victim to the influence of such an overwhelming culture, I have definitely found myself guilty of thinking in extremes more times than I can count. If I've had a particularly busy week, and find myself returning home from a band concert or track meet at 9:00 p.m. with only a fraction of the time I'd normally spend studying available to me to prepare for a morning test, it's easy to convince myself that any shot I had of succeeding is already lost. Maybe I won't have time to finish the entire AP Chem practice test? Well, better just call it a night then because if I can't complete the whole thing, I'm already going to do poorly, so there's no point in trying. 

While this reasoning might appear logical in the moment, reflecting back on it reveals how truly negative harboring an "all or nothing" mentality can be. Of course, it's only natural to want to put forth our best effort into everything we do, but when circumstances don't allow that level of dedication, isn't it better to do a little less rather than nothing at all? 

Perhaps it seems like a stretch, but I feel that a similar mindset has taken root within the movement of political correctness in today's society. With the many "gung-ho advocates of politically correct language" attempting to "prescribe what people should say," it has gotten to the point where it's nearly impossible, especially in the context of the digital world, to say something that won't offend anyone (Kakutani). In their attempt to promote diversity and end discrimination, the "self-appointed language police" have become overbearing, ultimately only damaging others' perception of their movement and silencing discussion about the world's bigger problems (Kakutani). And though I completely support efforts to create a more harmonious world by encouraging respect for all, if our culture is burdened with so much fear of straying from a perfectly politically correct vocabulary that conversation regarding necessary issues is neglected, can we really argue that progress is being made? Maybe rather than assuming all that exists is one extreme or the other, a simple awareness in our attempt to find a middle ground can be enough to move forward in a positive direction. 

Isn't everyone a little self-centered?

Arrogance is not an often admired characteristic. While we occasionally allow ourselves to find humor in the behaviors of a celebrity or media personality that seems especially narcissistic, few people have a high tolerance for egotism in real relationships. I'm sure we've all, at some point, encountered a friend, colleague, or classmate who while tolerable at first, eventually grew exhausting to be around because of their uncanny ability to steer conversations back to the same topic- themselves. After all, there's only so much one-sidedness a discussion can support before it transforms from a dialogue to a soliloquy. 

But aren't we all a little self-centered? In a sense, we have to be; our most basic survival instincts tell us that our greatest concern should be self-preservation. Of course, this doesn't mean everyone's inherently cocky, but given the choice, I think most of us would admit to having blinders on when it comes to our understanding of other's lives and struggles. As hard as we may try to be supportive of one another, I can't deny that there are times when friends have ranted to me about problems and I've felt relieved that "at least it's their dilemma and not mine." 

With such self-centered mindsets, it's not surprising that most of us don't realize how truly insignificant we are in the grand scheme of things. In "The Death of the Moth," Virginia Woolf gives us a taste of reality, allowing her readers to experience with her a "queer feeling of pity" for a moth's "futile attempts" to exhibit its passion for life in the face of inevitable death. Though to the moth, the "possibilities of pleasure seemed [...] so enormous," it only had "a moth's part in life," just as we only have a human's part in life in a world of over 7 billion others and a universe that we can merely guess at the scope of. 

Ultimately, our self-absorption isn't a quality that deserves direct criticism. So many people want to have an impact on society, to change the world, and so the fact that we fear confrontation with our own insignificance comes with little surprise. But with that being said, perhaps it is good for us to open our eyes and allow ourselves to see the world through a larger lens. Though it goes without saying, there are certainly many concerns that go unaddressed, simply because we cannot tear our focus away from what's right in front of us. 

Ostentatious America

While the 2017 Oscars mishap regarding The Academy Award for Best Picture may have created unwanted awkwardness for the film La La Land, such immense publicity allows me to assume that the majority of people have at least some familiarity with the movie. The feature received outstanding reviews from audiences and critics alike (an achievement that seems to be an impossible feat nowadays), but casting aside any personal opinions, I think everyone can admit that the story presented some interesting themes. Admittedly, most of the plot revolves around dreams and our willingness to make the sacrifices necessary to achieve them, but with all the satirical essays we've read recently, I was reminded of the remark protagonist Sebastian Wilder makes about L.A., commenting on how "they worship everything and they value nothing."

Though this line was spoken about a specific city, it seems to fit almost perfectly with the tone that both "The Plastic Pink Flamingo" and "Marrying Absurd" adopt towards American society as a whole. Our culture is apparently one too superficial to understand that the wedding business shouldn't strive for "peak operational efficiency," one that "hunted flamingos to extinction" because we put more value in their artificial counterpart. America used to be a land of opportunity, and for some individuals, maybe it still is, but it seems that modernity is pushing it closer and closer to a land of consumerism and superficiality. Is it true that our society has become so obsessed with extravagance, so fixated on commercial efficiency that it lacks the ability to appreciate authenticity? With both essays reflecting on American culture in the 1950s and 60s, I can only imagine how much more exaggerated our shallowness is today when it seems as though there's a constant craving for bigger and better and a need for everything to be documented in a social media post. It can be hard to see the beauty in simplicity while being bombarded with all that's new and complex, but it's a challenge we must be willing to take on. Sometimes "flashy" can be fun, but not when it causes us to lose sight of true essence and importance.

Where do we draw the line?

Where do we draw the line between morality and depravity? In some cases, maybe the answer to this question is straightforward; few people would argue that thievery is a behavior that should be condoned. But when it comes to our actions towards animals, "everything gets progressively more abstract" as we move from those most similar to us to those that have few evident commonalities.

For just over a year now, I've been a pescatarian, which for those who don't bother themselves with pedantic terminology simply means that while I don't eat meat, I still include fish in my diet. Maybe it just seems like a fancy word to describe a lack of commitment to full vegetarianism, but I made my decision based partially on health, partially on ethics, and partially on the fact that I'd never really enjoyed the taste of meat to begin with. All that being said, my dietary decisions did little to protect me from the discomfort I was confronted with after reading "Consider the Lobster."

On what basis do we decide which animals are acceptable to consume? Is it intelligence? Similarity to humans? Some arbitrary factor? The majority of Americans don't think twice about enjoying a burger or a piece of chicken, but are repulsed when asked to consider the consumption of animals like dogs, which though an uncommon practice, is still legal in some parts of the world. It's probably only natural to feel uncomfortable when the ethicality of your dietary actions is questioned, but maybe it's important to explore why we feel this way. I'm definitely not trying to argue that any one lifestyle is superior when it comes to morality because there's an admittedly considerable gray area that exists within this discussion. At the same time though, I think David Foster Wallace had a point in forcing us to question our thought process. Perhaps what morality really encompasses is the strength to deal with such questions in spite of the ease of avoiding them.

The Value of Work

I think it's fair to assume that at some point in life, every one of us has had an unfavorable restaurant experience. Maybe this encounter took the form of a meal seeming to take hours to prepare, a waiter presenting you with your dinner containing the exact ingredient you requested be removed from the dish, or perhaps even a waitress shattering your drink glass at your feet, spilling Coke all over your brand new shoes. In a flurry of frustration, you (or more likely, your parents) probably gave a tip that left something to be desired because your server "had one job," yet they still managed to screw it up.

After reading "Serving in Florida" this week in class, I think we all can agree that the stress restaurant workers are forced to tolerate adds up to a lot more than "just one job." Considering their efforts, it's frankly disappointing how little society values their work, casting it aside among other professions that students are threatened with in an attempt to convince them to study diligently. It goes without question that the immense amount of dedication required to become licensed as a doctor is commendable- their role in the workforce is critical. But the fact that minimum wage jobs don't impose the same educational demands on their employees doesn't justify us to overlook the essential roles these workers play in our world as well.

People look down upon and even shame individuals working as retail salespeople, fast food servers, and janitors, assuming that because their jobs pay less and are regarded as "easier," they are unmotivated, unintelligent, or high school dropouts. But we do this without paying any consideration to the fact that these people work so hard, often in multiple jobs, that they can hardly afford time for other necessary personal tasks, let alone the leisure activities many of us take for granted. Without people to help us purchase essentials, prepare our food, and clean our establishments, so many additional challenges would arise in our lives that we can't fully realize because we allow the efforts of minimum wage workers to fade into the background. These jobs are essential to our society and those that perform them deserve more respect than I think our culture delivers.