Song of Solomon Extended Quote

I had to read Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison for my Creative Writing Workshop. Needless to say, I neglected to start it in time. I read 95% of it the day before (the other 5% the day before that). It. Sucked. It's not a bad read at all, it's just a bad read when you do it in one night without breaks. But I'm sure that's true of lots of books. Anyways, I just wanted to post an excerpt because it really struck me and I do what I want.

***

Truly landlocked people know they are. Know the occasional Bitter Creek or Powder River that runs through Wyoming; that the large tidy Salt Lake of Utah is all they have of the sea and that they must content themselves with bank, shore, and beach because they cannot claim a coast. And having none, seldom dream of flight. But the people living in the Great Lakes region are confused by their place on the country's edge-- an edge that is border but not coast. They seem to be able to live a long time believing, as coastal people do, that that they are at the frontier where final exit and total escape are the only journeys left. But those five Great Lakes which the St. Lawrence feeds with memories of the sea are themselves landlocked, in spite of the wandering river that connects them to the Atlantic. Once the people of the lake region discover this, the longing to leave becomes acute, and a break from the area, therefore, is necessarily dream-bitten, but necessary nonetheless. It might be an appetite for other streets, other slants of light. Or a yearning to be surrounded by strangers. It may even be a wish to hear the solid click of a door closing behind their backs.

-Song of Solomon Chapter 7 Opening

***

I don't think I really need to explain why this speaks to me.

Peace,

Lo

Miss Representation

My last post was about a feminist book that just missed the mark for me. And now I bring you: a feminist documentary that I completely loved. It's primarily focused on the representation of women in the media and how that reflects/shapes women's role in society. The title is Miss Representation (as the post title indicates), it's available on Netflix, and you should definitely go watch it right now.

For those of you that don't know, there's actually a test to gauge the gender equality in works of fiction. It's called the Bechdel test, and it seems like every single time a movie or show passes the test, no one shuts up about it. What  requirements are there for passing the Bechdel test?
1. There are at least two women (generally they have to have names)
2. who talk to each other
3. about something other than a man.
Now, how sad is that? The fact that fiction which passes the Bechdel test is so highly praised implies that it's a feat; that it's difficult. It really shouldn't be, but if you look at the number of top-grossing movies that pass (roughly half for 2013, although some calls were dubious) you might appreciate it a bit more.

This just goes to show that women aren't shown as complex human beings in popular works of fiction. They're objects, they're sidekicks, they're there to stand and look pretty while the lead male saves the day. On a side note, go watch Orphan Black if you want to see the standard roles completely reversed. It's my favorite show and Tatiana Maslany is an incredible, badass actress.

Miss Representation conjures up an important question. What responsibilities fall to content creators? So much in our culture revolves around the media and the media helps shape attitudes on many fronts. Should content creators be held responsible for cultivating equality? The documentary seems to swallow that fact readily. I'm not so sure. Yes, it's important and I'm not going to deny that I would love for content creators to be more socially conscious-- even if the consciousness were legislated. But not everyone has the same drive for equality. It's a job, not necessarily a soapbox. So as much as I think that corporations and the media should use their power in the name of equality, I'm not sure it's entirely right to demand it. However, I'm not a demanding person in the first place.

In what I thought was an amusing turn of events, the movie addressed some traditional Men's Rights Activist (MRA) concerns. Proving, once again, that women's rights are human rights and feminists aren't man haters whose dying wish is to enslave or kill all men. Women's rights and men's rights are closely linked; as annoying as it is to type the phrase 'men's rights'.

The movie ends by strongly advocating leading by example. Show people that you're a complex woman. Raise your children to question the way they see women represented. An overall, just be the change you want to see. If generations of children are raised to respect women and view them as equals, there shouldn't be a problem. Gender equality will be just another fact of daily life.

Book Thoughts: The Time Machine by H.G. Wells

Holy wow. This is most definitely how you do a time travel/science fiction book right. My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations right now, but I'm going to try my best. If you haven't read it, you might not want to read on, because this blog is about to get fairly spoilerific. 

Narration is something that I'm always hyper-aware of when reading. I seem to be more drawn to stories in which the story is told from the perspective of someone listening to a story teller for the majority of the story. It always makes the story seem so much more lively. The tale being conveyed has purpose, there isn't need for awkward "Oh yeah, you're reading a story still. Hi, I'm breaking the fourth wall." moments which takes me out of the book, and the story teller is telling the story because they're very excited about the events or they must pay penance for their actions (see: The Rime of The Ancient Mariner by Samuel Coleridge) which ensures that I'm going to care about the story and that it will hold my attention. 

Oh, and this style also leaves the author free to kill off/do bad things to the story teller, whom is usually the main focus of excitement and mystery. The listener of the story can simply take over, as they were in the background conveying anyways. This is the way The Time Machine was narrated, which delighted me. 

I was initially disappointed with the time machine. The disappointment stemmed mostly from my love of Doctor Who. The time machine in the book was just a time machine, while the T.A.R.D.I.S is, as we know, is for Time and Relative Dimension in Space. What can you learn from travelling through time in the same fixed position? A surprising amount according to this book.

The book gave me a lot of pause about the concept of "Peace on Earth" and progress. We're in a constant struggle for something. Women's rights, LGBTQ rights, economic equality, and human equality in general. I've always thought that this was a noble struggle. One that I will not live to see the conclusion of. So I never thought to ask, "What then? What happens when there is equality?" As Frederick Douglass said, "If there is no struggle, there is no progress." Of course, in the year 802,701, there is still struggle. However, this isn't immediately evident and there was apparently equality at some point. 

So the Eloi are free to frolic and giggle. They appear unconcerned with most things, are amazed by fire, and have short attention spans. Whenever I give any thought to the distant future, I don't think of regression. I think of people utterly dependent on technology. I consider that human kind as we know it may not even exist in favor of AI (I got this notion from Skinned by Robin Wasserman and thought it seemed fairly plausible). Yet here they are. They don't even know what fire is. It's as if society has come full circle, which is further confirmed by the Time Traveler's voyage to the end of the Earth. This circle seems fairly likely. Maybe my imagination just hadn't stretched past all of the technology and equality to what would happen after. 

I still don't entirely buy the idea that technology, written language, and ambition would so profoundly just...die out. Especially when there is a museum...18 miles or so away from the Eloi that the Time Traveler found. And why is the museum mainly filled with items that we could just as easily see in a museum today? Apart from the machinery that seemed new to him, the natural history and archaeology sections seemed profoundly lacking once you take into account how many years in the future they are. Why have the super ancient things preserved, but not the slightly less ancient ones? 

And then there's the genetic mutations, evolution, social castes, and segregation that had to take place to create the distinct Elois and Morlocks. In many ways, this book was a commentary on the world as 1895, when it was published, knew it. It also, like most enduring books about time travel and the future, is a still-relevant commentary about society today. We're still struggling towards equality slowly. We're still facing a future that we can only guess at. And the funny thing is, it won't affect us. It will affect our descendants in ways that we can't possibly imagine. I'd love to think that the effect of equality would be nothing but positive, but that's an unrealistic expectation, of course. Nothing is so black and white. Hopefully, any future state of equality will be more beneficial than harmful. I guess that's really the best we can hope for. 

I've told many people about the importance I place on endings. I'm admittedly predisposed to unhappy endings (they're more interesting) but as long as the ending is fitting, I'm fairly happy. I'm not even sure why I was so happy with this ending. It's probably to do with the element of mystery. Where did he go?  Why didn't he return? Is he dead or imprisoned? It's up to the reader's imagination, which is wonderful. The book makes you consider new possibilities by leading you to its own conclusions, and then cuts you loose to come up with your own. 

Overall, this was just a wonderful read. 

Kill Your Darlings

I've been lost in my personal sea of summer music/shows/movies/books and forgot to keep updating this.

I also never told the world about my undying love of the movie Kill Your Darlings. To all of the people who ask, or will ask, about my favorite movie, this is the one. Subject to change, of course.

Now, I'm going to assume that about 90% of you haven't heard of this for quite a few reasons. It's about the lives of A group of Beat Generation poets, whom the majority of people don't know or care much about. Daniel Radcliffe played the main character, Allen Ginsberg, and he doesn't really light up on non-Harry Potter radars. There's quite a lot of gay-ness and sexuality in it, which society at large is dismally uncomfortable with. Aaaaand it wasn't marketed much or released in theatres widely. It's basically a hipster's wet dream. Oh god, am I a hipster? I should see a doctor about that.

So why is it worth your time? Honestly, I think the reasons that most people haven't seen it are enough. They're the things I love about the movie. Literature mixed with history mixed with actors I love and beautiful writing. I don't know if it's 100% historically accurate, but it feels like an extremely honest portrayal. It's intense, dramatic, and full of epic quotes. Here, read some.

• "No, we're not going to kill him. Even better. We're going to make sure nobody remembers him."
• "Another lover hits the universe. The circle is broken."
• "And like all lovers and sad people, I am a poet."
• Lucien Carr kissed a woman out of nowhere, so Ginsberg asked "Do you know her?" to which Carr responds, "No, and I don't plan to. She tasted like imported sophistication and and domestic cigarettes.

Just the right amount and variety of pretentiousness. Anyways, you should go watch the movie before I quote the entire thing at you.

Where can you find it? It's floating around somewhere online, I'm sure. Or, there's also the revolutionary notion that you could buy it and support great art. Of course, the actors and most of the people that brought the film to life probably aren't in need of more money. Unless the money benefits other things I'm not thinking of. Christ, I don't know where my movie money goes. It's all very confusing. But you wouldn't steal a tv! Unless you would, then I guess stealing movies is fine and it's all justified.

If you need me, I'll be contemplating the economics of movie buying and the ethical implications of strange anti-pirating commercials.

Book Thoughts: The Book Thief

I was reading a book the other day (not a surprise at all). I use ripped up Post-it notes as bookmarks pretty often. So, seeing one on my desk, I grabbed it to use. Then I noticed that it had writing on it. This was weird because I don't usually write on them.

It said: "I am sitting here in my bed, warm. I have water beside me and I've just finished reading the book in my lap. What gives me the right?". Reading that hit me really hard. I remember writing it. I had just finished reading The Book Thief (which I wholeheartedly recommend) and it had gotten to me.

So this is what I meant: Countless people throughout history have had terrible lives. They've had terrible things happen to them. They don't have enough food or clean water. They can't even think about sitting down and reading a book for entertainment. They don't have the money for the book or the time to read it. So what gives me the right?

The answer is nothing. Absolutely nothing gives me the right. Basically, life isn't fair. It's funny, no one tells you that life isn't fair when it's unfair in your favor. They only tell you that when it's the least helpful. You only hear that when you can very clearly see that for yourself.

The follow up questions would then be: What can I do about this? How can I make life a little more fair?

I don't think that the answer is wealth redistribution, or raising the minimum wage. I think that the government is attempting to treat the symptoms to no avail. The real problem starts with individuals. Other people having more means that I have to give up some of what I have. You know what? That is completely fine with me. But it's not fine with everyone, or even most people. I can't force others to change, and that's also fine. I'm just going to focus on what I can do to help others how I can.

If the government wants to do some real good, they should focus on making college education free for everyone and give people the skills they need to provide for themselves. Oh, and cut defense spending. But that's my own personal rant that doesn't really belong here.

The bookmark gave me the idea for Book Thoughts. Instead of writing book reviews, I'm going to start writing Book Thoughts blogs. Anyone can read a book; or a summary of one. I've heard the expression "Books belong to their readers." often. I both agree and disagree with this statement. However, I do think that multiple perspectives on books are interesting. I think that the way someone reads a book, or the thoughts that a book inspires in someone says a lot about them.

They shouldn't contain spoilers, although I will make sure to give a spoiler alert if they do. I would like to hear your recommendations, if you have any. Just keep in mind; I have upwards of 20 books that I've neglected reading so I might not get to them. If you have your own book thoughts on any of the books I post, feel free to post them in the comments. I would love to talk more about them. Happy reading!

Living in The Moment OR Personal Ramblings...

Growing up, adults were an enigma. To me, they seemed like solid, amorphous blob. Adults were almost all the same person to me. They were the “them” in the “us vs. them”. They were the ones that told us “No.” and “Eat your dinner” and “Be quiet” and that “The adults are talking”. The rift between us and them was clearly marked and maintained by both sides. The adults made sure to condescend, and the other kids made sure to call kids found conspiring with the adults teacher's pets and goody-two-shoes. 

The fact that, one day, I would be a “them” instead of an “us” never really occurred to me. Or rather, I wasn’t concerned about it. It was too far in the future. Life is long and once you’re an adult you’re basically dead. So why worry about it?

No, I’m 100% sure I never thought those exact things, but that was the underlying sentiment.

The thing about my life is that I set up moments. These moments always mean that my perspective will change. My turning points so far have been: going on a People to People trip, transferring to public school, losing my religion *guitar starts playing*, going to college early, driving, *redacted for personal reasons*, and turning 18. There are lots of smaller moments, but those are the big ones.

 I suppose that my moments are what people would call epiphanies. I don’t call them that because it’s a lame word.

But this is about my turning 18 moment. I knew that it would be a change for me in a your-life-will-never-be-the-same way. I didn't know how. It was when several looming truths all came together for me.

•       I've always had the thought that as I got older, life would continue to get better and more exciting. It was an empirically proven truth. I still want it to be true. However, I've also realized that life is more of a roller coaster than I would like it to be. Life doesn't get better and more exciting because we want it to. It gets better and more exciting because we make it happen.

•        People are boring. Maybe that’s why I like reading books so much. I can predict people’s secrets. They can be so painfully evident. I want the people you read about in books. The ones that you never know what they’ll say or do next. Or the ones that will do something embarrassing in public because they don’t care what anyone thinks of them. Where are the people that just live? Why can’t people just do things because they feel good? Why can’t people do things for the experience?

•       If you’re looking for some grand, ultimate meaning in your life, you’re probably not going to find it. You can’t live every day looking forward to the day when suddenly, your life matters. Some people just want to be a hero; whatever that means to them. Some people want to be remembered. I think we all want something, whether we admit it or not. But the meaning is in the little things, and the little things are the ones you’ll miss if you’re looking at tomorrow or yesterday instead.

•       Which brings me to yesterday. The past can be addictive. There are things there we will never have again: certain friends, loved ones, places, and memories. Remembering is not inherently bad, but when it becomes an obsession, or when you constantly feel the need to deny it, it becomes a problem.

•       Live your life today and make vague plans for tomorrow. That’s my goal. Do you really want to look  back in 5 years and remember obsessing over the past/future? I don’t.

       Living in the moment always gets a bad rap. I don’t know why. I think that living in the moment is potentially one of the most beautiful things you can do. It’s freedom. I think when people condemn “live in the moment” mindsets, they think of recklessness. People who live in the moment recklessly aren't living in the moment; they’re dying in the moment. There’s a good chance that they’re using it as an escape. Living in the moment just means enjoying where you’re at now. The future’s not here so I’m not going to concern myself with it too much.

I don’t know if I’m talking to you or myself anymore. I also don’t know what to make of all of this. I don’t think that I need to know right now and I don’t know that I need to make anything of it. Some things just are. 

Ads and Layout

I'm going to be blogging a lot more now that college is (almost) over. I should focus on studying hard for finals...but I'll probably just study a little and watch documentaries. Oops.

I've realized that I need to make some changes to my blog, and that's the real point of this post. If you don't have Adblock, you can see some incredibly ugly and poorly positioned advertisements on my blog right now.

I hate them. I think that they make the whole thing look desperate and cheap. They aren't even ads for useful things from what I've seen. So I'm either going to: 1. Take away most of them and heavily filter the content or 2. Take them down entirely.

I also was considering changing the overall layout. I love the color, but it screams winter to me.

So let me know in the comments, on Facebook, or wherever you can contact me what you think-- specifically about the overall design. Thanks!

Graveyard Meditations

A couple of days ago on my drive home from school I was struck with an overwhelming urge to be in a graveyard. So I made a detour and walked around alone, taking pictures. I cannot say exactly why I needed to do this but it felt right. It was a profoundly tranquil experience. I thought I'd share my trip and thoughts with whomsoever cares to read about them.

This was my initial view:

The first thing that really struck me were how many towers and oversized monuments there were. More importantly, why? I'm going to go ahead and state the obvious: these people are dead. We hardly know anything about their lives based on their gravestones. We know their names, when they lived, and maybe a few extra details about family. Yet these gravestones are here and they seem to scream their self importance. Were these more important people? Not in my mind they weren't. I do not like the idea of anyone being inherently more important than anyone else. Some say that death is the great equalizer but I'm not sure that it needs to be. Importance is, like many things, an illusion. 

I also looked closely a several markers. The growth on them is fascinating. The patterns, the discoloration of the stones, and the concept of life growing on a symbol of death were intriguing to me. 

Ms. Cora Belle's stone got my attention because her name is lovely. I thought she was worth a mention because I know a bit about the time in which she lived. She was born solidly within the Victorian Era. Which was British, but so influential as to affect America at the time as well. She then lived to age of 71, which was beyond the life expectancy of the time. She would have seen the Jazz Age in its entirety and the very beginning of the Great Depression with the stock market crash of October 1929. What did she think of the events around her? Growing up in a time where Victorian morality was in vogue, what did she think of the Jazz Age? Was she an old woman who clung to propriety and tradition, or was did she view the events with the gaze of modernity? Was she concerned about the stock market crash? Did she imagine how bad things would get? We don't know. We will probably never know because this is just a rock in the ground. And a rock meant to remind people of us often fails at even that. 

The internet and rapid development of technology will, I'm sure, have a huge impact on remembrance. Will there someday be sites with links to the old social media accounts of the dead? Will we scroll through their lives? Just because those sites exist, will anyone even care? Probably not any more than they do now. 

                                      

This made me laugh out loud. Why in the world would you make your grave marker a gigantic, uncomfortable bench? Did the family love him/her so much that they commissioned a large memorial? Did they just have money to blow? Did the person want attention brought to their grave based on originality points? Did they want people to reap some small enjoyment from their death by giving them a place to rest or meditate? I could not fathom what the true reason might be. I did sit on it. It made me feel uncomfortable in a couple of different ways.

This creeped me out because I first saw it out of the corner of my eye. And let's be honest, seeing a stray disembodied hand in a graveyard is creepy. There's probably not any significance to the fact that it is holding a rose. I would like to think there is though. Maybe it was chosen by a loved one. They wanted to "leave flowers" in a more permanent way. The rose will survive, not forever, but virtually so. The whole idea is so hopelessly beautiful and romantic it hurts. There's also the decidedly more pessimistic and cynical view that they would have chosen it to relieve them of their flower leaving duties. A kind of short cut. However, we will probably never know so we can imagine it however we want. We're all stories in the end, and that's part of the beauty of stories. 

I'll leave you with these last two pictures just because I find them peaceful. 

                                                 

This trip was highly meditative for me. I needed to think where no one would interrupt me with chatter. I thought a lot about death, as is expected on cemetery visits. I was struck by the impermanence of life and just how many people had lived. Our lives overlap and tangle but still: no one makes it out alive. We make a last ditch effort to be remembered. Some through flashy or unique stones. These attempts to survive are futile though, if no one is around to see them. Once the people who loved you most are gone, who else will see and care? It reminded me that I should live the life I have now. It's the only one I know that I have and I didn't buy the warranty. 

Existentialism

This is the moment of truth. I'm going to try and explain my existentialist thoughts. It's always been fairly difficult for me to do that. There's always been a level of confusion or miscommunication involved. I realized the reason for this in my Philosophy class last semester. It's because there is not a set definition of existentialism. Which is actually very fitting.

Existentialism is a somewhat broad topic. Some philosophers that have been described as existentialists would probably have rejected the title. They believe that "Existence precedes Essence" as opposed to the idea that "Essence precedes Existence". Woah, woah, woah. What? My first reaction to that was a blank stare. The height of lofty philosopher-speak.

"Essence precedes Existence" means that we are here for a purpose. It's a notion that's generally religious in nature, though it doesn't have to be. The purpose is often God or a higher power. God is the means and essence of our existence.

"Existence precedes Essence" is the idea that we infuse our own lives with meaning. We don't necessarily have a purpose. Therefore, we create purpose for ourselves. This sounds like a fairly secular idea, but again, it doesn't have to be. Soren Kierkegaard is a well known existentialist philosopher who attempted to synthesize Christianity and existentialist thought.

Have you ever sat back and been struck by the absurdity of the thought that we are a bunch of beings made up of cell configurations floating through space on what is essentially a big rock? I get that feeling a lot. In one of my classes the other day, my teacher was trying to make a point. She said "How many of you would fight over a big gold coin if I threw it in the center of the room?". Or something along those lines. I was so amused at that thought. You can make humans fight over a shiny piece of metal. I can honestly say that I wouldn't have been one of the people in that fight. I know that, had it been more than a hypothetical situation, many people would have. There's so much absurdity to it all. Which is, not coincidentally, another existentialist idea.

For me, existentialism is best represented through quotes. I used to be an avid viewer of the show Whose Line Is It Anyways. So after taking the philosophy class and realizing that the world is not black and white, but infinite shades of gray; I became fond of using the phrase "Everything's made up and the points don't matter." to describe life. Some more are:

• "I saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page and I could do anything I wanted." -Jack Kerouac
• "I love life. And I do not believe that my life serves a purpose. I do not believe that my life has any meaning." -Michelle Lara Lin
• "People have played on words and pretended to believe that refusing to grant a meaning to life necessarily leads to declaring that it is not worth living. In truth, there is no necessary common measure between these two judgments." -Albert Camus
• "Do not search for the meaning of life around you; it is self defined. If you are given the chance to make a choice, would you surrender the opportunity to your surroundings? It is often incorrect and will be far worse than whatever you could create for yourself. Be your own deciding factor." -Lawrence Beall
• "We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing." -Charles Bukowski

There are many more brilliant quotes on existentialism and I encourage you to look them up. I think that my favorite of these is Albert Camus's. Too often people view existentialism as inherently negative. I've never had people assume I'm depressed so fast as when I start talking about it. I would be lying if I told you that these ideas have never made me feel lost in the world and deeply conflicted. Not anymore. It really is one of the most beautiful and freeing ideas in the world. You can do anything. Absolutely anything. You give yourself purpose and meaning and you have freedom to define yourself. It's the antithesis to predestination and sitting around moaning about how unfair everything is. When you realize that everything's made up and the points don't matter, you realize that you're free to make your own rules. It gives you confidence because you're not answering to other people and trying to live up to their expectations. You're doing you. 

Gender and Depression

I was doing a discussion forum for my abnormal psychology class and I got pretty into it. So I thought I'd share in case there's any interest. 

The original question: Are women compared to men more naturally inclined to be depressed? Explain your rationale.

My answer (beware: long):
I do not think that women are naturally more inclined to be depressed. Women are not more sensitive or fragile. We're all people with emotions that do not hinge on the basis of gender. I love people and I love getting to know them. In the process of getting to know people, you often begin to learn about their problems; either through observation or them telling you. My own personal experience with depression, in combination with talking to others, has made me realize just how widespread depression is. I was shocked to read that "Woman are about twice as likely as men to be diagnosed with major depressive disorder" (Nevid, Rathus, and Greene). On further reflection, this began to make sense. 

There is a difference I've seen in the way depression is handled. Most of the woman I know who have experienced-- or are still struggling with-- depression have gotten some form of help for it. The men I know are generally different. Some self-describe as depressed. Others have some concerning thoughts and views of life. I'm definitely not a psychologist but my own experience leads me to strongly suspect that depression is at play. They won't even admit it to themselves, let alone seek professional help. This makes me think that the key word in the text was 'diagnosed'. According to Addis and Mahalik, "Several studies have confirmed that men also seek psychiatric services, psychotherapy, and counseling less often than women" (Addis and Mahalik 6). Men cannot be diagnosed with depression if they do not seek help. 

The reasons men don't seem to ask for help as much seems largely societal. According to Simon Rice, "The expression of externalising depression symptoms is theorised to result from socialisation processes and associated conformity to masculine norms emphasising male autonomy, stoicism and invulnerability, where anger is the only negative emotion that men are socially permitted to exhibit" (Rice, Fallon, Aucote, and Moller-Leimkuhler 950). Males are not expected to show signs of weakness, even if they feel weak. This has very negative effects, as "In comparison to females, males are four times more likely to die by suicide" (Rice, Fallon, Aucote, and Moller-Leimkuhler 950). 

So men do not seek help as often as women and they have higher rates of suicide despite the fact that women are twice as likely to receive a depression diagnosis. It seems that diagnosis is not the most reliable indicator of depression, although it is the most commonly looked at. Of course it is! It's not right to go around telling people that they're depressed when they didn't ask for your help. Indeed, they cannot be accurately diagnosed if they don't ask for help. The statistical representation of people who are not receiving medical or psychiatric help for depression cannot, by definition, be known! There is correlation between gender and depression on several fronts. Woman may, in fact, be more depressed than men. It probably doesn't help that they're more often victims of sexual assault and domestic violence. However, until the proportion of men getting help for their depression is closer to the proportion of women getting help for their depression, diagnostic rates cannot be the standard for thinking that women are more inclined to be depressed. 

Works Cited

Addis, Michael E., and James R. Mahalik. "Men, Masculinity, and the Contexts of Help Seeking." American Psychologist 58.1 (2003): 5-14. Print. 

Nevid, Jeffrey S., Spencer A. Rathus, and Beverly Greene. Abnormal Psychology in a Changing World. 9th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1997. Print.

Rice, Simon M., Barry J. Fallon, Helen M. Aucote, and Anne Maria Moler-Leimkuhler. "Development and Preliminary Validation of the Male Depression Risk Scale: Furthering the Assessment of Depression in Men." Journal of Affective Disorders 151.3 (2013): 950-58. Print.

I Love You!

 I come into contact with dozens of people every day; hundreds or thousands if you count social media, which I do. People aren't any less real to me just because they’re behind a screen, revealed to me through a series of ones and zeros. I feel responsible for them all. I care about them all. I’m trying to think of the person I like least in the world right now. That’s a tough one for me, but guess what? I still want that person alive. I still want that person to have the potential for life and love and a job and a future and absolutely everything that people can ever experience.

Of all these people I see around me I know that at least one of them is currently going through the toughest time of their life. I see so many people struggling. I know that more than one is depressed, has anxiety, has an eating disorder, cuts themselves, or is struggling with their identity. I know that an overwhelming number of the people I encounter every day don’t feel good enough. Why does that matter to me, you ask? It matters to me because these facts destroy me. It matters to me because so many people are looking for someone to care about them and about what they’re going through. They think that nobody does. They think that the world simply doesn't have room for depressed people.

 I thought that! What else was I supposed to think? The world made me believe that. The people around me, well intentioned as they were, made me believe that. That’s not to say that they didn't care. They probably cared more than I’ll ever know. The fact of the matter is, they didn't know how to respond to me. Most hadn't experienced the specific things I had. Of the ones who had, most wanted to move on with their lives. They tried to help but it was obvious that they were tired of living in that dark, cold place in their minds. I absolutely cannot and never will blame them for that. I know how that feels now. I know how that feels, but I also remember all too well how the broken people feel. I remember wanting to pick up the pieces and not knowing how. I wanted someone to show me how. They eventually did, but not in the way that I originally expected. I took lessons from everyone I met. I liked how that girl smiled, as if she was trying to make friends with everyone. I liked how that boy failed at trying to help me every time, but that he kept trying. I liked that that girl from my school once told me to suck it up in what I think was probably the nicest way possible; I admired her strength. I loved how people I’d never met, nor will ever meet, treated depression and mental illness. I loved how willing they were to drop everything for a stranger having a bad day. Just to sit and talk.

I look at babies and behind the adorably chubby cheeks and dripping snot, I see overwhelmingly boundless potential. Every single baby is potential. I see people the same way. Adults are just babies who’ve narrowed down some of their options. I feel parental towards people I meet. I want the best for them. I want them to be happy and healthy and as carefree as possible. I want them to want that for themselves. I get disappointed with people sometimes because I see them making choices that will make them unhappy in the not too distant future. I don’t write them off; instead I hope for them. I think of how close we are, and what I can do to help them, and I do what I can.

Sometimes asking for help is the hardest thing to do. You don’t know who to ask and you think that maybe someone else needs it more. Well here’s something I discovered: If you think you might need help, you need help. Taking help from a friend or asking for advice won’t diminish some imagined supply of help and if the people who “need it more” want help, they can have it too! I guess, in the end, what I’m trying to say is that I’m here. I care. I’ll be a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen. I might not be able to be anyone’s saving grace or hero but I’m not trying to be. I’m here and I care and sometimes that’s what people really need more than anything else.

Salsa

You know what really grinds my gears? Medium salsa. Why, you might ask? BECAUSE NO ONE CAN DECIDE EXACTLY WHAT MEDIUM SALSA IS. Sometimes, you open a new jar of medium salsa, and you just want that beautiful, but bearable, burn. After all, if you had wanted to be blown out of your seat, you would have gone with the hot. If you’re really attached to the taste of tomatoes and peppers, while also having the heat tolerance of a toddler, then you would have chosen the mild. That’s what medium salsa should be: a nice compromise between the two.

Now, it strikes me that there’s a perfectly rational reason for the medium salsa variation. Everyone has different tastes. Obviously not everyone is going to have the same opinion of the heat level that constitutes “medium”. Still, this is dog shit. Scoville scales exist don’t they? If you’re not using it to test the thing it was meant to test, then WHAT ARE YOU USING IT FOR? 

I admit, I know nothing about salsa production or testing but I don’t think that this is an unreasonable expectation. It’s 2014! Humans have waged countless wars. We created the plow and the automobile.  We've caused the extinction of more than a few species. Not only that, most Americans are privileged enough to have spent WEEKS complaining about Miley Cyrus’s dancing. You absolutely cannot tell me that we lack the resources or prevalence to moderate the heat of salsa.

I’m totally aware of the hilarity of this post. I am complaining about something that’s not a “real” problem and talking about the privilege of Americans. All the while, my privilege is part of what’s allowing me to talk about and post this. You know what makes this okay, what lets me overlook this fact? The fact that someone, somewhere, might see this and the Salsa Heat Regulatory Council of my imagination will put their brains together and fix this for good. 

Sick Day

Hey everyone. You'll have to excuse whatever mess this post turns into. I have a nasty cold and I'm taking the day to lay on the couch with junk food and watch a movie. This is different from other days because I'll feel gross while doing it. I'm going to start with (500) Days of Summer and then I might try to end the LOTR trilogy.

I haven't watched (500) Days of Summer for a long time. It always makes me think a lot. I've also been meaning to watch Annie Hall, which I've been told is the earlier, superior version of Summer. Anyways, I'm about to watch the movie with fresh eyes. For the first time I'm going to watch it as someone who's deeply interested in screenwriting and characterization. Since the last time I watched it I also learned about the Manic Pixie Dream Girl (MPDG) trope. For those of you who might not know, the MPDG is type of character. They're eccentric, bubbly, and girlish. They tend to be the love interest of the brooding, depressive male lead. They usually flit into the male's life for a while and encourage them to be more carefree and fun loving.

I hate this. I don't hate the MPDG, I hate the fact that the classification exists. It's as if women can't be who they want. It implies that they're only around to enhance the man's life and they don't have their own aspirations. Everyone has some aspiration of their own. Summer doesn't want to be with Tom but that doesn't make her a blank page. I think that the reason she's so often cited as a classic MPDG is because the story is from Tom's perspective and that's how Tom sees her. Unfortunately, many people don't seem to be able to view movies from perspectives other than the one presented.

I believe in the idea that books belong to their readers. I believe that every reader brings themselves to the story and reads it in their own way. That's part of what makes stories special and the same applies to movies. So I realize that it's stupid and condescending of me to comment on the way other people view movies but I wish that they would put themselves in the place of other characters more often. So I guess that's the moral and conclusion of the post. I hope you're all staying healthy and away from me. And don't forget to go buy some of that After Valentine's Day chocolate.

How Bible Camp Taught Me To Hate My Body.

I was an admittedly ugly child. Sure, I cared. I wanted to be the pretty girl, I wanted to be the skinny girl, I wanted to be the desired girl. But what I wanted more than any of that was to be the intelligent girl with interesting things to say. I wanted to be the girl that people took seriously. So yes, I knew I wasn't attractive, I thought about it every so often, and I didn't really care that much.

My parents got divorced when I was in the fifth grade. Before the divorce, I had attended a Catholic school. I’d never been to a public school. So when I experienced public schooling in sixth grade, I had a major culture shock. I think it’s pretty safe to say that public school kids lose a majority of their innocence sooner than Catholic school kids. Or maybe that was just me. Regardless, everything from attitudes, to sexual and drug knowledge, to body images were different. Switching from private to public schooling was the first of many times my worldview had been reshaped.

I don’t remember exactly when I first went to church camp. I’d honestly never thought about the idea of church camps while in Catholic school. Why go spend a summer at a camp for God when you spend every Friday and Sunday bored out of your mind for him? But my dad met my step-mom around the same time I entered the public school system. Church camp had been a part of her and her kid’s lives for a few years at that point I think. Naturally, my dad, brother, and I joined in this ritual soon enough.

The first time I went without my parents (I was with my soon-to-be-step-sister Nikki), I had a huge attitude about the whole thing. I still identified as Christian, no doubt about that. I think I just had a hard time playing nice with others. I remember feeling hugely superior and above all of the activities they were doing. (In all fairness to little me, looking back, I still get a weird feeling about it all). Once I started to adjust to the culture of camp a little more, I got more into all the little rituals and activities. Or at least I pretended I was. In reality I was just attempting to smother the little cynical voice of reason in the back of my mind. It was once the Stockholm Syndrome had set in that I experienced The Body Shaming Beach Ordeal. 

The councilors took our cabin (or the part they were responsible for) down to the beach after sunset. They told us to pick out a rock, whichever one we wanted but fairly large. They then distributed permanent markers and told us to write ten things about our bodies that we don’t like. TEN! I distinctly remember another girl asking “What if we can’t think of ten things?” to which one of the councilors replied, “Try your hardest.” So there I was, on a dark beach with a rock and a sharpie in my hand, digging deep for the most mentally harmful activity I’d been asked to do in my entire life up to that point. I think I got about three things down before I ran out of ideas. How many body parts are there? How many things can be wrong with a person? Most of all; why did I have to piece apart my body for these people? I didn’t get ten things down. I waited until our time was up. 

After they were done scribbling body hate, the councilors instructed everyone to read their list aloud. I waited for my turn and found out just how many pieces a body can be broken into. As I listened to the insecurities of my peers, I evaluated myself. Did I like my eyes, my hands, my thighs, my feet, my pores? Who knows?  I hurriedly scribbled some of these things on my rock before it was my turn so that I’d have the appropriate number of awful characteristics to share with the group. This whole thing was humiliating. There’s no other word for it. But the way they presented it made it feel as if we were performing some super secret ritual designed to bring us closer. They read some bible verse about loving ourselves and then told us to go to the end of the dock and throw our rocks as far into the lake as possible. This was to symbolize us releasing our bodily hatred and letting God love us the way we were. Of course it didn't matter that I didn't actually hate myself.

Now, I’ll admit, I felt free throwing that rock. In that short amount of time, some part of me had submitted to the fact that I was supposed to hate my body. In the following days, that night stuck with me. I couldn't shake the insecurities that everyone around me had. I felt like the abnormal one for not feeling the same way…or maybe I did feel the same. I mean, my thighs were pretty huge. Right? In the time that followed, I looked at my body a lot more. I started to pick it apart. I no longer lived in a body. I lived in my head and possessed arms, legs, a stomach, feet, hands, hair, eyes, and so on. I stopped questioning the advisability of hating yourself. It became a fact, underlying everything I did. And when life got really rough a few years later, I took it out on my body. I ate poorly if I ate, and I did other reprehensible things to myself that I won’t recount for fear of people attempting the same.

I've come a long way since then. I don’t purposefully punish my body for anything anymore. In fact, I love myself. I love my body. I’ve recently realized that this concept is revolutionary to many. It makes me sad that we live in a world in which bodily confidence is the weird stance. It makes me absolutely sick that we live in a world where girls punish themselves for things beyond their control and for enjoying themselves. It makes me angry that summer camps, and indeed adults in general, feel the need to push young girls to be ashamed of themselves. I don’t know if I’ll ever be a parent but if I am, I’ll make sure that my little girl (or boy!, boys are susceptible too) knows that she or he is loved and that your body is meant to be lived in and not reviled. In fact, bodily hate is such a construction of the Middle Ages. After the Renaissance shouldn't we be over all this shit?

By now you've probably realized that I spend too much time on Youtube. So I've decided to include some Extra Credit Viewing. I love Laci Green and feel that these two videos are a wonderful commentary on body shaming and societal expectations. 

1.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ik19cU1UKb4

2.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XhTA4xOxCc

An Open Letter To Philip DeFranco

Philip DeFranco, 

I've never done anything like this. I had intended to just send an e-mail, but I couldn't find the address and it seems fairly easy to reach you on social media anyways. You seem in tune with your fans; that much I can say. I've been a fan of yours, not since the beginning, but since around 2009 or so. Recently, I've found myself watching less and less. You may or may not remember me from this tweet:

I admit, that was poorly worded and didn't quite capture the sentiment I was going for. I admire you and every other YouTuber that makes a living off of YouTube and related pursuits. It gives me hope that I can one day have a job that makes me and others happy.  I try to support the YouTube community as much as I can with subscriptions, likes, turning off AdBlock, etc. So what's my issue? You can probably guess: women. I touched on it in my rushed tweet, and you've definitely noticed and brought it up in multiple videos. You say that the women of the Nation are angry, and some are. I don’t like that word. I don’t get angry often. Better descriptors would be annoyed, or sad.

Now, I don’t mind a lot of things that other women of The Nation seem to. I don’t question what Lindsey would think. I understand that you two are in an adult relationship and that there’s nothing inherently sexual about photography. You just enjoy photographing people. I don’t even have a problem with the fact that they wear minimal amounts of clothes. Once again, that’s both their choice and yours. The human body is beautiful and should be photographed. What I find troublesome is what comes across about women from your words and actions.  You feature “sexy time galleries” on your videos often. Rarely, if ever, do I see men featured. I understand if you’d rather take pictures of women and look at pictures of women, but pictures of men can be just as stunning. I think that the Greeks would agree with me.

Another source of conflict for me is the models. I understand that most professional models have fantastic bodies. The standard is unattainable for the average female. I think I would just like to see more average women. It’s your hobby, it’s your art, and it’s up to you; whether other people like it or not. However, I think that you could use your huge fan-base to really do something exciting. You’re a celebrity in your own right. Many YouTubers arguably have more power than traditional celebrities. And remember what Uncle Ben said! “With great power comes great responsibility.”* You could break from the type of traditional photography that we all see in magazines anyways: Perfect models with little clothing. These are the things women have grown up seeing. More and more, women are seeing past the bullshit. They don’t need this message of perfection reinforced more than it already is. That probably isn't what you’re trying to do (I hope) but that’s how it comes across. And I think that unless you prove otherwise in some way, your female fan-base will stay, as you put it, angry.

I hope that I've represented the women of The Nation well. We may have varying opinions, but I believe that the core sentiment remains the same. I hope that you don’t dismiss this if you see it because I think it’s really important that you see (if you haven’t already) just why this I important for both your fans, and society. I wish the best for you, Lindsey, and your soon-to-be-born baby. Keep pursuing what you love.

Sincerely,

Lorna Ziehm

*I know that this quote can't be originally credited to Uncle Ben or Marvel. There's a lot of muddled debate about it actually, but the sentiment still stands. 

Thoughts on Love Songs

I just want some original love songs. Is that too much to ask for? Instead all I seem to hear is the same re-hashed stuff. What I really want to know, is what do they do? That seems like a pretty dumb question. What does any music do? It's just that I think we're meant to relate to these love songs. We're supposed to be in awe of love and life and how the artist seems to know what we're feeling better than we do. That's where I think the whole thing's gone just a little wrong. Artists try to make their songs as general as possible so they sell. They rely on the fact that young women and girls are insecure. They say, "You may not love you, but I love you." I have a few big problems with all of this.

1. I DO love me. I think that playing on insecurities is a little low. I know that a lot of women are insecure, probably a majority of them. So are men though. Insecurity is just a part of being human sometimes. Making the assumption of insecurity just serves to reinforce it. It sends the message that "It's OK to hate yourself, as long as you have a man who doesn't. He'll complete you."

2. Would you really do all of those things for your significant other? *coughs* I'm looking at you Bruno Mars. I'm not sure. Maybe I'm being overly cynical here. I'm just not given to hyperbole when talking about relationships. I wouldn't "catch a grenade for you". Not on that knowledge alone. How long have we been together? What's our relationship like? Is is a real grenade? Are you annoying? Anyways, it's all just a little too Romeo and Juliet for my liking. I wouldn't expect those things of my significant other and I'd hope he wouldn't expect the same of me.

3. Repetition. Do you ever find yourself listening to the radio and having to shut it off because nothing has happened since the first chorus? That's an accurate representation of most of my radio listening. This is really more of a pop music complaint, but it's usually very obvious in love songs also. Then again, I feel like it's worse with love songs because they all blur together. Which brings me to the next point...

4. I'm tired of hearing about smiles and hair and eyes. What about some personality? What about having interesting things to say or a thought in her head?

5. Is a guy supposed to woo me with these songs? No thanks. I don't want a guy to tell me he'd die for me, can't live without me, or that he'll love me for a thousand years. I want someone to tell me the truth.

I have to admit that I got inspiration for this blog from two videos in particular. This first one is a song by Hank Green entitled Adult Female: A Song. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EfBwb4I8wWk) I love this song on many levels. The other is Repeat Stuff by Bo Burnham. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCVGpvzcHko). If you have the time, I highly recommend both. They summarize my thoughts on a whole new level and they're catchy.

Speech

I got distracted for a few day, but I'm back! The spring semester of college started this week, which means that I'll be graduating with my Associate's Degree in May. There are great things in store. Of course, my graduation depends on my ability to not have a heart attack before the semester ends. That might sound very dramatic or hyperbolic...it is. But at the same time, I've never been more stressed about a semester. I've had huge papers, deadlines, and presentations before. That's just how college goes. I've also never thought of myself as being afraid of public speaking. Granted, I've never been amazing at it, but inadequacy doesn't equate to fear. So I took a Speech class this semester to improve my speaking and build confidence.

Boy, was I in for a surprise. A speech class is, in fact, very different than giving a presentation one time in a class. On top of that, most professors I had in the past graciously scheduled the speeches for the end of the semester. You get no such luxury in a speech class. Unless you're lucky, you don't get time to get to know your classmates before you have to speak. I wouldn't describe myself as shy. I was the kid all through school that always got yelled at for talking and distracting people. My friends will tell you that it can be difficult to shut me up sometimes. I do, however, take a while to feel comfortable in new social situations. I won't talk often unless I feel comfortable.

Luckily, I know all of this about myself so I know what I can do. It's a small miracle that a decent portion of the class dropped it.* I need to feel comfortable. I don't dread speaking at all...until I stand up and start speaking. Then things get a little awkward and it falls apart. So if I get to know more people and convince myself that I can tolerate them, I should be on the right track.

To any of you in speech classes: I feel your pain. Don't let it get you too stressed!

*I suspect that it has to do with the professor. I had him in a previous class and he's (I mean this in the most respectful way possible) kind of an asshole. I don't think he is, that's just what I've been told. So if he is, I guess he's my favorite sort of asshole.

Every Day by David Levithan

I decided to give David Levithan a try thanks to John Green. I've read the book they wrote together, Will Grayson, Will Grayson, and I love it. So I picked one of Levithan's books at random and gave it a whirl. The book, Every Day, is shown below. (What a beautiful cover).

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I'm fairly certain that the cover has more spoilers than this review, but if you want to read the book and go in totally blind, don't continue on. Really, now's your chance...

Every Day took me less than a day to read. I hadn't actually planned on reading it as soon as I did. I have maybe two sizable stacks of books I want to read, but the cover kept drawing my attention. I have a bit of a thing for covers. 

The book has an interesting premise. The narrator, A, wakes up every day in a new body. A is neither male or female and wakes up in the bodies of both. To respect A's genderless nature, I'll use the pronoun "ze" in place of "he or her". A navigates the life of the person ze's in the best ze can, then moves on by the next day. The body's owners don't usually notice. Some of the situations A woke up into were completely ordinary, others were sad, and still others were just bizarre. I loved seeing what sort of life ze would come across next. I also appreciate the amount of empathy and thinking it must have taken Levithan to come up with that many unique lives. 

I also loved the honesty that seemed to emanate from the book. Levithan was able to relate to the struggles of the characters very well. I found myself stopping to reread lines like this one:

When I finished, one thought lingered. I suppose it's actually Walt Whitman's thought -"I am large, I contain multitudes". That's how Every Day made me feel. It made me feel more connected to everyone, and it made me even more curious about everyone's personal story. I'd definitely recommend this book and I think it's earned about 9.4/10 stars. 

Resolutions

It's a little more than a week into 2014. It's the wondrous time of year when all anyone will talk about is the weather and their New Year's Resolutions. Cooking shows pander to those with weight loss resolutions by offering low fat and low calorie recipes. People flood social media sites with talk of both breaking their resolutions and progress. You've probably gathered by now that my view of New Year's Resolutions is less than stunningly positive. I don't have any sort of real problem with them. They genuinely help some people to live happier, healthier lives. I just think that it also sets others up for disappointment. Let's take weight loss as a handy example, as it is one of the most common resolutions.

You can lose weight at any time of the year. If you really want to be healthy and/or lose weight you probably can! However, there are still the people who take the New Year part of the resolution a bit too seriously. They take it as a license to eat as much or as poorly as they want right before the year ends, then scramble to drastically change habits on the first. The year is an arbitrary human construction anyhow. Yes, the Earth makes a full revolution, but the new year could be any year. If you started counting right now, in a year it would be a "new year"- but I digress.  Maybe drastic change works for other people (though I've not heard that) but it definitely doesn't work for me. Gradual change and awareness goes farther in the long term. 

I think another cause of resolution failure is expectation. People expect too much too soon. Weight is not put on in a few days, so it's unrealistic to expect it to be gone in a few days. They don't see the results they want right away, get discouraged, break their resolutions, and eventually give up. Notice that you don't generally hear people talking about their resolutions in, say, July. My assumption is that most of the drastic resolution makers give up, and the more gradual ones have assimilated to their healthier lifestyles by then. 

So did I have a New Year's Resolution? In a way, yes. It's not new and it's more of a reminder than a resolution. It was to be happy. It's harder than it sounds sometimes but I don't need drastic change to do it. All I need to do is listen to myself and hopefully the rest will follow. I do hope that everyone else can stick with their resolutions and also be happy. I can feel that it's going to be a good year. 

Writer's Block

I had planned to spend this winter break writing. I had a month off of school and I quit my job, so I really didn't have an excuse. Then writer's block hit. Not the kind of writer's block where you can't think your way out of a plot hole, or come up with the next line of dialogue. I had the type of writer's block where you can't think of a single story or thing to say. The kind of writer's block that tells you "Who'd care about that story anyways?" Even these blog posts ON MY NEW BLOG were sporadic. 

Whenever a discussion of writer's block appears, there is eventually the obligatory statement that goes something like this: "Writer's block is a mental block.". I could have profoundly messed that up, that's just how I remember it. Anyhow, it's completely true in my case. Everyone has different mental blocks and ways to smash the blocks apart. I admittedly get weird around this time of year. By weird I mean sad and unambitious*. Honestly, I just had to stop whining and kick my ass into gear.

 I didn't do that by writing though. Instead I immersed myself in other people's worlds. I read several books. Then came The Book Thief. This book truly moved me. It was so beautiful and raw and honest. It reminded me of To Kill a Mockingbird (one of my favorites) in a few ways. Even though The Book Thief is not narrated by a child, it is focused on one. Both talk about enormous events while seemingly focusing on small ones. Both of these books will stay with me for a very long time.  Both of them inspire me. The Book Thief was just so beautiful that I couldn't make excuses anymore. 

So I'd say that to overcome writer's block, or any mental block, you need to re-inspire yourself. Read a heartbreakingly beautiful book, listen to a hypnotizing song, go find the most breathtaking scenery around and sit. Just don't give up. Because even if the world already has a million stories, pieces of art, songs, etc, they don't have yours. Don't rob the world of what you have to offer. 

*Yes, I mean sad and unambitious. No, I don't mean depressed. I've experienced that in the past, and to call my winter blues depression feels like a huge slap in the face to those that are actually depressed. 

The Higgs Boson and Our Universe

Hello again everyone! I hope that everyone's staying warm wherever they are. It looks about like THIS:

where I live today. (I stole the picture from a local news site, it's not mine.) Going out wasn't really an option for me. Much thanks to my hatred of cold, bad roads, and a certain snow blower piling snow onto my car. What do I do when I'm snowed in? Drink lots of tea, read, watch movies, and learn me some stuff on Youtube. I eventually came across this video from one of my favorite Youtubers:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUnDsNL_5nk

I strongly urge you to watch it before reading on. It's fascinating. And if you haven't heard of or seen anything from John and Hank Green, AKA the vlogbrothers, you really should.

Anyways, I got to thinking. I know the whole Higgs Boson thing is old news by now, and to be completely honest, I'm mostly concerned with what this means for stories. I'm one of those people who prizes scientific accuracy (as far as is possible) in writing of any kind. One statement in particular piqued my attention. At about 3:30 Hank says "The idea is that the Higgs field, which is the field that gives things mass, exists throughout the entire universe." Does that mean that OUTSIDE the universe it doesn't exist? If not, does mass just behave differently,or is it not there at all? How crazy would it be to leave the universe and suddenly have no mass? Would a human even survive a change in mass? Is a human without mass a human?

I looked into it more. Evidently it would take hundreds of years to even leave the solar system. The universe would take...millions of years? Billions? The answers weren't all completely clear and I don't need an exact number. Because one way or another, that's a really long time. It has pretty good story potential in my mind. It also excites me for future space exploration. I'm reasonably certain I won't be alive if and when exploration beyond this universe begins. If time travel ever exists - and occurs before outer-universe travel- I'd pay every dollar and cent I own to find out what else is out there and what happens to mass outside of our universe.

If you have any further insight that might clear up some of my questions, please post it in the comments! I know that I might be pretty..off..on certain points and I'd like to be set straight if I am.