2014 & 2015

I struggled quite a bit thinking of what to title this post. I had settled on just titling it a year, but should it be 2014 or 2015? I felt that this distinction between past and present would dictate the structure of the post, and I wasn't sure which one to pick.

The ideas surrounding New Year's have always seemed to be somewhat of a contradiction to me. Is it a time to reflect on the year gone by? Or is it more about our hopes for the coming year? Of course, the stock response would be "both!" and yet there's something about the two that I have a hard time juxtaposing.

Perhaps this conflict stems from the nature of my life right now. This year has been a time of transition for me, not only in an academic/lifestyle sense, but in many others as well. Concepts in life that had felt so distant in high school, such as finances and full independence, are suddenly demanding acknowledgement and careful consideration. Mentally, I've been pondering a lot on the nature of the distinction between idealism and cold reality. Actually, whether reality should be considered "cold" or beautiful in its own way has also been a subject of much of my thought.

I'm often tempted to dismiss these vague thoughts as nothing more than your average teenage angst. Perhaps it is simply the result of my own indecisiveness, or a lack of hardship and desire in life. Or are such questions simply the natural thoughts of any young adult?

These questions are the defining part of New Year's for me. Each year I consider what questions I've had answered, which remain uncertain, and which are to come. These "categories" seem pretty distinct when I phrase it like that, but in reality, their form is a lot more amorphous. They're not necessarily split into "past" and "present" but rather they are constantly growing and evolving together. This is true even of the questions I think I've already answered.

So then, is New Year's a time for looking to the past or future?

If they are not viewed in a binary manner, "both" really is a good answer.

This reminds me of a similar idea that I expressed back in 10th grade, when my "writing portfolio" was a mess of invisible font colors and distracting background. The idea came from a poem called, "Begin." As I read it again, I think 15 year old me had a point, even if the way it was expressed wasn't the most clear.

I've found that as we go into the future (young people especially), We tend to start disregarding our past, particularly any errors or immaturities we exhibited. And yet who we once were doesn't need to be internalized as a concrete idea or some permanent stain on our character. It's meaning grows with us, and I think that embracing our past is one of the best ways to be happy in the present and to make a more meaningful future.

But enough of all the philosophizing. In all of this, I seem to have forgotten one of the most important aspects of New Year's. Celebrating and enjoying the presence of friends and family. So for now, I'll put my mind (and keyboard) to rest. Happy 2014 & 2015 everyone!

First Semester College Reflections

As finals week begins I thought it would be interesting to reflect on my first semester in college. For any prospective student reading this, keep in mind that these are my thoughts, and that one's college experience will vary tremendously based on their own character.

This is perhaps one of the most important things you learn in college. One experiences and learns to respect different lifestyles. My impression of college students prior to becoming one myself was relatively limited. I figured everyone studied hard, slept really late, and hung out with friends as much as possible. It was a rosy view, and don't get me wrong, for most college students, this is indeed an ideal world.

And yet one also encounters countless distinct lifestyles in college. Some students wake up early everyday for work or sports practice, and sleep even earlier than they did in high school. Some party hard every Friday, while others may prefer the Tuesday when they don't have classes. There are students whose schedule goes in periods of work alternating with play, while others work hard all semester round and still rarely show up to social events.

In high school, one has vague notions of who "studies a lot" or "is a jock" to create a sense as to that person's time allocation. But in college, this is taken to a whole new level. With a roommate and close friends that one will spend everyday with, one realizes how distinct everyone's living patterns really are, and how these patterns can facilitate deep friendships as well as initial estrangement. In short, college teaches diversity in more than just the race and economic status of one's peers.

Academically speaking, college is truly a different world from high school. Perhaps the most important distinction is that you are in a sense, "allowed to fail" in college, especially at a place like Brown.

In high school, if you fail that has consequences not only for you, but for your teacher, your school, your district, and possibly the all important standardized test averages. Sooner or later, no one will want to move to your town because your school has such a bad reputation!

Of course, I'm perhaps exaggerating a bit. There's also the fact that one is assumed to be less mature as a high school student, and teachers/adults will go out of their way to assist students in anyway possible.

In college, if you fail, well you just fail. It may drag down the course average a bit, but then again, even that always assumes that some people will fail. Professors certainly don't want you to fail, but if you do they are not obligated or even necessarily compelled to go out of their way to help you (if they have TAs.)

I first realized this as I sat watching a professor give a lecture to me... and 300 other students. I could not come to class. Homework was handed in digitally through a computer system. Lecture slides were available online, because one would need to do self study to understand the material. If one didn't keep up, it would be extremely easy to fail. Besides a possible warning email, there would not be a teacher constantly checking up on you.

I guess the sum of it all is that in college you are (at least academically) truly an adult. Occasionally, you'll work in the library or computer lab and see a 40 year old studying along with you. You're truly responsible for yourself, and there's both a great freedom and weight in that.

These are the two most important reflections I will share today. If there's one thing that I'd want you to pick up from this, it's that there is no definitive college experience. You'll might hear older classmates talk about how difficult the work is and how much more packed their schedule is in college. Others may find it a lot less stressful and far more liberating. Some will feel homesick, and others will belong immediately. In the end, the only thing that everyone says that is definitely true is this:

It's what you make of it.

Thanksgiving

This post is coming three days late because I actually have little to say about Thanksgiving. This is not to say that the meaning of the holiday itself is unimportant. On the contrary, I believe Thanksgiving's message of appreciation and humility is essential to living a satisfied life.

And yet what more is there to say about this holiday? I could write about the things I'm thankful for. Or perhaps I could muse about how everyday should be Thanksgiving, and how ungrateful I have been throughout the year. These are all good exercises to be sure. At this point though, I wonder if you, my reader, are getting as tired of hearing these messages as I am?

This is starting to sound a bit cynical. I guess what I mean to say is that messages derive much of their power from real experience, which is more often than not difficult, and even grueling. Thus, in lieu of an uplifting anecdote, here's a series of somewhat depressing, yet more interesting ones.

My Thanksgiving vacation presented me with three different observations from three different stories. The stories are the following: The story of the pilgrims, the story of us, and the story of a woman.

On Thanksgiving night, I encountered an interesting sermon while I was in church for a Thanksgiving service. I won't recount all the details here, but what struck me was a focus on the original founders of Thanksgiving: the Pilgrims. What struck me about the pastor's message was the focus how the Pilgrims derivred joy and thanksgiving from within tragic death counts and difficult toil to get meager food supplies. Thanksgiving was a holiday born out of a group that had suffered, and yet gave thanks anyway.

On Black Friday, I encountered another story from my own sister. This was the story of us (she is a Taylor Swift fan, but no, this is not a reference.) As we stood in line with the freezing wind pounding our eardrums, she reflected: "Who decided to put Black Friday right after Thanksgiving? It's like, one day we're all grateful for what we have, and the next we're all like, 'I WANT I WANT I WANT!' Though at the time I had little to say in response, I realize now that this was indeed a fascinating observation. What does it say about us as a society?

Today is Sunday, the final night of Thanksgiving break. This morning, I was told another story, a story of a woman. This woman was the recipient of numerous government safety nets, including food stamps, free classes at a local community college, and even numerous paid for social workers. Alas, this individual does not acknowledge the grace of her fellow taxpayers, and even repeatedly complained about her new social worker who refused to buy her lunch. "Disgusting!" you say. Well, I did too! And yet if we think about it more, how often are we the very same way? Especially as a young student, I have been given practically everything in my life. And yet I still have the nerve to complain. Disgusting.

Three stories:

-Pilgrims

-Us

-Woman

In an unexpected way, this Thanksgiving break has taught me to reflect more on what Thanksgiving means. 

Yes, it is good to be thankful. But Thanksgiving started in light of tragic circumstances and difficulties. Can I also be thankful in those situations?

What does it mean to purchase goods and to want? Is this desire to save money a practical affair? Or is it a manifestation of the very opposite of the force we have just been celebrating a couple hours ago?

And finally, can I judge my fellow humans for their lack of thanksgiving if I lack it myself? Thanksgiving is not some isolated affair. It means we must realize the thanks (or lack of thanks) that others give as well, and perhaps in that assist both them and ourselves in this "daily exercise."

Or perhaps you saw these stories differently?

Loser

I've always been a pretty competitive person. Yeah, that's a pretty general statement, but I don't think I've ever read an in-depth reflection as to what that really means. It's a trait that is often thrown out there, as though its connotation speaks for itself. Whether it is perceived as positive or negative is often related to the "competitiveness" of the listener him/herself.

But what does being competitive really do in the grander scheme of one's character? I've found the answer is quite a complex one. How one's competitiveness manifests itself in his/her character is actually quite personal. For some, it can be an asset, a persona within a vast array of paradigms to adapt to specific situations. It is equally possible that the competitive drive is one of intense passion, a fire so hot and strong that it must be repressed in everyday life, so as not to alienate people in one's everyday interactions.

Ironically, I think my competitive drive has manifested itself to make me a loser. It sounds absurd doesn't it? Shouldn't a competitive drive create a winner? And if not a literal winner, at least one who always strives to be one? Allow me to clarify.

I say "loser" without any condemnation. After all, every winner begins as a loser. It is only through repeated failure and lessons that one eventually becomes masterful at anything. Of course, this is standard inspirational quotation stuff, but truly, there is a beauty in losing gracefully isn't there?

Whether I win or  lose at something, usually a game or argument, I feel a kind of wonder as to the system I have taken a part in. If it's a game, it's the rules and structures. If it's an argument, it's the sheer action of two people bringing abstract thought to fruitful conversation.

Ah, but debates are not always fruitful. Games are not always fair. Therein lies what I've identified to be a key fuel in my competitive spirit. I am relentlessly critical of systems and their balance. If a game is not fair, I will fix it, or if I can't, explain very thoroughly why it is unfair, often to the chagrin of my fellow players. If there is possible bias in an argument, I will find it and address it immediately.

There's a great strength in this tendency, and also a great weakness. For example, it requires a great deal of expertise of the system in question to be able to critique and not look like a rambling fool. As such, I lose confidence in both my own abilities and in the game itself if I fail to understand it, or can't foresee myself understanding it. I don't think I need to delve into why this could become an enormous problem if it is repeatedly indulged.

I certainly didn't mean this to be a diary of self pity, so I'll conclude with this. Being competitive to me, means finding justice in a competition. And if I succeed in doing so, then I find I can applaud any outcome. Though winning is sweet and I will do everything possible to achieve it, losing is humbling and enriching. In defeat one sees his/her own weakness, and grows stronger and even closer to his/her fellow participants for it.

I will always strive to be a winner. But you know, I don't mind being a loser either.

"How are you?"

I've been making a note of how conversations start for the last couple of weeks. Without a doubt, "How are you?" is the most common greeting question I've asked and been asked. It's a pretty sensible question for that purpose. Asking it shows that you care, and it also invites the other person to talk and share how their life is going.

Of course, the inevitable answer of "good" rarely conveys any actually useful information about how someone is feeling. This opens the door to further inquiry, and yet I've found that this potential rarely comes to fruition. Rather the question tends to fall away as a mere transition into conversation, rather than as a topic itself.

Thus over these last couple of weeks, I've been trying to switch to a new greeting. "So, what have you been thinking about?" It's simple, just as easy to throw out, and has a greater potential to generate some actually meaningful conversation.

But more often than not, the standard question still comes up.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"Good."

For a long time I disdained this sequence for its fakeness. Surely, we are not always "good" and we even know this of the other person. Yet the cycle continues, as what was once a possible sign of empathy becomes just an inefficient "hi."

And yet today as I reflected more upon this standard conversation starter, it has suddenly taken on an unexpected beauty.

As with many of my thoughts, it began with a sort of paradox. I am not always "good" when someone asks me this question. And yet that leads to the question, "why not?"

Because I have homework and papers? Or a long work shift tonight?
Perhaps I couldn't fall sleep? Maybe I've been sick?

And yet I am alive. I have a loving family. I am young. I have time. I have food. I have clothes. I can attend university. I have friends who I can laugh with and trust. I know a God who died for me.

My life is good.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"Good."

In a sense, this short exchange validates this thanksgiving. Despite any trials we go through, we acknowledge that life is still good. Of course, we're not always actually thinking about this as we say "good." Usually it's just a mindless, pre-conditioned response. I know it sure is for me.

And yet perhaps if I just gave it an ounce of thought afterwards, I would realize that it's not quite as mindless and fake as it seems. In my human weakness and foolishness, I may truly believe that I am not well.

But I am. Perhaps a reminder of that is just what I need to start every conversation.

Svidrigalov in Crime and Punishment

As I alluded to in my previous post "10 Books," Crime and Punishment is one my favorite works of literature. Raskolnikov's tale of despair, insanity, and ultimate confession is one of the most riveting works I've ever read, and I highly recommend it to anyone interested in a good read.

I'm currently taking a class on Dostoevsky, and as I reread C&P, I was particularly struck by the side character Svidrigalov instead of Raskolnikov. Here's an excerpt from a paper I wrote for anyone else who's interested in Russian lit/ has read C&P!
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          "From all this, we can see the depth to which Dostoevsky explores the link between Svidrigalov and Raskolnikov through their initial convergence and ultimate divergence. Each man simultaneously develops his own character along the common vein of self-exploration, as well as the power of love over reason in the modern Russian social and philosophic climate. In a story filled with Raskolnikov’s doubles, Svidrigalov is both another mirror and his own character. His tragedy illustrates the deadly effects of an unrealized affection, and lends depth to the otherwise relatively simple endorsements of love and family that the reader can derive from Raskolnikov’s ending. Truly, it is in Svidrigalov’s tragedy that Dostoevsky’s message is most potent. Even through all his sin, man still breathes love. To show him this breath of life, and then to take it away, is a punishment beyond the scope of any crime."

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For anyone interested in the rest of the paper, its uploaded here. There's so much about this book I'm not addressing, and I admit this paper is a little idealistic and perhaps even simple for a character like Svidrigalov. Still, I think it's a good illustration of how a rereading can lead to some interesting new discoveries. The paper should also prove a fascinating study of the differences between how I write for One Iris and how I write for a professor...

Another Update: College and Comments!

Hey guys,

One Iris is still very much alive. Again, I'm just going through getting my time management sorted out for my first semester in college. It's been busy, but I'm definitely learning a lot more about the world and myself than I every have!

Also, I encourage anyone reading this to drop me a comment if you have anything at all to say about my writing. You can do so by clicking on a post and filling out the comment box at the bottom of the page. I don't have as much time to write full posts as I used to, but I would love to respond to any feedback on my ideas.

Because the nature of this blog is more stream of consciousness (I write every post in a single sitting), any comments would also help me reflect on myself as a writer, and where my mind likes to go in spontaneity. It would help me see how others may view my ideas, which is a really exciting concept to me!

So yeah, that's about it for this update. Thanks for reading One Iris, and have a great day!

Sincerely,
Chris

On Videogames: Part 2

I ended my previous post on videogames by stating that I was merely assessing the state of the medium today, rather than providing any of my own opinions on the matter. But as I reread my post in preparation for this one, I realize that was a silly assertion.

It's quite obvious that I play videogames.

My greatest dilemma as to how to conclude my thoughts on this series has been whether or not to bring any personal investment into the subject. Because although I've critiqued the validity of the aforementioned labels, I've also realized they are still not something I can easily embrace.

It's easy to write about topics from the comfort of my desk, for an unknown and relatively silent audience. Yet when I considered putting any personal investment into this particular subject, I realized that the stigma surrounding it is a powerful thing, even from behind this screen, let alone in life.

I'm aware that contemplating such depths for a topic like videogames seems like a weird, if not downright laughable juxtaposition. Or perhaps that is just my conscience speaking again...

Anyway, I've figured that the best way to conclude my thoughts is simply to give some insight as to why I continue to play videogames. Hope you enjoy!

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1. They're fun.

I'd be lying if I put any other reason here. While there's lots of other reasons to play games, if one isn't having fun, he/she just isn't doing it right. Videogames are a unique form of entertainment that have merged many of the greatest aspects of other mediums. They often boast cutting edge visuals and cutscenes that rival those of cinema. Some tell sweeping stories that are made all the more effective by the player's personal interaction with the plot's characters. They have music in practically every style imaginable, and while not all of it is good, some of it is downright amazing.

In mixing all of these elements, videogames do one thing that no other medium does. They involve their audience directly. This is the key to why games provide a breed of entertainment that I have not found replicated in any other format. That element of direct interaction is a powerful tool, both for treating mental illnesses, and for addicting players to games until their time has vanished.

Like all things, videogames must be played in moderation. But in terms of pure entertainment value, for me they're simply unmatched.

2. They're creative

Videogames need a setting. By setting I don't just mean physical location (although that's usually important too.) Rather, a game's setting is more an abstraction of its fundamental construction, which includes its interface, design choices, artwork, and music.

The cohesiveness of all of this in a well made game continues to amaze me. Good games play with the continuity of a movie. Their scores are like musicals, reusing leitmotifs and variations on style to convey emotion. And of course, their gameplay evolves subtly to match any shifts in the game's direction.

I admire not only the technical brilliancy behind this, but also the artistic elements of the game itself. You have simple games like Tetris (which is already a work of art in its own right) and then you have stuff like this. You really never know where games are going, and that's part of what makes them so exciting.

The music in games is similarly unpredictable. One thing that makes game music unique is that it needs to catch one's attention in a short span of time. Back when game consoles didn't have enough power to create elaborate music, games had very little data to make music that should enhance the game. The results were things such as this and this.

By nature, videogame music started with a tradition of making the most of very little. To me, this is the definition of creativity. A ball of playdough can make a man. A few legos can make a world.

With a few beeps and boops, one can make a song. Maybe with 16bits, one can conduct a symphony.

Today's videogame music still pays homage to its humble roots, despite its ability to match film score in quality and complexity. The development of the two genres is a fascinating topic in its own right, but I think that topic is best saved for another post.

Overall, videogames take a lot more than just programmers to create. It's the artists, musicians, and creative visionaries who make it come alive. And for the most part, they do a darn good job at it.

3. They bring people together.

The days of the isolated basement dweller are long gone. Games are always better with company. Nintendo did a lot to popularize this idea of social gaming with the Wii's family oriented software, but even before that, "hardcore" gamers have always understood the value of community.

Many multi-player games (the Mario kart and party series for example) are only fully functional when shared with friends. Without a fellow human being to laugh and yell with, they are pointless.

Anyone who's ever played an "icebreaker game" or even a board/card game knows the power that shared activity can have on bonding. Even if the players learn nothing significant about each other, the sharing of the activity itself prompts conversation and mutual enjoyment in each other's presence.

Videogames take this concept and turn it up to the max.

I'll make no claims as to the effect of videogames on introversion/extroversion or any other social inclination. What I will say is that the bond forged between two people sharing a night of Smash Brothers is a powerful thing.

4. They keep me in touch with my past and its meaning for the present

Nostalgia is powerful. Games are often in an especially powerful position to generate nostalgia from their players because many long running series create new iterations boasting similar elements.

The Legend of Zelda series for example, has existed since 1986. Let's say a player first experiences the game when he/she is 12. By now, he/she is 40. And the series shows no sign of stopping.

This is not a retrospective kind of nostalgia. There are still new and innovative Legend of Zelda games coming out every few years. But they all share certain elements and throwbacks to their roots. This merge of old and new is part of the reason why gaming nostalgia is particularly effective.

Another more important reason is that games rely on their specific experiences to stay in one's memory. These could include a particular stage, boss, character, or piece of music. Nostalgia is often an abstraction to a set of feelings during an event rather than specific events themselves. With games, the emotions one feels while playing a game become inseparably tied to the particular aspects of the game itself. This allows games to recall that nostalgia with ease simply by evoking that particular aspect from a previous iteration.

Essentially, games become time capsules.

Within each title lies a storehouse of memories that are particularly potent for the reasons listed above. And every new games calls upon and reinterprets those memories.

Thus for the gamer who has played for years, booting up a new game bears not only the excitement of horizons yet undiscovered, but also promises of old sentiments revisited.

Somedays, I reflect on how much I've changed since I last played a game as a kid. I think about how my thinking and goals have evolved, and how I'm different in as aspects of my life beyond just what I'm playing at the moment.

Having an activity that grows with you is a wonderful experience, whether that be playing an instrument or sport, family tradition, or any other familiar, yet gradually changing activity.

It ensures that one is never to estranged from his/her own previous identity, which is essential not only to future growth, but to living a meaningful life in the present.

Do I always think about this when I'm playing videogames?

Sometimes I do. Of course, there are some days when I really need to just have a little fun.

Why I Chose to Work in Food Service

Of all the jobs I could have taken in my time at college, why did I choose something like food service? I didn't have any prior experience before applying for BuDS (Brown University Dining Services). And I can't say the thought of working with food struck me as particularly exciting when I first thought of it either.

This question has definitely been on my mind for this first week of work. This would seem to suggest that I lacked a definitive reason for choosing BuDS before I started. On the contrary, I lacked substance in my earlier thoughts, and it is only now, after working 5 shifts that I have come to actualize what was initially but a romantic notion.

It's a bit of a silly statement isn't it? Working in food service is... romantic? I admit my interpretation of the term is a bit liberal here. And no, I don't mean I'm in love with food (those who know me could attest that I actually eat very little.)

What I mean is that there's something simple and gratifying about serving one's fellow human beings in such a direct manner.

Our world is full of invisible and abstract metrics. One gains "knowledge" in college, but although the asset is undoubtedly useful, it's immediate benefits are not apparent, instead relegated to the uncertain future. For humanities majors, I imagine this is especially true (I say this with the deepest respect and reverence for the humanities, which continues to teach me in ways I rarely expect.)

This list of abstractions goes on and on. From the value of "networking" to the merits of learning increasingly arcane calculus and linear algebra. With the advent of information technology, our lives are trapped within abstractions more than ever before, and though a vastly more open world can lead to new discoveries, it can also lead to a profound sense of aimlessness. While I've always been cynical when it comes to statistics on mood, the studies that claim that our generation is among the most anxious and depressed do not surprise me.

What does this have to do with working for BuDS? I am a part of this generation, and I would say that my mind is also a pretty active thing. It's easy to get bogged down by complex thoughts, especially when doing coursework or writing essays. But when I'm chopping a salad, making a pizza, or flipping a burger, my mind has only one thought.

"Make the food."

There is a kind of pleasure to be taken from such a simple, clear thought. Food Service jobs require immediate attention. The task is right in front of you, and you must finish it as best you can. And when you're done with that task, it is really done, and you move onto the next one.

You can't say that about a lot of things today.

I first discovered the power of simple, efficient work when I began washing dishes for fun in high school. Between clubs, college apps, and tests, life often felt overwhelmingly complex. But when one washes dishes, the work is right in front of you, and the progress is immediate. You can see the sink emptying and the clean pile rising. That's powerful stuff.

With all the big ideas and dreams floating around here, Brown can seem like a pretty lofty place. But at the end of the day, everyone needs to eat. And there's really something beautiful about that unity isn't there?

Update: I'm still writing!

Hello everyone,

It's been awhile since the last post. Up to now I've been writing steadily at around a post every 3 days. Unfortunately, college has been pretty busy as it gets into full swing. I'll definitely still be updating One Iris, but posts may become a bit more sporadic. Thanks for sticking with me!

Sincerely,
Chris

"Don't Send Your Kid to the Ivy League" (Deresiewicz)

Rather than doing homework this past Monday night, I found myself packing into the McCormack theater. Though I had arrived five minutes early, both the floor and the upper balcony were packed with a mix of students and what appeared to be faculty. We were all here for a talk by William Deresiewicz.

Deresiewicz is known for writing an article titled "Don't Send Your Kid to the Ivy League", which was actually an excerpt from his book, "Excellent Sheep: The Miseducation of the American Elite and the Way to a Meaningful Life." I had only skimmed the article when it first popped up on my RSS feed, but I was interested in hearing what he had to say.

His talk focused more on the value of a liberal arts education, rather than his prior criticisms of the elite institutions. If you would like to know more about the talk, here is the Herald's summary of it.

While the talk itself didn't answer any burning questions I had after rereading the article, it did prompt me to think more about Deresiewicz's claims. So I set out examining some of the major ideas he presents in his (in)famous article.

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The first thing that I noticed about the article was it's title, "Don't Send Your Kid to the Ivy League." It's not "Don't go to an Ivy League." By suggesting that the parents are the audience of this article, it disempowers the student right from the beginning. Deresiewicz presents a reality in which educational excellence seems almost manufactured by the parents, rather than the student. I found this quote particularly potent.

"The more hurdles there are, the more expensive it is to catapult your kid across them. Wealthy families start buying their children’s way into elite colleges almost from the moment they are born: music lessons, sports equipment, foreign travel (“enrichment” programs, to use the all-too-perfect term)—most important, of course, private-school tuition or the costs of living in a place with top-tier public schools. The SAT is supposed to measure aptitude, but what it actually measures is parental income, which it tracks quite closely."

Indeed, the article presents numerous examples of how students are essentially herded like sheep to certain goals. Consider some of the following examples:

-"You chose the most prestigious place that let you in; up ahead were vaguely understood objectives: status, wealth—“success.” What it meant to actually get an education and why you might want one—all this was off the table. Everyone dressed as if they were ready to be interviewed at a moment’s notice."

-"Our system of elite education manufactures young people who are smart and talented and driven, yes, but also anxious, timid, and lost, with little intellectual curiosity and a stunted sense of purpose: trapped in a bubble of privilege, heading meekly in the same direction, great at what they’re doing but with no idea why they’re doing it." 

Now I'm making Deresiewicz look like a pessimist, and that's a little unfair. The majority of his book is constructive in nature (according to him). But still, these excerpts are rather powerful aren't they? But how true are they?

In the end, I think Deresiewicz is onto something. While he has received a lot of backlash from students and teachers alike, I would say that such is to be expected when such a extraordinary claim is made. To me, his ultimate claim is that our educational system is phony. And slowly, we're becoming phony too.

I think this idea is most prevalent in his view on the modern student's "social engagements." Deresiewicz feels that our experiences have become so commodified that even service has become nothing more than a resume builder. In short:

"Why is it that people feel the need to go to places like Guatemala to do their projects of rescue or documentation, instead of Milwaukee or Arkansas?"

I've asked this type of question myself pertaining to my own activities in college. And though it's tough to admit, I think any high achieving student knows the answer. In the system we have found ourselves in, it's difficult to just be authentic. We are bombarded with numerical metrics from a young age, and come to connote them with out worth. The media constantly uses phrases like the "value of an education" which always refer to monetary value or job security. Even amongst ourselves, we judge those whose resumes are not as long, or whose college is not as "prestigious." Through this all, the last thing we seem to do is really care about what we're learning.

I think this quote from the article is very telling.

"Once, a student at Pomona told me that she’d love to have a chance to think about the things she’s studying, only she doesn’t have the time. I asked her if she had ever considered not trying to get an A in every class. She looked at me as if I had made an indecent suggestion."

In the end, I agree with most of Deresiewicz's criticisms. But although they are prevalent forces in modern education, one must be careful to make any sort of blanket statement on students. As young people, we can change our perspectives and goals overnight with the right inspiration.

The loss of this ability is exactly what Deresiewicz seems to fear the most.
----------

In a future post, I'll share my opinion on how Brown relates to this "Ivy Syndrome."

On Videogames Part 1

"Videogames." What kind of connotations does this word carry? For a long time, I thought the answer was simple. Videogames are for nerds. They're for people who like to stay inside all day, and don't "have a life." In the eyes of parents, they facilitate mental deterioration. In short, videogames are at best a simple diversion, and at worst an addictive, useless waste of time.

This rather extreme perspective has lessened over time. Videogames have made remarkable headway in becoming a respected force in the entertainment industry. One could argue that this trend has largely empirical roots. As the gaming industry has aged, so too has its audience. The median age of a gamer is now 31 (Source). Gaming as an industry has become bigger than Hollywood and music. Popular games sell millions of copies in days.  

There are people studying the benefits of video games for learning and health. There are books acknowledging and analyzing the huge role video games have played in the shaping of our collective culture.

Thus the image of gaming has slowly evolved beyond its early condemnation. One might even think that such a view should be antiquated. 

Indeed, modern America has come to tolerate a lot of things. 

But it still doesn't tolerate video games.

Yes, I know that I'm making a pretty radical statement here. No, I don't have any studies to back this one up. But even though I'll be the first to attest that the plural of "anecdote" is not "data", this is one case in which I think an anecdote provides some apt insight to my case for those who are still dubious.

The following excerpt is taken from a young lawyer's post on a gaming site, Kotaku.

"On another occasion, I had a really cool co-worker and his girlfriend over for dinner with me and my wife. Sitting in the living room, waiting for the taco meat to finish simmering (yay tacos), he saw an Xbox 360 controller on the coffee table. His reaction?

"I didn't know you have kids," he said smiling, gesturing to the controller.

"I don't."

Buh-bye smile."

I've seen variants of this story play out in my own life and in others countless times. Despite gaming's huge audience and influence in modern culture, the social stigma attached to it remains just a watered down version of the view I presented in the first paragraph.

I realize my tone has become a bit hostile towards this perspective. That was not my intended purpose. Rather, I hope this post has organized and presented my understanding of gaming as it stands today, both in an economic and cultural sense. Indeed, I wouldn't necessarily say I even condemn this view.

But as for my full own opinions on these matters, perhaps that is best saved for another post.

10 Books

This was a facebook challenge from a friend.

My dorm room bookshelf

Rules: In your status, list 10 books that have stayed with you in some way. Don't take more than a few minutes and don't think too hard. They don't have to be the "right books" or great works of literature, just the ones that have affected you in some way.

1. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoevsky): This book made my Junior year summer. Dostoevsky is a master in all aspects, and I couldn't put it down. It also singlehandedly got me into Russian Literature. Speaking of Russian Lit...

2. Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy): Of all the tragedies I have read, Tolstoy's epic is unmatched in its complexity and sheer scope. Even after finishing it, one gets the feeling that he/she has only taken in half of all the book has to say!

3. Gregor the Overlander (Suzanne Collins): Before the Hunger Games, Collins wrote about a boy named Gregor. This was my favorite youth series, and I still look back fondly at my time exploring the "Underworld." A legendary series by all accounts.

4. Warriors: Into the Wild (Erin Hunter): Another nostalgic pick. Specifically, Hunter's world of cats and clans stimulated my thoughts pertaining to my own cat, Zebra. It's a good series in and of itself, but I think the way it related to my cat made it special for me. To this day, I like to imagine that Zebra is in Starclan.

5. Silence of the Lambs (Thomas Harris): There's just something about this psychological horror story... Harris paces the novel very well, and knows how to disgust and mortify you just enough to keep you reading to the relatively happy end. A compelling book that shocked me with its brutality, both in imagery and themes.

6. The Report Card (Andrew Clements): This book made me realize that I am powerful. Or, at least as powerful as a fifth grader could be. Nora's ability to revolutionize her school system was a powerful story to me. It's a story that highlights individual power to change outdated societal systems, packaged in a charming children's book. Now that I think about it, my dislike for standardized tests like the SAT might have started here.

7. Nectar in a Sieve (Kamala Markandaya): This was actually a book from World Civ. class that we never ended up discussing. It was only around 200 pages, and combined with Markandaya's beautiful and riveting writing, I remember plowing through it in a single day. Rukmani's story reminds us to be grateful for what we have, and it paints a disturbingly powerful image of what rural life in India can be like.

8. A Streetcar named Desire (Tennessee Williams): The only book/play that has ever made me come close to tears. Anna Karenina's style of tragedy is like a slow, dull pain. One can feel it creeping up and tugging at the heartstrings, but Tolstoy intertwines it with happy moments as well. Streetcar just punches you right from the start and never stops. It's an unrelenting story of the destruction of innocence and a grim reminder of the sacrifices involved in any cultural "revolution".

9. Notes from Underground (Fyodor Dostoevsky): Yeah, I couldn't help but put two Dostoevsky books on here. Out of all literary characters, "The Underground Man" is probably the character that has inspired my most ambivalent feelings. His tale is just so fascinating... Dostoevsky also has an excellent sense of dark humor in this short tale.

10. Book of Ecclesiastes (Bible): The first book that I ever deeply thought about.

On Libraries

13th floor of the Brown Sciences Library

When you really think about it, libraries are miracles. Within each of their countless volumes lies information yes, but also an author's livelihood.

Some books are written in just a year, while others may take a lifetime. The pictured shelf includes thesis' from 1980 up to 2008. For each volume, there was a Brown student who spent eight years studying and writing deep into the night to produce it.

Did they do it for recognition in the academic circles? Perhaps it was just for a degree or monetary success? Though my cynical side tries to manifest itself, the reality of what towers before me leaves me speechless and in awe.

The end result of all their work is that I can simple walk on in and open a book. For a university student, such an act is like breathing, or drinking water. But that doesn't change the fact that the ability to do this is miraculous. Through the years these thesis' have been moved around, reprinted in newer bindings, borrowed, and returned. This was all so I can take those eight years of study in a physical form, and (attempt to) learn it more quickly.

Above all, what strikes me most about this room is the sense of legacy I feel. These students all walked the same halls and studied in the same libraries as I do now. Here before me stands an academic ancestry. It's now my generation's time to carry on this human thirst for knowledge. We may be spread across many different universities, departments, and homes, but in this curiosity we are united.

Arrogance and Judgement

"Am I arrogant?" This is a question that I've found myself pondering a lot lately. Specifically, I have been concerned that I judge people too quickly, despite my deeply held conviction that we are rarely what we appear on the outside. I guess that it's only natural that as one grows in knowledge, he/she becomes more inclined to make predictions with that knowledge. Nevertheless, it's a precarious action isn't it?

In the first few days of college, one tends to meet people. I mean a lot of people. The questions: "What's your major?" tends to fly around a lot. I have always held a disdain for questions with any kind of value judgement hidden within them, whether it is purposeful or not.

I wouldn't say these types of question irk me because of the possibility of irrationality they present, but more because of a sort of weird PTSD I have with forms of verbal judgement. Though I remember little from my early childhood, one prevailing sensation I have is of Asian adult's eyes looking at me. They scanned me with their words, and boxed me in based on my grades.

And yet I engage in such "sizing up" myself. And though I'd like to just say that the action itself is still wrong regardless of my hypocrisy, it's ridiculous to suggest that such an action is inherently immoral. "Isn't a little judgement necessary?" This is yet another question that has been torturing me as of late.

I'm suddenly reminded of Matthew 7: 1-2.

“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. 2 For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."

There's a lot of verses like this in the Bible that present seemingly obvious truths that take on a more powerful scope when one is experiencing the issue itself. I've struggled a lot with my thoughts, but the truth has suddenly become evident to me. Currently, I lack the strength to apply this simple verse in my life.

For once, I wrote this post without any coherent idea of where I want to go, and as a result it seems I've hit a dead end. But there's something to be said about the power of spontaneous writing. There's a vigor and youth to it that I want to preserve, no matter how much writing I do in the future.

In the end, this post originated from some thoughts in real life and a rereading of One Iris as it stands today. I've noticed that One Iris has start to become a sort of sink for me to play God and "bestow" my "wisdom" on my readers. That's not what I intended, and indeed such a structure is reeking of arrogance. The counter part of arrogance is humility, so starting now I hope to exercise it a bit better.

Anna Karenina Part 2

Taken at George St, Providence

My last post made Anna Karenina seem like a rather depressing book. While it is definitely a tragedy, I wouldn't be doing it justice if I didn't acknowledge the uplifting and inspiring ideas it presents as well. The depth to which Tolstoy explores the issues in Anna Karenina is too deep to capture in something like a blog post, but I'd like to conclude this little series with a few final observations.

Now that I've finished the novel, it's obvious that Tolstoy supports traditional values of family and faith that were central in Russian society at the time. His critical view of modern city living, and disdain for abstract thinking is clear as well. Yet the various complications that present themselves within the pages of Anna Karenina make a rock solid conclusion difficult to draw out from among these favoritisms.

For example, Tolstoy does support a traditional family and the values that come with it.

SPOILERS
This can be seen from the ultimate chapter of the book being dedicated to Levin and Kitty's family, and the meaning that Levin derives from it.

Yet nearly the entirety of Anna Karenina is spent describing unhappy families. The first line of the novel perfectly captures the nuanced familial relationships and politics that Tolstoy explores.

"Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

Anna Karenina starts with Stiva (Anna's brother) cheating on his wife. It then turns to Anna's affair. Levin SPOILERSand Kitty get married, only to have a chapter right afterwards describing his disillusionment.

Tolstoy's depictions of faith follow a similar trend. Alexei has a revelation when he sees Anna dying, and in his newly found magnanimity, forgives Anna for her transgressions against him while Vronsky sulks in a corner. But right after that, Anna recovers, she hates Alexei even more, and his forgiveness ultimately means absolutely nothing. Kitty's revelation to faith seems powerful when it begins, but the speed and ease with which she is converted ultimately reinforces the simple and naive nature of her character. In fact, Tolstoy even chooses to strike down the "holiness" of her teacher within two chapters.

"she felt that the heavenly image of Madame Stahl, which she had carried for a whole month in her heart, had vanished, never to return, just as the fantastic figure made up of some clothes thrown down at random vanishes when one sees that it is only some garment lying there."

In all of this, Tolstoy is exploring the necessity of trials and mistakes to make these institutions work. It is only through the various obstacles within the story that Levin and Kitty reach their ultimately happy endings.

But what of Anna and Alexei's relationship and political struggles? If faith and family are so supported, why do they both appear so ineffective throughout the majority of the book? Like life itself, I think Tolstoy is acknowledging the ambiguity within these artificially simplified concepts. The way in which all of these forces interact is frankly, a complete mess, and Tolstoy wouldn't have it any other way.

In the end, what's most important about Levin's story is that he stops thinking so much. He doesn't come to any deep, profound conclusions on the events transpiring in his life. He doesn't come to terms with any of the philosophy books he reads.

Instead he encounters both a literal and figurative flash of lightning SPOILERS that he thinks may have killed Kitty and their son. Levin realizes what matters in life, and vows to never lose sight of it again. Despite the complexity of the novel and the themes explored in it, the final pages are simple. With all things wrapped up for better or for worse, Levin moves on with his life. And what a beautiful thing it is.

Anna Karenina: Part 1

Note: Spoilers will be invisible until highlighted.

That note was written in the passive voice. As any high school english student knows, using the passive voice is one of the most egregious sins one can commit in writing.

For those who don't know, passive voice is a grammatical term referring to a certain type of sentence structure. In most sentences, the subject does something. For example: "I ate the food." But in the passive voice, the subject gets something done to it by an unspecified agent. "The food was eaten." The passive voice is thus frowned upon for its vagueness. The sentence doesn't tell us who ate the food!

For a long time, I was unable to put my finger on what made "Anna Karenina" so disturbing in the magnitude of its tragedy. I've read my share of tragedies. Plays in particular, such as "Death of a Salesman" and "A Streetcar Named Desire" have permanently etched themselves into my memory with their tales of woe.

But there's something that Anna Karenina has that just left my speechless when I finished it.

SPOILERS
Anna Karenina is killed.

Despite the things that Anna does throughout the story, including infidelity, manipulation, and even child neglect, one can't help but look at her in awe. Anna is a passionate and well educated woman. She is caring, reflective, and beautiful. She enthralls all around her. She can even stop a divorce. 

But from the moment that Anna Karenina meets Vronsky on the train ride home, Anna Karenina lives her life in the passive voice.

As we read, we see Anna's life gradually slip away from her. All her inner strength and wisdom fail her, and fate becomes her master. In most tragedies, there is some kind of identifiable cause of the protagonist's fall. It could be a tangible entity, or perhaps a hamartia within the character him/herself. But in Anna's case, there is nothing to say. Anna is acted upon by an unspecified agent. Neither the circumstances of her tragedy nor the end result have any kind of ultimate meaning. 

Despite all her beauty, grace, and inner strength, Anna Karenina's story fades away.

This is what twisted my heart the most by the end of Tolstoy's epic. The final 50 pages of the 800 page book have no mention of Anna at all. Vronsky goes on with his life, and Levin takes center stage. Tolstoy creates a void that contrasts all the more powerfully with Levin's search for meaning in life SPOILER and ultimate revelation of faith. But one's heart aches all the same. 

I have come to see Anna Karenina as a sort of "anti Crime and Punishment." For those who haven't read Dostoevsky's work, I highly recommend it, it's what singlehandedly got me into Russian Literature. Both Anna and Raskolnikov commit crimes that seem horrific from an uninformed bystander's perspective. But when one follows their internal thoughts, they pose an intricate web of questions on justice, morality, and the human condition. But whereas Raskolnikov leaves his story with a sense of hope and fulfillment, Anna's leaves it empty.

There is nothing more to say.

Anna Karenina: Introduction

Although it's been almost a week since I finished reading Anna Karenina, I've found I have a curious inability to decide how I feel about it. For those who don't know, "Anna Karenina" is a novel by Russian author Leo Tolstoy. It is often placed among the finest works of literary prose of all time. It's true that there are many highly regarded books that can bore the adolescent mind, and yet when I first heard the premise of Anna Karenina, I was instantly enticed, even though it was published in 1878 and its subject matter was foreign to me.

"Anna Karenina" focuses on, guess who, Anna Arkadyevna Karenina. She is a noblewoman, married to one of the most important statesman in Russia, Alexei Alexandrovich Karenin. The story tells of her fall from grace as she engages in an affair with the handsome Count Alexei Kirillovich Vronsky.
It also follows the life of Konstantin Dmitrievich Levin, another noble who prefers his country farm over the pleasures of modern living in the city. His story arc follows his journey to discover meaning in life, as well as pursuing his love interest, Ekaterina Alexandrovna Shcherbatskaya.

If you haven't ever read Russian literature, I'll bet you're already confused by the character's names. I know I sure was. Though I love the depth to which Russian novels explore their characters, I admit I do not always appreciate the depth to which they explore the character's names. Luckily, Russian novels tend to refer to their characters by shortened versions of their names. Of course, this raises the question: "Which part of the name do I use?" Konstantin Dmitrievich Levin for example, is known by three (there might be more that I can't recall) different names throughout the novel.

-Levin
-Konstantin Dmitrievich
-Kostya

For the sake of this post, I will pick one shortened name and stick with it. If you ever do decide to read "Anna Karenina" for yourself, know that characters will occasionally be referred to by different names than the ones I use.

So let's try this again.

"Anna Karenina" focuses on, guess who, Anna. She is a noblewoman, married to one of the most important statesman in Russia, Alexei. The story tells of her fall from grace as she engages in an affair with the handsome Vronsky.
It also follows the life of Levin, another noble who prefers his country farm over the pleasures of modern living in the city. His story arc follows his journey to discover meaning in life, as well as pursuing his love interest, Kitty.

These characters compose but a small fraction of the intertwined families detailed in Tolstoy's masterpiece. But with the major characters out of the way, hopefully I'll be able to communicate my thoughts more clearly in another post.

On Ironing

In preparation for my move in to Brown, I found myself ironing some old clothes. My household actually doesn't keep an iron, so this was actually my first time even seeing one in use. I have to say, it was a strangely satisfying experience.

An iron provides two things: heat and steam. Using just those two forces, it magically straightens out wrinkled clothes. I have to say, when I first used it, I was legitimately fascinated. There's something so beautiful about this concept. Heat and water, together they can work wonders.

Of course, the process of ironing itself is relatively tedious, since one is forced to stand there doing a repetitive motion. I found my thoughts wandering to a common group of sayings. I've heard "heat and pressure make diamonds" and "clay must be fired before becoming hot" as variations of the idea that trials and tribulations make one stronger. I have to say though, I think my new favorite variation is: "heat and water straighten clothes."

If we were to liken clothes to people (a little strange but bear with me), there's a somber similarity. We both wrinkle over time. Through no fault of our own, our previous luster loses its shine.

And yet an iron presses clothes back into shape with those two wondrous substances: heat and water. In this metaphor, heat represents tests or pressures, just like in other sayings. Where I think the "Iron" metaphor succeeds is in the water.

Before I explain why the water aspect is so profound, I'll have to clarify the problem I have with the whole "heat makes you stronger" idea. Yes, trials and tribulations have a strong potential to strengthen us, but they can just as easily break us. Sometimes a tragedy is just that: a tragedy. There is no lesson to be learned, no comfort to be found. Coming to terms with such irrational sorrow is a part of growing up, as shown in the cynical stage so common to us adolescents.

And yet heat continuously applied does nothing but burn the cloth. A wise ironer applies the heat in controlled doses, over a wide area. And most importantly, water is used.

Water ensures the cloth does not burn as easily, and also makes it easier to shape with the heat. In the same way, heat is not as effective on us if we have no water.

What does it mean to have that water in terms of people? That's a question I think I'll have to ponder some more. But I think a good start is that water gives us the ability to embrace and resist heat. Water also allows us to then use that heat not as a destructive force, but an accelerator to straighten and mold ourselves. Perhaps it is a strong network of friends and family? Maybe an inner peace with oneself? Or is it a relative force that differs for each of us?

Ultimately, this is still a very abstract reflection, but the concept of water itself is what is important. Not all tests are good, if one is not in the right condition. Indeed, I'm glad I remembered to fill up my water tank before ironing my second shirt (after burning the corner of my first.)

Do I find it sad that the first thing I felt like writing about in college is ironing?

...

Maybe just a little bit.

"Sandy"

After such a dramatic first post, I'm surprised that I'm not entirely sure what I want to reflect on here. I intended One Iris to be a place for thoughts on my present and future circumstances. But I've come to realize that before I move forward, I need to look backward, so I can better understand how I've become who I am today and where I can still grow.

I first came to own my writing in my Sophomore year of high school. As such, my Sophomore English portfolio provides a fascinating glance into some themes that I reflected on at my "writing genesis" so to speak. It's hard to believe that was only two years ago...

Since then, I have written some informal pieces, but they were not uploaded to the portfolio. As such, I'd like to share some of the pieces I've written over those last two years, and provide a little analysis as to the meaning behind them.

----------------
“Sandy”

Cast along the Sandy shore
Driven by the winds of lore

Wrinkling,
Wrinkling,
Brown of hue
Falling
Falling
Far from new

Little leaves;
Tired Trunks;

Tiny Trikes;
Big boy bikes;


All a falling
----------------

This was a poem I wrote during Hurricane Sandy, which crashed into Rhode Island in the fall of 2012. I was stricken by an intense melancholy when I stepped outside for the first time after the storm. A tree, once strong and stout, had fallen down and almost hit our garage. A heavy rain was drenching the piles of dead leaves and branches strewn across the driveway.

Rhode Island was not the hardest hit by Sandy either, and I knew that in other places, Sandy had wrecked homes and even killed people. Something about the way that a force as simple as wind and rain could bring such devastation stuck with me. I still feel that sense of bewilderment and melancholy whenever I hear news about natural disasters as well as world conflicts.

"Sandy" explores that horrible confusion. Ultimately, it is a poem about death. Like a hurricane, death comes randomly and without discrimination. It tosses around the principles we base our lives around, whether they are strongly rooted trees or small fragile leaves. It can happen to young and old. It is inevitable.

Looking back, this was a very depressing poem. But there's a genuine fear in it that I still recognize in myself. I haven't fully come to terms with death in its morbid simplicity. Perhaps it's not something I should be coming to terms with at my age. But I think it's something one has to acknowledge before he/she can fully understand and appreciate life. This is not to say that one's mind should rest on such thoughts. Rather it is the courage to confront them, and the strength to understand and put them to rest that is important. In that respect, I am grateful that I saved this poem. Looks like I've still got plenty to learn from myself.

What is One Iris?

For my inaugural post, I'd like to explain the title of this blog.

"Iris" is a word that has a multitude of meanings to me. For one, the iris is an essential part of the eye that controls the amount of light it lets in. Thus the iris is responsible for how brightly or dimly one sees the world. I hope the writing in this blog would be like an iris, helping me to express and interpret what I experience.

One's eye color is also dictated by the iris. The eyes are often said to be the most beautiful part of one's face, but where would it be without the iris? Though there are only a handful of iris colors, each individual iris sees the world in a different way. Thus the iris also represents individuality within a broader group, whether it be in color or in identity.

I'd like to think that when we stare into another's eyes, we admire not only the shining blues or deep browns. After all, there are many other eyes that bear the same color. Rather, we admire what that individual iris has seen and the identity of the person who bears it. In that sense, the eye really is a window into the soul.

Finally, Iris is a species of flower. It is a hardy, yet delicate flower that comes in every color of the rainbow, like the greek goddess that it takes its name from. People are a lot like flowers. In some seasons we bloom, and others we wilt. But the iris flower is a perennial, so it can survive winters and bloom once again in the spring just like people. We both live a pretty short time overall, but the time we do have is beautiful if we live it to the fullest. The Iris flower thus serves as a reminder of the resilience, beauty, and brevity of life.

This blog is a window into one of those irises.