Some Thoughts After the Zimmerman Verdict

I'll preface this by saying that I'm grateful. Grateful for the life that I have lived, my family, my friends, the opportunities that I've had and will (hopefully) continue to have.

However, currently the world sucks.

Hopefully, if you are reading this you've heard about George Zimmerman being found not guilty of a multitude of charges stemming from the February 26th killing of 17-year old Trayvon Martin (and if you have not, or are not up-to-date on the details there are a multitude of sites that contain more information, please read up on it). My thoughts echo a lot of those being sent through social media, and my thoughts go out to the Martin family.

The handling of this trial along with all of the news of the past couple months has only made me firmer in my belief that there is something fundamentally wrong with the American justice, political and media systems. If the news of PRISM, of the Moral Monday riots in NC,  the anti-abortion bills throughout the country, and the media handling of all of this (don't even get me started on the false, racist names that were broadcasted on national television after the Asiana flight accident) hasn't made you question our systems of government and beyond-I'm not sure that you are living in the same world that I am.

The lack of transparency and communication is alarming to me and it scares me beyond belief-so what do I, do we do next?

I'm not sure, and there are much better and smarter people who may have some of these answers. I hope that they begin to speak up.

Because that is what I plan to do.

It can be so easy to hide, to hold your tongue, and I've done that. When I first heard about PRISM I was angry but more strongly, I was scared. I immediately dove into movies, television, books, any where I could live somewhere else and some other time. However, each film, each episode, each book only gave me more thoughts on what is exactly wrong and what could be done, every piece of media gave me another perspective, another view, and more importantly, hope.

It is now that I realize this is why I want to work in media. To make a difference, to make things more transparent, so that we can communicate better. Media that will help us understand perspectives and ideas, give us hope or slap us to attention, inform us towards action, teach us so we can to the best of our ability-this is what I strive for.

I hope today's decision, as well as everything that has happened so far, can help you find something you can do to make this world a little less awful.

Learn more, listen more, see more, do more.

Success...Yay?

I’ve been busy (really, I’m not trying to garner attention or sympathy.)(Perhaps, a little) School, fencing, projects, personal relationships-everything that composes normal life for a student-athlete. Don’t get me wrong, I love it. Knowing that I am doing things that I love to do, and I am (was) good at it. Even as close as two weeks ago, I was ahead on work-emails were replied to in seconds, things were done and I had some free time. However, now...Well now I’m not so ahead (not that I’m particularly behind.) What has changed? I’m not entirely sure but I have a hunch. I don’t really have time for hunches-I have a biology exam tomorrow, another draft of a play to write, sequence 5 of my feature, scheduling to do for my documentary project, scheduling to do for CAN, readings to do for my COMM class, and probably more (nevermind, my collegiate fencing duties, my relationships with people, my personal goals and my vanity.) Perhaps I’ll talk more about my specific projects and duties. But I don’t really have time for that. I could be writing about a dystopian future right now, instead I am writing about how I am feeling (why I am feeling) in an attempt to right myself for the amount of work I need to do. The thing is, my hunch at least, that I’m afraid (terrified, paralyzed by) success. Silly, ridiculous, and unfortunate, really. It’s not that I’m satiated by it-the opposite. The mere taste, the slightest whiff of success makes my brain crave it, my mouth waters and want to grab it (whatever it is) and hold it close to me, squeezing (protecting) it. Failure has always been my companion (muse?) and when it side steps behind me, behind success, I feel different (anxious.) The drive is still there (stronger than ever.) But the focus disappears, it is as if victory (as fleeting as it is) taints me. Poisons me and I don’t want anymore doses...so I stop. Success is a strange beast, it fills me with pleasure but it terrifies me. It is never alone, it has friends that torment me. But most importantly (potently,) it makes failure a stranger again. Who was once a friend becomes a stranger, who in the dark becomes an enemy. It is the fear of someone that I knew so well that tinges success, because I know that if I let success through the door failure would follow close behind and stab my in the back. So I open the door for success, linger on the glorious view and just stare. It doesn’t make sense, it isn’t productive, it is extremely frustrating, and I want it to stop. The issue is how. Perhaps this post is an attempt to fix my problem. By writing it out, trying to understand it, that I will find the solution. Maybe I will, hopefully I do.

Some Thoughts on Writing or Why I am Writing Right Now

The notion of writing, placing down symbols to represent a thought, an idea (regardless of its truth,) is a strange one-and one that differentiates humans from the many organisms that inhabit this planet. A key question that arises (at least for me) is who is writing for? Is it for the author? A record of fleeting thoughts so that we can relive what our degenerating brains can no longer properly remember? An enjoyable moment to dump our brains, perhaps understand ourselves better.

Or is it for our peers? A physical manifestation of our thoughts so that we can share them others-but to what end? Communication is the obvious answer, but to communicate what exactly is less so. Is it to gloat? To show others that, yes indeed I have important and revelatory thoughts in this head of mine. Or perhaps to seem aloof, I do not need to complain nor talk to others, the only confidante I need is my pen.

I always had this fantasy that I would keep a diary with all of my deep inner thoughts and feelings, my cool and fantastical ideas that could revolutionize the world-like Da Vinci’s notes. It would be for my own personal use but more importantly (this is a fantasy) when I die (or something tragic befalls me) someone will find my notebooks and would realize that I was a much better person than they had previously thought. I imagine this is my way of being remembered when I’m gone, that I will be hailed as a genius of some sort posthumously (so I wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of fame apparently.)

This caused my earlier attempts at journalling to be pretentious, pompous and just embarrassing. Looking back at those entries do not remind of things to do, instead it just makes me despise how I write when I’m extremely emotionally charged.

Then the Internet became popular and fame was simply a few keyboard touches and a mouse click away. Theoretically your writing could be seen by more people than a book published in the 1880s would ever see. The conundrum grows more muddled with the Internet. Are you writing to sell yourself to an imaginary audience of thousands, or is it still for you? I ventured into this world tentatively writing under pseudonyms and avatars. I tried to cater to audiences while desperately trying to keep showing the digital realm that I am a diverse human being (a girl even!) that was innocently giving them peeks into my mind. I wrote like I wanted to be hired by Gawker Media (initially Gizmodo, then io9,) so I wrote reviews and topical thoughts in the same vein as what was trendy. But constantly second guessing myself because of the nagging thought that “individuality matters! Be an individual you numskull!” So plans of CES coverage, Apple Keynotes, etc. built up until I just didn’t want to do it because Stephen Totillo already it and Brian Lam already shit on Apple for me, who needs copycat posers in a sea of them?

With so many conflicting thoughts I quickly ended up doing nothing but daydreaming about that moment when I will write and immediately become successful and relevant forever.

So what has changed? Nothing. I still constantly worry about what I am writing and why I am doing it. For me or for them (whoever they are)? Does the judgement of the Internet and those that roam it matter? Does the future judgement of history matter? More importantly, does it matter more than your own personal judgement?

The only thing that has changed is that I’ve become more indifferent (some would say savvy, I really wouldn’t.) I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter, that the world continues turning regardless of what I type and what you read. That’s the beauty of the world-it is based on action and inaction, not from symbols on a page nor sounds emitted from vibrating vocal cords. So if the NCAA reads this (which I doubt, but Hi!) or a future employer does, so be it. What I’m writing is a close approximation of how I am thinking right now in time, it is built from the past and will constantly change in the future.

So why do I write? Right here, right now on the Internet? Because I want to become a better writer and that requires practice. Because I want to express myself articulately to myself (and perhaps to you, Reader.) Because I want people to read this and understand one aspect of one person living in the same (maybe different, hello aliens!) world. Because maybe I’ll get famous and rich. Because it’s time for me to act and do something, to possibly alleviate some regret and enjoy myself.