Author Archives: kayyano

About kayyano

There is nothing worse than words used in ignorance.

Reflection: 104, It’s over?

“Are you ready for English…” My mood instantly jumps from a potential negative to a relative positive. “…class?” Mood change 180. I’m back to negative infinity. I don’t mind writing and it was not really a problem for me. It’s just when you have to learn something from it. Aiming it at a certain audience never appealed to me since I’m the type of person who looks to write for writing’s sake. Still, it was odd and yet interesting.
Having a natural passion for both thinking and writing, I believe my strength to be in creative writing. Ironically, for a creative writer, I’m incredibly inflexible. This class helped me to be more elastic in my writing to where it wasn’t purely research or purely creative. In my research paper, I mixed the story of a character into the research of how Bang! The card game was related to Life. I used this new idea to better reflect my research.
I always had trouble with writing about a specific topic and writing on a blog helped me to learn flexibility and find new ways to mesh different types of writing together. The blog seemed difficult to me since I wasn’t sure how to approach writing on a blog as I had an odd little perspective that a blog needed to be about something of great importance to the person. I made an attempt at such a post with my post on an elderly couple trying to work their webcam. (See “Lasting the Test of the Tech”) Needless to say, I consider this post a failure due to lack of clarity on what I was doing.
Writing on the blog also helped me to see that I couldn’t exactly expect everyone who was reading my post to understand what I was writing about, especially since Bang! the card game was something that not many people knew about. Now, I understood the importance of a disclaimer. This would not only warn the readers that something was a bit off about my post but also it would hopefully intrigue them more and cause them to do more research into the topic. (“A Tale from a Secretively Open Society”) Due to the writing for an audience I knew nothing about, I found an old memory popping into my mind as I posted on the blogs. I used to write for fun online and that was when I realized it. I had only a title and a sentence or two with which to really hook the reader into reading my post.
This class helped me to develop this thought. The blogging especially since it was a clear attempt to vie for a reader’s attention. I have learned to analyze the type of writing that I’ve done and reorganize it to make it more appealing to a reader who would potentially know nothing about the subject. These are skills I will most certainly put into my writing in the future


Arifact 2: The Value of a Letter

A meshing of ideas from JRog and kayyano

While the beliefs of the religious and the scientific rarely overlap, there are occasions when the two must set aside their difference and join together; when our survival is as stake, our differences become irrelevant. Edward O. Wilson, winner of the National Medal of Science and two Pulitzer Prizes, writes to a pastor of the Southern Baptist community in a plea for help to solve a great problem in his letter “Apocalypse Now”.
Wilson writes to religious leaders offering an alliance with scientists to help save the world. The planet is heading on the path to extinction. Every day we wait, we lose valuable biological resources with untold potential. This is not a problem science or religion can solve alone. They are the two most powerful forces on earth, and they must work together. The only thing separating them is a conflict in their beliefs. These beliefs will never be the same but this shouldn’t matter.
He begins by asking to “set aside our differences in order to save Creation.” He warrants this idea by pointing out that “the defense of living nature is a universal value.” He admits that this “doesn’t rise from nor does it promote any religious or ideological dogma”. Wilson, a man of science, acknowledges that some evangelicals may be skeptical of his proposal. However, he states that the protection of the earth needs the help of both the scientists and the religious leaders. The survival of the planet is in the interest of both parties. If we continue with no change, it is likely life will slowly reach its demise. If we come together, there is a chance to ensure the survival of Creation.
However, it is a delicate process for a person of science to convince a person of God to work on the same side. So Wilson has to be careful with his choice of words. So in order to get his point across, Wilson uses the Rogerian argument. He acknowledges there are differences between the interpreter of Christian Holy and a secular humanist but focuses on the things each have in common: their interest in survival. His goal isn’t to prove who is in the wrong or right but to show both should be reaching for the same results. Wilson presses the issue further by asking why some religions don’t encourage conservation by asking the pastor if “they believe that the Second Coming is imminent and that, therefore, the condition of this planet is of little consequence”. If science and religion joined together, they don’t need to accept each other’s differences but merely set them aside for a moment. Each party is already indirectly working towards ensuring survival but they are doing it separately. Joining together may be more probable than it used to be. Wilson points out his observation that the “spiritual reach of evangelical Christianity is nowadays increasingly extended to the environment.” If there was ever a time for science and religious to agree to work together, it’s now.
The setting aside of ideals for the common good may not be such a farfetched idea as Ari Leveaux’s “A Different Education: Compost and Community, Not Literacy” explains. When New Orleans was hit by a hurricane, a person’s ability to read becomes second to their survival. When the world is faced with a disaster, our priorities change. People come together and begin to work for the common good. Wilson is only trying to unite science and religion together before the hurricane hits instead of after the damage is done.
Wilson writes his proposal as a letter to a pastor but neither the letter nor the pastor is real. The letter is intended to be a formal paper; it was never actually meant to be sent to anyone. The first two words address who it is meant for “Dear Pastor”, where the pastor represents people of authority in religion. It is ideal for Wilson to direct his argument to the leaders because for each one he convinces, he has also convinced a handful of followers. Wilson uses the letter and pastor to work perfectly for his argument. He has a formal paper directed to millions of people with the personal touch of a letter addressed to an individual.
“Apocalypse Now” is Wilson’s plea to set aside scientific and religious differences in order to save Creation. Some maybe skeptical of his proposal but Wilson is doing with the best intentions for everyone. To help make his argument more convincing, he uses the personal appeal of a letter and focuses on the commonalities instead of the differences. The union of each may not be such a farfetched idea. It’s not uncommon for people of varying backgrounds and beliefs to come together in the time of disaster. However, this union isn’t going to happen on its own. It could take something as simple as a letter.


A Ghost Story

I hate the world. That’s what I’m known for. I hate the rain. That’s who I am.

The music was blaring and the people were dancing. This was going just the way I’d planned. My family actually listened to me this time. They actually did something right.
I overheard someone commenting on my event as I glided toward the appetizer table.
“Hey, we’re out of chips!” My brother was, as always, on top of things. Count on him to be the person that my family would choose to organize the event. They didn’t trust me enough to plan things — even if it was my idea. I don’t blame them. He’s much better at social gatherings than I am.
Whenever we’re at a family meeting, he’s the brother that extends the welcoming hand to everyone. I’m the brother who’ll bite it off if given the chance. I’m in the corner and my brother’s out on the dance floor. Compared to us, light and dark are synonymous.
“Why don’t you two get along?” This was the question that our parents and family often asked. Our answers were the same, which probably ticked us off even more.
“It’s not that we don’t want to. It’s that we can’t!”
No matter how much I tried to be myself, my darling brother always had to beat me. Nothing satisfied him more than leaving me in his dust. Of course then again, nothing satisfied me more than having him find out that his latest collection of strange scientific specimens had been thrown out the window. Life at my house was constant war. Me against him.

“Son, where should this go? Your aunt just arrived with the gifts from your grandmother.” Brother smiled diplomatically at my father and pointed at the pile of presents in the corner that had begun to be a pyramid. I hated that smile. It never seemed sincere no matter where he used it. You could tell my emotions through my smiles, at least that’s what the others said. Brother was a crowd pleaser. I wondered how he could put up with it all.
“This is a great party. I’m sure your brother’s liking this.” One of his friends patted him on the back. Brother just smiled and agreed. That was the most irritating. Anything anyone said, he agreed with. Though I suppose there are some good points to him. He is always there when you don’t need him.

“Who’s the loser now?” I spat out the blood that had welled in my mouth. Not my blood. His blood. The bully’s. He doesn’t get to mess with my brother. After all, I’m the only one that can bully him. I’m the only one allowed to crush his dreams. I’m his family. It’s what I do.
“Honestly. I haven’t seen such fighting.” The principal had been called out. I had a few scratches across my face and arms. Only needed a few stitches. The other guy was much worse. His wounds couldn’t be covered with a bandage. “You were lucky to not have been blinded in that fight.” My wounds wouldn’t scar. Too bad. “I understand though. What with family honor and all that.” The principal meant it in the kindest way possible. I looked my brother in the eye.
“What family honor?” Dear brother! He looked away and I was suspended.

The presents just kept piling up. The corner they were put in was just about to burst.
“Hey! When are we going to open the presents?” one of my cousins asked my mother who looked at my brother. He smiled indulgently.
“Soon.” That was another way of saying never. He didn’t plan a time slot to open presents. Figures. He never liked cleaning up the wrapping paper. Even on his own birthday, he wouldn’t allow guests to wrap his presents. We need to save the trees. Right.

“He’s trying to enjoy himself no doubt,” someone was telling me. I gave no response. “Your brother probably really needs someone there for him right about now.” I didn’t answer. The person just shrugged and moved on.
I couldn’t help but wonder why that person would say something like that. Saying something so tactless and obvious. It wasn’t just my brother. It was my entire family. They didn’t need me, however. They needed someone who could stop the rain. I couldn’t do anything about it. Not one single thing. No matter what I tried.

“You really shouldn’t fight so much. It’s bad for your body and will ruin your reputation.” Father was lecturing me on how being the older of the two of us I needed to set an example for my brother. Sure. As if he needs an example.
Brother stood there staring at my injuries with horror. I smirked, making sure that he saw what that guy had done to me. Making sure that he knew that I blamed him. He got the message and ran away. I got cuffed. It wasn’t severe. I’d live but I couldn’t help storming up the stairs and slamming the door to my room, griping about how dysfunctional my family was. I was an idiot back then. Still am and still just as proud.
“Why can’t you ever stick up for yourself?” I threw his telescope at him. He caught it as if the stupid thing held his life.
“Why are you always getting into fights?” His wit definitely wasn’t to be countered. I snarled and knocked over an apparatus that was in my way.
“Because someone can’t defend themselves without help from an adult.” That shut him up. I stormed out of the room. I heard him muttering something but I didn’t care. No way he was related to me. I had a feeling that Mom would call me down to the kitchen. Sure enough, Mom called.
“Can’t you get along with your brother?” she sighed.
“I try, but it just doesn’t work out.”
“Try harder, won’t you?”
“Right.”

I sighed. How unlike me to ponder the past. I suppose that when you’ve got time on your hands, that’s all you can do. Thoughts and memories run through your head to the point where you could almost swear that déjà vu was occurring. This party had been my idea, but my brother was the one doing all the work. He planned the party decorations, organized the play list, sent invitations to people and made sure that everything would be fine. He invited family, his friends, my friends, our parents’ friends. He invited everyone we know or knew. I’d seen a guy at the party I hadn’t talked to for about five years. No doubt he’d gone through my room to get those numbers.
I looked around at the party. It was going smoothly. No surprise. There was the girl my dear brother used to like. Then he found out what she really was like and stopped liking her. Problem was she seemed obsessed with me.
“You know you could’ve left a message.” She was talking to me. She always tried to start a conversation. I always gave a noncommittal shrug and walked off. I couldn’t this time. There was nowhere to walk to.
“You never talked to me, even when I talked to you. Nothing more than a grunt and then you shoulder past me.” Everyone was silent. Even the music had stopped. They were watching us. She was about to hit me. Brother grabbed her hand before it fell.
“If you can’t br respectful, then please leave. This was Big Brother’s idea. This party is for him after all.” She stared at him angrily before storming away from the both of us. I glared at Brother. The music continued. Mother touched his shoulder and looked at me. She smiled lightly before leaving the two of us alone.
“For once the tables turned, Big Brother, this time, I needed to protect you. I know how much you hated protecting me, but you did it anyway. No matter what you said, you were always there for me. It’s past time for me to return the favor.” Brother smiled at me. That hated smile. I knew his speech wasn’t done and braced myself for the rest. There was more. There was always more.
“You planned it all out. To the last detail. True, I had to go through your room to get the plans, but still, to think that you planned something so thoroughly. I thought I could make it better but I just screwed it up by inviting her. Sorry about that.” I was surprised. He’d never apologized to me for anything. Still I couldn’t find myself telling him that everything was fine. I wouldn’t, not now or ever.
“I hope this goes along with your plan, Big Brother. No tears or sadness. Just everyone having fun, laughing. You didn’t want tears because you can’t stand them. You didn’t want anyone to cry because that would mean losing. Though the game will be lost in the end. Isn’t that what you said to me? I’m glad that you had this one planned out.” Then he left me in the corner. I threw a half-hearted punch at his back, knowing that he wouldn’t feel it. One more annoying thing about my brother, he was always right. My favorite song started playing. Everyone stopped dancing and stood there. Dear Brother! He was the first one back on the dance floor. Everyone just joined in.
The party continued. More people talked to the shell in a silk-lined box that looked like me. This was my party, but also my funeral. My body would be cremated immediately after the party was over. As I moved on, I learned something. The strange thing is I taught it to myself.

Tears aren’t anything, just drops of rain falling from our eyes. It’s the feelings behind the rain that turns it into tears.

I hate the rain.


Artifact 1: A Tale From a Secretively Open Society

Disclaimer: If you don’t get it, play it.

Paul hid behind his barrel as bullets flew by him. Luckily, he had everything he needed in his hand. Not to mention, he had his Mustang, a silver little beauty, which aided him in this battle. That didn’t stop his opponent, notorious assassin and Outlaw nicknamed Blast, from getting a more powerful weapon to hit him with. He just prayed to God that his partner, Jourdon would get here and join this firefight soon. He knew there was no way to capture this scum alive. Blas had been killing people left and right. Blast had even killed his own teammate to get his hands on some more firepower. It wasn’t even that much either. Jourdon had forced the man to use it all up before stepping away from the fight. His excuse? “I need to go relieve myself…and my mom is calling.” Paul only smirked to himself.
As though yelling at him for taking his mind away from the present situation, the barrel Paul had been hiding behind was knocked to the side and splintered into pieces. The owner would have to discard it into the heap of other things discarded. He saw Blast sitting there with a mean grin on his face.
“Nowhere to run now, Sheriff,” the outlaw gloated. Paul cursed as he realized he had no defense. Nowhere to run indeed.
“Why don’t you get Jourdon back? I mean, he made you lose all of your firepower.” Somehow, Paul had to stall at least until Fate decided to deal him a better hand. Blast only chuckled.
“No way, Paul. I got a beef with you, see? Remember how you killed my partner? You remember Sharpshooter Sheldon?”
“If I recall correctly, you’re the one that killed him.”
“Only because I had a truce with Elena Fuente.” Paul sighed. “You killed her too.” Blast grinned.
“And now you’ll be joining her.” The Outlaw tightened his finger on the trigger when suddenly, Indians(!) came running through the field, killing him but Paul had one last bullet in his gun, enough to scare them off. The Sheriff turned and grinned at Jourdon.
“Well, this is it then. I just used my last bullet on those Indians.” He looked at the body of Blast. Suddenly, he heard a Bang! and felt a sharp pain in his back. He turned to look at Jourdon. “N-no way. Y-you’re…” Paul could feel Jourdon grinning behind his bandana.
“Never trust the Renegade.”

“Dammit, Mike. You won.” Lisa threw her cards onto the table. Mike jumped up ecstatic.
“I won!” He then proceeded to do a victory lap around the floor. Andrew shook his head.
“That damn Indians! card killed me.”
“At least you didn’t get blown up by Dynamite.” Lauren only shrugged. Lisa looked over the table.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were the Deputy Sheriff? I would’ve helped you.”
“I was trying to help you but then Alex had to go play that dynamite and I had to have drawn a spade between 2 and 9.” The two girls sighed. “Oh well, it happens.”
“Man, I got Sharpshooter Sheldon and I didn’t even get to use his special ability.” Alex shook his head. “I died in the first round.”
“Hey guys! Let’s Bang! again!” Mike had returned from his victory romp. “I hope I’m the Renegade again.”
“Hey everyone. Let’s go after Mike on the first round.”

Once again, the group entered into another epic battle.


The Value of a Letter

A meshing of ideas from JRog and kayyano

While the beliefs of the religious and the scientific rarely overlap, there are occasions when the two must set aside their difference and join together; when our survival is as stake, our differences become irrelevant. Edward O. Wilson, winner of the National Medal of Science and two Pulitzer Prizes, writes to a pastor of the Southern Baptist community in a plea for help to solve a great problem in his letter “Apocalypse Now”.
Wilson writes to religious leaders offering an alliance with scientists to help save the world. The planet is heading on the path to extinction. Every day we wait, we lose valuable biological resources with untold potential. This is not a problem science or religion can solve alone. They are the two most powerful forces on earth, and they must work together. The only thing separating them is a conflict in their beliefs. These beliefs will never be the same but this shouldn’t matter.
He begins by asking to “set aside our differences in order to save Creation.” He warrants this idea by pointing out that “the defense of living nature is a universal value.” He admits that this “doesn’t rise from nor does it promote any religious or ideological dogma”. Wilson, a man of science, acknowledges that some evangelicals may be skeptical of his proposal. However, he states that the protection of the earth needs the help of both the scientists and the religious leaders. The survival of the planet is in the interest of both parties. If we continue with no change, it is likely life will slowly reach its demise. If we come together, there is a chance to ensure the survival of Creation.
However, it is a delicate process for a person of science to convince a person of God to work on the same side. So Wilson has to be careful with his choice of words. So in order to get his point across, Wilson uses the Rogerian argument. He acknowledges there are differences between the interpreter of Christian Holy and a secular humanist but focuses on the things each have in common: their interest in survival. His goal isn’t to prove who is in the wrong or right but to show both should be reaching for the same results. Wilson presses the issue further by asking why some religions don’t encourage conservation by asking the pastor if “they believe that the Second Coming is imminent and that, therefore, the condition of this planet is of little consequence”. If science and religion joined together, they don’t need to accept each other’s differences but merely set them aside for a moment. Each party is already indirectly working towards ensuring survival but they are doing it separately. Joining together may be more probable than it used to be. Wilson points out his observation that the “spiritual reach of evangelical Christianity is nowadays increasingly extended to the environment.” If there was ever a time for science and religious to agree to work together, it’s now.
The setting aside of ideals for the common good may not be such a farfetched idea as Ari Leveaux’s “A Different Education: Compost and Community, Not Literacy” explains. When New Orleans was hit by a hurricane, a person’s ability to read becomes second to their survival. When the world is faced with a disaster, our priorities change. People come together and begin to work for the common good. Wilson is only trying to unite science and religion together before the hurricane hits instead of after the damage is done.
Wilson writes his proposal as a letter to a pastor but neither the letter nor the pastor is real. The letter is intended to be a formal paper; it was never actually meant to be sent to anyone. The first two words address who it is meant for “Dear Pastor”, where the pastor represents people of authority in religion. It is ideal for Wilson to direct his argument to the leaders because for each one he convinces, he has also convinced a handful of followers. Wilson uses the letter and pastor to work perfectly for his argument. He has a formal paper directed to millions of people with the personal touch of a letter addressed to an individual.
“Apocalypse Now” is Wilson’s plea to set aside scientific and religious differences in order to save Creation. Some maybe skeptical of his proposal but Wilson is doing with the best intentions for everyone. To help make his argument more convincing, he uses the personal appeal of a letter and focuses on the commonalities instead of the differences. The union of each may not be such a farfetched idea. It’s not uncommon for people of varying backgrounds and beliefs to come together in the time of disaster. However, this union isn’t going to happen on its own. It could take something as simple as a letter.


A Tale from the Secretively Open Society

Disclaimer: If you don’t get it, play it.

Paul hid behind his barrel as bullets flew by him. Luckily, he had everything he needed in his hand. Not to mention, he had his Mustang, a silver little beauty, which aided him in this battle. That didn’t stop his opponent, notorious assassin and Outlaw nicknamed Blast, from getting a more powerful weapon to hit him with. He just prayed to God that his partner, Jourdon would get here and join this firefight soon. He knew there was no way to capture this scum alive. Blas had been killing people left and right. Blast had even killed his own teammate to get his hands on some more firepower. It wasn’t even that much either. Jourdon had forced the man to use it all up before stepping away from the fight. His excuse? “I need to go relieve myself…and my mom is calling.” Paul only smirked to himself.
As though yelling at him for taking his mind away from the present situation, the barrel Paul had been hiding behind was knocked to the side and splintered into pieces. The owner would have to discard it into the heap of other things discarded. He saw Blast sitting there with a mean grin on his face.
“Nowhere to run now, Sheriff,” the outlaw gloated. Paul cursed as he realized he had no defense. Nowhere to run indeed.
“Why don’t you get Jourdon back? I mean, he made you lose all of your firepower.” Somehow, Paul had to stall at least until Fate decided to deal him a better hand. Blast only chuckled.
“No way, Paul. I got a beef with you, see? Remember how you killed my partner? You remember Sharpshooter Sheldon?”
“If I recall correctly, you’re the one that killed him.”
“Only because I had a truce with Elena Fuente.” Paul sighed. “You killed her too.” Blast grinned.
“And now you’ll be joining her.” The Outlaw tightened his finger on the trigger when suddenly, Indians(!) came running through the field, killing him but Paul had one last bullet in his gun, enough to scare them off. The Sheriff turned and grinned at Jourdon.
“Well, this is it then. I just used my last bullet on those Indians.” He looked at the body of Blast. Suddenly, he heard a Bang! and felt a sharp pain in his back. He turned to look at Jourdon. “N-no way. Y-you’re…” Paul could feel Jourdon grinning behind his bandana.
“Never trust the Renegade.”

“Dammit, Mike. You won.” Lisa threw her cards onto the table. Mike jumped up ecstatic.
“I won!” He then proceeded to do a victory lap around the floor. Andrew shook his head.
“That damn Indians! card killed me.”
“At least you didn’t get blown up by Dynamite.” Lauren only shrugged. Lisa looked over the table.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were the Deputy Sheriff? I would’ve helped you.”
“I was trying to help you but then Alex had to go play that dynamite and I had to have drawn a spade between 2 and 9.” The two girls sighed. “Oh well, it happens.”
“Man, I got Sharpshooter Sheldon and I didn’t even get to use his special ability.” Alex shook his head. “I died in the first round.”
“Hey guys! Let’s Bang! again!” Mike had returned from his victory romp. “I hope I’m the Renegade again.”
“Hey everyone. Let’s go after Mike on the first round.”

Once again, the group entered into another epic battle.


Lasting the test of the tech

The battle between the elderly and technology has been a source of amusement for the younger generations since, well, since technology was invented. As younger generations help the older ones understand touch phones, laptops, and webcams, the flubs of elders amuse youngsters to no end. A case in point is a video on Youtube called Webcam 101 for Seniors ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcN08Tg3PWw).
A video of an elderly couple? When I first looked it up, I figured it for some sort of staged play that would no doubt follow some sort of hum-drum plotline. The video won a portion on Good Morning America and after watching it, I can see why. I’ve never been the type to gush over viral videos, often seeing them as a waste of time. However, the video made me laugh, and reminded me of my own grandparents in China. As I looked over the comments that others had made on this video, I was surprised at how many others had a reaction like mine. That is to say, my first reaction had been how much the two reminded me of my grandparents; my second, that the man wasn’t being helpful at all, and my third, how little this side of a relationship is shown to society. Rather than a calm, wise mature couple in love, the video shows the more playful, joyful side that many people would never think that a senior couple would have. They say love transcends all ages, but how many videos are put on the internet to prove that saying right? This is one that, I believe, will outlast the test of time, or at least the internet.


Dreamland

At 31, I have died. At least, that’s what most people think. Due to an earthquake that shook the Midwest, it was an easy matter of faking my death. Just one regular physical therapist among the tons of others that weren’t fortunate enough to get away. Now, I wander the dream corridor. Behind each door in this winding hallway lies a person’s dreaming subconscious. I get news of the real world now and then but I’ve found that I can mess with the dreamer’s dream. Apparently, my archnemesis, Boredom, was still very much alive in this world of dreams as well. Sometimes, I can just reach out and touch someone’s dream. The person is obviously quite aware of it. In fact, many of them are aware of themselves dreaming. It’s nothing like that movie that came out 11 years ago. What was it called again? Oh yeah, Inception. There is no dream within a dream. There is only one plane and the concept of it is only part of one dream. Once you step in, the dreamer is the one that decides how deep the dream appears.
“Miss? Who are you?” I’d heard that question from dreamers multiple times, but there was just something about this child that seemed to shake me. Maybe it was the youngster’s next statement. “You look just like the lady that they put next to me. They said you were dead. Am I going to die too?”


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.