Sex and Marriage in America

Marriage is a hotly contested institution in the United States today. Almost everyone has a strong opinion about what marriage means, and who should be permitted to marry. Marriage has a long and extremely complicated history, which I will only touch on here. It seems that issues such as polygamy, gay marriage, and other sexual practices within marriage have been debated by governments and religions orders for thousands of years, and these debates are still alive and just as controversial in today's culture.

Same sex marriage is a controversial issue that has riddled the headlines over that past few years. Political candidates have used their opinions on the matter, whether positive or negative, to attract votes during their campaigns. Usually, the conservative right associates itself with so-called conservative values, including opposition to things such as same sex marriage, abortion, and other "dangerous" liberal movements. The liberal left, conversely, supports such movements. Massachusetts and our lovely state of California are the only states that recognize same sex-marriage, though is seems the trend is gaining speed and support. Many other states offer things called domestic partnerships and/or civil unions which offers some or all of the benefits of marriage (depending on the state). Though we tend to think of this a very new and current issue, the first (documented) same sex marriages actually occurred under the Roman Empire. The rise of Christianity, however, made this practice illegal, and eventually, punishable by death. (Wikipedia) This fluctuation in opinion and law seems typical for such moral debates as marriage and is almost surely not to resolve itself in the near future (or perhaps ever).

Polygamy is another ancient practice that has recently gained a great deal of media attention as of late. The FLDS (Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints), a sect of the Mormon faith, has long practiced polygamy in the United States, a practice that is deemed illegal in the US. However, perhaps because that have kept to themselves and perhaps because of the religious nature of their beliefs, the have been largely unbothered. However, in 2006, the leader of the FLDS, Warren Jeffs was arrested for arranging marriages with under-age girls. The country quickly became outraged at the "marriage" of young teenage girls to men in their 50s and 60s. Just this year, 416 children were take from a FLDS compound because of fears of abuse. However, this seemed to only produce sympathy from the public and the children were returned. It seems that the issue has "blown over" in a sense and the media has abandoned coverage in the past month or so. It is interesting to note, that although in opposition to polygamy laws, very few are actually charged with the crime. Even Warren Jeffs was arrested not for polygamy, but because he was responsible for mandating underage marriages (and therefore statutory rape).

Sodomy laws (which includes anal/oral sex in homosexual and heterosexual couples) still exist in several states, though were deemed by federal court to be unconstitutional (due to invasion of privacy) in 2003. Most states had used them to enforce their positions against gay marriage and homosexuality in general, though the laws did not specify homosexuality as the target. As a result, until 2003, many married couples were breaking the law when they engaged in anything but traditional, vaginal intercourse. This seems ludicrous in such modern, progressive times, but it's true. In Alabama, the sale of sex toys for pleasure purposes (as opposed to medicinal) is illegal even today. Owners of such shops have to provide a questionnaire to all potential buyer to determine if they "need" the toys for a sexual disorder. Of course, buyers have become savvy to such methods and kn what answers are needed to secure the purchase.

On a more serious note, marital rape is a crime that often goes un-reported. Until 1976, it was not even considered a crime in the United States. To think that just over thirty years ago, a rape could occur within a marriage with absolutely no legal ramifications is astounding to many, but is accurate nonetheless. Though the state mandated what kind of sex you were permitted to have, it did not care if you were consenting. Thankfully, with the feminist movement and progressive politics in general, this law was created to protect married couples equally as non-marrieds.

It is strange that a government has such a strong desire to regulate the sexual practices of its people. By regulating marriage, a government controls the most intimate part of most people's lives. Why is this necessary? While marriage is widely regarded as a legal contract, and therefore a government issue, why must governing bodies go beyond controlling the legal elements of the marriage to controlling (or trying to) what happens in the bedroom?

Famous Last Words

To be honest, I am rather sad that this class is coming to an end. I have really enjoyed writing (most) of my blogs, and I feel that I have learned a great deal about my classmates by reading their own posts. The blog atmosphere for me has created a level of intimacy between students and instructor that I have not yet experienced in a writing class thus far. I think that because of the small size of the posts, the writing assignments have been much less stressful and much more enjoyable. Also, the topics of the posts were almost always about things that are important to us as students, or at least topics that have already been brought up in class and have already sparked interest (hopefully).

In class today, the word "exposure" finally caught my attention. I had pretty much dismissed it in our earlier conversations, as I did not considerable it really applicable to me (I don't know why, as it is applicable to everyone really). However, after my stalker incident last week, I did some reevaluating of the word. Thinking about the word "exposure," in regard to the class, I'm not sure whether the "blog" is entirely positive or negative. I love that people can read my work and comment on it, but for some reason, I am a little anxious about plagiarism. I know it sounds stupid, but I am thinking about continuing my blog after this class concludes, and I am unsure what level of security my writing has. I tend to view my pieces of writing as works of art, not because I think my writing is all that amazing, but because I think that writing is a form of art. As a result, the idea of someone copying my art is very unsettling. I don't mean to flatter myself, and I doubt that it would happen, but I suppose it would be possible for someone to read my blog and copy/paste it to be their own. This totally freaks me out, as I am considering writing as a career. Because it is an informal blog, I'm not sure what I could do if that were to happen.

Setting aside my anxiety about the safety of my posts, I think that this blogging style has improved my writing more than traditional writing classes have. I think the the style that blogging invokes is more relevant to the business world that we as soon-to-be graduates will be entering. Though it is true that many students in the class may never post another blog entry again, the topics we have written about are important to us and our culture. It is imperative for us to be able to articulate our ideas and present our opinions in a logical and concise manner, either written or oral. I feel that this class has definitely helped all of us to do just that.

My Dreamlife

I found Arlen's post (in response to Rachel's post) on dreams quite interesting. I was surprised that he thought he didn't have dreams because he slept on a regular schedule and didn't eat spicy food. I have never heard of either of those effecting dreaming, and for me they don't seem to have an influence. I sleep a good eight to nine hours every night and eat spicy food occasionally, but not every day. I do, however, have vivid dreams nearly every night.

Just this morning I woke up a little rattled by my dreams. I dreamed that I was someone else, and I was observing from outside, kind of like I was in a movie, watching myself, but I thought that it was real. This is very common for my dreams, but sometimes I even realize that it's a dream, though I still have problems disconnecting. In this dream, there was a plague of insects that had been genetically modified by someone (I don't remember who) to be beneficial, but they ended up causing the death of anyone who came into contact with them. My character was the one who discovered the deadly insect, but somehow remained unaffected. All of us survivors grouped together indoors to stay away from the bugs, and were eventually rescued from the plague.

Just when I thought everything was going to resolve it self, I/my character realized that there was a bug on her/me. After some consideration I/she leaped from the rescue vehicle (so as not to infect anyone else) and dove into the ocean, and to sure death. But, instead of dying, I/she found a whole group of people under the sea (but there was air, go figure) who had survived because they were wearing shorts at the time of the "invasion." Yep, shorts. I have no idea why, but I happily discovered that I/she had been wearing shorts the whole time, so I/she was safe.

I have no clue what all this means, but I thought I'd share it with all of you. Both Rachel and Arlen wonder what significance our dreams have in our lives. For me, because my dreams are so frequent and so vivid, they become part of memory and my history. I often have flashbacks to scenes in my dreams and they blend in with my "real" life. My dreams are important, and I often work out elements of my life, perhaps in metaphorical ways, in my dreamworld. I think that this alternate frame for my life is just as "real" as what we consider our real lives.

Misu Online

I absolutely love this picture, and I think that it's great that you can see that it's one of our blogs on the screen. My psycho kitty, Taramisú (or Misu for short) always walks on my keyboard, often typing messages to my friends when we're chatting online. My best friend and I often joke that our cats get online when we're gone and order stuff off eBay. I think it might be true. I mean, she's obviously into the blog scene, online shopping is just a mouse click away.

I took the photo with my camera phone, as my husband took my digital camera with him on the fire (he's not a firefighter, but is contracted out to work for them). I'm not usually a huge fan of the camera phone, as the quality and settings are very limited when compared to current digital cameras--though I recently discovered that my phone actually has more mega pixels than my first digital camera--but when it is the only option, I'm quick to use it. On several occasions I have taken advantage of this technology so I could show my friends crazy things that I'm sure they would not have believed without a picture. I did not edit this picture in any way, either on my phone or on my computer after I downloaded it, so that it would reflect the quality (or lack thereof) of my camera phone.

I love how she's looking up at me like "What? What are you staring at?" Her expression is priceless. She seems so human like, like one of the creatures in a Disney movie, walking and talking like a person, living and behaving like a member of the family. And she is like a child to me; I talk to her, cuddle her, and am protective of her. I feel that she is a companion to me, and helps ease my loneliness when my husband is gone, more than TV or the Internet ever could. I also love that it appears that she has been reading a blog and thinks it completely ordinary. Perhaps it is?

It's really interesting to see the meet-up of animals and technology. We normally don't think of the two together, but the connection is/was inevitable. While researching dog boarding facilities, I discovered one that actually had web cams installed in the runs so you could log on and see your pooch from anywhere with an Internet connection. I had two reactions to this, the first was more of an, "Are you kidding? How ridiculous!" but then I thought about how much I would really like that. I would love to be able to see my girls while I'm away. I would feel better knowing the kennel had the accountability of the owners watch the boarders' care. I decided that this was a fantastic idea, and a great use of technology.

Bronze and Beautiful

I read Paris's post "Erasing Identity" last week, and I find myself thinking about it often. The creepiness of the commercial really got to me, but the more I think about it, the more I realize how ironic it is for me to think it's creepy.

My best friend came over the other day and the first thing she said to me was, "Damn! Have you been tanning? You look HOT!" I told her that though I did lay out over the 4th of July weekend, I had been using Jergens Natural Glow lotion for the past week or two. You know, so I can get tan and avoid the sun's harmful rays. She instantly asked if we could go across the street to the store so she could get some. So, while thinking lotion that makes skin whiter was creepy and unnatural, I was slathering chemicals on my own body to make me darker. Because tan is beautiful...right? The irony and hypocrisy of this was astounding to me, but I still can shake my feelings. I still think that when I'm tan I look thinner and healthier, and when I'm not, I look sickly and frumpy. I always assumed that this was a fairly universal view( I did know that pale in previous times was a status symbol, as pale skinned people were assumed to be in the non-working upper classes), but reading Paris's post really opened my eyes.

In her post, Paris states that, "The product has made the person’s identity disposable! No longer is the product something you can use up and go through, but rather a way to erase you." So is my Jergen's product doing the same thing? According to her post, it must be, but I don't feel erased, rather I feel more noticeable, more attractive. Can I rationalize it by saying that I'm getting a "beautiful and natural glow" (according to the Jergen's website) that I could get from the sun, though I chose a more artificial route? This may be in contrast to the whitening cream, as it produces a result that could not be attained "naturally." But still, this doesn't feel very assuring.

So where does this lead? Make-up, hair color, nail polish all unnaturally change a person's appearance, but do they really modify a person's identity? Perhaps, as people identify blondes, brunettes, redheads, etc, as different groups, but I would hope that I would be the same inside no matter what my hair color. Although, it is true that people respond to blondes differently than redheads, and brunettes differently than say, someone with hot pink hair. So perhaps these types of things can change your identity as it is perceived from outside, and affect your confidence level, but I still think that only you can change your identity and that no one can take it away from you.

This complicates the idea of identity. To be honest, as I wrote this, the idea of identity became more and more elusive to me. I think that I have decided that, to me, my identity is my own personal view of myself and the things that make me me. Like the fact that I love Lucky Charms and hate getting my feet dirty, and that I like leopard print and that I worry way too much, but everyone thinks I'm chill (well, maybe not in our class). That is who I am, that is my identity, and no tanning product can change, modify, or erase that.

Follow up to comments on mobility

In response to Chris's comments, while it is true that that one can achieve a kind of "mobility of imagination," nothing compares to real human contact and the freedom to come and go at will. I am quite aware of the shortcomings of technology, and even literature, to fill the necessity of real, face-to-face contact, as I have been alone all week/weekend and am starting to unravel, thread by thread (the husband's been gone 7 days now working on one of the fires). I think that this scooter gives the elderly (or otherwise incapacitated) the ability to be independent and make contact with the would outside their homes. I cannot imagine being both alone and trapped, unable to leave for even the simplest of errands.

On a side note, this conversation reminds me of the "Unexamined Life" cartoon from last week. It's important to live your own life, and not just pass your time living through the images or stories of others. You can become lost in a story, and it can become part of your history, but I believe that it's preferable to balance that with "real life." You can read about love, and adventure, and whatever else, but that does not mean that it should replace the loves and adventures of your own life. I'm thinking about writing in the future as a career, and I feel like I need to experience life to write with more heart. Reading the works of other is beneficial, of course, but just not enough.

As to the involvement of technology in this physical mobility, and its resulting lack of purity, if you will, I think of a similar example in my own family. One of my cousins is currently pregnant, and is insisting that she deliver her little son at home, without any drugs. The woman is insane. I asked her, "Would you wash your clothes in the river?" to which I got a confused look and a confident, "No, of course not." To me its the same thing. We have washers now, so no one would dream of hand scrubbing their clothes is mucky river water. Why would you ignore the presence of hospitals and wonderful, pain numbing drugs? It's just ridiculous. The scooter is an invaluable resource to those who could benefit from it, and therefore should be embraced.

As to the allowance of these on the island on Lake Huron, although I am not that familiar with the situation, I think it would be insensitive to restrict access to those who are disabled just to make it "motor free." I realize that not everything can be wheelchair-accessible (ie hiking trails, mountainous areas), but to deny the elderly/disabled from this situation seems a bit extreme. Perhaps they could provide free "pushers" to assist the disabled if they are so adamant at keeping the island "organic."

Mobility

When I googled "mobility," this was the first image that popped up. I thought it would be interesting to use the greatest mobilizer of information to see what the google gods envisioned as the most pertinent image of mobility. I was a little surprised and tickled to see a "mobility scooter" in the number ones spot. It was not the image that I had in mind when I hit search button, but I suppose is fits just fine.

The fact that the first image has to do with a part of the population that we as college students seldom think about was very interesting to me. It also seemed strange that a product associated with the elderly was the first to pop up. Does gramma really surf the web for a new scooter in her free time? It seems strange to me, but maybe the grandparents of today are more computer savvy that any of us realize.

The scooter itself is a sleek and sophisticated machine. With its hip candy-apple-red paint job and convenient front basket, it is the epitome of the perfect synergy of form and function. Its all terrain tires allow for some daring off-sidewalk escapades. The pilot's chair is stylish and luxurious with its black leather upholstery and memory foam padding. The chrome wheels and trim add some bling to the ride. The freedom of movement it provides, however, is its best quality.

This mature-chic means of transportation offers the immobile a renewed sense of mobility and freedom. Now Grandma and Grandpa can scoot to the store, the country club, or the community bingo game without worry. Perhaps this physical sense of mobility is just as, or even more powerful than the perceived mobility that technologies such as cell phones and the Internet offer. Unlike technological mobility, the scooter offers its rider the opportunity to actually be somewhere in the flesh, an often overlooked luxury in our Internet obsessed times. It also draws attention to the "mature" population's desire to keep up with the fast moving youth, both physically and technologically. I would be very proud (if not extremely surprised) of my grandmother if she ordered something online, but I guess today's "mature citizens" have misled us in thinking that they are technological neophytes.

Issues of Race and Guilt

I still think that there is a lot to say about the discussion in class today.

The discussion about slavery and the consequent guilt of "whites" really bothered me. My heritage on my grandmother's side is predominantly French Canadian, a group that was very persecuted in recent history. Also, I have Irish roots, another oppressed ethnicity. None of my known relatives were slave owners and I resent being lumped into a category that does not apply to me or my heritage. Additionally as I said in class, I have Native American genes. As a descendant of Native Americans, I guess I have the right to many state benefits, tax breaks, and even the opportunity to live on a reservation. However, I personally think that this is taking advantage, as I have not personally experienced anything negative as a result of being Native American. I think that that judgment is a personal one, however and I don't think ill of anyone who decides to utilize any of the government's assistance (maybe I should, on second thought, my tax dollars at work, right?)
I digress, after a little research, I discovered some interesting elements of Asian history. Considering the make-up of the class, I thought it would be appropriate. I don't bring this up to point fingers or try to stir up trouble, but rather to make a point. My point is, every ethnicity has its dark histories, and Caucasians are definitely up there with the rest. But, they are not alone. Because of this, I feel that it is ridiculous to single out the Caucasian race as a whole as the evil doer (which I feel is quite a common sentiment). I don't think that I should feel guilty to be "white," or Irish, or Blackfoot, or even German. It seems ridiculous to charge the sons with the crimes of their fathers, even more ridiculous to charge them with the crimes of other sons' fathers.

Here are links to other horrible genocides:
African genocide, Cambodian genocide,

I had to get all of this out, as I felt a little ganged up on in the class. I understand that it is a delicate subject, but let's get over fear of stepping on some one's toes every second! Our culture is so afraid of offending people, nothing ever gets said. So if I offended you, fine, I'm ok with that (I think). So leave me a comment, offend me! It's ok! I'll live, and maybe you'll get to say something you've felt for a long time, but have been too afraid to say.


Just to lighten it up a bit: Carlos Mencia

The J Line

I take a Unitrans bus to and from campus twice everyday, for a total of four one-way trips on our campus's free transportation system. This morning, I was probably about the third person at my bus stop. I like to get their early, I don't really know why.
I watched as groups of students emerged from different apartment complexes and made their way to the bus stop, most off in their own little i-pod world, blank looks on their faces, a sense of resignation in their gait. I too was miserable, the heat was oppressive and the smoky, humid air made me feel like I was breathing sludge. All of the waiters stood evenly spaced apart, as if the body heat from their neighbor might just push them over the edge of they got too close. No one made eye contact, no one spoke. One girl walked up, happily chatting on her cell phone, and half the group glared at her, the other half pretended not to notice, or perhaps they really didn't. We stood there for what seemed like forever, but in a suspended kind of way, it was like time held its breath, too hot and tired to continue. The group had grown to about thirty students, no families or retirees as there sometimes are, they had the sense to stay home. When the bus finally arrived, the neatly spaced group immediately condensed, imploding on itself at a startling speed, and crowded the entry door. We silently filed on, somehow submitting to our animal instincts and patiently taking our turns to step on. Everyone found a seat, a rarity on the J line. As soon as they were seated, each student either stared out the window or at the floor with an empty expression, or haphazardly flipped through an intimidating looking textbook, displaying countless charts, diagrams and other unexplainable drawings. Internally, I reaffirmed my love of the Humanities. The girl on the cell phone was still talking, and much too loudly. She laughed, an abrasive and startling laugh, and I exchanged a smile and an eyebrow raise with the girl sitting in the corner. I thought she might stay aware, but she quickly pulled out her headphones and disappeared. I wanted to read so I could vanish too, but I couldn't concentrate, something about the whole situation seemed to scatter my thoughts. Everyone else was so focused in their own internal realm, and I felt like I couldn't find mine. It reminded me of a time when I was on a plane in the middle of a red-eye flight and everyone was sleeping but me through a crazy thunderstorm. Anyway, we pulled up to the terminal at the MU, and everyone got up without a word. Like zombies, we got off the bus, dispersing in all directions. The bus is a sort of Limbo, a place between places. There are no tvs, no laptops, no discussion. Everyone seems to be in suspend mode, and when they get off, life begins again.

More Thoughts on MORE

Following up from Chris's comments, I think that the short is so startling because it really does not offer a solution. I tried to tie everything up nicely in my post, but I think in doing so I did a disservice to the short. We need to feel uncomfortable, or it would not serve its purpose (which I cannot really define in all honesty). Nostalgia definitely plays a role in what is portrayed as utopic in the short, and I think that that is a occurrence common in human condition. Childhood is often looked back upon as a magical, beautiful time that can never be returned to. But why is that? I was not in constant "bliss" as a child, in fact I could not wait to grow up. I do remember playing a lot and not having too much to worry about, but I did not realize how great that was at the time. Perhaps we cannot appreciate something until we are in a less desirable situation If so, that is a rather depressing condition.

As to why our beauty is in our gut, perhaps the heart is too cliche? I have no idea, but it is definitely an interesting question. I thought that it was interesting that the key to seeing the world in a beautiful was was inside everyone, so one's happiness is a matter of perception, and inversely, so must be misery.

Brief Analysis of MORE

Here is a better link to MORE
I still can't figure out how to put the video directly on this page, so if anyone knows the secret, could you leave me a comment. I have a Mac, so all you smart Mac users, please help!!

More is a striking commentary on consumerism and its relationship with the pursuit of happiness. LD (little dude) tries to make a new product that will provide its buyers with BLISS, but in doing so, he just perpetuates the cycle of consumerism, selling himself out and turning into the the thing he hates. LD uses is inner light to make this BLISS product and in the process, he loses it. The world is still grey and ugly, but now he is the one screaming at misirable employees, dark form the inside out. The short ends with him still sad, lonely but now tainted.

This short is so moving because of its clear parallels with our culture. As college students, were are like the LD of the beginning of the short, tired of the grind of college life and trying to find what makes us happy. Hopefully, we will be wiser that LD and not sell ourselves for the love of money and power, but find a way to be happy without taking happiness from others. We must use the beauty in each of us in a positive way, instead of using it for greed.

Cloverfield

After reading Truman's post, I have been thinking about the rationality of love, or lack thereof.

According to Hegel's claim in the section on reason, "what is actual is rational and what is rational is actual," love must not be real. This is a very disturbing result to what seems an innocuous, fairly reasonable statement. For a hopeless romantic like myself, this is utterly ridiculous.

In the movie, Cloverfield, the protagonist and his buddies defy the military and return to the dangerous (ie. inhabited by the enormous evil monster) to rescue the damsel in distress. It's a pretty classic story, but it is in complete opposition to Hegel's claim. The characters know that to return to that particular area of the city is pretty much suicide, but they stand by the main character in is search for his woman. He wants to find her so he can rescue her, obviously, but also so he can tell her he really loves her (they had had a fight before). They survive a multitude of deadly situations, all so their friend can tell her, "I love you."

Not to ruin the movie for you, but they find her, with rebar through her chest no less, and they all run down about 50 flights of stairs (pretty amazing for a woman with a hole through her body). Despite their amazing survival skills, everyone dies at the end (except one lucky woman who gets whisked off in a helicopter) but the two lovers get their moment, and the viewer almost feels good at the end...almost.

This movie had little rational elements, but the ending was (kind of) satisfactory. Even though they died, their goal was accomplished. If the main character had been rational, he would have forgotten about his scorned lover and fled the scene with all of his friends. He could have found another girl, fallen in love, and been happy. This would have been rational, but he could not do it. His friends could have left him and survived, but their loyalty to him kept them with him. The irrationality of their actions is appealing, as they put virtues that we respect, like love and loyalty before rationality and even survival.

Thankfully for us romantics, Hegel's statement is completely baseless. It allows nothing for human emotion, love, or apparently Hollywood movies.

MORE short (please watch, it's amazing!)

This is an incredible short that was shown to me in one of my classes a few years ago. It really pertains to the discussion today about the pursuit of happiness. Please watch it and add your comments if you feel so compelled. I will add to my post later, but I wanted to get this up as soon as I could so maybe we could bring it up in class.

MORE short film (click watch MORE at the end of the text)

I wanted to embed it, but I need some help, any tips?

Truth in Fiction

Today's discussion on history and its association (at least in theory) with truth was very thought provoking for me. [I apologize in advance, I have a new (psycho) kitten and she keeps attacking me and running over the keyboard as I attempt to write, so please forgive any odd typos if I miss them.] I made a statement that it did not matter if a story or a history were fact or fiction, as just its presence made an historical impact. This argument is the basis of my discipline, literature, and as such is very important to me. In seeming opposition to this, I also have certain religious beliefs that I must believe are in fact "true." I was taught in (private) school that all parts of the Bible were absolutely true and that to question this is borderline heretical. This is where my earlier comments on the use of parables in the Bible helps me to rationalize the use of fiction to demonstrate truth, and feel like less of a heretic.

In an English class here at Davis, I was instructed to write a "true story" about myself. When I wrote it, I decided to tweak certain minor details to make the story flow better and to make it more interesting. I told myself that it really did not matter as long as I kept the overall structure the same. My teacher loved that story and gave me an "A." Looking back, even if I had completely made the story up from scratch, it would have been truly my story, so it could have been just as useful and just as "true," but perhaps considered less historical. For me, this is where the idea of history falls apart. How can a line be drawn between reality and fiction, and do we really want that line to be drawn? The most exciting and emotionally stirring "histories" are partially (if not wholly) fiction. For me, Aeneas is just as real as Napoleon, and Meredith Grey is more important than Martha Washington.