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Sadironman
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Name: Joel Pavelski
Country: United States
State: Wisconsin
Metro: Stevens Point
Birthday: 6/11/1988
Gender: Male
Interests: Speech and Debate, Music, Drama, Politics, anything and everything not usually associated with apathetic teenagers. Except video games. Love those video games...
Expertise: Speech and Debate. Social Issues. That's right, they are my EXPERTISE.
Occupation: Student
Message: message me
AIM:  Sadironman
MSN: jp13777@msn.com
Yahoo:  jp13777@yahoo.com
Member Since:
5/2/2004
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| It's been several years, but I think I've found a new blogging home.
You can check it out here. | | |
| I really had a wonderful childhood.
I realized this yesterday, after my 12 year old sister asked me if her blouse was “sexy”.
I realized this watching the younger siblings of a close friend gyrate to the rhythm of MTV, mimicking the dancers on screen, “Mean Girls” style.
I realized this, while my friend, who had barely entered high school, explained that her boyfriend had broken up with her because she wouldn’t have sex.
My childhood was filled with make-believe, yet when I play-acted, it was never to imitate the glorious undertakings of a hooker, a pimp, or a slut.
My parents had obviously raised both my siblings and I – what was to account for the difference? My parents, the original protectionist Nazis (as my high school friends and I bitterly dubbed them) could not possibly have softened in the space of a few years. That left me with a horrifying conclusion:
That our culture can be degrading, harmful, contemptible, and unhealthy.
Your response? For some, it will be, “Duh”. For others, like myself previously, it would be, “Please. Go live with the Amish.” You’ve heard the media refer to a “culture war.” I would previously seldom, if ever, find myself to the right on that divide.
However, thinking of my newly adopted nephew, I could not stand the thought of him turning out like my friend’s ex-boyfriend: at 15, breaking up with a girl for not having sex with him.
I have never before needed to keep the TV remote handy to protect my siblings.
I have never before needed two hands to count the girls in the local high school who have gotten abortions without their parents knowing in the last year.
I have never before needed to help a high school friend overcome a cocaine addiction.
I have never before needed to consult a rape counselor about what I can do for a friend.
But I would before, as a member of the left side of this culture war, decry naiveté. To the left, naiveté is the original sin for children, not promiscuity (look at their sex education policies), overindulgence (the media coverage of the obesity epidemic), or indecency (their stance on censorship).
Barely bridging the gap to adulthood at my current age, I seldom wish that my childhood naiveté could have ended sooner. Who doesn’t miss the days when life was simple; without sex, politics, or schedules?
Choices come with adulthood. The left heralds individual choice, but abandons it for anyone whose choices are less revealing than their own. Sure, you may have a right to degrading and contemptible entertainment fare, but I also have a right: to not see it, and to have children that I am responsible for not see it as well.
And in their "don't tell me what to do" frenzy, liberals have extended their view of tolerance to parents and children. Our culture's children have become victims of individual choice - Your signature is needed for your child to take an aspirin at school, but you'll never have to know if that same school gets your child an abortion. Kids feel trapped; unable to cope with the adulthood thrown at them by the media, and unwilling to consult the adults that the left advises them to ignore.
Innocence is not a disease, to be stamped out by the boots of reality as quickly as possible. It’s a red handkerchief, tucked in your pocket while playing flag football, to be held onto as long as humanly possible, and protected by those who call themselves your teammates.
I was sheltered and I am better for it. I will proudly protect the innocence of my children, nephews, and friends. Let the left decry protectionism for it’s close-mindedness, but thanks: I’ll take a childhood.
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| Less than an hour ago, I walked upstairs to my apartment, and found a mess of post spread across the island. On top of the pile, there was a plain manilla envelope, unmarked except for the return address. I twisted my lips into a confused grin - okay, I'll take it, but why is my summer camp sending me mail?
I slipped my finger beneath the flap, ripped a jagged path through the top of the envelope, and poured a single leaf of paper into my hand.
My heart nearly stopped.
Six months ago exactly, I had been sitting alone in the corner of a Hillsdale College conference room, scribbling out a letter to myself. My counselor had asked me to write this letter, and promised to mail it to me in exactly 6 months.
I alternately laughed and cried while reading it, alone in the kitchen. Not because of the brilliance of my letter, by any means, but at how I'd conquered, failed, crawled, and changed in 6 months.
Much of it is too personal for this medium, but I wanted to share a small portion. I encourage you to write one of your own. The post office can actually take it now and, for a fee, deliver it to you on a future date. For $3.22, I've already sent myself another character alarm clock.
Dear Myself,
Hey you, it's me. I'm at econ camp now, and who knows where you are. I've thought about it a lot, you know (where you are now), and I'm hoping that my dreams and speculations have been allowed a little diligence.
I wanted to ask you a question. See, I've grown so much this week, and I never want that growth to die. So, here it is, for the bold alone:
How are you different from me? Are you gentler, kinder, wiser, or free?
We hate cliches, so I won't offer them. But realize this: the decisions I make now determine you. What decisions are you making now that will undermine some other future self? Conversely, what are you doing now to create the future you're dying for?
Are you happy? Are you healthy? Are you whole?
Probably not. But are you any *more* those things than me?
I have to tell you, I'm scared. Scared of who you could *not* be. But I'll leave that up to me, I suppose. You've got someone else to worry about.
Remember: You can do something, right this second, that will change your future.
Well...?
Write yourself another time letter right now.
I love you, we'll get there.
~Joel
PS Just in case you've forgotten:
There's always freedom, and there's always grace. Mistakes are past tense.
Anticonformity isn't just about joining a different group.
Unhappiness is indicative.
Time is your most fleeting commodity.
Friends come and go, but your family will be there forever.
It wasn't your fault.
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| Well, it's finally the holiday season. Thanksgiving is a mere 10 hours away. The turkey's been set out to thaw (if you're like me, it hasn't actually been purchased yet), you're driving back home to your parents (if you're like me, you're avoiding them until dinner tomorrow), or you're holed up on your couch with a TV dinner and remote close by (if you're like me, it's your dream holiday). Thanksgiving, we're told, is a time to count our blessings. It's a day to show someone they're appreciated. 24 American hours (believe it!) are set aside for the giving of thanks. So, let's take a moment, in the spirit of the holiday to say... screw it. Let's face it: we're Americans! And young ones, at that. We don't want to be grateful. We've always had our every whim provided for - and you know what? It's not good enough! Let those who have little be thankful for what they have, but our indulgences lead us to this common postulate: whining gets more accomplished. So I propose a more useful expense of your time off: complain. Is your sister's new haircut rather unattractive? Tell her so! Is the turkey over-cooked? Bitch about it! Did your drive tire you too much to set the table? Don't! Has your brother dumped his dead-beat girlfriend yet? No? Complain! Thanksgiving only comes around once a year. I feel confident that if we treat this holiday with *true* American holiday spirit, next year, the god-damn turkey will be edible. And who knows? Next year, I might just *have* to settle for that delicious TV dinner. ~Joel | | |
| The End Is Near "In Wellington New Zealand high school students will be allowed to use text-speak - the second language teenagers have developed for cellphone messages - in exams, according to news reports on Thursday.
The move has divided students and educators amid concerns that it could damage the English language, The Press in Christchurch reported.
It said that the New Zealand Qualifications Authority was still encouraging students to use proper English in exam papers but would give credit if an answer written in text-speak "clearly shows the required understanding".
Deputy chief executive Bali Haque told the paper that in English examinations, where candidates were specifically required to demonstrate proper use of language, text abbreviations would be penalised.
Teachers' spokesperson Debbie Te Whaiti said that the move reflected the situation in the classroom, where teachers were grappling every day with the use of text-speak.
One Christchurch school principal, Denis Pyatt, said that he would not encourage students to use text abbreviations in exams, but added: "I think text messaging is one of the most exciting things that has happened in a long time.
"It is another development in that wonderful thing we call the English language."
But another teacher, Stephen Rout, said: "Students need to be able to write and understand full English."
Wellington's Dominion Post gave the following examples of text speak in school papers: "We shal fite dem on d beaches" (Sir Winston Churchill) and "2b or nt 2b" (Shakespeare's Hamlet)." The world's gone insane. An English teacher advocating text-speak? Reality as we know it is about to collapse. I was very angry about this until I realized that: the children of the world turning into idiots only widens the gap between the chimpanzees and intelligent kids, making it easier for kids like me to get into college and find great jobs. Or, at least, that's what I keep telling myself so my eyeballs don't explode in my head. ~Joel | | |
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