It seems to me after reading this eloquent piece of writing that C. has had to live with his misreading of women for a very long time. Prison sounds like such a terrifying and at the same time, enlightening place. I already dwell on my mistakes far too much, and I'm technically "free." I can't ever imagine having to dwell on a mistake I made in the past for that long, especially one that was probably caused by an error in human connection. Frankly I found it surprising that C. was so sheltered that he only thought women liked sex and money. I thought that was men? But at the same time, I can see how not having some sort of woman in your life can lead you to only relying on the media. It's such a powerful force, and it only continues to grow. I mean, I basically take all my social cues from movies and TV. I can't get through the day without quoting some random thing; I think I would break down if I couldn't. But breaking away from the media, at least for a little while. I just C. could have more. Girls are scary and intimidating, and mysterious, but that's only because I see them that way. In reality, they are very similar to men, I hope, in the way that they just want somebody who cares for them. There might be some sugar on top to that statement, but I like to think that when it comes down to the essentials, girls and boys are both just looking for someone they can be there utmost selves with. It's too bad that sometimes people take the media too seriously, and I'm not counting myself out of that. The media, in my opinion, is mostly just an exaggerated version of reality, the BOOM and POW that everyone pays attention to, the stuff that's interesting and wrong and scandalous. But reality's reality; there's all the other stuff that fills in.

I have a few reactions to this story; I can't ever comprehend this happening to me. R. sounds like one of the strongest individuals anyone could come across. To continue on through a life that never had a solid basis to start with, and to want something so much for yourself that it pushes aside the pressures of suicide is something quite astounding. This man pushed on through his childhood for the sole desire to "live." What strikes me about that is R. had to have been extremely faithful of the potentials that life had for him outside of that terrible household, because I can't imagine experiencing so much abuse and hate and then staying strong in my pursuit of the real world. I would've pictured the real world to be even more unloving if I couldn't even find love in family, especially with the forces even outside of the household working against me like the teachers and students.

I personally, like many people have certain complaints about my parents and their own methods of raising me, but those are so trivial in comparison. But the irony to that is I feel like R., because of his difficult past, knows so much more about truth than I do. I feel loved by my parents every single day, especially my mom; she loves for her kids. But what does that mean for me in the end? Does being more sheltered mean more confusion in the future? Sure, R. suffered some delusions in his childhood, but those were delusions for the sole purpose of escape; mine might turn into delusions of truth and reality. But I don't want to turn this into a pity case for kids who get too much love. That's just not really fair. R. deserved to be loved by his family and his siblings. My greatest treasure in life is the love I receive from my siblings. We all understand each other, no matter how far our lives separate us; whenever we convene during holidays, it's like we never grew up at all. I really hope R. doesn't live to spite everyone who wanted him dead. I can understand that that's most definitely easier said than done, but he deserves better. He made it through his childhood for a reason, and I think he knows it. Acceptance is a thing I think a lot of people in prison come across, and I hope he fully reaches it. I like to think R's lucky in a way, to know and live with such a darkness is something most people will never live with. People spend too much time daydreaming their ideal reality, but we can never escape this one, and one we realize that, becoming one with your core misery will simply manifest into acceptance and happiness.

I feel the root of the answer to this question is mainly subjectivity versus objectivity. Living in the United States is certainly a very unique experience, as is living in any other place on the globe. I think it's just natural for Americans and for people in general to get used to what they have; they begin to subconsciously think, or at least have a feeling that this type of living is normal, so when other cultures are presented, the very presentation of them covers up all the similarities that are embedded in conscious beings. We can't drink until the age of 21, we have a more aggressive personality as a country, we are very open and often exploitive, and things like these make us think that coming together as a global community is far out of reach. But that seems so strange; aren't we all just skin and bones that are self-aware, just looking for comfort and connection? I believe that when people come in contact with people from countries foreign to them, there is a tendency for awkwardness and defensiveness, like we have to keep our guard up or something. I'm trying to imagine what, though. Maybe it's just because people contained in one country already suffer through enough confusion and frustration as it is, with attempts to be successful and lead the right life and to lead their country in the right direction, so when they actually meet people from other regions, the perspective shift comes across as strange and foreign, when there really is no difference in people, I feel, when you get down to it. Just look at movies. Across the world, genres of films are never really changing. Sure, the cultural difference comes into play, but they're all just action movies and romance movies and horror movies. Everyone feels the same guttural emotions, I guess we're just packaged in different ways. That's why I think alcohol sometimes can be very helpful when it comes to cultures colliding: it's universal and it makes us all feel exaggerated emotions, which I feel usually are our true feelings coming to life, even when the presentation of these emotions aren't eloquently brought forth. It can help people get past hang ups and actually understand what makes people so similar.

At such a young age, the idea of killing must be mind boggling, almost as it is at any age. For a five year old kid to bring in a handgun is only a result of curiosity, so I just find it strange that they chose to deal with this situation by suspending the kid from school and taking him out of class instead of doing what really seems logical and keeping the thing casual. The teachers could have sat him down, possibly along with a police officer and had a conversation about the dangers of weapons and the possible consequences that come from playing with them. It seems like out of all the choices for how to deal with this sort of situation, that one is the closest you can get to causing the least amount of confusion or psychological damage. But instead of trying to curb the boy's curiosity and speaking honestly with him they chose to throw him into an unnecessary realm of misplaced guilt and confusion, separating him from his peers, which can lead to what seems the leading similarity in most acts of violence: isolation.

The very fact that this story seemed so harmless is what worries me most about the kid that was suspended. He's so young, and I feel that psychological issues have such stronger roots when they start at a young age. This entire situation is just so baffling in the whole sociological scope of our world, how fragile our minds are. It amazes me that we can achieve such intelligent thought, even to the point where we can pop the hood of our own consciousness and poke at the wires, and yet we have a few bad experiences that cause our minds to obsess over things that we aren't fully responsible for anyway, and we end up killing people! It's pretty magnificent in a way to realize all of the corners our minds can go to. In the end though, I hope the kid takes this experience the right way, or at least realizes how much it doesn't matter. Either way, the zero tolerance policy should be more of a theory than a policy.

As a sociologist I feel inclined to tell you that work isn't your life. You may, within the past few years, have let your career consume you to a point where it feels as if that is all you really are, but I recommend from both my standpoint and the standpoint of anyone who dreams that killing yourself over a single career is wasteful and completely unnecessary. If it were a different case in which every choice you have made and every experience you've had could all be rooted back to you and you alone, then I would say go for it. This life was entirely in your hands, and if you wish to end it, it is because it is in your best interest. But thankfully, that isn't the case; we are a race filled to capacity with paradox and randomness. You had the choice to make this job your career, but determinism says that you didn't, but you felt that you did, and that's all that ever really matters. That's the beauty in life, something that everyone should see. I guess you could call it the beauty in the struggle to be free in such a determined world. Why not embrace that struggle?

You lost your job, yes. Something that has been your earth, your bed frame. Forces beyond our comprehension willed it to happen this way, just like they are having a residual effect on you. You committing suicide will only save you in the database of sociological phenomenon; you'll become just another statistic. Students will be looking at part of you on the projector screen thinking, "Hm, the rates of suicide aren't really fluctuating, and these people couldn't stand that pressure." That is the pressure of losing control over our own patterns in society. You can't just give up like that. Do what people do when they lose something in their lives: find something else that you can treasure. I've watched enough movies and listened to enough music to know that people can find passion in any area, even if it means delivering pizza. Don't kill yourself, become a pizza delivery boy.

SOC 001