President Barrack Obama gave his first presidential press conference Last Monday, February ninth. In this conference, Mr. Obama incessantly displayed his focus and dedication to the $787bn stimulus plan that just cleared US Congress late Friday night.
As bipartisan conflicts continued to play an impediment to the stimulus plan during the first few weeks of his presidency, Mr. Obama explained that he knew it would take time to break old habits as such in congress. He also openly asked in the introduction of the conference for all of congress to act without delay and set their differences aside.
Mr. Obama candidly admitted in his speech that the plan is not perfect, and that no plan is. But with that he swore, “With complete confidence, that a failure to act will only deepen this crisis as well as the pain felt by millions of Americans.”
Mr. Obama’s compelling introduction for the conference tackled many concerns on American’s minds. He confronted the nation saying “My administration inherited a deficit of over one trillion dollars. But because we also inherited the most profound economic emergency since the great depression, doing little or nothing at all will result in even greater deficits, even greater job loss, even greater loss of income, and even greater loss of confidence. Those are deficits that could turn a crisis into a catastrophe and I refuse to let that happen. As long as I hold this office, I will do whatever it takes to get this economy back on track and put this country back to work.”
According to Daniel Dombey and Edward Luce, writers for Financialtimes.com, “The $787bn package… represents the most important legislative effort yet to pull the US out of its recession.” They also mention the fact that this stimulus plan is the largest economic stimulus in US history, and that it happened in the first four weeks of Mr. Obama’s presidency.
Repeatedly in the conference, Mr. Obama stressed that his main goal with this stimulus package is to create four million jobs. In the introduction, he explains that earlier that day he had visited Elkhart Indiana, the town in the United States that is suffering the greatest job losses thus far. In the last year, Elkhart- with a population of 52,000 residents- went from 4.7% unemployment to 15.3% unemployment.
Last month the United States lost 598,000 jobs. That number is equivalent to every job in Maine. It is for this extreme reason that the $787bn stimulus plan has been written and passed through congress, ready for him to sign into law, within such a short amount of time.
The non-partisan Congressional Budget Office says the bill could increase employment in a range of 800,000 to 2.3 million jobs by the end of 2009 and 1.2 million to 3.6 million by the end of 2010.
“For the sake of my future career and for all the other students of our generation, I pray to god this stimulus succeeds,” says Denver Jensen, a business major at SLCC.
Now the nation must wait while trying to cooperate with the plan’s goals to discover what success it will offer or not.
President Obama wrapped up the introduction to the conference saying, “The strongest democracies flourish from frequent and lively debate. But they endure when people of every background and belief find a way to set aside smaller differences in service of a greater purpose.”
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
North Idaho- too quick for SLCC. 2.8.09
The Bruins struggled during Saturday evening’s game against North Idaho’s Cardinals. It was thanks to high foul shot percentages by the Bruins and high foul call percentages on North Idaho’s fast paced team that the Bruins only lost 54-63 rather than 39-63. The Bruins completed 75% of their foul shots, gaining them an extra fifteen points for the whole game.
North Idaho’s insanely quick offence is what did the trick for them Saturday night. Having a field goal percentage of 47%, a free-throw percentage of 57%, and a 3-pointer average of 45%, North Idaho successfully vindicated their loss to the Bruins only the night before.
“We beat them yesterday- I don’t know what happened today,” said Ashlee Clayson, a Bruins cheerleader. On Friday night, the Bruins had won a close game against North Idaho by one point, but the same results did not hold out for Saturday’s game.
The Bruins repeatedly positioned themselves directly under their hoop, but to no avail. North Idaho’s strong defense time after time pinned the Bruins and made it difficult for them to complete shots. The Bruin’s field goal percentage was 31%; 16% lower than North Idaho’s.
Taylor Stevens of North Idaho wrought havoc on the score, making four of his six attempted 3-pointers that often seemed to come out of nowhere. Stevens alone accounted for thirteen of North Idaho’s final 63 points.
North Idaho completed nine 3-pointers throughout the game, where the Bruins only completed three. These clean-cut shots were North Idaho’s strength Saturday night, both in and outside of the paint. Only ten of their 63 points were scored in the lines.
Sophomore Nate Bendall and freshman DJ Wright from the Bruins scored 26 of the team’s final 54. Bendall scored twelve points and got a team-high of nine rebounds. Wright scored 14 points and threw two for two free throws.
When it came to the second half of the game, the Cardinals were simply running a much quicker offense and a more insidious defense. The Cardinals retrieved 25 defensive rebounds where the Bruins only recovered 16.
North Idaho racked up the offensive fouls in the second half, one after another for a total of twelve. The bruin’s shot with an amazing 83% accuracy, scoring ten more points. The Bruins free throw average for the whole game was 75%, leaving North Idaho in the dust at 57%.
The first half ended 36-24 for North Idaho, but the Bruins fought a decent comeback in the second half, scoring 30; 3 more than North Idaho’s 27.
Undoubtedly, after the Bruins close win the day before, the crowd left knowing the Bruins should have won. The Bruins are still in first place of the Scenic West Conference holding a 7-2 record.
“Come support your team,” said Tara Marrelli, another Bruins cheerleader. Morelli believes game attendance is increasing in numbers, but would love to see more fans and students come to cheer our team on. She added, “It makes them want to do better when they can see the support of their fans.”
The Bruins next home game is Feb. 10, 2009 at 7 p.m. vs. Western Wyoming Community College.
North Idaho’s insanely quick offence is what did the trick for them Saturday night. Having a field goal percentage of 47%, a free-throw percentage of 57%, and a 3-pointer average of 45%, North Idaho successfully vindicated their loss to the Bruins only the night before.
“We beat them yesterday- I don’t know what happened today,” said Ashlee Clayson, a Bruins cheerleader. On Friday night, the Bruins had won a close game against North Idaho by one point, but the same results did not hold out for Saturday’s game.
The Bruins repeatedly positioned themselves directly under their hoop, but to no avail. North Idaho’s strong defense time after time pinned the Bruins and made it difficult for them to complete shots. The Bruin’s field goal percentage was 31%; 16% lower than North Idaho’s.
Taylor Stevens of North Idaho wrought havoc on the score, making four of his six attempted 3-pointers that often seemed to come out of nowhere. Stevens alone accounted for thirteen of North Idaho’s final 63 points.
North Idaho completed nine 3-pointers throughout the game, where the Bruins only completed three. These clean-cut shots were North Idaho’s strength Saturday night, both in and outside of the paint. Only ten of their 63 points were scored in the lines.
Sophomore Nate Bendall and freshman DJ Wright from the Bruins scored 26 of the team’s final 54. Bendall scored twelve points and got a team-high of nine rebounds. Wright scored 14 points and threw two for two free throws.
When it came to the second half of the game, the Cardinals were simply running a much quicker offense and a more insidious defense. The Cardinals retrieved 25 defensive rebounds where the Bruins only recovered 16.
North Idaho racked up the offensive fouls in the second half, one after another for a total of twelve. The bruin’s shot with an amazing 83% accuracy, scoring ten more points. The Bruins free throw average for the whole game was 75%, leaving North Idaho in the dust at 57%.
The first half ended 36-24 for North Idaho, but the Bruins fought a decent comeback in the second half, scoring 30; 3 more than North Idaho’s 27.
Undoubtedly, after the Bruins close win the day before, the crowd left knowing the Bruins should have won. The Bruins are still in first place of the Scenic West Conference holding a 7-2 record.
“Come support your team,” said Tara Marrelli, another Bruins cheerleader. Morelli believes game attendance is increasing in numbers, but would love to see more fans and students come to cheer our team on. She added, “It makes them want to do better when they can see the support of their fans.”
The Bruins next home game is Feb. 10, 2009 at 7 p.m. vs. Western Wyoming Community College.
Monday, February 2, 2009
The name's Blake, Spencer Blake. 2.1.09
Many professors who teach at Salt Lake Community College are fully capable of teaching at universities such as the U. Each professor has their own personal reasons for choosing to educate at a communitycollege, and Spencer Blake happens to be one of them.
Blake is a Sociology professor here at SLCC who, prior to his dedicated decade here, has taught at Brigham Young University. “Blake sees thesociological perspective of things. He loves it here and knows he’s a great contribution to his students’ education. For him it’s about what’s right- not what’s most “prestigious” or better paid,” says Denver Jensen, a current SLCC student currently enrolled in Blake’sIntro to Sociology class. Jensen believes that Blake could teach at anyschool of his choice and because of that, is extremely grateful Blake chose to teach at SLCC.
There are three main classes that Blake teaches each semester that include Introduction to Sociology, Family and Marriage, and TheIntermountain West. He teaches social problems as well, but hasn’t forthe last few years. Blake doesn’t consider any one class to be his favorite because he loves them all for different reasons.
Blake is passionate about the subject matter in Intro to Sociology.It’s that fact that inspired him to major in the subject. It is Blake’s goal with each new class to get his students to where they start to integrate his lessons to life outside of school. He enjoys his Marriage and Family classes because typically many students who enroll in it have had him before, thus enabling him to better get to know them and their personalities and converse on a deeper level. In his Intermountain West class, Blake simply loves talking about the region and sharing his passion of this land with anyone and everyone who will listen.
Blake’s favorite element of teaching is getting to know the students.“When you start to get to know the students and their personalities start coming out and they start showing critical thinking back in their questions is by far the most fun,” says Blake.
Many of Blake’s hobbies revolve around the outdoors. He claims just exploring and seeing nature is by far his favorite pastime. Southern Utah tends to lure Blake’s attention because of the “starkness,” he says, “of the red rocks and the desert- when you find a little bit of water and all the life around it.” Blake loves to visit ruins of past cultures such as the Aztecs and Anasazi Indians, and also loves too bserve the natural arches and bridges of Southern Utah.
Another passion of Blake’s would be college football. He claims hetravels all over the nation to watch college football games. The vigorous rivalry between the U and BYU is one of Blake’s reasons for loving Utah.
As far as his current goals go, Blake would love to obtain more education. He loves to gain knowledge of new things and constantly keep an open mind to do so. Blake enjoys writing and publishing, and has a couple more books he’d like to get out. His father, too, is a sociologist, who wrote the text book for Blake’s Intermountain Westcourse. Blake co-authored that edition, and is now working the second edition that his father is co-authoring.
There are no extravagant relocation plans for Blake’s retirement when it comes because he’s right where he wants to be. “I love the mountains, I love the winter, I love the fall, I love the spring- I want four seasons,” says Blake.
Blake is a loving husband and father of two. He has a twenty year old son and a seventeen year old daughter whom he considers to be his life’s greatest success.
One characteristic Jensen admires about Blake is how down-to-earth he is. Blake’s favorite food exhibits that attribute clearly. “A bacon cheese burger- so long as it’s got a good tomato on it,” says Blake.
“It’s teachers like Blake that make SLCC feel like I’m attending the U,” Says Jensen, who continues, “I’m only hoping they understand how grateful their students are of their dedication.”
Blake is a Sociology professor here at SLCC who, prior to his dedicated decade here, has taught at Brigham Young University. “Blake sees thesociological perspective of things. He loves it here and knows he’s a great contribution to his students’ education. For him it’s about what’s right- not what’s most “prestigious” or better paid,” says Denver Jensen, a current SLCC student currently enrolled in Blake’sIntro to Sociology class. Jensen believes that Blake could teach at anyschool of his choice and because of that, is extremely grateful Blake chose to teach at SLCC.
There are three main classes that Blake teaches each semester that include Introduction to Sociology, Family and Marriage, and TheIntermountain West. He teaches social problems as well, but hasn’t forthe last few years. Blake doesn’t consider any one class to be his favorite because he loves them all for different reasons.
Blake is passionate about the subject matter in Intro to Sociology.It’s that fact that inspired him to major in the subject. It is Blake’s goal with each new class to get his students to where they start to integrate his lessons to life outside of school. He enjoys his Marriage and Family classes because typically many students who enroll in it have had him before, thus enabling him to better get to know them and their personalities and converse on a deeper level. In his Intermountain West class, Blake simply loves talking about the region and sharing his passion of this land with anyone and everyone who will listen.
Blake’s favorite element of teaching is getting to know the students.“When you start to get to know the students and their personalities start coming out and they start showing critical thinking back in their questions is by far the most fun,” says Blake.
Many of Blake’s hobbies revolve around the outdoors. He claims just exploring and seeing nature is by far his favorite pastime. Southern Utah tends to lure Blake’s attention because of the “starkness,” he says, “of the red rocks and the desert- when you find a little bit of water and all the life around it.” Blake loves to visit ruins of past cultures such as the Aztecs and Anasazi Indians, and also loves too bserve the natural arches and bridges of Southern Utah.
Another passion of Blake’s would be college football. He claims hetravels all over the nation to watch college football games. The vigorous rivalry between the U and BYU is one of Blake’s reasons for loving Utah.
As far as his current goals go, Blake would love to obtain more education. He loves to gain knowledge of new things and constantly keep an open mind to do so. Blake enjoys writing and publishing, and has a couple more books he’d like to get out. His father, too, is a sociologist, who wrote the text book for Blake’s Intermountain Westcourse. Blake co-authored that edition, and is now working the second edition that his father is co-authoring.
There are no extravagant relocation plans for Blake’s retirement when it comes because he’s right where he wants to be. “I love the mountains, I love the winter, I love the fall, I love the spring- I want four seasons,” says Blake.
Blake is a loving husband and father of two. He has a twenty year old son and a seventeen year old daughter whom he considers to be his life’s greatest success.
One characteristic Jensen admires about Blake is how down-to-earth he is. Blake’s favorite food exhibits that attribute clearly. “A bacon cheese burger- so long as it’s got a good tomato on it,” says Blake.
“It’s teachers like Blake that make SLCC feel like I’m attending the U,” Says Jensen, who continues, “I’m only hoping they understand how grateful their students are of their dedication.”
Monday, January 26, 2009
Lack of studewnt involvement at SLCC 1.26.09
The rates of student participation with SLCC’s Thayne Center for Service and Learning are continually increasing. Records show in 2005, there were 1,402 student volunteers. Following, in 2006, the number climbed to 2,400. The pattern carried to 2007, landing at 3,316 student volunteers, and in 2008, the number rose to 4,431.
4,000 seems quite the striking number. It’s when 4,000 is compared directly to the entire student body of 60,000 that the small fraction of students at SLCC who are involved with more than just their classes is put pathetically into perspective.
“College is not only a place of learning, but it’s widely supposed to be a place of social networking, a place to branch out and meet new people frequently,” says Spencer Blake, a popular Sociology professor at Salt Lake Community College. Blake Continues, “The problem here at SLCC is that everyone treats it like a truck stop restroom- you come and go and try not to touch anything in between.”
“I think most students like to hide under the radar,” says Brian Moore, a current student at SLCC when asked about student involvement. Moore goes on to add that he knows a member of the volleyball team, and tries to support him as much as possible, but aside from that, his life is already too hectic for much morre participation than that. The idea of joining a club on campus is completely out of the question for him when he has classes and is working full time.
Lack of extra involvement from students at SLCC is a common happenstance for community colleges. Commuter instistutions like SLCC cater to single parents trying to further their education and younger students using this less expensive college as a stepping stone toward a more “prestigious” four year institution. The average SLCC student has a full time job and/or a family to tend to. As a result, they’re not as emotionally devoted to their life at school as a university student.
Where a community college student already has a full plate with work and family, a university student’s experience is entirely separate. The full time obligations of a university student living on campus with many others just like them is to focus on school, thus making school related involvement percentages much higher.
“The university community is completely separate. Everything’s on campus. Students have their own stores right there on campus, so even grocery shopping feels school related. Living in the student dorms at the U is like one big slumber party,” says Megan Miller, a student attending the University of Utah for her second semester. Everything about life on campus for Miller is tied to school. “We live here- our school is our community,” Miller adds, “that makes even clubs and sporting events feel like attending family gatherings.”
There are undeniably many differences between universities and community colleges. It’s these differences that make the U feel like family and home for Megan Miller and SLCC just another daily task for Brian Moore to get over with before heading to his full time job and other obligations. The truth is simply that SLCC students and other community college students like them rarely have the time of day or energy left over to do more at school than attend their main classes.
“If students can, I very much encourage them to belong to clubs, etc., on campus,” says Dwight Adams, a Sociology/Psychology professor at both SLCC and the U. Adams also wanted to tell SLCC students, “I believe that [extra involvement] adds to their educational opportunities and definitely adds to great memories,”
4,000 seems quite the striking number. It’s when 4,000 is compared directly to the entire student body of 60,000 that the small fraction of students at SLCC who are involved with more than just their classes is put pathetically into perspective.
“College is not only a place of learning, but it’s widely supposed to be a place of social networking, a place to branch out and meet new people frequently,” says Spencer Blake, a popular Sociology professor at Salt Lake Community College. Blake Continues, “The problem here at SLCC is that everyone treats it like a truck stop restroom- you come and go and try not to touch anything in between.”
“I think most students like to hide under the radar,” says Brian Moore, a current student at SLCC when asked about student involvement. Moore goes on to add that he knows a member of the volleyball team, and tries to support him as much as possible, but aside from that, his life is already too hectic for much morre participation than that. The idea of joining a club on campus is completely out of the question for him when he has classes and is working full time.
Lack of extra involvement from students at SLCC is a common happenstance for community colleges. Commuter instistutions like SLCC cater to single parents trying to further their education and younger students using this less expensive college as a stepping stone toward a more “prestigious” four year institution. The average SLCC student has a full time job and/or a family to tend to. As a result, they’re not as emotionally devoted to their life at school as a university student.
Where a community college student already has a full plate with work and family, a university student’s experience is entirely separate. The full time obligations of a university student living on campus with many others just like them is to focus on school, thus making school related involvement percentages much higher.
“The university community is completely separate. Everything’s on campus. Students have their own stores right there on campus, so even grocery shopping feels school related. Living in the student dorms at the U is like one big slumber party,” says Megan Miller, a student attending the University of Utah for her second semester. Everything about life on campus for Miller is tied to school. “We live here- our school is our community,” Miller adds, “that makes even clubs and sporting events feel like attending family gatherings.”
There are undeniably many differences between universities and community colleges. It’s these differences that make the U feel like family and home for Megan Miller and SLCC just another daily task for Brian Moore to get over with before heading to his full time job and other obligations. The truth is simply that SLCC students and other community college students like them rarely have the time of day or energy left over to do more at school than attend their main classes.
“If students can, I very much encourage them to belong to clubs, etc., on campus,” says Dwight Adams, a Sociology/Psychology professor at both SLCC and the U. Adams also wanted to tell SLCC students, “I believe that [extra involvement] adds to their educational opportunities and definitely adds to great memories,”
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Taming Thumper. 07?
I was a naïve fourth grader playing a game that consisted of throwing a ball on the roof of my home and racing my twin to its return. In the cool air of fall, this sport went on for maybe an hour before I grew too weary to continue. I laid myself out on the front porch of my house, ball between my hands on top of my chest with my twin by my side. We soon noticed the yellow, foam ball our mother had just given us, was forcefully rising and falling with the beating of the heart beneath. As it would have occurred with any other pair of nine year olds, we found that phenomenon oddly amusing, but thought nothing of it shortly afterwards. Time merely went on and the memory faded as we progressed through school.
It wasn't until the fall of eighth grade, a full four years later, when the recollection resurfaced. I was in gym class, and it was the dreaded day of the week to run the mile. I had never been fond of the activity, and felt an extreme desire to find a way out of it that perticular week. In the midst of my hesitation to fake an illness, the ninth grade T.A. of my class period came running to join me. I attempted to convince him of the legitimate sickness I hadn't enough time to create, though I knew too well that he wouldn't fall for my horribly fabricated lies. I happened to be a little infatuated with this boy, so it came as no surprise to me when I faced the starting line after his brief moment of mockery. The coach sounded his whistle, and we were off. I ran. With an unsteady tempo, I pushed on awaiting the vision of the finish line. Halfway through the mile, I was finding it difficult to continue, but I knew my crush was watching with eyes ready to flout if given the chance.
My detested race was almost over. I was seven-eighths of the way through the mile and the end was too near to not hurry my already awkward pace. I suddenly stopped, unable to breathe. My legs collapsed below me as my peers ran past either side. My mind vividly evoked the memory of that day in fourth grade as I held still in effort to calm the spellbound beast inside. It didn't take long to reclaim lucidity, but enough energy had been taken to send me home with a worried mother.
The event that day landed me a seat at the local insta-care to assure my mother that I was alright. No permanent damage was done, and the cause lingered unknown.
Soon after the affair, we made an appointment to meet with a cardiologist. His name was David Bradley. As we sat in his office at Primary Children's discussing my symptoms, it became very clear to him what I was explaining. He told my mother and me that my heart had been constrained by a condition known as Supraventricular tachycardia (SVT for short). SVT is a rapid rhythm of the heart that originates in the upper chambers. He went on to explain that when I could feel the electrical impulses of my heart convert into an abnormal rhythm, I was having an arrhythmia. Sitting there in front of the content cardiologist, my mother and I were frightened by the new information. Dr. Bradley made sure we knew that the condition was not serious and that millions of people possessed it. I was fortunate enough to have the condition located in the upper chambers, where if it were in the lower, it would have posed a threat to my life. I was not a freak, and I would live a generally normal, healthy life with few restrictions.
I entered my junior high with pride the next fall, finally being at the top of the food chain again. A familiar pattern started to form all too soon. While in my reviled gym class one day, I suffered another experience of confusion as my heart attempted to challenge the steadiness of my breathing. This time, however, was a bit more severe. As a friend ran to call 911, the same coach as the year prior carried me to a more comfortable floor to lie on. I'm unsure of the amount of time that passed or of the thoughts that possessed my peers as the paramedics circled around me. No major medical actions were necessary once the paramedics helped me control my frightened panting.
The worsening condition led me back to the welcoming office of Dr. Bradley's and we conversed about possible solutions. There was a variety to choose from, but the two that stood out were medication and a surgical procedure. My parents voted medication, and I voted procedure. Naturally, my parents' choice held and I began the medication shortly after.
Softball was a sport I'd participated in for seven years up till my sophomore year in high school. It was in the inevitable season of cooling air and decaying leaves as I headed to one of my games on the evening of October 18th, 2005. (This meticulous season somehow prevails to be my preference above any other. In the cool bite of 65-70 degree temperatures, I feel capable of anything.) I walked onto the diamond approving every blade of grass I passed. The game started, and I knew it was going to be one to remember.
My turn to hit came, and I took advantage of every it's every second. My fresh sense of assurance sent the ball straight to the center fielder. I was stuck on first. My succeeding teammate hit and I was on my way, but while I rounded third base, my fellow teammate became our third out. I ran to the dugout, hopes still strong. I switched gear and ran for my right fielding position, but my heart was running faster. I ran right back to the dugout in dissatisfaction. Sitting down in obedience, a friend and EMT began to check my vitals. I could feel the raging battle within my chest grow between an eager heart and disapproving medicine. I felt fine, rooting on my team, though my pulse raced over one hundred and fifty.
In an abrupt moment, everything changed. I could no longer hear the cheers from the field before me or from the crowd behind me. I could no longer bear my own weight. My body collided with the bench in the dugout while my soaring heart beat dissolved everything around me. This remarkable episode left me without the ability to hyperventilate. Gasping for air, all consciousness other than the clarity of my dad's hovering voice disseminated. The rhythm was uncountable by the present EMT as he called for backup. Soon enough, the familiarity of men in blue working around me offered a distraction from the silenced baseball diamond and the children who were climbing the dugout fence to peer over them as they cut off my jersey and favorite bra. A whaling siren overhead soon replaced the sound of my father's trepidation filled voice. While strangers' efforts to fill my veins with alien fluids failed three times before succeeding, I experienced a truer hell than any of my past. By the time we arrived in the E.R. my condition was stable, but my life would never be the same after that game.
On the morning of the second day in November of 2005, my parents and I arrived at Primary Children's Hospital to have the procedure done with the hope of escaping the irritants of my hindered heart forever. What should have been a four-hour process, at most, was drawn out to be nine for my finicky condition. My recovery time also doubled the average for this procedure, but the outcome was well worth the down time. For the first time in over a month and a half, I mounted the dusty treadmill in my home and ran. I was not capable of exercise for the last month because of my frail condition, and didn't run sufficiently before then because of my fatuous heart. As I ran I began to cry, I had never known this freedom, or even knew it existed. It's dauntingly natural for one to take for granted the simplest privileges of health. For the first time in my life I took advantage of the ability to run while my dulcet heartbeat encouraged me the entire way. I had not run or even exercised in at least two months, and my timing this day broke every personal record I'd ever made. My mind toyed with the inscrutable memory of that day in eighth grade when I tried to evade the mile run.
Never again would I neglect that ability.
It wasn't until the fall of eighth grade, a full four years later, when the recollection resurfaced. I was in gym class, and it was the dreaded day of the week to run the mile. I had never been fond of the activity, and felt an extreme desire to find a way out of it that perticular week. In the midst of my hesitation to fake an illness, the ninth grade T.A. of my class period came running to join me. I attempted to convince him of the legitimate sickness I hadn't enough time to create, though I knew too well that he wouldn't fall for my horribly fabricated lies. I happened to be a little infatuated with this boy, so it came as no surprise to me when I faced the starting line after his brief moment of mockery. The coach sounded his whistle, and we were off. I ran. With an unsteady tempo, I pushed on awaiting the vision of the finish line. Halfway through the mile, I was finding it difficult to continue, but I knew my crush was watching with eyes ready to flout if given the chance.
My detested race was almost over. I was seven-eighths of the way through the mile and the end was too near to not hurry my already awkward pace. I suddenly stopped, unable to breathe. My legs collapsed below me as my peers ran past either side. My mind vividly evoked the memory of that day in fourth grade as I held still in effort to calm the spellbound beast inside. It didn't take long to reclaim lucidity, but enough energy had been taken to send me home with a worried mother.
The event that day landed me a seat at the local insta-care to assure my mother that I was alright. No permanent damage was done, and the cause lingered unknown.
Soon after the affair, we made an appointment to meet with a cardiologist. His name was David Bradley. As we sat in his office at Primary Children's discussing my symptoms, it became very clear to him what I was explaining. He told my mother and me that my heart had been constrained by a condition known as Supraventricular tachycardia (SVT for short). SVT is a rapid rhythm of the heart that originates in the upper chambers. He went on to explain that when I could feel the electrical impulses of my heart convert into an abnormal rhythm, I was having an arrhythmia. Sitting there in front of the content cardiologist, my mother and I were frightened by the new information. Dr. Bradley made sure we knew that the condition was not serious and that millions of people possessed it. I was fortunate enough to have the condition located in the upper chambers, where if it were in the lower, it would have posed a threat to my life. I was not a freak, and I would live a generally normal, healthy life with few restrictions.
I entered my junior high with pride the next fall, finally being at the top of the food chain again. A familiar pattern started to form all too soon. While in my reviled gym class one day, I suffered another experience of confusion as my heart attempted to challenge the steadiness of my breathing. This time, however, was a bit more severe. As a friend ran to call 911, the same coach as the year prior carried me to a more comfortable floor to lie on. I'm unsure of the amount of time that passed or of the thoughts that possessed my peers as the paramedics circled around me. No major medical actions were necessary once the paramedics helped me control my frightened panting.
The worsening condition led me back to the welcoming office of Dr. Bradley's and we conversed about possible solutions. There was a variety to choose from, but the two that stood out were medication and a surgical procedure. My parents voted medication, and I voted procedure. Naturally, my parents' choice held and I began the medication shortly after.
Softball was a sport I'd participated in for seven years up till my sophomore year in high school. It was in the inevitable season of cooling air and decaying leaves as I headed to one of my games on the evening of October 18th, 2005. (This meticulous season somehow prevails to be my preference above any other. In the cool bite of 65-70 degree temperatures, I feel capable of anything.) I walked onto the diamond approving every blade of grass I passed. The game started, and I knew it was going to be one to remember.
My turn to hit came, and I took advantage of every it's every second. My fresh sense of assurance sent the ball straight to the center fielder. I was stuck on first. My succeeding teammate hit and I was on my way, but while I rounded third base, my fellow teammate became our third out. I ran to the dugout, hopes still strong. I switched gear and ran for my right fielding position, but my heart was running faster. I ran right back to the dugout in dissatisfaction. Sitting down in obedience, a friend and EMT began to check my vitals. I could feel the raging battle within my chest grow between an eager heart and disapproving medicine. I felt fine, rooting on my team, though my pulse raced over one hundred and fifty.
In an abrupt moment, everything changed. I could no longer hear the cheers from the field before me or from the crowd behind me. I could no longer bear my own weight. My body collided with the bench in the dugout while my soaring heart beat dissolved everything around me. This remarkable episode left me without the ability to hyperventilate. Gasping for air, all consciousness other than the clarity of my dad's hovering voice disseminated. The rhythm was uncountable by the present EMT as he called for backup. Soon enough, the familiarity of men in blue working around me offered a distraction from the silenced baseball diamond and the children who were climbing the dugout fence to peer over them as they cut off my jersey and favorite bra. A whaling siren overhead soon replaced the sound of my father's trepidation filled voice. While strangers' efforts to fill my veins with alien fluids failed three times before succeeding, I experienced a truer hell than any of my past. By the time we arrived in the E.R. my condition was stable, but my life would never be the same after that game.
On the morning of the second day in November of 2005, my parents and I arrived at Primary Children's Hospital to have the procedure done with the hope of escaping the irritants of my hindered heart forever. What should have been a four-hour process, at most, was drawn out to be nine for my finicky condition. My recovery time also doubled the average for this procedure, but the outcome was well worth the down time. For the first time in over a month and a half, I mounted the dusty treadmill in my home and ran. I was not capable of exercise for the last month because of my frail condition, and didn't run sufficiently before then because of my fatuous heart. As I ran I began to cry, I had never known this freedom, or even knew it existed. It's dauntingly natural for one to take for granted the simplest privileges of health. For the first time in my life I took advantage of the ability to run while my dulcet heartbeat encouraged me the entire way. I had not run or even exercised in at least two months, and my timing this day broke every personal record I'd ever made. My mind toyed with the inscrutable memory of that day in eighth grade when I tried to evade the mile run.
Never again would I neglect that ability.
Rubik's Cube Romance. Feb. 08
Working as a barista at a local, privately owned coffee shop, encountering the most anomalous of people is not foreign to me. Who I see daily ranges from ornery, overworked, caffeine deprived office-men, to remarkably obese children coming in with their remarkably obese parents to each get 24 ounce milkshakes (with the whip cream on top, of course). The coffee shop’s most unfaltering demographic consists of the lonely pariahs of society who’s only friends are the other exiles who meet there on a regular basis to get their daily fix of affection before returning home to their despondent, cat filled homes. We get normal folk in there all the time also, but they’re not the regulars.
A couple came in yesterday afternoon. This couple, probably in their early thirties, was so farcically coherent compared to the majority of our customers that I hadn’t even noticed their presence until I went out to check the lobby a few hours after they got their drinks. I couldn’t even recall making their drinks. The stun of finding them there caught me off guard, so I lingered a moment trying to resurface some memory of them ordering. They must have ordered in between two tetchy or disheveled customers and slipped by without my acknowledgement. (I find it humorous that the rational, quiet, and supposed “normal” people who come in are considered atypical in my experience there.)
I returned to my station and completed my duties before closing shop at seven and turning up the volume on the stereo, but I was hardly focused on the tasks at hand. All I could think about was that couple. Not due to the shock factor they’d given me earlier, but because of something else I had observed when I saw them. They were playing with a Rubik’s Cube- the wretched interchangeable box that dubs its challengers either ingenious or insane. The female sat on her side of the old, wooden table-for-two holding the device and analyzing the moves that needed to be made. The male, on the opposite side, sitting with his left ankle crossed over his right knee, held the instructions to the dismal game while attempting to direct his partner-in-crime on what portion to rotate next. I never saw if the two ever accomplished matching all of the colors on each side during their three hour stay, but that wasn’t imperative.
My mind wasn’t consumed with the haunting obscurities of the Rubik’s cube, but rather the couple’s ability to sit at a coffee shop for three hours and never tire of each others’ company. The look in their eyes and the tone in their voices made it obvious that they were rather enjoying their nothing-time, so long as they were together, making it brilliant. “Brilliant-nothing-times” are the moments in our lives that are only enjoyed and offer remarkable memories and emotions because of the person(s) it is spent with. Brilliant-Nothing-Time (BNT) can occur in absolutely any form, for example: sitting at a coffee shop, riding in a car, taking a walk, flying in a plane, camping in the mountains, grocery shopping, playing in the snow, skipping class, watching a movie, attending church, taking a bike-ride, climbing a tree, participating in any sport/game, or doing absolutely nothing. My point, if vague, was that the outcome of nothing-time merely depends on who one’s with. Any moment of any day in someone’s life could be made futile or marvelous, solely relying on the relations between the beholders of the moment.
The prospect of true love- between man and woman, father and daughter, a child and his pet, or even between complete strangers- depends on the ability to make nothing-time brilliant. To truly love someone (to varying degrees of ‘love’, simply in the truest form achievable), one must sincerely appreciate and take pleasure in the exclusivity of sitting next to another and having nothing else to occupy their attention.
I’m not sure where I was headed when I brought up Word. All I could think of for a day was, “Rubik’s cube Romance.” I intermittently lose my sense of reality and give into the humanistic hunger for camaraderie and intimacy. In my 18 years of subsistence, I’ve decided mankind’s greatest fear is loneliness. Where one is twenty years from now could be either atrocious or magnificent in accordance with the level of affection in their life. It’s when I step back and look at the significance of the big picture that I’m able to detox that unhealthy urge for fleeting, fear-driven love from my mind. Though I’m skeptic that I’ll ever find someone who could make my nothing-time brilliant every day for the rest of my life, I’m not one to settle, and I don’t believe in the coercion of love. If it exists for me, my painstaking patience will have paid off. I don’t hold Hollywood-romance expectations in the least, though you can’t blame a girl for dreaming. All I’m waiting for is someone I can sit at a coffee shop for three hours with and not want to be anywhere else. I’ll know when it’s bona fide when that sensation is renewed every morning after.
A couple came in yesterday afternoon. This couple, probably in their early thirties, was so farcically coherent compared to the majority of our customers that I hadn’t even noticed their presence until I went out to check the lobby a few hours after they got their drinks. I couldn’t even recall making their drinks. The stun of finding them there caught me off guard, so I lingered a moment trying to resurface some memory of them ordering. They must have ordered in between two tetchy or disheveled customers and slipped by without my acknowledgement. (I find it humorous that the rational, quiet, and supposed “normal” people who come in are considered atypical in my experience there.)
I returned to my station and completed my duties before closing shop at seven and turning up the volume on the stereo, but I was hardly focused on the tasks at hand. All I could think about was that couple. Not due to the shock factor they’d given me earlier, but because of something else I had observed when I saw them. They were playing with a Rubik’s Cube- the wretched interchangeable box that dubs its challengers either ingenious or insane. The female sat on her side of the old, wooden table-for-two holding the device and analyzing the moves that needed to be made. The male, on the opposite side, sitting with his left ankle crossed over his right knee, held the instructions to the dismal game while attempting to direct his partner-in-crime on what portion to rotate next. I never saw if the two ever accomplished matching all of the colors on each side during their three hour stay, but that wasn’t imperative.
My mind wasn’t consumed with the haunting obscurities of the Rubik’s cube, but rather the couple’s ability to sit at a coffee shop for three hours and never tire of each others’ company. The look in their eyes and the tone in their voices made it obvious that they were rather enjoying their nothing-time, so long as they were together, making it brilliant. “Brilliant-nothing-times” are the moments in our lives that are only enjoyed and offer remarkable memories and emotions because of the person(s) it is spent with. Brilliant-Nothing-Time (BNT) can occur in absolutely any form, for example: sitting at a coffee shop, riding in a car, taking a walk, flying in a plane, camping in the mountains, grocery shopping, playing in the snow, skipping class, watching a movie, attending church, taking a bike-ride, climbing a tree, participating in any sport/game, or doing absolutely nothing. My point, if vague, was that the outcome of nothing-time merely depends on who one’s with. Any moment of any day in someone’s life could be made futile or marvelous, solely relying on the relations between the beholders of the moment.
The prospect of true love- between man and woman, father and daughter, a child and his pet, or even between complete strangers- depends on the ability to make nothing-time brilliant. To truly love someone (to varying degrees of ‘love’, simply in the truest form achievable), one must sincerely appreciate and take pleasure in the exclusivity of sitting next to another and having nothing else to occupy their attention.
I’m not sure where I was headed when I brought up Word. All I could think of for a day was, “Rubik’s cube Romance.” I intermittently lose my sense of reality and give into the humanistic hunger for camaraderie and intimacy. In my 18 years of subsistence, I’ve decided mankind’s greatest fear is loneliness. Where one is twenty years from now could be either atrocious or magnificent in accordance with the level of affection in their life. It’s when I step back and look at the significance of the big picture that I’m able to detox that unhealthy urge for fleeting, fear-driven love from my mind. Though I’m skeptic that I’ll ever find someone who could make my nothing-time brilliant every day for the rest of my life, I’m not one to settle, and I don’t believe in the coercion of love. If it exists for me, my painstaking patience will have paid off. I don’t hold Hollywood-romance expectations in the least, though you can’t blame a girl for dreaming. All I’m waiting for is someone I can sit at a coffee shop for three hours with and not want to be anywhere else. I’ll know when it’s bona fide when that sensation is renewed every morning after.
Bystanders at SLCC 1.10.09
When traveling on roads seldom traveled by others, it is a given that if there happens to be a stranded individual in need of help, that assistance is immediately offered (that is, if by first impression this individual doesn’t look like a serial killer seeking their next victim.) In contrast, it’s almost given that if someone in New York City’s car broke down and they happened to be stranded, the only assistance and attention they’d receive would consist of angry horns and fingers.
The bystander effect is, "the phenomenon in which the greater the numbers of people present, the less likely people are to help a person in distress. When an emergency situation occurs, observers are more likely to take action if there are few or no other witnesses,” says Kendra Van Wagner from About.com.
A famous example of the bystander effect is the case of Catherine “Kitty” Genovese in the early 1960’s. Kitty was returning to her home in New York City on March 13, 1964, around three in the morning when she was attacked in front of her apartment complex. After the attacker had stabbed Kitty and noticed multiple lights turning on in the complex with the residents coming to their windows, he ran. Kitty crawled her way to a staircase in the apartment complex crying for help, but nobody came. The attacker had stayed close enough to see if anyone was coming, and when he’d decided nobody was, he returned to his victim to stab her multiple times more and ended her life. It wasn’t until thirty minutes after the original witnesses noticed Kitty struggling outside that the first 911 call was placed. By then it was too late.
There are five major steps a bystander goes through before any action is taken. The first is they have to notice there is an event at all. Most often, an individual is so tuned into themselves rather than what’s happening around them and can walk right past an emergency without realizing. Second, they have to realize it is an emergency. If someone sees something and notices that nobody else is doing anything about it, they’ll conclude there is no emergency at hand. Third, they either assume responsibility, or assume somebody else will. Fourth, the bystander decides if they know what to do or not. And fifth, they act. This final step that sounds so simple is often the hardest due to the bystander’s fear of danger, lawsuit issues, or embarrassment.
Numerous sociological factors such as pluralistic ignorance and informational social influence help this phenomenon occur on a practically daily basis. Societal norms are accepted when in a large group of people and everyone blends together to fit in. This same process disconnects everyone from each other at the same time. When nobody stands out, nobody’s acknowledged. When nobody’s acknowledged, everyone’s free to come and go as if they’re invisible from the world. Nobody’s an individual- only a member of a larger, unfocused picture.
Any public area is susceptible to the bystander effect. This feeling of disconnection is easily acknowledged by most people on Salt Lake Community College’s campus. Spencer Blake, a popular sociology professor at SLCC, said “College is not only a place of learning, but it’s widely supposed to be a place of social Networking, a place to branch out and meet new people frequently. The problem here at SLCC is that everyone treats it like a truck stop restroom- you come and go and try to not tough anything in the meantime.” Denver Jensen, a business major here at SLCC completely agreed. He said, “I’ve noticed in my classes that the only conversations held between students in the first week or two are only held between students who already knew each other before. I pray for people like them to be in my classes to break that horrible first day silence. I think it’s that fear of looking someone in the eye that makes SLCC’s campus another target for the bystander effect day after day.”
The bystander effect is, "the phenomenon in which the greater the numbers of people present, the less likely people are to help a person in distress. When an emergency situation occurs, observers are more likely to take action if there are few or no other witnesses,” says Kendra Van Wagner from About.com.
A famous example of the bystander effect is the case of Catherine “Kitty” Genovese in the early 1960’s. Kitty was returning to her home in New York City on March 13, 1964, around three in the morning when she was attacked in front of her apartment complex. After the attacker had stabbed Kitty and noticed multiple lights turning on in the complex with the residents coming to their windows, he ran. Kitty crawled her way to a staircase in the apartment complex crying for help, but nobody came. The attacker had stayed close enough to see if anyone was coming, and when he’d decided nobody was, he returned to his victim to stab her multiple times more and ended her life. It wasn’t until thirty minutes after the original witnesses noticed Kitty struggling outside that the first 911 call was placed. By then it was too late.
There are five major steps a bystander goes through before any action is taken. The first is they have to notice there is an event at all. Most often, an individual is so tuned into themselves rather than what’s happening around them and can walk right past an emergency without realizing. Second, they have to realize it is an emergency. If someone sees something and notices that nobody else is doing anything about it, they’ll conclude there is no emergency at hand. Third, they either assume responsibility, or assume somebody else will. Fourth, the bystander decides if they know what to do or not. And fifth, they act. This final step that sounds so simple is often the hardest due to the bystander’s fear of danger, lawsuit issues, or embarrassment.
Numerous sociological factors such as pluralistic ignorance and informational social influence help this phenomenon occur on a practically daily basis. Societal norms are accepted when in a large group of people and everyone blends together to fit in. This same process disconnects everyone from each other at the same time. When nobody stands out, nobody’s acknowledged. When nobody’s acknowledged, everyone’s free to come and go as if they’re invisible from the world. Nobody’s an individual- only a member of a larger, unfocused picture.
Any public area is susceptible to the bystander effect. This feeling of disconnection is easily acknowledged by most people on Salt Lake Community College’s campus. Spencer Blake, a popular sociology professor at SLCC, said “College is not only a place of learning, but it’s widely supposed to be a place of social Networking, a place to branch out and meet new people frequently. The problem here at SLCC is that everyone treats it like a truck stop restroom- you come and go and try to not tough anything in the meantime.” Denver Jensen, a business major here at SLCC completely agreed. He said, “I’ve noticed in my classes that the only conversations held between students in the first week or two are only held between students who already knew each other before. I pray for people like them to be in my classes to break that horrible first day silence. I think it’s that fear of looking someone in the eye that makes SLCC’s campus another target for the bystander effect day after day.”
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