A Nice Stroll Through an Ivy League Campus....

I got the chance to visit Princeton yesterday, a place that I had not really been to prior in well over ten years. Funny thing was, I used to go to college relatively nearby, at Rutgers, and there was some kind of an agreement between the two universities that students of each could utilize the resources of the other, particularly the libraries. It was an amazing opportunity to visit one of the finest and most reputable schools in the country, and yet, admittedly, I never did. Chickened out, feeling rather intimidated by the reputation of this elite school that preceded it. It is not one of my life's major regrets never to have actually gone and used the libraries, but there was a bit of regret at the time, and even now, it feels like a wasted opportunity.

Still, the campus is nice to visit, and it was even more beautiful than I remember it being. It really looks the way an old English University town might look, or at least the way that I always imagined one looking, more or less. There is Nassau Hall behind curved gates, and open spaces. Towers that look almost medieval, and everywhere you go, stone buildings. There are beautiful churches and other buildings with stained glass windows. Everything has a stuffy, scholarly air, but in a good way. About the only thing that gave away the modern times would be the greed and red lights of the card access system to gain access into these buildings. It did not escape my notice that a lot of the students actually were living in dorms that occupied more than a few of these wonderful, stone made structures. Such privilege! Lucky bastards!

When you visit an old college campus, there is always an air of timlessness to the place. Life seems to stand still here, at least from an outside perspective. This is because colleges offer more continuity than anything else. Often times, they physically look older, unchanged. Buildings are often made of stone, there are wide open, green spaces. Students traverse the grounds, changing in time but always with the same purpose of getting through the next exam, researching to prepare the next big paper, busily going about from place to place, trying to race to get to their next lass on time, or going to the library to do some research.

Yes, the world can seem to stand still at college campuses. Oh, there is drama, I'm sure. But unless you're actually involved, the dramas that relatively young hormones can provide seem a bit distant and still trivial, compared to the grandeur of the college campus, which gain, often remains largely unchanged. The campus is bigger than that.

Yet, there are changes. Perhaps a prestigious institutions might get a card access system into certain buildings. Surely, the libraries have people doing their work online, and every now and then taking a break from their work to go online for more fun things, like checking one's Facebook account or emails. Certainly, the prices of attending (let alone actually residing in) one of these places reflects the changed times.

Still, the campus lies quietly before you, the same as it did the day before, the weeks and months before, the years, decades, and often times, even centuries before. Still looking largely as it always has looked. Seasons change, and the campus might seem to be different during each, looking quite unique when the spring buds come out on the first truly warm day of the year, then under the sweltering summer sun, the trees providing a small respite for the weary, then seeing these same trees change colors on brisk autumn afternoons, when you need to pull that jacket on a little more to stay warm, and finally, when the campus is blanketed underneath a layer of snow.

The town of Princeton is quite lovely, as well. It has a house directly across Nassau Street form the campus, facing Nassau Hall, that looks like a Tudor-era house. The downtown is filled with lovely little coffee shops and places to dine (most of them quite pricey). There are other little places like that, and the town itself is a compliment to the university that obviously dominates it. The whole thing lends this place an Old World kind of feel to it. It makes for an enjoyable leisurely stroll through the town and campus, especially when the weather is accommodating. The campus itself felt a bit like I was walking through the “Dead Poet's Society”.

I will certainly admit that the campus (not to mention the outlying town itself) of Princeton is more attractive and compares favorably to Rutgers, although I always did like Rutgers campus, and enjoy it's history, to boot.

I guess what I am trying to say, although it is taking me a long time to actually get to the point here and just say it, is that I admittedly miss college. I miss the challenge of it, the feel of learning, the distinguished air of such places, the availability of resources, the stimulating discussions and environment, the research, and even the challenge of putting together a paper by a certain deadline and watching it slowly but surely take form, adding things that will hopefully add depth and insight, always hoping that the professor picks up on the subtlety of the points being made and the eloquence with which they are being made. I even miss studying (often, admittedly, cramming) for exams. I miss getting grades back that make me feel like I did well. Sometimes, you just need things like that in life, and I have missed it ever since graduating in 2001.

Of course, when I graduated, it was with the expectations of going back. But quite a few people, particularly professors, urged me strongly not to leave, but to continue on, to keep going to school, to go the Master's without break. I thought it would be a great idea, but it seemed that I should take a year off in order to save up money, and then go back more prepared. I have not been back since, and really have come to regret that. I wish that I had had more direction back then, wish that I had joined the Accelerated Master's program that was available to me at reduced rates and taken less time, wish that I had heeded their advice. I have intellectual abilities, as well as curiosities and overall thirst yet to be slaked, yet I enjoyed the discipline that I had back then of getting the academic job done. Now, it feels less disciplined, and more like a mishmash of things. A lack of focus, maybe. Don't get me wrong, I am very appreciative for the intellectual abilities that I feel I do have, and was blessed with. It was just that in school, it seemed to belong more, I was in my element, on some levels. These days, it seems I am more of an oddity, than anything else.

Yet, I still enjoy going through these old campuses, at least (I was able to pass through Rutgers, a slight detour on my way down to Princeton). I remember those days well, and still feel tremendously thrilled and privileged to have had my time at this institution, and to have gotten as much out of it as I indeed got.

There is a bit of a thrill when I walk through such campuses (and I have walked through a number of college campuses in my years, in many countries and through two different campuses), yet there is always that same fascination to be able to locate where this or that is, or what that gigantic building looming in the horizon is. It is enjoyable to watch the students walk by, eager in their chatter -and there were quite a few Princeton students out there, presumably, who were walking and acting quite normally, and not giving their genius away instantly. Princeton is a monied place of privilege, of course, and I was never in that league – that Ivy League. Still, I very much enjoyed the opportunity to walk on the campus and take in the sights once again. It's not something I can do too often, being a bit far from home for me to make anything like regular trips. Hell, even Rutgers, which I actually did attend, is a bit far for me to take regular trips, and yesterday, just passing through, was the first time that I had been on my old campus in almost a full year. Perhaps, when I visit the campuses of institutions of higher learning these days, a little part of me almost feels at home (and moreover, probably always will), and maybe that is why I enjoy visiting them as much as I do. And Princeton is a real gem! 

No respect in an unkind world...

Lately, it seems that there are constant reminders of the seeming breakdown of everything in this world. I was listening to a couple of guys who were talking, unaware even of my presence, and they were talking about how the world seemed to be going crazy, and everyone was running around with no respect for one another (and, I might posit, no respect for themselves, either), that they just do what they want to do, get absorbed in their own little worlds which have little to no contact with reality. It was hard to completely disagree with them, for that matter.


The one guy is someone who works with his hands, and he was saying that everyone wants to be an elite, feels entitled, and that there is less and less room in this world for people like him -which is to say, people who work with their hands. Again, I am inclined to agree.

This is a world of entitlement, where people regularly treat each other like dirt, where being crass and in your face is not only accepted, but to be expected. Everyone wants to be a celebrity, everyone wants to be rich and admired, everyone wants to be both entertaining and entertained, all of the time. Nothing less is acceptable or admirable anymore. Everyone tries to make sure you know not only exactly what they want, but how they view themselves, and how they want you to view them. Based upon that, they can then bestow upon you their judgment of you, sizing you up very quickly, often in mere seconds, and everyone will "swear" that they are right to do so, that they are usually "dead on" with these judgments.

So be it.

All I know is that I was taught something different growing up, and this has served me well. Indeed, there are similarities between people, and sometimes, indeed, perhaps, most of the time, we fit into convenient “labels”.

Yet, people who rely on these, usually almost exclusively, are themselves more guilty of fitting into stupid stereotypes than the people they are trying to dismiss. They are doing it out of cowardice, after all, because dismissing people takes no work at all. Actually getting to know someone, enough to actually start finding value in them, perhaps even to start caring about them?

That is far too much for most people to handle, it seems. So much easier to let them remain invisible.

I saw a spoof Wall Street Journal front page the other day, with headlines screaming:

WHY DO THEY HATE US?

Underneath this, was a slightly smaller caption, that read:

Polls show it’s because we bomb them

It was not a real article, or anything, but indeed, the point it tried to get across (successfully, I would suggest), was that most Americans who think it is “cool” that we have stealth bombers and all of this awesome technology that we use to more efficiently kill people, or at least subject them to “shock and awe”, actually do provide solid grounds for them not to trust us, and for the flames of resentment, and yes, even hatred, to build more and more steadily.

The same can be said domestically, as well. This is a nation divided, more divided then perhaps we have been in modern times, and people are so blasé, so focused on their own little worlds, that they cannot relate to anything, or anyone, else. It is not easy to, so they do not bother. Hardly anyone bothers, anymore.

Yet, I think that this will make things get progressively worse, not better. It seems we already are a divided country, that people don’t view all Americans as their follow citizens anymore, but they eye “others” with skepticism and distrust, and sometimes, yes, even hatred.

It seems to me that things just might have to get worse, before they get better. Who knows when that might happen, or even if things will get better?

"Tales of Adam" by Daniel Quinn

I recently reread a book, almost done, called "Tales of Adam", by Daniel Quinn (the same author who wrote "Ishmael"). It is a short book, probably can be read within an hour or two. Do not let the title fool you, nor the name of the two main characters, Adam and his son Abel, because those names conjure up certain meanings with certain implications in our modern society. This is not a "religious" book, at least not in the conventional sense, the way we Westerners in our modern society with a Christian background might tend to associate it, anyway. This book has nothing at all to do with that and, in fact, does not so much criticize the Christian perspective or way as much as offer another viewpoint, different priorities and experiences.. Surely, though, many religious minded people would dismiss this work as sacrilegious (although again, maybe not quite in the way that the popular Western imagination of the modern era might associate it with).

No, this is not a Christian, or religious, book. In fact, it is not a conventional book in any sense of the word, and it seems to me to be the first real scholarly attempt (if that is the right way of describing it) at describing the way "savages", whether Native Americans, or tribal peoples in Africa or Asia or Australia or the Americas, lived and, hopefully if even in small numbers, still live. It is a different kind of a book than probably anything that you have read. I mentioned that it was by the same author of "Ishmael" and, in fact, was written with the design of being a part of that book, in one of it's many different manifestations. It did not make the cut, so to speak, and yet, it works quite well as a miniature kind of work on it's own. Again, it is short, and hardly really long enough to be a "book" of it's own. Yet, it works, when you combine it with the artwork. Surely, it serves to further illustrate many of Daniel Quinn's points regarding humanity's relation to the wilderness, to nature, and to debunk the myth that we are somehow separate or "free" from it.

It is also a unique book, in many respects, teaching something entirely different than almost any other book I know, taking a radically different vantage point. Some might view it as harsh, others surely would dismiss it as weird, and so on and so forth. Yet, I think it might be as close to being able to see the world and our real relation to it as we can probably get, other than maybe reading the words of Native Americans (which I have enjoyed doing as well, especially one book in particular, called "Touch the Earth" - highly recommended!). I am not sure that after reading it, you are ready to abandon everything and go out and live in the wilderness and think that you might actually survive, yet it takes a very different vantage point than almost any other work that I know of, and when it comes to being able to see the subtle signs of other creatures that passed by the particular tract of land that we are currently traversing (imagine we are on another walk in the woods here), it seems that Quinn nails it. A unique work! He has quite a few of them, after all. 

The Bamiyan Buddhas of Afghanistan

There is a beautiful saying from Sicily. It goes something like this:

"Troubled waters offer no reflection."

That is a very true saying, and quite apropos about our world. I was recently told by someone who just seemed to be on top of everything that the reason for it was to avoid thinking about anything else. When you stay busy, there is no time to think about anything, no time to reflect. Perhaps the same goes with troubled times, and I am not sure whether it is true that troubled times prevent clearer thoughts and reflection, or if a lack of such thoughts provide troubled times. It seems a question similar to wondering if the chicken or the egg came first. There really is no answer, it seems.

There surely exists no shortage of tragedies stemming from human stupidity to write about. We see it everywhere, and the results of our world situation presently speaks of the blindness and stupidity and excesses and unbounded greed of the stupidest and most arrogant among us, who always seem to have too much power and influence. They always seem to get their way, blessed with this strange and unique ability, and never as fully as when times are not normal. Again, take a look around the world right now. These hardly feel like normal times, have not felt like normal times for a while now (this is just my take on it, admittedly). People are predicting the end of the world, more extremes in both religion and politics, and more extreme attitudes by average, everyday people, has made life here less livable. Again, just my own opinion, but I certainly do not feel alone in thinking this.

These thoughts have entered my mind because of a beautiful book that I just finished recently, Khaled Hosseini's "A Thousand Splendid Suns", which I wrote a review on in an earlier blog. The story takes place in and focuses on Afghanistan, from the 1950's through to the Soviet invasion, to the days of factional fighting among power hungry warlords that immediately followed, through the years of the Taliban, and finally, post-invasion Afghanistan's struggle to return to some semblance of normality. Hosseini created wonderful characters that represented the past and the present for men, women, and children, one male and one female for each. These characters came into contact and conflict, with one another, but the tale is, ultimately, a tale of hope, although it certainly does not avoid tragedy.

I am writing about these gigantic statues that were recently destroyed by the Taliban during their reign in Afghanistan, mostly because of the focus that Khaled Hosseini gave to this unfortunate incident in his brilliant A Thousand Splendid Suns", which I wrote a review about earlier this month.

It seemed just fascinating that these statues carved into the side of a mountain, and dating back many centuries, had towered over the Bamiyan Valley for so long, and were destroyed by such a temporary, but obviously extreme, regime. A Taliban regime that felt itself the true representatives of a "purer" form of Islam, and enforced it over the land that they briefly ruled with an iron first. In the process, priceless works of art and artifacts of substantial historical value were desecrated and destroyed at their hands, on their watch, and all because of some ideological idiocy and extremity, to say nothing of the toll it took on the people who lived under such ruthless and militant stupidity. The Taliban will likely be placed among some of the more notorious regimes in modern history as among the most extreme and arrogant of regimes. They might not have had death camps or millions dead at their hands, but the brutality with which they ruled will not be soon forgotten. Unfortunately, they never seem to go away, either, and they remain active even as I write this.

Yet, in some respects, it may even be fitting. After all, Buddhists, and Eastern religions in general, place great emphasis on detachment. Sooner or later, these gigantic statues were going to crumble to the ground, much like sooner or later, the mind that is thinking this piece, and the fingers that are typing these characters to eyes that are reading it, will all eventually be deadened. Eventually, we will all find our way to rejoining Earth, and the cycle of life. In that respect, the Bamiyan Buddhas that were destroyed only met what would have been their ultimate fate.

In fact, it reminds me of the Tibetan Buddhist practice of making delicate sand paintings, often worked on for hours, if not perhaps days, at a time, and then deliberately destroyed by the very hands that created them, to serve as a reminder of the impermanence of all things. There is a certain beauty to this practice, although I am not entirely sure that the comparison to the desecration of these statues quite fits. That said, done is done, and the statues that had stood wars and voyagers and weather and all else could not stand the arrogance that swept over that country during a period of extreme instability that hit it following the Soviet invasion. Who is responsible? The easy answer, of course, would be the Taliban, and indeed, they are primarily the ones to blame. But is that it? A simple, cut and dry answer like that would suffice, or is there more blame to go around? Can we blame the Soviets/Russians, who invaded the country and set in motion the chain of events that not only led to the instability that brought about the Taliban, but set up a climate that allowed Afghanistan to have camps that trained terrorists, and thus had a hand to play in the September 11^th attacks, which itself set about a chain of events that set yet another war up in a land that has really known nothing but war since that initial Soviet invasion more than thirty years ago? Maybe the United States had a role to play, because the strategy was to kind of look the other way when the Soviets showed signs of invading, which was a political strategy of almost encouraging them, luring them into what they knew would be a trap that would, ultimately, help lead to the Soviet Empire's demise? All it cost were the arms and legs of many Afghani children, and many Afghani lives disrupted and lost, in a land half the world away. Was it worth it? Or how America and other Western powers gave richly of their arms to the Mujahideen, who successfully fought off the big, bad, invading Soviet forces, only to turn these weapons on their own people once the Soviets were gone, yet they gave next to nothing when the time came to actually rebuilding the country, to trying to restore some semblance of stability and progress. Can Americans then be blamed for their selfishness in supporting the Afghani war effort in order to help bolster their claims of their own greatness, to claim "We won the Cold War!" while ignoring everything else? Can a legitimate argument not be made, then, that the United States had a hand to play in it's own future tragedy of September 11^th many years later, which was then utilized to inflict more tragedy and destruction on Afghanistan and, later on, in Iraq?

A complicated web of tragedies it was, much like the many strands of cobwebs that have risen the world over, where the intelligence, thoughtfulness, and the responsibility of good people has been largely abandoned, and allowed thinking to those who are incapable, and allowed actions by those who cannot be trusted to act in a responsible manner. These are the complicated web of tragedies that we are now paying the price for the world over, and perhaps people dream of some impending apocalypse, real reflection on the reasons why this world seems to shitty and hopeless right at the moment is just too much for most people. Like that person told me, let's just keep busy with things, and become addicted, so we do not actually have to stop and think about anything. Let's become workaholics, or alcoholics. Let's grab as much material wealth as possible to fill and decorate the walls of our homes that both hide us from the world, and in which we never have to really see the world as it is beyond our own lives. Let's allow our responsible leaders and the corporations that have these supposedly elected leaders in their pockets, to destabilize even more of the world so that they can extend the "freedom" of free markets, to plunder and rape the land and strip it of it's wonderful, but limited, natural resources. All because we are too stupid and arrogant and short-sighted to see beyond our own desires. All because we do not want to be bothered to think about the very real possibility that we are choking off future life as we know it, in order to live lifestyles that we probably know to be unsustainable in the long run. The Taliban may have been monumentally stupid and arrogant, but really, is the American government any better? At least the extent of the damage that the Taliban was responsible for hardly went beyond Afghanistan's borders. Can we say the same?

Yet, I digress. Indeed, the Taliban was a horrible chapter in human history, not just the history of one country. It is also an argument against not having a strict separation of church and state, I would think. The Taliban oppressed woman, destroyed these priceless items of their own country's history and cultural traditions, forced people who were not Muslims to wear yellow identifying markers. None of those are actions of a reasonable mindset. Whoever played a part in the responsibility, or the irresponsibility, rather, of allowing a regime like the Taliban to come into power, it ultimately did come to power, and the arrogance and stupidity of these men (and they were exclusively men in the Taliban), once in power, serves as an embarrassment to all of humanity.

Yes, all things must pass. The only permanent thing in this world is change. Tibetan Buddhists understand this better than most, and their sand paintings or etchings, if you will, illustrate this. Nothing lasts forever, and eventually, all things turn to dust. That includes people. As that song by Kansas goes, "All we are is dust in the wind".

It is just unfortunate that such a narrow-minded and short-sighted regime would have hastened the process so much, and to the detriment of us all, really. The Bamiyan Buddhas have largely crumbled and fallen to dust now, where they lay at the feet of the cliffs that they used to dominate, a testament to human stupidity and unnecessary tragedy now, rather than the human accomplishment and drive for enlightenment that they had once represented when they had stood. So, too, has the Taliban, who were gone when the dust finally settled in Afghanistan back in 2001, although they do seem to be making a comeback.

If you are interested, here is a decent piece on the history of these gigantic Buddha statues that once were, but are no more:

http://www.usatoday.com/news/science/archaeology/2001-03-22-afghan-buddhas.htm

A History of Love? Some Stories About Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day! Hopefully, you will be able to enjoy this day with someone special, someone who can help keep you warm on a chilly February night midway through the winter season. 

Valentine's Day has come to be a special day for many reasons and by many people. Many people, including those in the business of flowers, chocolates, fancy restaurants, and cards, await this year for a very long time, to say nothing of eager young couples. But did you ever wonder why it was that we hold this day as so special, and signifying the romance that it is supposed to represent?

The origins of what we now call Valentine's Day has it's roots all the way back during the days of the Roman Empire, although there is some debate as to the accuracy of this tale. There is a popularly held myth regarding it, however, and we can see the modern day origins of what we presently know now as "Valentine's Day".

There was a festival held every February called the Lupercian Festival, which would later be outlawed as a pagan ritual. It was in honor of the God of Fertility and, fittingly enough, the idea behind this festival was for young men to pick women to have as wives, with the idea towards building a family somewhere down the line. Pope Gelasius eventually outlawed this festival, dismissing it as a pagan ritual. 

Before that happened, however, a war-minded Roman Emperor, Claudius, decided to change all of that, because he feared that young men would not be so willing to go off to war if they had wives that could provide warmth and comfort. So, he put a stop to that by abolishing marriages. So, where's the romance in all of that?

Well, it is called Saint Valentine's day for a reason. After all, Claudius might officially be able to abolish marriage, but he could not abolish love. Young men and women still feel for each other, and they would try and find ways to tie the knot. One man was willing to help: Bishop Valentine. He disliked this law, and secretly married couples of his own accord, at great risk to himself. 

Of course, the story does not end there. Claudius found out, and then Valentine was, predictably, thrown in jail. Yet, even this was not enough to end this story of love. We celebrate Valentine to this day, because his spirit was stronger than that force which tried to break him. His spirit was that of love, of course.

While waiting in jail, he fell in love himself, with the blind daughter of his jailer, Austerius, no less. Allegedly, Valentine healed this young woman of her blindness. This itself would sound incredible enough, yet this legend was further embellished by an American card company, that claimed that he wrote her a letter, and his own trademark was his distinctive sign off, "From your Valentine".

Again, though, the accuracy of this legend is questionable. It sounds great, but how accurate can it be, right? It just sounds like a movie, but not something that really happened. Still, the legend has stuck, although, in fact, there is debate as to who this Valentine was, and if he, indeed, was really only one person. Almost assuredly, the popular legend that has been passed through the ages is riddled with inaccuracies, but it does make for a nice story to tell your significant other on this of all days.

There is more, however. The first known association with Valentine's Day to love came centuries ago in England with a poem by Chaucer, in honor of a Royal Wedding of the time. He wrote:

"For this was on seynt Volantynys day

Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make"

This was evidently the root of the label "love birds". There is controversy, however, as to what date Chaucer was actually referring to, since there are not many birds in England during mid-February. Yet, at the time, February 14th was believed in both France and England to be the beginning of the mating season for birds, and these words of Chaucer's got the ball rolling, and Valentine's Day became associated with romance and love, more and more steadily. Even Shakespeare added to this association.

Consequently, the oldest known Valentine was written by Charles (my namesake!), the Duke of Orleans, who wrote one to his wife while he was imprisoned in the Tower of London, after he was captured following the Battle of Agincourt in 1415l He wrote:

"Je suis desja d'amour tanné

Ma tres doulce Valentinée..."

Anyone who knows me knows I just wanted to whip out my French for this day, right? 

Valentine's Day is known for poetry, and it was not just Chaucer and Shakespeare that got wrapped up in that. Many people have tried to write their sweethearts some love letter or poem and, famously, one of the most commonly used opening lines in the English language begins with "Roses are red, violets are blue". Now, this has a clear origin, as well, and it too is associated with Valentine's Day. It was written by Edmund Spencer, who wrote in his poem, "The Faerie Queene" some lines that would have more spin offs than almost any other lines in the language:

"She bath'd with roses red, and violets blew

And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew"

So, what about another iconic figure of love, and particularly prominent on Valentine's Day, Cupid? In ancient Rome mythology, Cupid (which is literally translated to "desire" in Latin) was the God of love, affection, and erotic desire. His popular portrayal is as a baby with arrows that he shoots at people, making them fall in love. Roman legend has it that he himself was a victim to his own arrows, when he snuck into Psyche's room and, while there, accidentally knicked himself with his own arrow, and feel madly in love with her.

Of course, I am a big advocate of people doing their own research, exploring things of their own accord, if they have a strong enough interest. So, if you have such an interest in this "history of love", here are few websites, not including the obvious Wikepedia page, that I found helpful in writing this miniature history of the legend behind Valentine's Day:

http://www.essortment.com/history-origin-valentines-day-65174.html

http://www.history.com/topics/valentines-day

Watching a little TV...

I work with a couple of guys who control the television channel that we watch. This job moved to Rahway a little over a year ago, and one of my main concerns was the evident choice of television programming-  because literally everyone seemed to keep it locked onto FOX News, a channel that I find a farce.

Of course, things have changed greatly. It is a rare day when any of these guys watch FOX News, although it is interesting to note what they do tend to watch, and how it reflects on their personalities.

They all have begun to watch movies, which is a good thing. Sometimes, I might even put my book down, or get off the computer (from which I have been writing the bulk of these blogs, by the way), or will open my tired eyes a little wider and start paying attention.

A couple of them have taken to watching certain programs or sitcoms, and this reveals something about them. Some stick to what are clearly designed to be for adults, meaning that they have relatively mature tastes, at least. One or two of them however, seem to like programming that, although it can be funny, seems almost geared towards a less mature audience (and no, I am not even talking about FOX News – although, I might as well be!). These are television shows that, frankly, cater to the lowest common denominator. Not surprisingly, the guys on the shift who watch these shows (such as Adult Swim,  Robot Chicken, 1,000 Ways to Die, and Manswers) are pretty damn cokcy and sure of themselves. I have heard them talk about politics, and they are the types of guys who "know" things, if you understand my meaning.  There really is no reason to discuss anything with them, u less you merely want to be informed. Make sure you do not dare disagree with them, for that matter! Heaven forbid! They have a monopoly on truth and wisdom on all issues, drawing on their vast pool of a worldly knowledge and a wealth of ignorance.

Now, I really should not make fun. We all believe what we want to believe, and all have our prejudices, after all, right? I guess what bothers me, though, is when people are absolutely certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they are right, and that no other viewpoints count but their own.  How can you discuss anything with such people?

Yes, these guys watch some programming that, at least to me, seems geared towards the "inner child", to a more youthful mental version of the American adult – particularly males. These are the video game obsessed types, the ones who do not challenge themselves more than watching such programming and obsessing about it. When you fill your life with watching cartoons on television and playing cartoons with video games, is it any wonder that you would find them believing that FOX News passes for intellectual, "serious" programming?

But I digress. Apologies, I have indeed gotten off topic.

Now, some of the guys there, they watch quite a bit of sports. American football is very popular, as is basketball. Baseball was on every now and then, although not all of the guys enjoyed this. Nobody seemed to really care for hockey, soccer, or any other sports, though. So be it. I can only take so much sports – although I will take that over FOX any day!

Some of the programs that they watch can be addictive. I started watching "Entourage" in this way at this job, as well as "Rescue Me". Another one that can be funny often times (and annoying, admittedly, at other times) is "Curgb Your Enthusiasm", which is, like "Seinfeld", a show about nothing. True, I am still not all that acclimated with all of these, but they can be rather entertaining and even addictive, given enough times. Once you not only begin to recognize the characters, but you start to "know" them, know their personalities and character traits, to know the inside joke, if you will, on them, then perhaps you are treading uncomfortably close to becoming a TV addict. That is not something I signed up for upon coming to Rahway.

One of these guys I work with from Rahway has the reputation, apparently earned, of being rather a racist. He thinks everyone will be easily offended, and whenever there is a love scene on a movie or program that he is watching and a woman will walk in the room, he will quickly change the channel, and justify it later on as it being inappropriate for when female eyes, apparently nervous about getting slapped with sexual harassment. He is one of those guys, apparently, who feels that if people knew what he was really thinking, he probably would get in trouble a lot, with racist and sexist views. He seems particularly vocal about his political leanings, for that matter, although I have tried to make a point of steering clear of any and all political discussions and debates in this workplace. This is FOX News country, after all!

My favorite, though, remains the movies, generally speaking. If it is a movie that I am interested in, it can be distracting, or even help me get through a shift. Even if I do not get captivated by it, it might be a nice distraction when I turn away from the computer, for example, whether I am done, taking a break, or perhaps trying to find some sort of inspiration, at which times I might look at the television without really "seeing" it at all, if you know what I mean.

I could swear, also, that sometimes, they seem almost to pick the programming in order to please me. No big deal, since I am not all that interested in watching more television than I usually do. Just interesting that they do it, is all.  I was never sure exactly why they do it.

When they do switch it back to the news, it is also not systematically FOX, thank goodness. They have graduated to NBC, or Channel 11, or even sometimes CNN – which has been viewed by conservative as part of the "liberal media". As for me, please let it be anything but FOX!

"A Thousand Splendid Suns": A book Review

              This is an absolutely beautiful glimpse that offers a glimpse on a part of the world that we here in the West do not often hear about. In the process of getting to know the mysterious nation of Afghanistan during what just might have been it's most tragic chapter in the very long history of this nation. A nation where powerful empires have tried to invade, and always seemed to meet with the same lack of success. It happened to Ghengis Khan, it happened to the British. More recently, it happened to the Soviet Union, in a war that is often credited with really going a long way towards ending the Soviet empire. Now, of course, this book may be of special interests to the West, and particularly to Americans, who are themselves an empire, and who find themselves fighting their own war here – a war that is hardly clearly being won by Americans, at least at this point in time.

            Yet, Afghanistan was not always a land of tragedy, as it seems to be considered these days. It has been torn apart by war for decades now, and many there have never known anything but war. Yet, there were times when the country was a more peaceful place, and that country that had once been a more peaceful and prosperous version of Afghanistan is the background to the opening of this book by Khaled Hosseini, who also authored the very popular book turned movie, "The Kite Runner".

            This was a different Afghanistan, well before the country made the wrong kind of headlines. Before the Soviets came in during their famous invasion, which would become, ultimately, their own Vietnam, a war that they got mired and bogged down in. A war that they just could not win. Prior to that, Afghanistan was not a rich nation, but it was a relatively peaceful nation where some enjoyed a level of affluence and what we might consider sophistication. There were traditions, including, yes, flying kites during the winter time. But it was a different nation, fare more peaceful. A land tucked away well inland in Asia, and not easily accessible with all of it's rugged mountain peaks and passes. In Kabul, Afghanistan's largest city, as well as it's capital, there were modern people, including modern women in Western dress and sophistication, with important jobs and lives. A far cry from the Afghanistan that the world has come to know since, of course.

            We learn that the Soviets actually brought some measure of progress. All citizens were considered equal, and women enjoyed perhaps their highest status that they had known in the country's history.

            Enter the Taliban. I had heard that the people of Afghanistan had looked upon th Taliban almost as heroes, because they brought a measure of stability to a land that had known only the divisions and chaos of war. Hosseini, however, really illustrates how the Taliban, though far from ideal, were nonetheless an attractive enough option for Afghanis that they were willing to cheer them on upon entering the capital city. They were unified, rather than just being a warring faction that seemed to shoot indiscriminately at the city down below the mountains. These were young, though largely uneducated, kids. Boys. When they took over, they seemed to have a swagger about them, and they wanted to leave their fingerprint on the land that they had just taken over.

            There were harsh measures under the newly introduced sharia laws (rigid Islamic laws). Everyone had to pray five times a day, or you could get beaten. All men had to grow beards that were longer than fist length, or you could be ebaten –and yes, they had men driving around in pick up trucks with guns, on the lookout for clean shaven men to beat up. Among the many things that were now strictly forbidden were television, singing, dancing, chess, playing cards, writing books, or anything associated with pictures, including films. Being caught stealing once would cost you a hand, and twice would cost you a foot. Later on, in spring of 2001, anyone who was not a Muslim had to wear a yellow identifying badge, which seems almost eerily similar to Jews in Germany and eventually across Europe having to wear those yellow Stars of David to identify them as Jews back in the 1930's and 1940's. It should come as no surprise that th Taliban had some other similarities with the Nazis, since both enjoyed their trademark harshness and iron grip over the land. Museums were plundered, and works of art deemed impure were destroyed, including, naturally, some works of art and historical artifacts that were centuries, even millennia, old. Perhaps the most famous of these incidents would be the destruction by dynamite of the centuries old, large Buddhist statues in Bamiyan. They had chanted "Allah-u-akbar" after each blast. Books were also burned in Afghanistan, except, of course, for the Koran.

            All of that was very harsh, of course. But it was worse if you were a woman, because all of your rights were stripped away. Women were urged to "stay inside your homes at all times", at the risk of being beaten and sent home. They could not show their face, wear jewelry or make up, they could not dress up or speak until spoken to, or laugh in public. If you got caught wearing nail polish, it would cost you a finger. Girls could not attend school, and women were not allowed to work. Women guilty of adultery would be stoned to death.

            It was not always this way in Afghanistan. In fact, historically speaking, it granted women the right to vote back in 1965, something that not all Muslim nations ever managed to do (look it up if you don't believe me).

            This book is a beautifully written work of fiction that puts the reader in the shoes of two women in particular, and shows not only all of these changes that Afghanistan went through, and their effects on the people (particularly the women), but also shows the hopelessness and powerlessness of women in Afghanistan, as well, perhaps, as a glimpse as to why things are the way they are there now, as well as in other Islamic countries that receive far less publicity – such as Saudi Arabia, where there is a strict separation of the sexes in what some have called "sexual apartheid". Saudi Arabia does not restrict this to merely the sexes, but to religious beliefs, as well. Those who are not Muslim live separately from Muslims, and there are highways that only a Muslim can drive on (seriously, look this up if you can't believe it).

            The first woman is named Mariam, and we catch our first glimpse of her as a teenage girl, disgruntled by her bitter mother, and living her father more, although her father keeps her at a distance, since she is "illegitimate" – the product of a scandalous affair. She enjoys the company of her father, however, and is sure that he would accept her if she went with him into his city, to what seems like his dream home, farther away from home than she has ever been. When she sneaks off one day to surprise visit him, the results are not what she expects, and before long, she finds herself being forced into an arranged marriage with a much older man, Rasheed, who brings her to his home in Kabul, where her inability to bring him a baby – particularly a son – ends the honeymoon period between the, and begins that part of the marriage where she is merely an object to vent his considerable frustrations on.

            We move on to the other major character, this one a girl who finds herself in love with Tajik, a handsome boy who has lost a leg during the course of the war with the Soviets, after stepping on a mine. He is charming, and she has always had feelings for him. In fact, they are drawn to each other, and seem destined to be together.

            Of course, this is not a fairy tale, and so they do not end up together in this book. She does get married, and her story is in fact very similar to that of Mariam. Before long, they really get to meet each other and see each other for who they are, and they become the closest of friends. They grow to love one another.

            Hosseini does a wonderful job with this book, working slowly and taking his time to both build up expectations, then dash them with sudden speed and ferocity. For example, Mariam's first impression of Rasheed are negative, and she seems almost horrified by him. Eventually, he becomes more human, and almost likable. Then eventually, we see him for the true monster that he is, as strong a representation of extreme male chauvinism as could be in a fictional character. Hosseini manages this in pretty and illustrative prose. Through his wonderfully crafted words, he is able to highlight the positives and the negatives of Afghanistan, to describe the natural wonders and beauty of the land,

            How easy is it to do away with these things and usher in what most around the world would consider progress? Well, consider this; in 2009, new laws were passed that essentially stripped women of many of the rights that had been restored to them (at least in theory) after the fall of the Taliban. So, how much has realty changed, and how much of the old prejudiced mindset has been done away with, really? That remains open to debate. From an outside perspective, it certainly does not seem like all that much has changed at all. But, I am not an Afghani, and never been anywhere near Afghanistan, so I hardly can profess to be an expert, or anything.

          Yet, this work nevertheless allows a glimpse into a country that is itself largely a mystery to those of us on the outside. Afghanistan is a country that, perhaps, we really should know more about, since we are fighting a war there. All of these wars in places that most Americans hardly know how to spell of properly pronounce the name of, let alone locate on a map. It is, in fact, an interesting country to learn more about, and this is a very easy and well-crafted book that allows you to do so. It is a wonderful work of fiction that blends real history with a heartbreaking story that offers unique glimpses and truths about life in Afghanistan during it's turbulent recent history. I would strongly recommend this one!