Present Shock? It's Everywhere You Look.

"Whatever happened to predictability, the milkman, the paperboy, evening TV? How did I get to livin' here, somebody tell me please, this old world's confusing me..." The opening lines of the Full House theme song clue you in immediately that the show is about a "not-so-average" household--a show about a “typical” family wouldn't get any viewings, so of course, this classic sitcom had to have some sort of element that would set it apart from the multitude of other sitcoms about families that are on television. Right off the bat in the first scene of the first episode, we learn that Danny Tanner’s wife died 3 months prior to the events of the first episode. As the events of the show begin to unfold, Danny asks his wife’s brother Jesse and his best friend Joey to help him take care of his 3 daughters DJ, Stephanie, and Michelle. It’s a feel-good show, full of hilarious antics, heartwarming characters, and most importantly, unbreakable family bonds. But it’s also a prime example of nontraditional narrative, because in all honesty, it has no plot.

Sure, there’s small problems and situations that need to be overcome in each episode; the events of the show address typical issues that come with growing up. But there’s no real beginning or middle of the “storyline” (I’m putting storyline in quotation marks because, like stated before, there’s no one problem that needs to be solved). Rushkoff states, “The new challenge for writers is to generate the sense of captivity, as well as the sensations and insights, of traditional narrative— but to do so without the luxury of a traditional storyline. So they come up with characters who simply wake up in a situation and have to figure out who they are or what the heck is going on around them,” (Rushkoff 31) and this is essentially how sitcoms are created--Full House is no different, considering all 8 seasons are about Danny Tanner trying to figure out how to balance all the aspects of life as a working, single father.

This is the “present shock” aspect of Full House. Every 30-minute episode contains a new mini-plot, and it’s almost always solved, in one way or another. Rushkoff explains this phenomenon in Present Shock, saying, “In short, these sorts of shows teach pattern recognition, and they do it in real time.” (Rushkoff 28) The predictability of the show’s structure is traditional, but because the show contains no overarching story, the narrative remains nontraditional. Each episode contains new antics, new situations that have to be dealt with, and no reference is made to future events that will occur in the character’s lives. Like Rushkoff says about The Simpsons, although the “episodes have stories, these never seem to be the point.” (Rushkoff 26) Whether it’s DJ trying to get an autograph from her favorite singer at the mall and getting foiled by Uncle Jesse, or Stephanie accidentally telling Kimmy about her surprise birthday party, the warmly comical moments that the show never fails to produce are what keep the viewers coming back for more. But there's never any problem that drags on for more than one or two episodes. Once the episode is over, so are the events that occurred during it.

It’s weird to think about the fact that one of the most iconic television series of all time doesn’t actually have a storyline. However, considering the show is still being played on TV networks 20 years after it ended, I’d say this take on nontraditional storytelling was successful. Because viewers in this day and age don’t care about the fact that there’s no deep, insightful meaning to the events of the episodes. It’s a show about a family learning to live together and adapt to a new way of life. The relatability of the show also draws in viewers today. Rushkoff explains this perfectly when he writes, “These shows are characterized by their frozenness in time, as well as by the utter lack of traditional narrative goals.” (Rushkoff 31) The resonance of Full House and the fact that so many people can relate to the situations that the Tanner clan has to navigate even 20 years later is part of what makes Full House such a classic. Because even now, in our present-shocked society, the show is still making people smile.

Works Cited

Rushkoff, Douglas. Present Shock: When Everything Happens Now. New York: Penguin Group, 2013. Print.

Was It Really Necessary To Tell Us Everything You Ate?

A Moveable Feast could be described as casual. It’s a work of literature depicting Hemingway’s experiences in Paris, not in a thrilling or adventurous way, but simply written as they happened. Hemingway uses first person “stream of consciousness” point of view in A Moveable Feast to create a novel in which the content comes right from Hemingway’s experiences in the same order that he experienced them. Stream of consciousness gives a novel the feeling of a diary or a journal, because the events in the novel are depicted exactly how the author experienced them, with the inclusion of his own opinions and thoughts. Hemingway uses a neutral tone to describe the events that take place, but his tone shifts when speaking about the different authors and people he encounters; for instance, his writing is soft and kind when he is depicting Gertrude Stein and his wife, but cold and distant when depicting Pascin and Zelda Fitzgerald. These tone shifts contribute to the casual narrative style that Hemingway chose to use when writing A Moveable Feast. The use of time and the fact that the story is told in chronological order helps to reinforce the diary-like style of the novel. Hemingway also includes small anecdotes about the food he eats at the different cafes, the experiences he shares with his wife, and his pastimes like watching horse racing help readers understand Hemingway’s personality and character, represented when Hemingway says, “We went racing together many more times that year and other years after I had worked in the early mornings, and Hadley enjoyed it and sometimes she loved it.” (Hemingway 67) He uses these short stories to fit the casual narrative, writing a novel that feels like he is simply recording all of his thoughts, feelings, and everything that’s happening to him. A Moveable Feast is in classic memoir style, and Hemingway’s choice to heavily include elements of his characteristics adds interest and moments of humor to the novel, giving it more of a personal feel. I think we read this book as a part of our study of language so we could become exposed to Hemingway’s unique style of writing. The informality and casualness of A Moveable Feast makes it feel like you’re reading someone’s journal, instead of a formal book, and while the plot itself was fairly stagnant, the style was more important than the events.

Academic Art

            During my freshman year of high school, I took an Art 2-D class as one of my electives—I’ve never considered myself much of an artist, but between that and automotive technology (which was essentially learning how to fix a car for 45 minutes a day and getting graded for it), art was by far the better option. None of my art projects would’ve been considered “good,” by any standards—I’m just not gifted with artistic abilities. For one project, a sketch of a still-life scene, I remember turning it in to my teacher and jokingly apologizing for how awful it was. In response, she simply laughed and said, “It’s okay, art just isn’t your thing.” But I still got a 100 on every assignment I turned in—because in public school, being mediocre in a fine art is acceptable, even understandable. It’s no big deal if you aren’t great at painting or sketching, or even singing, or playing an instrument; it’s just art, right?

            Public schools create and, whether purposefully or not, encourage students to focus on excelling solely in what have been deemed “academic” subjects, and disregard the importance of the fine arts in a young person’s academic career. Somewhere along the line, educators decided that the only subjects that measured intelligence were math, science, history, and English, and while arguments can be made that electives are considered just as important because one or two fine arts credits are required for graduation (in most public schools), it’s clear to any public school student that way more value is placed on getting an A in chemistry than getting an A in Art 2-D. In The End of Education, Neil Postman discusses the reasons for this differentiation in value when he writes, “…There is, after all, a measure of arbitrariness to the weight given to one subject or another. When I attended public school (in New York City), both music and art were considered ‘minor’ subjects—for what reason, I have no idea.” (Postman 101) Postman encountered the same problem I did in public school: fine arts have very little importance in public school. We take standardized tests that measure our skill levels in math, critical reading, and science, and whether or not we get into college is based on how skilled we are in these areas. Why are there no standardized art tests? Why is being able to read music not a requirement for being accepted to a university? Science has showed that our brains have left and right hemispheres, the left side being used for critical thinking and the right side being used for creativity. The two sides work together to process information, but most people generally have a tendency to be more inclined to think one way or another. So how is it fair that “left brain” people should be considered more intelligent than “right brain” people? They shouldn’t be, but public schools won’t be changing any time soon; guess I better brush up on my math skills.

Works Cited

 Postman, Neil. The End of Education. New York: Vintage Books, 1995. Print.

Simone de Beauvoir (Or What You Will)

Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night is a comical tale of mistaken identity, love triangles, and a great deal of disguises. But throughout the play, there’s another motif, and while it’s not as obvious to readers, it’s vital to the story. The concept of gender roles is the basis of Twelfth Night, and had she been around during the time that it was written, I think Simone de Beauvoir would have been thrilled to see that the way the play presented a woman as an independent character, who could actually make decisions for herself and make choices regarding her future.

            Simone de Beauvoir used Sartre’s theory on existentialism to try and explain the concept of females having the same nature as men. She “denied the existence of a basic ‘female nature’ or ‘male nature’” (Gaarder 459) and “believed that women and men must liberate themselves from such ingrown prejudices or ideals”. (Gaarder 459) In Twelfth Night, the existence of such gender roles is something that is defined very early on in the novel. The opening scene describes Duke Orsino, a wealthy aristocrat, pining for Lady Olivia, the most coveted woman in Illyria. However, Olivia has no interest in marrying the Duke; in fact, she blatantly turns him away when he tries to court her. Considering that Twelfth Night was written during the 17^th century and generally, women didn’t have much of a say in who they married during this time period, it’s important to note that Olivia did have control over this decision in her life. Females during the 17^th century were subordinate to men, and for Shakespeare to portray Olivia as such an independent woman was completely different from the way that females were traditionally viewed.

However, de Beauvoir might also be interested in another part of the plot, in which another woman, Viola, must disguise herself as a man in order to get a job working for the Duke. While she does this of her own free will, I believe de Beauvoir would inquire about why this disguise was necessary and what it meant about gender roles. Sure, a woman during this time period was free to marry who she chose, but at the same time, another woman can’t get a job simply because she’s female? While Twelfth Night does challenge gender roles in some aspects, and Simone de Beauvoir would definitely be supportive of that, I think she’d definitely have an issue with the fact that there was still a bit of an underlying notion that women are inferior to men.

Works Cited

Gaarder, Joseph. Sophie's World. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2007. Print.

There's Nothing Exceptional About American Exceptionalism

When I was in sixth grade, my earth science teacher was a former Navy SEAL. The day after Osama bin Laden’s death, we put our lesson for the day on hold and simply talked about this event and how it would transform our nation and our nation’s history. I don’t remember much from that day, mostly because I really didn’t have any understanding of the gravity of the situation. But I’ll never forget the statement he made as we finished up and were about to leave the room: “I’m glad he’s dead.”

It’s a bold statement, freely admitting that you feel relieved, or even happy, to learn that someone was murdered. But, whether rightfully so or not, those were feelings that many Americans shared on May 1, 2011. In his essay “Was There an Alternative?”  Noam Chomsky discusses the concept of American exceptionalism, and makes a claim that, in any other country, following any other event, the way our troops executed bin Laden’s killing would be completely unacceptable—but since it was America doing the executing, there’s no way these acts could be considered intolerable. Chomsky even goes as far as to call the execution “’supreme international crime’—the crime of aggression” (Chomsky 7), further implying that he believes we didn’t even try and find an excuse to finally kill bin Laden, we simply went out and did it. Consistently, Chomsky provides evidence that supports the fact that American exceptionalism played a major role in the event, including an excerpt from an investigation into American military affairs that states, “’The administration had made clear to the military's clandestine Joint Special Operations Command that it wanted bin Laden dead, according to a senior U.S. official with knowledge of the discussions. A high-ranking military officer briefed on the assault said the SEALs knew their mission was not to take him alive.’” (Chomsky 4) Chomsky’s goal was to make his readers understand that the attack was targeted at one individual; the attack ignored not only American constitutional laws, but also international laws regarding entering a foreign land. And while one could argue that the justification behind the attack was the events of 9/11, looking at the recent months before the raid, Chomsky believes that the attack was unprovoked.

In President Bush’s speech following the September 11^th attacks, he seeks to create a sense of unity among the American people. He says, “I ask you to uphold the values of America, and remember why so many have come here. We are in a fight for our principles, and our first responsibility is to live by them.” (Bush 6) Bush alludes to the Constitution here, and uses kind, uplifting words to try and inspire the American people to remain confident in the government’s abilities. But Chomsky seeks to prove that, while we do have principles and beliefs that form the very foundation of this country, just like Bush pointed out, we don’t uphold those values if it doesn’t benefit what we’re trying to accomplish. The beliefs exist—our desire to actively practice them does not.

In the criminal justice system, first-degree murder is any murder that was planned, willful, and had malicious intentions. Based on that definition, Osama bin Laden’s death could be classified as first-degree murder. But of course, no one thinks of it that way. Most Americans would agree that the Navy SEALs did America a service—they were the heroes in that situation, not the criminals. But what if the roles were reversed? What if it was al-Qaeda deliberately raiding the White House, and murdering our president, unarmed and unprovoked? Would al-Qaeda still be the heroes?

This, precisely, is Chomsky’s point. It's the same scenario, but this time, it's not us doing the executing, and immediately it's unacceptable.We make the rules, we enforce the rules, but we see no need to follow the rules ourselves. Osama bin Laden was a criminal, and a horrible human being. But the Sixth Amendment of the Constitution states, “In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the state and district wherein the crime shall have been committed…and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense”. The amendment makes no distinction between someone who stole a pack of gum from a convenience store and the leader of the world’s most infamous terrorist group—the written American law applies to every person who is accused in the eyes of the American judicial system. We might never know if there was an alternative. But it’s safe to assume that, if there were one, America probably wouldn’t have needed to use it; we knew that we would be able to get away with the original plan.

The Theory of Evolution

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the word “devolve” means “to gradually go from an advanced state to a less advanced state”. For the purpose of discussing whether the English language is evolving or devolving, I think the key phrase in that definition is “advanced state to a less advanced state.” In a world dominated by social media and instant communication, it’s easy to jump to the conclusion that our language has become less formal and complex as a result of this. From shortened words in texting and omission of punctuation to using slang terms as substitutes for actual words, on the surface, it appears as if defining the change in the English language as an example of devolution is a no-brainer. However, I disagree. In fact, our language has been evolving since the time it originated, and it is still doing so today.

In his book discussing the television as a mode of public discourse, Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman makes the point that the members of the early colonies of America were highly literate for their time, when books and the written word were the main mode of communication. He explains that this is because reading forced people to process and analyze the information. He then goes on to say that, with the invention of the telegraph, and later the television, society became subject to more and more messages in the same amount of time, and eventually became less concerned with the substance of the message, therefore resulting in a lack of analysis. But while I agree with Postman’s “news of the day” theory, I disagree with his belief that the mode of communication has reversed the progress of the complexity of our language. Newscasters use formal English to deliver news stories, don’t they? There’s no “BRBs” or “OMGs” spoken aloud on Fox News; they use full pronunciation, complete sentences, and communicate in a way that would be considered formal, proper, and professional. The mode of media changes the way we analyze and process the message, sure; but it doesn’t change the complexity of the language that is used to do so.

It’s no secret that the majority of elderly people strongly believe that teenagers in modern times have a complete disregard for “proper” English and intelligent conversation, as a result of today’s advanced modes of communication—specifically, texting and social media in general. Ask any grandparent, and they would more than likely say that the English language has, without a doubt, devolved. But just because communication is easier and more accessible in today’s age doesn’t necessarily mean the language with which we are doing so has become any less complex. Using shortened words and omitting punctuation in a short text message I send to my best friend isn’t a reflection of my understanding, or lack thereof, of proper English language and grammar. It’s merely a reflection of me wanting to get my point across quickly, a reflection of me growing up in a world of instant communication. The biggest misconception, in my opinion, is that “texting language” has become a replacement for proper English—but it hasn’t. I don’t know one person who uses lingo usually found in texting in a spoken conversation, so why should using texting language in the mode that it was created for be viewed as devolution of the language? I may be typing “FYI”, but I understand perfectly that what I am actually doing is conveying a message to someone that I think would be beneficial to them—I’m using an abbreviation to save time, not compromise complexity.

So why is the instantaneity of communication in the modern age seen as such a negative aspect of our society? It shouldn’t be, but because evolution is generally perceived as “becoming smarter”, it is. However, evolution is really just about adapting to your surroundings, and learning how to thrive in an environment that may have changed quickly. Our language is, indeed, evolving. The world of rapid communication has provided us with a new environment, and we have adapted quickly by modifying our language so that it's equally as rapid to use. But that only changes how the words of the language appear to the eye—not the meaning behind them.