To Much of A Good Thing-THIS IS MY AP LANG BLOG

Utilitarianism is the philosophical belief that a morally good act produces the best results, always. As simple as this might sound, this has been the subject of numerous debates. For example, if there is good in the world, and we focus on that, is hedonism or Utilitarianism? For example, crack cocaine produces a "good" feeling, but is it really a good feeling if its slowly killing you? Or if the feeling has been entirely manufactured by a chemical formula? So putting it bluntly, no, pleasure by itself cannot be utilitarianism, their needs to be a little more than that. But neither can it just be doing what you feel is right, because intuition can mislead you. So basically, to be a Utilitarianist, you need to be creating goodness that is not the result of anything more than a good, decent act; and the act has to be one that not just you but everyone else agrees is the right thing to do. So by now the simplicity of Utilitarianism is lost, and is looking about as hopeless as a lapsed Calvinists prospects of Salvation. This is my problem with all philosophies-from YOLO to to much of a good thing is to much of a good thing. Eventually, problems are going to be caused by it. Firm believers in YOLO might find themselves arrested for partaking in pleasure via dealing and using heroin. And too much of a good thing is too much of a good thing is proven true by the fact that you can never have too much non-polluted breathable air. Yeah that last ones a bit of a stretch, but you know what I mean. So the problem with utilitarianism isn't that it's not good, its just that it's goodness is incalculable, because, honestly, who's to say what is right and wrong? This is why I confirm to the only philosophy I've found works most of the time-just do your best and try not to screw up. And it works. To some degree. Mostly.

To Much of A Good Thing-THIS IS MY AP LANG BLOG

Utilitarianism is the philosophical belief that a morally good act produces the best results, always. As simple as this might sound, this has been the subject of numerous debates. For example, if there is good in the world, and we focus on that, is hedonism or Utilitarianism? For example, crack cocaine produces a "good" feeling, but is it really a good feeling if its slowly killing you? Or if the feeling has been entirely manufactured by a chemical formula? So putting it bluntly, no, pleasure by itself cannot be utilitarianism, their needs to be a little more than that. But neither can it just be doing what you feel is right, because intuition can mislead you. So basically, to be a Utilitarianist, you need to be creating goodness that is not the result of anything more than a good, decent act; and the act has to be one that not just you but everyone else agrees is the right thing to do. So by now the simplicity of Utilitarianism is lost, and is looking about as hopeless as a lapsed Calvinists prospects of Salvation. This is my problem with all philosophies-from YOLO to to much of a good thing is to much of a good thing. Eventually, problems are going to be caused by it. Firm believers in YOLO might find themselves arrested for partaking in pleasure via dealing and using heroin. And too much of a good thing is too much of a good thing is proven true by the fact that you can never have too much non-polluted breathable air. Yeah that last ones a bit of a stretch, but you know what I mean. So the problem with utilitarianism isn't that it's not good, its just that it's goodness is incalculable, because, honestly, who's to say what is right and wrong? This is why I confirm to the only philosophy I've found works most of the time-just do your best and try not to screw up. And it works. To some degree. Mostly.

THE CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT

When we think of horror, we think of dripping, bloody gore or maniacal serial killers. But for me, true horror has always been literary. And there is no greater work of modern horror, than Bram Stoker's novel, Dracula. Set in the Victorian age, the story begins when young Jonathan Harker travels from England to Transylvania to handle a real estate brokerage for Carfax Abbey, a property being bought by a certain Count Dracula. As uninteresting as this first seems to be, it corresponds to the now cliched college students driving along a back road when something horrible happens. After meeting some locals who react with mild concern (i.e. blind panic) when he explains that he is going to Castle Dracula, he arrives at the castle and the whole nightmare unfolds. From a near fatal encounter with three whore-iffic undead brides, to witnessing a woman ripped to pieces by wolves, Mr. Harker's stay at Castle Dracula is hardly a pleasant weekend trip. And once Dracula moves into his new estate in England, the fun (terror) really  starts! With an unusual cast of characters for a British 1800's novel ( a woman, an American, a psychiatrist, and a Dutchman, along with Mr. Harker) this novel not only tells the story of the now world renowned Count, but does so in such a way as to make it seem real. Through the use of epistolary writing (telling the story through diary entries, phonograph recordings, letters, and other such mediums)Bram stoker created what can be called the true, first horror novel.

COLLEGE

My name is John Nolastname. I am eighteen years old, athletic,,with a great attitude and a knack for really weird facts. For example,did you know that its illegal to tie giraffesto telephone poles in NYC? Considering IONA is near the city,this could,potentialy,be an issue someday. I graduted from high school with few regrets or issues,and I'mreally looking forward to college life and learning.

I would like to know if you college offerspre-med courses,or even full on med,as II would liketo practice medicine for a living after graduation. I want to do this because I hate seeing people in pain and I want to be able to help them as best I can. Also,I would like toknow more about your athletics and student life.

The Future of John's Literacy

Sometime last week, I realized that I'd stopped reading. I don't mean that I couldn't read, or didn't want to, but that I'd stopped. I hadn't read a new book in weeks, months even. It bothered me alot. I remembered fond afternoons and mornings spent in peaceful contemplation of a James Patterson novel, or car trips where I'd soar on the back of a Paolinian dragon across Alagaesia. But now I spent mornings and evenings longing to fall asleep and on car trips I'd tune out the world with Fallout Boy (but lets be honest they're awesome).
Anyways, back to the issue at hand- I wasn't reading, and I felt normal to me. It felt ordinary. And I hated it. So faster than a bolt of lightning from Mount Olympus, I rushed to the nearest bookshelf, and from it I extracted a likely loking volume- The Call of the Wild. I settled down, cracked the cover, and at once was lost in the hard, brutal world of the Alaskan wilderness. I growled at cruel masters and gripped tightly to the ice when the team broke through. I dug into the snow and hid from the cold wind, and I howled as a wolf as the pack chased a snowshoe hare through the woods.
I had found it again- the world of words and papers and ink, which combine in the charmed pot of the human mind to open a magic portal into the human soul. Because I didn't go to Alaska with Buck, I was Buck, and I was in the part of my soul that is that dominant primordial beast, the one that howls with the wolves and fights for survival-beautiful, strong, harsh.

After finding this world again, I will not lose it again. I will read White Fang, and Chasing redbird, and the Color Purple, and Black beauty and a Farewell to Arms and the Lord of the rings and An interview with a vampire and the Hunrting of the Snark and Antigone and Julis Ceasar and To Kill a Mockingbird. And as I read them, my soul will grow to find all the places the words will tske me, and I shall never, ever feel ordinary again. I can't start on this soon enough.

Who has Most impacted my Literacy?

Like most people, I was born into this world with a perfect sculpted body and a medical degree from Harvard, so I had no issues learning how to read. Yeah, right. Not only is this statment completely false, but seventeen years later, my body sure as hell isn't sculpted, and I've got about as much chance as getting a medical degree from Harvard as my cat does(although, come to think of it, she spends most of her time sleeping on top of a copy of Grey's Anatomy, so she's probably better off). So the question is, how did one ten-pound squaling infant wih orange skin (long story) get here, to writing this blog?

In the immortal words of Riley Pool from National Treasure: "The aliens helped them."

In this case, the aliens were my parents. My mom had a very liberal attitude towards books, but she also believed in learning by experience. So after reading to me at night, when I'd beg for another story, she'd say, tommorrow night. So she'd get up, and leave the book next to my bed along with a flashlight. And being the bright young toddler that I was, I took advantage of the situation and taught myself how to read.

Now there was only issue with this. Once I learned how to read, I devoured my books. There wasn't a picture or story book that was safe from my voraciuos appetite for books. So, in an event similar to he library of Alexandria burning, I ran out of books to read.
This is where alien #2 came in, aka, my dad. My dad would read me Yeats poems at night until I could recite them by heart.
 And this is how the aliens helped me learn how to read.

Grab a Helmet: You're About to Have Your Life Changed

As a society, we are obsessed with questions. But the're always the wrong questions., aren't they? What do you want to do with your life, where are you going to college, how much do you make...all of tese questions are superficial and shallow when you consider them, meant only to give the illusion of knowing a person. The following twenty questions are meant for YOU and only you. I'm not posting your answers, just mine, so free yourself from the constraints of society and answer them for your sake. Believe me, you'll thank me for asking these later.
So here they are. My questions and my answers.
1. What do you want to change about your life? My inability to focus.
2. What scares you the most? Loneliness
3. What sort of a person are you, really? The kind that does this on a literary blog.
4. Are you happy with your life? Mostly.
5. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Whatever the answer, its not as interesting as what you'll find out as you look for the answer.
6. What do you regret the most? Not getting to know my Uncle Mike better before he died.
7. How much do you care  what others think of you? More than is good for me.
8. When you see a dead animal on the side of the road, what's your first thought? What is that?
9. Do you really think what you're learning now is useful? No, except for Spanish.
10. How easily do you trust others; like actually trust? To be honest, not very easily.
11. How do you feel when you see violence? Like I wish that I could turn back time.
12.  What are your three favorite songs? Olly Murs Troublemaker, Nause Hungry Hearts, Fallout Boy Light em Up
13. Do you believe in God? Yes.
14. Why? It feels right.
15. Who do you care about the most? My family.
16. Do you belive in evil. Oh yeah
17. Why? Personal experience.
18. Are you happy with yoursellf? Yes
19. What do you dream about? I dont dream.
20.Are these questions uncomfortable for you? A little

History Meets Fiction

"The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane"

 

By now, you have almost certainly become bored of the various wizard-and-witch fiction books that have tried, in vain, to fill the void left by the absence of the Harry Potter series. So it is with great pleasure and joy that I present to you "The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane," by Katherine Howe. The book alternates between the Dane family of Salem, Massachusetts, and Connie Goodwin, a Harvard graduate student in 1991. Connie has just been tasked by her eccentric, free-spirited mother Grace to get her grandmother's old house ready for sale, but wile there, Connie begins to have startling visions. These visions lead her to the discovery of a single, strange name: Deliverance Dane. But what at first seems like a gold mine of historical information for her graduate thesis soon turns into something else entirely, forcing Connie to accept her-self for what she is...a witch. And no sooner does she learn this when she is thrust into a deadly duel with a sorcerer, where her failure will cost her far more than her life.

Meanwhile, back in Salem of 1692, Mercy Dane is just beginning to discover her own powers, when her mother, the cunning-woman (witch) Deliverance, is called to cure a girl who has been afflicted by a more-than mortal sickness. As the sickness spreads, Deliverance is accused of witchcraft, and Mercy must use her new powers if she is to save her mother's legacy.

 

This book is extremely entreating, and touches onto the very real traditions of British Witchcraft. It also utilizes its different time setting to its full humorous advantage Such as making the hilarious comment "One of my summer school kids had a cell phone that her kept on his desk! Can you imagine if every teenager had one of those?''

I fully recommend this book completely to anyone who wants a s to read a truly great book

First Experience with Literature

My first expeience with literature was when I was seven. Tired of the various picture and easy to read books, I wanted something new. So my dad started reading me one of W.B. Yeats' poems, "The Song of the Wandering Aengus". He read it to me every night, and to this day, I can recite it perfectly. This poem, this beautiful, exotic poem, opened a whole new door for me. It showed me that literature was more than peter rabbit and frog and toad. It was illuminating, and wonderful, and kindeled my love of poetry, a passion that remains strong even today.
THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS

by: W.B. Yeats

WENT out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And some one called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.