Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
SNAIL MAIL!
I absotively (yes, that's absolutely and positively) LURVE getting letters in the mail. There is something lost with our generation--authenticity. Since getting to know my best friend, Kelsey, we have spent much time photographing with 35mm film. Shooting with film was something I always thought was kinda neat-o, but never had enough spark or drive to actually start. Kelsey motivated me to try it. Since then, we've taken countless film pictures and even some polaroids! There is something to magical and real about holding your prints. Since you only get 36 exposures per roll, you can't take 400 pictures in one session, and thus, your pictures seem to have more meaning and substance.
Another way authenticity is lost today is through mail--handwritten letters. It's unexplainable, but after being so conditioned and used to electronic communication, letters matter so much more than I ever imagined. It feels so good to write (by HAND) a letter to someone you love; it's intriguing knowing that such a message won't actually be received by the person for at least a few days (which is NUTS in our world of instant gratification). Also, it's such a rush knowing you have real mail. It's like this...
That was my face this afternoon, as I received a major HAUL in snail mail! Let's take a look at what I got!! :D
Another way authenticity is lost today is through mail--handwritten letters. It's unexplainable, but after being so conditioned and used to electronic communication, letters matter so much more than I ever imagined. It feels so good to write (by HAND) a letter to someone you love; it's intriguing knowing that such a message won't actually be received by the person for at least a few days (which is NUTS in our world of instant gratification). Also, it's such a rush knowing you have real mail. It's like this...
That was my face this afternoon, as I received a major HAUL in snail mail! Let's take a look at what I got!! :D
Friday, February 17, 2012
The flag of Jordan
The flag of Jordan, officially adopted on 2 September 1920, is based on the flag of the Arab Revolt against the Ottoman Empire during World War I. The flag consists of horizontal black, white, and green bands that are connected by a red chevron. The colors are the Pan-Arab Colors, representing the Abbasid (black band), Umayyad (white band), and Fatimid (green band) caliphates. The red chevron is for the Hashemite dynasty, and the Arab Revolt.
The seven-pointed star stands for the seven verses of the first surah in the Qur'an, and also stands for the unity of the Arab peoples. Some believe it also refers to the seven hills on which Amman, the capital, was built.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Helping others
Two images: First, as a six year old boy growing up in New York City, I am walking with
my father on a crowded midtown street. The rush of pedestrians suddenly backs up before
me as people narrow into a single lane to avoid a large object on the sidewalk. To my
astonishment, the object turns out to be a human being lying unconscious against a
building. My father quickly points to a bottle in a paper bag next to him. Not one of the
passing herd seems to actually notice the man--certainly, none make eye contact – as
they robotically follow the makeshift detour. My father, who I look up to as a model loving,
caring man, explains that the poor soul on the sidewalk "just needs to sleep it off." When
the prone man suddenly begins to ramble senselessly, my father warns not to go near.
"You never know how he'll react." I later came to see these two teachings – "There's
nothing you can do" and "Try not to get involved" – as my anthems of urban survival.
Next, fast forward several years to a market in Rangoon, Burma (now Myanmar). I
had spent the previous twelve months travelling in poor Asian cities, but even by those
standards this was a scene of misery. Besides the inconceivable poverty, it is sweltering
hot, ridiculously crowded and the wind is blowing dust everywhere. Suddenly, a man
carrying a huge bag of peanuts calls out in pain and falls to the ground. I then witness an
astonishing piece of choreography. Appearing to have rehearsed the scene many times, a
half dozen sellers run from their stalls to help, leaving unattended what may be the totality
of their possessions. One puts a blanket under the man's head, another opens his shirt, a
third questions him carefully about the pain, a fourth gets water, a fifth keeps onlookers
from crowding too close, a sixth runs for a doctor. Within minutes, the doctor arrives, and
two other locals join in to assist. The performance could have passed for a final exam at
paramedic school.
Rousseau once wrote that "cities are the sink of the human race." But as these
experiences in New York and Rangoon made clear, no two cities are the same. Places,
like individuals, have their own personalities.
In what cities is a needy stranger more likely to receive help? What sort of
community teaches a citizen to withhold altruism toward strangers?
...From:
Levine, R. V. (2003). Measuring Helping Behavior Across Cultures. Online Readings in Psychology
and Culture, Unit 5. Retrieved from http://scholarworks.gvsu.edu/orpc/vol5/iss3/2
my father on a crowded midtown street. The rush of pedestrians suddenly backs up before
me as people narrow into a single lane to avoid a large object on the sidewalk. To my
astonishment, the object turns out to be a human being lying unconscious against a
building. My father quickly points to a bottle in a paper bag next to him. Not one of the
passing herd seems to actually notice the man--certainly, none make eye contact – as
they robotically follow the makeshift detour. My father, who I look up to as a model loving,
caring man, explains that the poor soul on the sidewalk "just needs to sleep it off." When
the prone man suddenly begins to ramble senselessly, my father warns not to go near.
"You never know how he'll react." I later came to see these two teachings – "There's
nothing you can do" and "Try not to get involved" – as my anthems of urban survival.
Next, fast forward several years to a market in Rangoon, Burma (now Myanmar). I
had spent the previous twelve months travelling in poor Asian cities, but even by those
standards this was a scene of misery. Besides the inconceivable poverty, it is sweltering
hot, ridiculously crowded and the wind is blowing dust everywhere. Suddenly, a man
carrying a huge bag of peanuts calls out in pain and falls to the ground. I then witness an
astonishing piece of choreography. Appearing to have rehearsed the scene many times, a
half dozen sellers run from their stalls to help, leaving unattended what may be the totality
of their possessions. One puts a blanket under the man's head, another opens his shirt, a
third questions him carefully about the pain, a fourth gets water, a fifth keeps onlookers
from crowding too close, a sixth runs for a doctor. Within minutes, the doctor arrives, and
two other locals join in to assist. The performance could have passed for a final exam at
paramedic school.
Rousseau once wrote that "cities are the sink of the human race." But as these
experiences in New York and Rangoon made clear, no two cities are the same. Places,
like individuals, have their own personalities.
In what cities is a needy stranger more likely to receive help? What sort of
community teaches a citizen to withhold altruism toward strangers?
...From:
Levine, R. V. (2003). Measuring Helping Behavior Across Cultures. Online Readings in Psychology
and Culture, Unit 5. Retrieved from http://scholarworks.gvsu.edu/orpc/vol5/iss3/2
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