SCRAMBLED MEGS

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Brett Eugene Ralph

The post-modern irony at the heart of Generation X has made it taboo to be passionate about anything, lest one appear “uncool” or cop to liking something that’s sell-by date has unwittingly passed by. This engenders the kind of eyes-averted, foot-shuffling, non-commital mumbling that has come to be the language among many young people. Hell, even when you can get someone to admit what he or she likes, it’s almost always followed by the caveat, “Yeah, I know I’m a geek” or “I’m a total dork,” in effect apologizing for their affinities. This is another ironic back-door escape route being identified in case the audience doesn’t share one’s tastes: “Oh, I know it’s lame, but isn’t it spectacularly lame in a hilarious way?”
Punk rock, on the other hand, was defined by its passion, and whether that passion was Romantic (artistic), political, or nihilistic, it was vehemently—even violently—presented. Such passion has become taboo in an age of irony that pays lip service to individuality while remaining desperately concerned with not being ostracized. No one is willing to risk being excluded for improper allegiance.
I also think this is making our country consistently stupider. Asking questions in class or getting genuinely excited about learning brands one a nerd and invites ridicule from the status quo, so kids learn to quell their enthusiasm. To be cool is not to give a shit.
In other words, people aren’t pussies because they don’t fuck, fight, or get get fucked up—they’re pussies because they’re so self-conscious and so desperate for acceptance that they won’t allow themselves to express their passions—if they allow themselves to have them in the first place. It’s sad, it’s stupid, and it’s cowardly.

How are you intelligent? The right question to ask.

Below is an excerpt that I typed of Ken Robinson’s thought provoking book, “The Element: How Finding Your Passion Changes Everything.”

So it is that we came to think of real intelligence in terms of logical analysis: believing that rationalist forms of thinking were superior to feeling and emotion, and that the ideas that really count can be conveyed in words or through mathematical expressions. In addition, we believed that we could quantify intelligence and rely on IQ tests and standardized tests like the SAT to identify who among us is truly intelligent and deserving of exalted treatment.

Ironically, Alfred Binet, one of the creators of the IQ test, intended the test to serve precisely the opposite function. In fact, he originally designed it (on commission from the French government) exclusively to identify children with special needs so they could get appropriate forms of schooling. He never intended it to identify degrees of intelligence or “mental worth”. In fact, Binet noted that the scale he created “does not permit the measure of intelligence, because intellectual qualities are not superposable, and therefore cannot be measured as linear surfaces are measured”. Nor did he ever intend it to suggest that a person could not become more intelligent over time. “Some recent thinkers,” he said, “[have affirmed] that an individual’s intelligence is a fixed quantity that cannot be increased. We must protest and react against this brutal pessimism; we must try to demonstrate that it is founded on nothing.”

Still, some educators and psychologists took - and continue to take - IQ numbers to absurd lengths. In 1916, Lewis Terman of Stanford University published a revision of Binet’s IQ test. Known as the Stanford-Binet test, now in its fifth version, it is the basis of the modern IQ test. It is interesting to note, though, that Terman had a sadly extreme view of human capacity. These are his words, from the textbook The Measurement of Intelligence: “Among laboring men and servant girls there are thousands like them feebleminded. They are the world’s ‘hewers of wood and drawers of water.’ And yet, as far as intelligence is concerned, the tests have told the truth… No amount of school instruction will ever make them intelligent voters or capable voters in the true sense of the word.”

Tenman was an active player in one of the darker stages of education and public policy, one there is a good chance you are unaware of because most historians choose to leave it unmentioned, the way they might a crazy aunt or an unfortunate drinking incident in college. The eugenics movement sought to weed out entire sectors of the population by arguing that such traits as criminality and pauperism were hereditary, and that is was possible to identify these traits through intelligence testing. Perhaps most appalling among the movement’s claims was the notion that entire ethnic groups, including southern Europeans, Jews, Africans, and Latinos fell into such categories. “The fact that one meets this type with such frequency among Indians, Mexicans, and Negroes suggests quite forcibly that the whole question of racial differences in mental traits will have to be taken up anew and by experimental methods,” Terman wrote.

"Children of this group should be segregated in special classes and given instruction which is concrete and practical. They cannot master, but they can often be made efficient workers, able to look out for themselves. There is no possibility at present of convincing society that they should not be allowed to reproduce, although from a eugenic point of view they constitute a grave problem because of their unusually prolific breeding."

The movement actually managed to succeed in lobbying for the passage of involuntary sterilization laws in thirty American states. This meant that thr state could neuter people who fell below a particular IQ without having any say in the matter. That each state eventually repealed the laws is a testament to common sense and compassion. That the laws existed in the first place is a frightening indication of how dangerously limited any standardized test is in calculating intelligence and the capacity to contribute to society.

IQ tests can even be a matter of life or death. A criminal who commits a capital offense is not subject to the death penalty if his IQ is below seventy. However, IQ scores regularly rise over the course of a generation (by as much as twenty-five points), causing the scale to be reset every fifteen to twenty years to maintain a mean score of one hundred. Therefore, someone who commits a capital offense maybe be more likely to be put to death at the beginning of a cycle than at the end. That’s giving a single test an awful lot of responsibility.

The SAT is in many ways the indicator for what is wrong with standardized tests: it only measures a certain kind of intelligence; it does it in an entirely impersonal way; it attempts to make common assumptions about the college potential of a hugely varied group of teenagers in one-size-fits-all fashion; and it drives high school juniors and seniors to spend hundreds of hours preparing for it at the expense of school study or the pursuit of other passions. John Katzman, founder of the Princeton review, offers this stinging criticism: “What makes SAT bad is that it has nothing to do with what kids learn in high school. As a result, it creates a sort of shadow curriculum that furthers the goals of neither educators nor students… The SAT has been sold as snake oil; it measured intelligence, verified high school GPA, and predicted college grades. In fact it’s never done the first two at all, nor a particularly good job at the third.”

Yet students who don’t test well or who aren’t particularly strong at the kind of reasoning the SAT assesses can find themselves making compromises on their collegiate futures - all because we’ve come to accept that intelligence comes with a number. This notion is pervasive, and it extends well beyond academia. Remember the bell-shaped curve we discussed earlier? It presents itself every time I ask people how intelligent they think they are because we’ve come to define intelligence far too narrowly. We think we know the answer to the question, “How intelligent are you?” The real answer, though, is that the question itself is the wrong one to ask.

Don’t let yourself die without knowing the wonder of fucking with love. – Thoughts on Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez 
This image is beautiful. Maybe there is only one person in life that you love from the core of your being in that special way and even if they aren’t around for a minute or for fifty years, they still drive that fire you got inside like force from the sun. Just thinking of them would make your little heart rattle your body. That’s the sorta love you want to create and that is what love is to me - not something you fall into but something you spend your days creating. It is yours, you nurture it, inspire it, all the rest. 
 
This image is beautiful. Maybe there is only one person in life that you love from the core of your being in that special way and even if they aren’t around for a minute or for fifty years, they still drive that fire you got inside like force from the sun. Just thinking of them would make your little heart rattle your body. That’s the sorta love you want to create and that is what love is to me - not something you fall into but something you spend your days creating. It is yours, you nurture it, inspire it, all the rest.
 
awaken from your mental slumber; shot to channel the light
that macerates the barriers that keep us moving forthright
silence is violence; I will not lie behind and rest my eyelids
while countless stroll in kicks that exist as a result of selling out kids

your mind is more than your body

that’s more than i can vouch for most

what good is beauty anyhow, when appearance is the only host?

Got flow?

Reblogged from nevver

This song remains one of my favourite hip hop songs to date. Inspiring in more ways than one. 

in the middle of the ghetto on the curb, but in spite

 all of the bullshit we on our back staring at the stars above

talkin ‘bout what we gonna be when we grow up,

I said what you wanna be

she said, “Alive”  

Take it easy, but take it. Woody Guthrie
Now all the crazy things I had to try
Well I tried them all and then some
But if you’re lucky one day you find out
Where it is you’re really comin’ from
Bob Dylan

Amen.

Reblogged from nevver
Reblogged from nevver

I just wanna bake, cook, look after things, read at my leisure, take photographs of gorgeous people with missing teeth, fuzzy hair and a story to tell, explore, lay low, sit in trees, walk dogs and not have to deal with working in an unimaginative industry, with people that don’t spend enough time making their wives moan, giving their children cuddles, dancing or chewing their food.

One day when I get some stuff out of the way, I’m going to quit my job, go to uni and work in a garden or a dog shelter. Or just spend heaps of time volunteering.