tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92221854174430426912024-03-13T09:38:33.265-05:00The Things I...See, Hear, Do, Think, Feel, Taste, Want, Need, Hate, Love, Like, Try, etc.Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-76869265471615491442011-12-05T18:44:00.001-06:002011-12-05T18:56:02.569-06:00Occupy Your Mind<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">After seeing the link at the bottom and the pictures there, I was reminded of a good friend who allowed me to experience Haiti, and I wanted to let him know I was still thinking of him, Haiti and the lessons I learned there. I wanted to share that link on his wall. So, as I was doing the above, this evolved and this is what I posted on his wall, and I realized, this is what I've been trying to say.<br /><br /><u><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">OCCUPY YOUR MIND</span></b></u></span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">-------------------<a name='more'></a></span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">This is me saying, I
may not be in Haiti, but I promise you, I am always fighting for Haiti.
Because the fight for Haiti is the fight for America is the fight for
Egypt is the fight for Cambodia is the fight for the people of the world
to finally receive the respect of the world inherently deserved with
each breath breathed and sigh sighed.<br /> <br /> Th<span class="text_exposed_hide"></span><span class="text_exposed_show">is
is me saying, as I struggle, I struggle with you. As you struggle, you
struggle with me. Because the fight for humanity is the fight for
freedom is the fight for agency is the fight for love is the fight for
family is the fight for the world to finally give to us the abundance of
happiness that is ready to be reaped and sown again and again by us.<br />
<br /> This is me saying, I will help you and I by helping him and her.
That is the responsibility I place on myself, to help the other in the
hopes that s/he will help another and thus we all help each other.<br /> <br />
We, as humans have minds which are amazing, but even more so is our
ability to work together as a group, come together to solve problems and
improve our situations. The more we work for improvement of life for
all, the more we work for our children and their children. The more we
work to establish a culture of consciousness and sustainable systems the
more we work to make the passing of each day easier for those that will
see the sun rise after ten thousand sun sets.<br /> <br /> This is me
saying, I am occupying my mind, will you join me?</span></span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-weight: normal;">
<a href=""><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"></span></span></a><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><a href="http://jeremycowart.com/galleries/voices-of-haiti/" target="_blank">Voices of
Haiti </a></b></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="color: black; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="text_exposed_show"> </span></span></span></h6>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-13011271758483520562011-12-02T12:27:00.001-06:002011-12-05T20:12:00.352-06:00Short Story: The Boy's Coin<title></title>
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<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Editor's Note: This is the 100th post of this blog. I dedicate it to those of my friends and family who read this. This is a fictional story I wrote last week. To see other pieces of writing you can click the label "writing" and the other posts will show. Enjoy and comment with feedback, suggestions, send me edited copies, etc. whatever you feel like. :D -Jared Second Note: Apparently this was the 100th draft, but not published post, instead it was the 93rd. Shucks. haha</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Scarlet looked over her 1971
half-dollar, wondering about the fingers that’d worn its sharpness
smooth. Scarlet was a woman, and her hair was shoulder length and
scarlet red; she thought it ironic.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The chair in which she sat was
deceptively uncomfortable in the way that it only lets you sit
upright. And when you turned or leaned, leaving the confines of the
depression left by the thousands of eager and bored behinds, you
entered the realm of, “fucking arm rests in my side.”<a name='more'></a></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She suffered through this
predicament without ever knowing, without ever entering that kingdom
of, “God dammit.” She never turned, or even moved. Except for
her hands, they turned the coin over and over again.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The coin in her hand she’d
just rescued from anonymity on the subway cart.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Scarlet liked the way it
looked and thought about the way JFK’s hair was parted on the left
side, and if that’s how he really did it.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She thought about the man
she’d left behind. Just now. He was nice, honest, kind,
passionate, handsome: worth it.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Still, here she was focusing
on the coin, again. She stared straight ahead. She didn’t watch
the two boys crawling underneath the arm rests, across chairs, or the
older one reading his book. She toyed with the coin. She didn’t
hear the announcement for boarding group two as people took hold of
what they could bring. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She tried not to think of him,
but, like a child told not to speak, her heart piped in.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Why should she say no to
the man who wanted her, that she wanted?</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The coin had a ring of copper
around the edge marked by nicks demarcating the assured trials and
tribulations in the life of a coin.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How often it must’ve been
pried from hands that loved it, greedy hands most likely. I’m not
being greedy she assured herself.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But greed had very little to
do with it. Her’s was a decision that might’ve been born of
fear, or perhaps guilt. She wasn’t quite sure of her decision, but
she’d made it.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Scarlet let the little boy -he
must’ve been twelve, maybe thirteen- hold her 1971 half-dollar
while they gained altitude. He, being the oldest, sat in the aisle
chair across from his frazzled mother. She was incessantly <i>shh</i>-ing
the two other boys to her left, in between bouts of rubbing her face
and combing her dry brown hair with her fingers. The two boys were
younger, perhaps twins.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Scarlet had to tell her it was
okay: He could hold the coin.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She woke up in the land of
“there’s no where to put my head and my chair won’t lean back.”
Her neck hurt, stiff. She’d woken with her chin on her chest and
the boy’s head in her lap. She reach over to the window visor that
was blocking the… darkness? She’d been asleep for a while, she
wasn’t sure how long. The boy’s head faced away and she could
feel a wetness on the top of her thigh, and she smiled.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The boy’s mother’s head
rested atop her arms on the tray and her back rose and fell with her
breaths. Only one young boy was asleep. The other wasn’t there
but on safari in the aisle, lion, hippo, elephant and giraffe
tromping around him.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rawr,” he would growl
anytime the lion would move, but no sound came out when the giraffe
would wander for food, and air blown out his nose when the elephant
would dip his trunk for water in the cup, and ominous grunts and
growls from the hippo when the lion strayed to near his animal
cracker.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She smiled again and thought
of her coin, still in the clutches of this boy in her lap.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before she left, she had told
<i>him</i> love begins when a moment of chance-luck joins with a
moment of weakness. She told <i>him</i> it’s two people grasping,
needing some recompense, drawing strength from each other. She told
<i>him</i> it’s the end of individuality and the beginning of two
as one. She told <i>him</i> she must discover herself first, before
giving it all up.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She made it all up. But she
felt the pressing need of her fear, the possibility of possibilities
in the future. And she felt the scrape of the lie as it went down
her throat, and she, too, almost believed it all.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">He nodded his head, slowly,
and smiled. When she’d left him, their hug was strong and
lingered, and she felt him swallow hard; it must’ve been the lie
going down.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She wondered if he’d sat
there, if he’d thought of her after she’d gone. If he’d found
is own coin. She wanted to know: Had he thought it was ironic she
was seeking herself to find a man of the ilk she’d just flown away
from.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Probably not, she figured.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When she exited the plane, by
way of stairs descending to the tarmac, she realized she had nothing
but the clothes on her back. She thought about her bag she’d left
underneath that seat amidst raucous children and PA system
announcements, continuing to walk away from the plane. She accepted
she’d left it, come what may.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She’d let the boy sleep till
the bitter end of their time together. She told him to keep the
coin, the mother too, twice. The mother had woken to find she only
had two children. Her third, apparently the youngest (and most
adventuresome) had been adopted by the flight attendants, his stomach
lined with free chocolate.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She thought about <i>him</i>
again, and actually smiled, glad they met. She told herself to hope.
She told herself they were out there, the good ones. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-top: 0.11in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Times,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just then she really hoped
he’d found his own coin. And she swallowed, easily this time.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<br /></div>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-54884143832354093902011-11-30T00:52:00.001-06:002011-11-30T01:03:32.099-06:00My Most Recent Letter to GrassleyDear Sir,<br />
<br />
Your support of the National Defense Authorization Act, which includes, no matter how you spin it, the ability for the indefinite military detaining of any prisoners deemed terrorist by the government without charging, as well as the militarizing of law enforcement, is absolutely disgusting.<br />
<a name='more'></a>How you pander to the people and promise to promote their needs. How you lie and serve the hegemonic values that dominate our society, the hand shake between corporations and politicians, blocking any progress for a real equitable economy. You serve those who demand that their amassing of wealth is for the good of the economy, their employees, the country as a whole, that they support capitalism, but they do not participate in the paradigm of capitalism they spew (similar to how our government does not participate in the paradigm of democracy it casts forth with its wide net of pillage). They have created their own world where few and fewer laws apply to them, where money determines the out come of elections and policy, and not the constituents, common sense, or logic (I should note, I am always encouraging that you actually work for the good of the 99%). You serve a minority. <br />
I am saddened that you hold this title, I am saddened we were duped, and blind before; I was young—still am.. You sir, are not deserving of your position. Not alone for this act do I condemn, but for your misguided positions, your support of the GOP's ridiculous measures, cutting funding for education and health care, social security, and instead tearing down programs that support social fabric and building another iron curtain propped up by your machines of war which perhaps you, but assuredly your compatriots, prosper from. If only Andrew Jackson were still alive, or another of our first five or so presidents. <br />
It would be interesting to see the result of truth being something held dear in the positions of power around the world. I hold no hope out for you, though. Fade, fade away, sir. And, please do not come back to office. Give me your facilities and your money, and the ability to appoint my own staff and I shall correct your wrongs, or fight for the causes which are truly right: the protecting of our environment, and the land, allowing for the option of universal health care in our country, protecting the rights of the people (as opposed to taking them away), upholding the Constitution (instead of making a mockery of it), and leading by an example of honesty (where as you are a walking fallacy).<br />
<br />
I'm off to bed now, I must sleep. For I am not even done with college, and know I will be paying for a long time, and longer still if you have anything to say about. Before you leave, do feel free to change your ways, I promise I won't accuse you of flip-flopping alla Al Gore.<br />
<br />
Salaam,<br />
Jared Krauss<br />
<br />
P.S. I’m one of those people who is actually trying to go out into the world and represent what an American should be, an intelligent, curious, kind, compassionate, determined, honest, trustworthy human being. I’m studying Arabic and Islam, so I actually can begin to understand. This is how we should be securing America’s future around the world, not with bullets and bombs, but maybe books, coffee, and conversation.<br />
<br />
P.P.S. Support the legalization of marijuana, and decriminalise the rest, provide treatment at all levels, and take this out of the control of the police, and into the hands of professionals, health care professionals (this goes back to universal health care). You’re a fool for not. We’ll save so much money in the war on drugs, read up about what happened in Portugal, use your head, it’s common sense. What is even the matter with you? My old debate teacher had a saying, “You can ignore reality, but eventually it’s going to bite you in the ass.” Not so poetic, but it gets the point across.<br />
<br />
----------<br />
A bit rash? Perhaps, but I'm fed up. What say you?<br /><br />Links: <a href="http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/2011/11/201111211444824612.html">http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/2011/11/201111211444824612.html</a> - Portugal and decriminalisatio<br />
<br />
<br />
A good article on the National Defense Authorization Act: <a href="http://motherjones.com/mojo/2011/11/senate-begins-debate-bill-would-authorize-indefinite-detention-americans">http://motherjones.com/mojo/2011/11/senate-begins-debate-bill-would-authorize-indefinite-detention-americans</a><br />
<br />
www.washingtonsblog.com - suggested readingJared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-35953422297053733032011-11-24T02:54:00.001-06:002011-12-02T12:34:53.021-06:00A Thanksgiving ThanksI sent an email and posted on Facebook: I wanted contributions to my Thanksgiving post. "What are you thankful for in 250 words or less?" It, apparently, was difficult for some. :) Teasing aside, I'm very glad the people who responded did so.<br />
<br />
I think this is completed. :) Time to get up and start baking pies and making Thanksgiving's food. :) Mmmm <br />
<b> </b><br />
<b>Thank you! :D</b><br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<b>By:</b> <i>Anonymous</i>
<br />
<div class="p2">
I was thinking about the request, and I discovered I have<b>
</b><u>too much</u> to be thankful for, for a 250 word essay.</div>
<div class="p2">
In general, I am thankful for my family, my health and
where I live. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p2">
I’m happy with what I do, and the friends I have. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p2">
I read an article about the benefits of counting your
blessings: http:/70.32.73.82/blog/5199/ .</div>
<div class="p2">
I am also happy to have students who stay in touch and
keep me thinking.</div>
<div class="p3">
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
Have a great holiday,</div>
<div class="p2">
(Signed, by a wonderful person)</div>
<div class="p3">
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
<b>P.S.</b> If you don’t have all the things you want, be
grateful for all the things you don’t have that you wouldn’t want.</div>
<div class="p3">
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
—<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p3">
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
<b>By:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b><i>
Sara Gomer</i></div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
I am thankful for <u>my family</u>.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p5">
A few years ago, my father was still in the military,
being deployed to Afghanistan, the new year had just begun.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But, when he came back, I was
just so glad. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p5">
I give thanks to the men and women whom serve in the
military.</div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
—<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<b>By:</b> <i>Anthony Willhide</i></div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
I am thankful for <u>people gathering</u> around the world to <u>
speak out </u>against the injustices of policy and legislation which affect
our life, our everyday routines and choices. (Referring to the Occupy
movement.)</div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
—<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<b>By: </b><i>Sam Pottebaum</i></div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
I am thankful that I have finally found something <u>to be
passionate</u> about.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p5">
Most everything else was somewhat of a, “Why don’t
people…___?” and now it’s a bit of “Why don’t <span class="s1"><b>we</b></span>
____?” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p5">
I’m thankful for finally feeling like <u>I’m a part of a
community</u>. (Referring to the Occupy movement.)</div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
—<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<b>By:</b> <i>Josabet Orea</i></div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
Thanksgiving… Yes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I’m
looking forward to it. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p5">
Although I told a friend of mine I was<u> not thankful </u>for
anything this year -because it has sucked- but that is a <u>lie</u>. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p5">
One thing I am very grateful for this year is the lessons:
the bad, which was a lot; and the good, which was pleasant although it
didn’t seem to last as long.</div>
<div class="p5">
I am thankful for <u>my life, my parents, my sister and
siblings, my fiancee, my friends</u>.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And,
I am thankful for those moments that remind me why it’s such a blessing
to be in your own skin and love it.<span class="Apple-converted-space">
</span> </div>
<div class="p5">
Accept your faults when you must, and forgive quickly, because
life is too short.</div>
<div class="p5">
But, most importantly, I am beyond <u>grateful for God’s
mercy</u>.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Truth be told, I
think that’s the only reason why many of us, mostly myself, still find
ourselves standing.</div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
—<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<b>By:</b> <i>Kenneth Krauss</i></div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
I am thankful for the <u>miracle of <span class="s1">each day
and the hope of learning new things</span></u>. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p5">
I am thankful for my children and grandchildren.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They expand my awareness with
different thoughts, ideas and perceptions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They make my life more complex
and thus more enjoyable.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p5">
I am thankful for my wife.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She accepts me as is.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She is unselfish with her love. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p5">
I love you all. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p5">
I am thankful for all the love I receive. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
Happy Thanksgiving.</div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
—<br />
<b>By: </b><i>E</i>In my family, Thanksgiving is the time where our family comes together for a big meal, gift<br />
giving and lively conversation. The spectrum of political and religious views in the thirty or so<br />
family members descending on my mother’s house each November runs the gamut from the most<br />
conservative evangelicals to the most lovey-dubby liberals.<br />
<br />
Sometimes -especially in election years- conversation can get a little heated over the correct direction for public policy. But, when mashed potatoes hit the table, politics are put aside. Time is used to appreciate each other and the work that went into the food that day.<br />
<br />
I feel like the push and pull of love and anger in my family is an excellent representation of our country as a whole. Even when people don’t agree on some of the most pressing issues of our time, we always pull together for the things that matter most.<u> </u><br />
<br />
<u>So, what I am most thankful for is the unbelievable luck to be a part of a country and family where you can be wrong about everything but still feel you’re in the right place.</u></div>
<div class="p4">
—</div>
<div class="p5">
<b>& Finally, taking up all the space I’ve allotted.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>(232 words to be exact.)</b></div>
<div class="p4">
<br /></div>
<div class="p5">
<b>By:</b> <i>Jared Krauss</i></div>
<div class="p5">
<br /></div>
<div class="p6">
I am thankful manhood: intangible, like floating whispers
of smoke.</div>
<div class="p6">
I am thankful for the <u>pursuit of virtue</u>, which is the low
murmur of our culture, telling us to be good and fair, just and kind,
logical and passionate.</div>
<div class="p6">
I am thankful for the <u>quiet voices</u>, which sometimes speak
the truth<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>no matter who
listens.</div>
<div class="p6">
I am thankful for growth and change, which fosters
intelligence and curiosity.</div>
<div class="p6">
I am thankful for the chance to change my life, to make it
better, in order to better the world. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
I am thankful to know that there are others, striving to
be good.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
Not because they are a man, or a woman,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
but because they wish to make this world better for our
children.</div>
<div class="p6">
I am thankful for<u> curiosity</u>,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
springing humanity forward;<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
it is the kernel of curiosity<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
which patiently grows<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
during summers of exploration,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
resulting in a beautiful<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
harvest of knowledge<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
during the fall of preconceived notions,</div>
<div class="p6">
and beginning again,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
with the consolidation of winter<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
(which allows one to delve deep into new subjects).</div>
<div class="p6">
Only to raise your head and find spring on the horizon
again. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
<u>Questions are perennial</u>.</div>
<div class="p6">
I am thankful for this moment in life, and all others
before,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
and my family and friends and even those who bore. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
I’m thankful for <u>love</u>,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
I’m thankful for <u>laughter</u>,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
but I must give respect to Thanksgiving dinner,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
<div class="p6">
because I’m never thankful the morning after.</div>
<div class="p7">
<br /></div>
<div class="p6">
—</div>
<div class="p6">
<span class="s1"><b>Editors Note: </b></span>I took the
liberty to edit your submissions for clarity.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>More often than not, I didn’t
even change the words of the submission, but rather changed the grammar
and punctuation a bit to make it (at least to me) a bit clearer.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I hope my pre-Thanksgiving,
half-drunken self hasn’t made any serious ‘oops’ in this endeadvour.</div>
<div class="p7">
<br /></div>
<div class="p6">
I hope you count your blessings today.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I hope you think about how you
want to live the life reaming, from which you were allotted, and endear
yourself of humility, because all triumphant pursuits require some
sacrifice, some misgivings, some failure, some dissatisfaction, some
mistakes, otherwise they’d not be triumphant.</div>
<div class="p7">
<br /></div>
<div class="p8">
THE END</div>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-31274073390249917702011-10-20T13:30:00.002-05:002011-11-24T04:01:19.101-06:00Reaction Gaddafi's Death<title></title>
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WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT </div>
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<br /></div>
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Watch these videos:</div>
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<a href="http://english.aljazeera.net/video/middleeast/2011/10/2011102014201566639.html"><object height="420" width="680"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KJQUShElCzE" >
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Imagine</b> you are the wife of a man whom
you love and respect, despite all his eccentricities.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Imagine </b>you are the daughter of a man
whom has given you everything you could ever need, provided for every
want, given opportunities that have not been afforded to the rest of
the world.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Imagine</b> you are the son of a man who
has trained you, educated you, given you the skills and ability to
make something of yourself, for good or bad.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Imagine </b>you are the best friend of a
man whom you watched give away billions in dollars to help his
country, his continent.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><br />Imagine</b> you woke up this morning -as one of the aforementioned- and you saw the video of that man,
bloodied, shaking, confused, <i>dying</i>, while lying on a transport speeding and bumping across
the Libyan desert, with people screaming all around him as his blood
soaks the clothes covering the wounds in his body. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Imagine</b> you woke up
and watched a video of that man stumbling on his feet as he tried to
make his way somewhere, somehow. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Imagine</b> you woke up this morning
and you saw the video plastered all across the world, the same video the
President of the United States saw, that the Prime Minister of England,
France, and Germany watched. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Imagine </b>that you read headlines and statement from around the world that
read: </div>
<br />
<blockquote>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Hillary Clinton responding with just "Wow." at first and then mild amusement at his capture
<a href="http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/politics/2011/10/20/nr-clinton-gadhafi-reaction.cnn">here</a>.</div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Seeing the bloodied and deathly pale face of that man on the main
page of Fox News with the headline “Qaddafi [sic] is dead …
Absolutely dead.” Showing the world his bloodied face, a whiter shade of pale. </div>
</blockquote>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v4pXPq6h6e8/TqBhW2aAWFI/AAAAAAAAAGU/qvTI8k2aGEI/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-10-20+at+12.23.31+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v4pXPq6h6e8/TqBhW2aAWFI/AAAAAAAAAGU/qvTI8k2aGEI/s320/Screen+shot+2011-10-20+at+12.23.31+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Or perhaps you wanted to see how MSNBC declares, everyone in Sirte saw the body, and then gives you the chance to project to the world what they think of "The life and times of a despot":</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J1v7S_GKbsY/TqBhgguFihI/AAAAAAAAAGc/tCUVrxPYy5w/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-10-20+at+12.26.57+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J1v7S_GKbsY/TqBhgguFihI/AAAAAAAAAGc/tCUVrxPYy5w/s320/Screen+shot+2011-10-20+at+12.26.57+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Group Think.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In the West, proponents of peace and love, democracy and due process, rejoicing in the death of anyone person... -the situation seems hypocritical to me. If your motives for his removal from power are for the peace and prosperity of the Libyan people (as NATO and it's components declared, and not for oil...wait, not for oil? Unthinkable.), then you should be more focused on Libya's infrastructure, the way they will build a government representative of all and exclusive to none. Of course, be glad Gaddafi is no longer in the picture, but to rejoice? <br />
<br />
While we're on NATO's "humanitarian bombing", check this out: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PG1O1kj9Ef8&feature=player_detailpage#t=191s">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PG1O1kj9Ef8&feature=player_detailpage#t=191s</a> - WARNING VERY GRAPHIC<br />
<br />
You think "humanitarian bombing" exists? They were there to protect the people, and instead they killed the civilians. -Tangent<br />
<br />
You are not on the ground in Libya, you have not had the sand in your mouth as bullets ring out around you, huddled against the ground, trying to save your own life, scared of losing it to one bullet or another. You've not felt the oppression of the regime, seen your friends taken away, money hoarded to the top, and the rest of the people forgotten. Sure, be empathetic, be sympathetic, but consider the way in which you rejoice. You have the ability to respond rationally to the news. You
can exercise patience, humility, judgement, respect. You are a thousand miles away.<br />
<br />
I'm not telling you how to think, or what to do; I'm only suggesting that you think critically, that you consider your actions and your responses.<br />
<br />
This is for the people in the rest of the world, this is not for the people who fought to end the rule of an oppressive regime.<br />
<br />
I am not saying I support the decisions of Gaddafi. I am saying that we demand human rights, respect for the inherent dignity in our fellow man and our environment. Well, where in those videos at the top, the headlines in the pictures do you see respect? I see the disrespect of a human body, post-mortem. What I see is group think happening, everyone assuming this is okay, or at least not saying much about how wrong it is. The same thing happened with Hussein, Bin Laden, Awlaki and his son. YES! Two American <u>citizens</u> were killed in the past two weeks. AMERICAN CITIZENS! The President gave the order to kill, without even attempting to capture, two American citizens without them being tried in a court. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yes, let's rejoice at that. Let us
unite the country (America) under this feeling of elation at the
death of another human being, let's get that group think going. Let
us assume it is okay to kill and rejoice, but <i>only if it's in the
name of good</i>! …</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Wait?</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Only if it's in the name of good?</i>
That's a slippery slope if I ever saw one; you're like to go a
sliding down that sand dune when you try and tip-toe the top of it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>All I'm saying</b> is think before you
rejoice at the death of a man whom to some meant the world, meant
love, meant cherished moments, memories of smiles and laughter.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>All I'm saying</b> is have the respect that
you demand.<br />
<b>All I'm saying</b> is be the change you want to see in the
world.<br />
<b>All I'm saying</b> is: <u>What the fuck, man?</u><br />
<br />
<br />
<u>This is not concise at all. This is a reaction. This is my feelings pouring out. Don't be petty and pick apart everything I say, or do; I don't care. </u></div>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-27633419043807090862011-10-13T14:59:00.001-05:002011-10-13T16:48:17.906-05:00What I Think the Occupation Is & A Call to Arms - RevisedIf we are anything, we are plural; meaning, we are all individuals
acknowledging that the status quo is not working and needs to be
changed. We all have our own personal opinions as to the solution, but
the Movement as a whole has no single ideology. Thus, we utilize the ability to speak and to listen to each other in a calm rationale way, and work towards compromise that is continually in the pursuit of improving our community.<br />
<br />
We are attempting to build a community which represents the best of all aspects of our species at this moment in time, in order to give proof to the pursuit of perfection, and encouragement to striving thereof. We, the Occupiers, are here to stand in solidarity with anyone whom feels the status quo is broken, and that there needs to begin to be actual dialogue amongst the populace, and not among a few elite who serve to only better themselves.<br />
<br />
When the people as a whole come together to work towards the betterment of not only themselves, but their fellow man, the ones standing to their right and left and to those reading the same words on a different screen somewhere else in the world, we begin to take steps in a direction which is both general and specific to the needs of the people.<br />
<br />
By involving the populace on the decision making of policy, you being to have a policy that is actually representative of the people, rather than of a few's interpretation of the people's voice, which, in the current paradigm, the 'people's voice' amounts to the amount of money a lobbyist places in the pockets of politicians.<br />
<br />
Currently, it is implied in our party-politics-representative-democracy that we as the 99%, the general population, are not intelligent enough to be informed on the issues pertaining to our country and inter & intra-country relationships and policies. The collective knowledge and ability for understanding of complex ideas amongst the general population has risen to a point where our former modal of government no longer accommodates that collective intelligence.<br />
<br />
There needs to be a change to a form of government which is more fluid, more adaptable to the people's demands. Society has progressed past the current form of governance. In history, anytime this is the case, the people take to the streets demanding a changing of the guard, in essence. And, if successful, it results in a government which attempts to be representative of the best ideas for the greatest good of people.<br />
<br />
We have reached a peak though, where we have attempted throughout history to do the best good for the greatest amount of people by generalizing. We have attempted to correct problems at such a large scale that we ignore the fact that the problems are multi-faceted and arise from a myriad of issues.<br />
<br />
Thus, by allowing diversity and disagreement, having open dialogue to discuss the problems amongst individuals, share knowledge so each other can better understand, we begin to develop a society that allows for plurality. <br />
<br />
We begin to have a society where plurality is preferred. <br />
<br />
So, will you join me? Will you no longer accept that 'we have it pretty good' and instead demand better from ourselves, demand to be the best, to strive towards a better society, a better culture a new paradigm where oppression is collectively looked down upon. Demand to be heard. Demand your freedoms and liberties. Demand of yourself and your fellow citizen that we represent the best, that we take back the image of America from the plutocracy and mold image with our own voices. We are America, the People are America. It's time that we use the voice we have kept silent.<br />
<br />
All that is written here is the opinion of one, Jared Krauss. I in no way am representative of the group, and am solely expressing my own ideas. This in no way can be interpreted to be representative of the Occupy movement.<br />
<br />Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-39944570835639841032011-10-05T22:45:00.002-05:002011-10-05T22:46:23.948-05:00Protesting in SolidarityI want to outline a few key things about our Occupation of our country, our land.<br />
<br />
We must protest in solidarity with our fellow citizens across the country. We must be unified. Fractured we are weak, but when we use the power we have in our voices, and combine them, we can be heard around the world. We can shake the foundations of hegemony that still exist today.<br />
<br />
We, here in Iowa City must protest as the people across the country, and contribute to the voting for demands (down below) so that we CAN and ARE protesting in solidarity. Be unified, don't stand alone. <br />
<br />
Demand to be heard.<br />
<br />
Learn about Occupy Wall Street by going to their website: <a href="http://occupywallst.org/">Occupy Wall St</a><br />
<br />
Vote on the demands by going to this website, also, go here to learn about the demands and why people are protesting. Find out if you agree or disagree, and then let your voice be heard! That is the most important thing. Making your voice heard, because if you tell no one what you want, they will never give it to you and you will never get it.<br />
<br />
This website here: <a href="http://coupmedia.org/occupywallstreet/occupy-wall-street-official-demands-2009">http://coupmedia.org/occupywallstreet/occupy-wall-street-official-demands-2009</a><br />
<br />
The protests are escalating, police are becoming violent with protesters: <iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/xpOMlDVaXzc" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Here is a news station from the NY area reporting on the same situation:<a href="http://www.myfoxny.com//dpp/news/occupy-wall-street-protest-broadens-scope-20111005"> http://www.myfoxny.com//dpp/news/occupy-wall-street-protest-broadens-scope-20111005 </a><br />
<br />
Here is a picture of the cop who was involved: <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://gothamist.com/attachments/jen/2011_10_ows09.jpg?800" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://gothamist.com/attachments/jen/2011_10_ows09.jpg?800" width="320" /></a></div>
If you're in Iowa City and you want to get involved Occupy Iowa City begins Friday @ 6PM COLLEGE GREEN PARK!<br />
<br />
There is a General Assembly tomorrow night Thursday October 5th! Come! We'll be talking about logistics and teams needed. If you have any skills, media, medical, law, advocacy, etc., food, water, comfort! Contribute!<br />
<br />
occupyiowacity.twitter.com<br />
occupyiowacity.tumblr.com<br />
<br />
Peace & Love,<br />
Jared KraussJared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-73764646397347162582011-10-05T22:14:00.000-05:002011-10-05T22:14:38.175-05:00The Beginnings of a Revolution<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As
I sit here and wonder at the possibility of possibilities that are
waiting to be mined from the passion of my fellow youth. We youth,
we are not young, nor are we old. We are not weak, nor are we
strong. We simply are.
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is a movement, it is no one person.
It is the masses, not the individual, that demand these changes. We
demand these changes, combining our individual voices to make heard
our demands for the liberties we were promised, the freedom we are
denied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This is us, standing together, as a
body of individuals, united in our cause.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
These are the moments that change the
fate of the world. We here in America have the rare opportunity to
affect the entire world, because our government is entrenched around
the world.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Demand the end of our government as a
business, demand the end of war-mongering, demand the end of our
corporate-ocracy, demand the end of elitism. Demand of our
government the morals they profess, to uphold the ideals they spew.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When our government represents our
people around the world with their bombs and bullets, that is how the
world knows America. They do not see the face of you or I; they see
our tanks and our destructive wake.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This war on terror is not one which
will be won with bullets and bombs, but maybe with books.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Demand democracy, demand freedom,
demand truth. Demand to be heard.</div>
Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-40018689945079814092011-10-02T17:07:00.000-05:002011-12-02T12:35:27.020-06:00expressionsby opening the door for you, cooking dinner for you, covering you with a
blanket, giving you my jacket when you're cold and putting my arm
around you when we're traveling, protecting you while you sleep, running
my hands through your hair, tickling your fingers lightly when we walk,
and putting my hand on the small of your back to guide you through a
door<br />
<br />
i want to kiss you<br />
<br />
<br />Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-17476896214676987672011-09-21T10:53:00.003-05:002011-12-02T12:35:13.725-06:00Titled: Shaving To Be a ManI had to write a 300-600 word, single sentence, short story for my class, Sentence Strategies. I decided to write about the first time I shaved, and what it was like for me as a kid. I didn't write this because I've been thinking about it a lot or anything, but simply because it stands in my memory very strongly. It is something I draw strength from now, rather that weakness or shame, which I might have before, when I was much younger.<br />
<br />
This is a rough draft, as I've not edited it, but I really want to share it. So, here it is:<br />
<br />
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<blockquote>
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As he stood before
the mirror, the fat of his youth still clinging to his young body,
naked for all the world to see, he strained on his tip toes, resting
his waist on the sink's edge as he jutted his chin forward to examine
the hairs emerging and, as his finger stroked each side
individually, counted: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...10, 11; wondering how many
hairs it takes to make a full beard, then he considered his elder
brother's razor residing just ahead of where his hand was now placed
-his father's razor was not there because his father was not there,
nor had he been since he was thirteen, more than a year ago, but don't be fooled by the pleasant facade, this does affect him, and yet
it makes him stronger, more resilient, more independent, more
curious, more adventurous; it will make him into a man, it will
define him- and he imagined himself shaving: the gentle strokes of
the five-blade-razor as it glided over his face, cutting away at the
thick hair and shaving cream, which he would have, obviously,
lathered on to cover his man's beard that goes oh so well with his
lumber-jack-red-flannel-button-up; without a razor, however, this
would not happen, without a beard, without shaving cream, without the
knowhow, but -alas!- he had all of these things, he suddenly
realized, thus with a spin into the air, a flinging of the door,
his naked body bounded down the twenty-four stairs, skipping the
first three and the bottom four, using a hand on the railing at the
exact spot to swing him around the corner into the living room, and
then on to the dining room before he arrived at the so called
back-room, where the computer resided, which he promptly used to
learn, from YouTube, how to properly shave, and with the scouring of
the internet, naked still -as only he and his mother really lived in
the house, because, even though his brother lived there, he was rarely there during normal hours, and his mother was at work
for another five hours, until five- he turned the shower on, hot
water, closed his door, filled the mirror with shaving cream and then
wiped it off, to keep it from fogging up in the heat (a trick he'd
learned from YouTube), scrubbed his face with a warm, wet washcloth
to open his pores and soften his hairs (again, a trick learned from
YouTube), lathered on the blue foam until his face was more shaving
cream than skin, let alone hairs, and proceeded to draw the electric,
five-blade-razor down his cheek that still had some baby fat on it,
and, stopping just at the first spot of hair he'd come to,
contemplated on whether or not he wanted to shave these forty-six
hairs, which he'd been patiently growing for the past month, now,
with the excitement of the moment over, he reconsidered his quick
decision making, but, with the shrug of his shoulders, he pressed on
with his endeavor, only to realize, thirty minutes later, when he was
done being very thorough, that shaving changed nothing about the way
he looked, because the hairs were so light and so spaced out that
they appeared to be lone wisps of hair, standing out from the bottom
of his chin, neck, and side burns; he was still just a kid, still
just fourteen, and still trying to grow up, but he wasn't quite sure
how and he didn't want to ask anybody, because everyone always got
sad, so he went back to his computer, clothed and somber this time,
and googled, “How to grow up and be a good man”.</div>
</blockquote>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-89951974609373534122011-09-15T16:43:00.001-05:002011-09-15T16:43:55.128-05:00I Seriously Love Noam Chomsky
ZEIT Campus: What was the key experience that made you an anarchist?<br />
<br />
<b>Chomsky: There was none. When I was twelve years old, I began to go to
secondhand bookshops. Many of them were run by anarchists who came from
Spain. Therefore it seemed very natural to me to be an anarchist. </b><br />
<br />
ZEIT Campus: Should all students become anarchists?<br />
<br />
<b>Chomsky: Yes. Students should challenge authorities and join a long
anarchist tradition. </b><br />
<br />
ZEIT Campus: "Challenge authorities" -- a liberal or a moderate leftist
could accept that invitation.<br />
<br />
<b>Chomsky: As soon as one identifies, challenges and overcomes
illegitimate power, he or she is an anarchist. Most people are
anarchists. What they call themselves doesn’t matter to me. </b><br />
<br />
ZEIT Campus: Who or what must challenge today’s student generation?<br />
<br />
<b>Chomsky: This world is full of suffering, distress, violence and
catastrophes. Students must decide: does something concern you or not? I
say: look around, analyze the problems, ask yourself what you can do
and set out on the work!
</b>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-36666874043932830812011-09-15T16:31:00.002-05:002011-09-15T16:37:28.593-05:00I Love Noam ChomskyZEIT Campus: You often say you are an anarchist. What do you mean by
that?<br />
<br />
Chomsky: Anarchists try to identify power structures. They urge those
exercising power to justify themselves. This justification does not
succeed most of the time. Then anarchists work at unmasking and
mastering the structures, whether they involve patriarchal families, a
Mafia international system or the private tyrannies of the economy, the
corporation.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
I've found my calling in life.<br />
<br />
From: <a href="http://www.chomsky.info/interviews/20110614_en.htm">http://www.chomsky.info/interviews/20110614_en.htm</a>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-15157849475989205442011-09-13T15:35:00.001-05:002011-12-02T12:35:52.384-06:00Before the Sun Falls<title></title>
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Decisions lie in wait, lingering until
the sun falls.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was walking in the midnight hour,
stumbling and falling, walking circles in the dark, clenching and
yelling, keeping silent and releasing, and now dawn has broken -the
sun has risen, triumphantly, above the horizon to send beams of light
coursing through the breaks of the trees- allowing me to see clearer.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Here is where I am now, and here I
shall reside until the sun, with the passing of time, rises high
above my head.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yet, before the sun falls, I will no
longer stand in these same shoes, make the same marks, or tread so
light, but rather will I be walking, barefoot (to truly feel the
earth beneath my toes), my toes will grasp the dirt beneath them, and
I will tread strong and proud.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This all before the sun falls.
</div>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-86982357106451608042011-09-11T14:38:00.003-05:002011-12-02T12:36:02.873-06:00The Race<title></title>
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I remember it all:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My little feetsies go a <i>pitter-patter</i>
on the metal rungs.
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I look to my side to see the feetsies
of the innumerable faces scrunching in exertion as each foot of
theirs carries their wheel round. The wheel turns over, and over,
and over. My breath is laborious. My hands pump up and down. With
each turn a little <i>ding</i><span style="font-style: normal;">
chimes from the bell, and louder the faster you go. A satisfied
smile passes over the face that I spy to my right. He slows for a
moment, only to begin anew his sprinting. My hands have relaxed and
shake with excitement as I watch the hammer coming round to hit my
bell. </span><i>Ding! </i><span style="font-style: normal;">“Yes!”
I've just screamed aloud. There my hands have raised in the air, and
I continue to move my feet, never stopping, never slowing -no, that
would be disastrous. I must follow this path that winds ever around
me in my wheel.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">He
-there in front of me, larger than me- a man. His beard covers the
lower half of his face, neck obscured by the straggly hairs. He is
panting hard from exertion. With each forceful thrust of his tree
trunks the wheel spins. This is harder for him than I. He's
stopped.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">What?</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Ding! </i><span style="font-style: normal;">“Yes!”
I didn't even know I'd reached a turn.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">He's
just looking out, wiping the sweat off his face. “Hey! What are
you doing? You're going to fall behind all of us!” I didn't want
him to fall behind. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-style: normal;">What
are you talking about?” His eyes took in the sweat dripping from
my forehead as my feet propelled me no where. There in that look did
I soon realize, in the beat of a heart, the span of a question, in
the breadth of a breath that I was going no where. </span><i>Ding!
“YEEESSS!” </i>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He turned and
walked away from me.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
His wheel was
slowly coming to a stop. A mouse like <i>ding </i>was heard as the
weight of the hammer brought it round once more to click off the
bell. At that, he stopped. He turned and walked the few paces back
to his bell. <i>Ding!</i> I didn't ever imagine he would do what he
did next.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He grabbed the
bell.
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The bell! He
grabbed the bell! Then-Then he pulled it. <i>Ding!</i> In one
single whip, no grunt, just a sharp tug and the bell had a muffled
<i>d-din-ing-din. </i>He glanced up to me, and shook his head. I
was still running. <i>Ding! </i>I heard my bell for the third time,
“Yay...”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The bell landed at
my feet and was caught up. I can't touch the bell, especially
another's bell. I hopped, but as the bell went up the wheel on my
back side, it fell down again with loud <i>ding-ding-ding-dings. </i>I
tried to jump out of the way, but only hit the wall in front of me.
I fell with a loud <i>thud. </i>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I tried to get up,
but the centripetal force kept me down. I was pulled down to the
bottom where I run, and up the far side, where my wheel turns to. I
went up, up, and up. Until I no longer went up. I was dumped, right
on top of the bell, still clanging away below me. As I fell, I
considered my predicament. He had been off for something like eight
or nine average bell-chimes. He'd not been hurt, he was no longer
exerting himself. The exerting face to my right was still attached
to a body whose feetsies were still running along the bottom of the
wheel, which was still turning and still swinging the hammer on the
bell that was still chiming with its <i>Ding!</i>.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then I smashed into
the ground. I was thrown to the floor of my wheel, stopping all of
its motion. The bell lay crushed underneath me. He was now at least
100 bell-lengths away. Walking, perfectly calm.</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He was walking the
rows of the white room and their spinning wheels with the faces all
scrunched in exertion. He was walking towards the door. On that
door, there was a sign. That sign had been my inspiration for
running that wheel, I had smelled its odor for so long, longed for
it, wanted it, desired it -there was a lust in me that could only be
sated by it, and by sating it would leave me wanting for more,
because it is such a strong lust- and it read simply, “Your
Dreams”.
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
He opened the door.
With one last glance back towards me, his shoulders rose and fell
with a slight shrug as his head motioned towards the sunlight I could
see streaming in. I stepped from my cage. I was no longer capable
of hearing the bells chime. I reached up, my hand trembled and
shook, and I stopped an inch away. I couldn't do it. I couldn't
grab the bell.
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">I
could feel the bell clank, but heard nothing. I snapped it off in
the same manner I'd seem him do. With that, I turned and looked at
the face to the right of me. He glanced towards me, turning one
eyebrow up and the other down, and cocking his head as if to ask,
“What are you trying to do here?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;">The
bell landed at his feet as I turned away. I heard the pounding of
his feet as he tried, more valiantly than I, to avoid touching the
bell. Half the distance to the door I heard a louder </span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">thud
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">that
signaled to me he'd fallen, and a second followed shortly thereafter.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">I
didn't wait for anyone else once I'd reach the open door, being held
patiently for me by him. I just walked through. No one mattered to
me like he did. If anyone wanted to follow they would, and if they
didn't...well they don't matter anyways.</span></span></div>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-85540083567803500422011-08-09T07:10:00.000-05:002011-12-02T12:36:15.962-06:00MorningBeen up since 10:30 AM yesterday.<br />
<br />
I drank two cups of coffee at 8pm.<br />
<br />
I stayed up all night.<br />
<br />
I walked during the sunrise.<br />
<br />
I've sat and thought hard about some important things.<br />
<br />
You know, I had one of my best friends say this to me, "Imagine you had a really good job, and you quit, because of (something, dunno). Then, your best friend (different person) got the job. You would be happy for him. You wouldn't try and take the job back, or keep him from getting it. You'd want him to have it."<br />
<br />
Yes. I would. That's a job though. This is a bit different.<br />
<br />
Trust me, I am trying, hard. It's just that somewhere, something still says, "No. Mine." I don't want it to, not because I don't want it to, but because I am trying to put him before me. That is rare. He's my brother though. No, not really my brother, but yes, really, my brother.<br />
<br />
*Save me, save me. Save me, save me./Bring me something, bring me something I can use/Well, here's one thing, but it's not the one I choose/I can't help it, hope you show up soon/I can't help it; I'm counting on you.* THose were the lyrics that were just sung in my ear. Hmm. I don't think that has any real significance to what is being written about here. Nope, besides the fact that Dinosaur Jr. is amazing and should be heard by everyone, everywhere.<br />
<br />
It's nothing physical that I...I don't even know the words to describe the feeling that I have. Now, you might ask, you still have feelings? Well, of course. I am human. I did change, grow, better myself during that time, for them, for me. Yes, I cut the rope. No, I am not as cold hearted as I seem. No I am not as stoic as I would like. Yes, I am more stoic than most people, and yes I am cold hearted.<br />
<br />
It's not physical that I feel. It is more of memory, feeling of a memory I once had, and the association of that memory brings good feelings to my brain, and because you always want more of what feels good I desire for that feeling to return. -Leave up to me to break a feeling down into a logical path to follow. Only I would do that. Yet, I do do it, and I always will. I am who I am. I cannot change that, but I can change it.<br />
<br />
If you're reading this, ever, either one of you. Know, this is so difficult, this is a true challenge, and I have been moping about a bit, feeling sorry for myself...why? I dunno. You know when you just do that? Yeah. Well, I really want you two to work. If you do, you will both be 100x better off for it. I hope I can hang out with you guys. :)<br />
<br />
You shoudl both knwo I am not an awkward person (yes I know there are two mispellings, but i could really care less, that's too many times to press the backspace button....actually it's delete on my Mac, btu you get the point...), unless I want to be an awkward person. Than I most certainly am awkward. I won't be though.<br />
<br />
I owe you both more than I can repay, and for that I hope you get what you want out of life. Love you both.<br />
<br />
JaredJared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-16166819485595028832011-06-23T03:06:00.000-05:002011-12-02T12:36:26.305-06:00The GiftI was given something, something I asked for. It was given with hesitation, trepidation, caution written on her face. It was given with excitement, a smile and a kiss. It was given freely to me, and I took it greedly.<br />
<br />
I held it safe in me, for a time, cherished and admired it. I gave away a bit of me, more than ever before, more than I thought possible.<br />
<br />
Yet, it was not enough.<br />
<br />
I broke that gift; I broke my word. Truly, I did.<br />
<br />
I fear I shattered it so...so as to result in the picking up of pieces for longer than deserved.<br />
<br />
I pray the sun heals, the ocean breeze soothes.<br />
<br />
For this guilt which grips what's left inside longs to do more hurt.<br />
<br />
Nay, not what you think - no more for the world, but for I. Alone.<br />
<br />
For this, I fear, is my destiny.<br />
<br />
Forever Alone.<br />
<br />
I cannot give what I do not have inside. What I do right and wrong is based on my mind, rationale. Not the baying of a heart. That is why I broke hers so, because I was afraid of finding mine.<br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
My wanderlust will carry me on, and perhaps in some sunrise, or some sunset, in a day short or long, quick or slow I will find a spark to light me home. I do not believe home is your childhood, or your family. For a time, it will do that home is where my head lies at night.<br />
<br />
That light though, when it comes I will know. It will lead me home.<br />
<br />
Truthfully: Home is where the....Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-84148111145496339042011-05-24T15:43:00.000-05:002011-12-02T12:36:37.421-06:00Inspiration<b>I hope you're out there<i> living, breathing, trying.</i> If you're not, you're <i>wasting</i> your time.</b><br />
<br />
Don't stop <i>living.</i> <u>When you do, that's when you're no longer worth your salt.</u><br />
<br />
When you stop <i>living</i>, you stop <i>laughing</i>, you stop <i>loving</i>.<br />
<br />
We are humans, and meant to <i>laugh</i>, meant to <i>love</i>, meant to <i>breath</i> the world in through our nostrils and <i>experience</i> it with all the senses available to us.<br />
<br />
Get into the world. <i>Live. Breath. Try.</i> Don't waste your time.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RVdIxB5zQgA/TdwXyu6dsCI/AAAAAAAAAEI/UJlrSAC3M0w/s1600/DSCF3115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RVdIxB5zQgA/TdwXyu6dsCI/AAAAAAAAAEI/UJlrSAC3M0w/s400/DSCF3115.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-28580718990588022272011-05-19T01:21:00.001-05:002011-05-19T11:37:39.881-05:00It's Been A While Since My Last TangentIt's been a while. No? Don't lie, it has. ^1 <br />
<br />
A lot has changed in my life. I'd rather not go into details. Suffice to say, there has been positive and negative changes that have resulted in sum zero.<br />
<br />
I, we, made some decision that hurt, but ultimately, I hope--pray--think, will help, though.<br />
<br />
I think about it, sometimes, and I hurt about it, sometimes. It depends on the mood, the context, it's not something that can be explained. Just trust me on this.<br />
<br />
For the most part, these past couple months, my posts have not been pure writing from me, but this one is. So, if you don't like it, getthahellouttahere...got it?<br />
<br />
I'm happy though. I organize I brain, I control my emotions, I control myself. You may say, but that's not really happiness, or that's not letting yourself live.^2 I say, and yet those whole rule themselves with reckless abandon end in a downward spiral of self-pity that longs for attention of the needy-pleasing masses. I'd rather be me, than you. No offense, but I like me more than you, probably. ^3 Unless you're like Johnny Depp, or....Cristian Ronaldo...or David Beckham....yup..that's about it. Maybe Robert Pattinson, but I wouldn't have done Twilight, and then he wouldn't be "Robert Pattinson", which would defeat the purpose of me being him.^4 I feel like this is logos, a circle, never ending. Blah, what? You don't follow? Yeah, that happens.^5<br />
<br />
This is my life. That is my life ^ . I think, I tangent(+verb) - what the hell is the verb form of tangent...tangential is adjectival....^6 whatever.<br />
<br />
There, again, perfect example of my life. Still....you don't follow? Hell, you just don't know me. In person I curse a lot more too. I filter it a bit for my writing, for you.^7<br />
<br />
I don't want to write about what I really want to write about right now. (So many write/right there.....I almost confused myself.^8) This post is all tangents. Good. Are you nonplussed yet? ^9 Now you are you say, you mean you're confused? You're nonplussed.^10 Yes that is essentially the same thing. ^11Oh, you didn't know that? Well, you learn something new every day, don't you? Congrats, you're less of an imbecile now than you were 5 minutes ago.^12<br />
<br />
Was I a tad mean there? Sorry, I say it like it is with a dash of asshole.<br />
<br />
Well, screw off, I'm out.<br />
<br />
Peace & Love<br />
Go make friends and read some books, that's the best thing you can do for this world. (Post to come later about that topic - tangent)^13<br />
<br />
P.S. There are 13 tangents in this post...some may argue on which are tangents and which are not, but they can fuck off, because I write this post and I decide. So, deal with it.Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-55802632606574289912011-04-27T21:23:00.000-05:002011-04-27T21:23:15.718-05:00Why Blue Jeans ARE Good!I was reminded by a shot from Scott on The Sartorialist how good a clean pair of jeans can look on anyone. I'm not talking about Silver Jeans, or Hollister/Abercrombie hole-ridden, pretend to have worn for 10 years jeans, or all those fancy ones with special back pocket stitching and the like.<br />
<br />
I'm talking about good ol' blue jeans. Yes, it is possible to buy GOOD blue jeans for about $40. That said, you can certainly spend a LOT more. Blue Jeans have been talked about in the blogosphere hundreds of times, but I just wanted to share a little tid bit with you.<br />
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This pretty little lady here. From <a href="http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com/">The Sartorialist</a><br />
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Those jeans are clean, they don't stick to her every inch, they fit her body where it needs to (if you were wondering, that's the ass, which looks just fine in this). It's a mature look, while still being casual. No jeggings here.<br />
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I bought my favorite pair of blue jeans in March from Levi's website. THere was a sale (as they oft do) and I got them for less than $40 before shipping. I went with the shrink-to-fit, indigo, <a href="http://us.levi.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2076855&cp=3146842.3146854.11301980">here.</a><br />
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There are plenty of options from the 501's just posted, on Levi's site, to these 501 original selvedge for $178.<br />
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Both of the above will break in the more you wear them. I'm in love with my jeans, I wear them nearly every day, usually about 3-5 times a week. You may wonder about cleanliness, but I'll post on that later, as well as some pictures of my jeans after about 3ish months of wear.Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-60678515579867502442011-04-21T13:57:00.003-05:002011-12-02T12:37:01.991-06:00The Best Coffee in the World, I Had in Haiti<span class="js-singleCommentText jsk-ItemBodyText"><a href="http://www.valetmag.com/the-mix/042111.php?index2_top_lead">Haitian Joe</a> coffee....Hopefully it tastes just as good as I remember coffee in Haiti tasting. </span><br />
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<span class="js-singleCommentText jsk-ItemBodyText">After the earthquake last year, I went to Haiti to help out. As most of you reading this will know.</span><br />
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<span class="js-singleCommentText jsk-ItemBodyText"> I spent all of my time in Les Cayes, in the South West. We stayed with a priest at a Catholic retreat house. We gave them more than enough money to feed our troupe of 14 or so, the priest, the nuns, and the people who worked there. </span><br />
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<span class="js-singleCommentText jsk-ItemBodyText">They made good use of that money, making some of the best food I've ever had and feeding others who came and stayed there as well. Every morning though, they brewed us a coffee that was local, the same thing each time. This was what I looked forward to especially in the mornings. At night they almost always served this broth of a potato soup that I was just in love with.</span><br />
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<span class="js-singleCommentText jsk-ItemBodyText">I had a special love for the coffee though. It gave me my love of coffee, and the milk, I'll swear it seemed fresh too, or perhaps just fresh from the store. I would pour a little milk in there, and then take a spoonful of cane sugar, which I'm sure is from Haiti as well, and drink some of the best coffee of my life. </span><br />
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<span class="js-singleCommentText jsk-ItemBodyText">Here is a picture of me and my best friend Jani holding our cups of coffee, dirty in our white t-shirts, loving the coffee we drank every morning for a week.</span><br />
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<span class="js-singleCommentText jsk-ItemBodyText">My reasons for thinking of this were from a post on <a href="http://valetmag.com/">Valet Mag</a>. This is the article, <a href="http://www.valetmag.com/the-mix/042111.php?index2_top_lead">here.</a> This is the website where you can by the coffee, <a href="http://www.lacolombe.com/products/haiti-blue-forest">it's called Haitian Joe</a>. This coffee is grown semi-wild in the mountains in South East Haiti, about a days drive from where I spent my time. It's bean is completely unaltered, tracing itself back to the first fruit grown outside of Ethiopia, now that's some heritage. Not to mention, the Haitian people are benefiting from it. So, why wouldn't you want to buy it. Not to mention it's of a specialty grade, the only Haitian coffee in America that can claim that. The coffee is also Fair Trade certified, meaning the growers, receive payment that they should, and are not shorted. </span><br />
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<span class="js-singleCommentText jsk-ItemBodyText">I'd love to try, so feel free to buy me some. :D</span><br />
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<span class="js-singleCommentText jsk-ItemBodyText">P.S. This picture was before I cracked my head open (see blog's [previous] main picture).</span>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-44161823717775291602011-04-11T20:39:00.000-05:002011-04-11T20:39:28.209-05:00Laser Guns on US Naval Ships - What?The US Navy has tested a successful working laser gun; it set fire to a small boats engines in the test.<br />
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Previously, the moist air of the sea weakened lasers that worked on land.<br />
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Full article, <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-13033437">here.</a>Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-5850210930508890632011-04-11T11:59:00.000-05:002011-04-11T11:59:11.622-05:00*Jacket (Not) Required* An Article from WSJThis article is an exploration in the ways in which dressing up, or down, has changed over the past 30 or more years. Specifically focusing on restaurants and clubs that formerly had a dress code which required jackets and ties. <br />
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One of my favorite lines from <a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704013604576246911629008064.html">the article</a> is as follows from Gay Talese, the iconic men's wear writer and well-dressed gentleman.<br />
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<blockquote>Mr. Talese does concede that's he's not necessarily aligned with the times. "Now I'm an old guy, a retro fellow, maybe even stuffy. But dressing conscientiously is exalting in the act of being alive. When you go out on the town, it's an act of celebration…that you're <em>here</em>."</blockquote> Check it out.Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-856337884215356882011-04-11T11:47:00.000-05:002011-04-11T11:47:53.522-05:00A Great Interview with Glenn O'Brien<a href="http://www.acontinuouslean.com/2011/04/08/howtobeaman/">Interview @ A Continuous Lean with Glenn O'Brien for his book, "How To Be a Man".</a><br />
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To buy the book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/How-Be-Man-Behavior-Gentleman/dp/0847835472/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1302540407&sr=8-1">here, at Amazon, for Pre-Order.</a><br />
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This is a great interview, a little length, but nothing crazy.Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-44815378908243751362011-04-10T15:18:00.002-05:002011-04-10T15:18:50.050-05:00Video from Gaddafi's ForcesHere is a video through Al Jazeera showing footage from Col. Gaddafi's forces in Libya.<br />
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<a href="http://english.aljazeera.net/video/africa/2011/04/201141032516369553.html">Al Jazeera Video</a><br />
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It shows soldiers insulting and beating civilians, firing rockets, driving in civilian cars, and more.<br />
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You need to know what's happening in the world.Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9222185417443042691.post-4778142260817189362011-04-10T14:23:00.001-05:002011-04-10T14:26:47.213-05:00My Letter to Senator GrassleyI wrote this letter on April 10, 2010 in about 20 minutes. This was purely off the cuff and spur of the moment.<br />
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I hope I did myself justice. I've saved it, word-for-word, for you to read. I will then post his response, if I ever get one, here.<br />
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<blockquote>Dear Senator,<br />
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I respectfully demand that you protect Pvt. Manning. The imprisonment that he is being forced to endure without any criminal charges brought against him, officially, is horrendous. He is being illegally and unconstitutionally held, but because prosecutors supporting the illegal actions of parts of our government have decided to reinterpret our laws in a way that suits their needs, he remains in 23 hour isolation.<br />
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It is your duty as a representative of the American people to stand up and demand that his basic human rights be maintained, that he be released if he is not going to be charged, and that those charges brought against him are just and founded in factual evidence, and that the punishment fits the crime.<br />
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This is a man who served our country in the way that he saw fit. Our founding fathers saw it as a responsibility of the people to hold the government responsible for their actions. This is what Pvt. Manning was doing, making the government accountable to public scrutiny, because we can not make decisions that are sound if we do not know the workings of the government. <br />
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Thomas Jefferson said, "When the Legislative or Executive functionaries act unconstitutionally, they are responsible to the people in their elective capacity… I know no safe depository of the ultimate powers of the society but the people themselves; and if we think them not enlightened enough to exercise their control with a wholesome discretion, the remedy is not to take it from them, but to inform their discretion by education. This is the true corrective of abuses of constitutional power."<br />
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Now, it is your time as a public servant to serve the public. Think of this man, enduring torture at the hands of a government that criticizes countries around the world for torture, ignoring human rights, tyranny, suppression of freedom of speech, etc. and yet we are committing some of these same acts right here. This issue is bigger than just Pvt. Manning. There needs to be some consistency on the world stage between our rhetoric and our actions. When our government and the people that represent our government around the world demand an end to human rights violations, tyranny, oppression, authoritarian and totalitarian governments, democide, genocide, torture, corruption - and then with our left hand we give concessions to governments that we publicly criticize...outfit the airplanes of kings (Saudi Arabia) who put down protests for other countries (Bahrain). This is not what America stands for, this is not what I stand for, and it should not be what the citizens of our beautiful and wonderful, free country stand for.<br />
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It's time we stand up to the hegemonic values that are ruling the Western world and demand that the enlightenment of our age in the view of human rights be not only theorized and philosophized, but be put into actions, and not just in the mouths of speakers spewing specious words.<br />
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It is the job of the people to represent the world. You should be encouraging the youth of our country to travel the world, experience the people in it, drink with them, eat with them, live and speak with them. Because, at the end of the day, it is easier to hate a stranger than a friend. Education, not just in our schools, is the answer. A knowledge of the world around us, the people in it will save us from destruction- not a multi-billion dollar defence budget.<br />
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As Mark Twain said, "I never let schooling get in the way of my education."<br />
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Thank you for your time, sir. I hope that I have shed some light on topics that need to be brought to the attention of the people.<br />
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Sincerely,<br />
Jared E. Krauss </blockquote><br />
So, post in the comments what you think.Jared Krausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17518535016571165559noreply@blogger.com0