Matt McCrary's Rad Rhetorical Reasoning

Confidence and Identity

2009-12-19T21:27:00.000-08:00

I just finished watching the Cowboys epic 24-17 victory over the previously undefeated Saints (how ‘bout them Cowboys!), in which the Cowboys managed to overcome Nick Folk missing another field goal of less than 20 yards (he’s missed 7 of his last 11 kicks). And then I went to YouTube to remind myself of the good ol’ days, aka 2007, and found this gem…

How can somebody who, as a rookie, made a game winning 52 yard field goal—twice—not even be able to make much shorter field goals when the game isn’t on the line? Furthermore, judging by NFL Network’s “exclusive practice footage,” he can’t seem to make them in warm-up under no pressure at all. It’s clear that his confidence has been shaken, but has his identity changed as well? To Cowboys fans such as myself, it definitely has. He has completed the transition from “awesome kicker” to “liability” in a mere 2 years. And I’m not alone in my frustrations. Immediately after Folk missed his 35 yard field goal, 5 of my friends from Texas updated their statuses to express their discontent. Thus, it appears that his identity has changed socially. But internally, has it changed? I would imagine that he doesn’t hold himself in as high esteem as he used to, but has identity really changed as a result of his job performance? My strictly intuitive hypothesis would be that his identity remains unchanged, but that, sans confidence, his expression of this identity is greatly altered.

Identity R-R-R-Remix

2009-12-11T18:23:00.001-08:00

Upon revisiting my first blog of the semester, I was taken aback by how quick I was to label myself, and especially that I gave myself an academic-based label. Did the same person seriously define himself with the statement, “I’m a double major in Jazz Drumset and Movement Science, seeking to discover the connections between athleticism and creative musicianship,” and then write blogs such as “Pants, pants, pants” and “I Briefed My Hallmates on this Brief in my Briefs?” To clear up any implications of possible plagiarism—I did in fact write both these blogs. Perhaps it is my end of semester apathy, but the seriousness with which this first blog was written seems foreign. If I had to define my identity in a sentence now, it would be, “I play drums, watch sports, crack jokes, laugh, and try not to take my work and especially myself too seriously.”

At the beginning of the term, I can remember thinking that an unwavering commitment to my schoolwork was going to get me through a 6-class semester. Over the course of the semester, however, this seriousness has given way to a more happy-go-lucky approach to schoolwork. This transition, I believe has been due in part to these blogs. With such an open-ended and low-risk way to express myself through text, I explored using wit and humor to enhance my blogs. As a result, my blogs seem to have evolved from the academic voice to something closer to the Matt McCrary aka DJ MMC voice. And while the written transition from academic Matt to real Matt in an academic context is in no way complete, the exploration of ways to complete assignments while still retaining my own voice is something that will enhance my writing in the coming semesters.

Catalonia is Apparently NOT Spain

2009-12-03T14:29:00.000-08:00

I must admit, there was a brief moment in Amanda’s presentation on the value of Catalan nationalism to Spain when I doubted her argument that a nationalistic subgroup within Spain was beneficial. Then BOOM! She hit me with GDP statistics of the Catalan region vs. Spain and the EU, which showed the Catalan region’s relative awesomeness, and I felt silly for ever having doubted.

Before this presentation I had thought that Catalonia was like Texas, a distinct regional identity, but still, save a couple radicals, a willing part of a greater nation. After this presentation, however, I discovered that, in fact, many in Catalonia don’t like Spain, and vice versa. After watching several YouTube videos on the topic, it seems that Amanda’s level-headed, can’t-we-be-friends-so-we-can-make-each-other-money approach could definitely be useful.

Some highlights:

INTENSE…

Apparently just being from Catalonia can make you a fascist. Who knew? In seriousness though, Amanda’s presentation was both interesting, thought provoking, and, after watching these and other videos, has real world application. OPA!

Finding Common Ground With Yoon

2009-12-03T10:06:00.001-08:00

Being a music major who plays almost exclusively non-classical music, Yoon’s presentation on the similarities of classical music and more contemporary music styles was especially intriguing. While I agree that classical music is often under-appreciated simply due to its apparent inaccessibility, I have beef with his claim that classical music should be listened to as much as any other music style. Musical preferences are driven mainly by ones life experiences, and, as a result, people listen to music that illustrates experiences that they can relate to. This is where I feel that classical music loses its audience. It is simply impossible for music that was written about life experiences 200 years ago to be completely transferrable to our current experiences. Sure, the emotions we experience are unchanged, but the ways in which we experience them are completely different. For example, if I wrote and mailed love poems to try to woo women in today’s world, my success rate would be extremely low. In the 1700s, however, I might be a player. And it is this change in context that causes classical music to be largely lost in translation from Medieval and Renaissance-era Europe to today’s world. Thus, as an American living in 2009, given the choice between Mozart and Metallica, I’m going with Metallica 99.9% of the time.

This is not to say, however, that I don’t appreciate the beauty of classical music every once in a while. And, thus, I feel like a persuasion advocating for greater appreciation of classical music would be a stronger statement. Just like I enjoy visiting foreign countries to expand my cultural horizons, I also enjoy “visiting” classical music every once in a while to hear about experiences from a different time period. And while I might still prefer America and good ol’ rock ‘n’ roll, classical music is still something that can be enjoyed every once in a while.

What is the value of an argument if its genesis isn't real?

2009-11-30T06:08:00.000-08:00

I found myself sitting on my couch in Houston, on Thanksgiving of all days, faced with the prospect of writing an essay about the evolution of viruses and advocating for a public health response to this evolution for Bio 171. And yes, this is another Bio 171 blog. After bitching to my brother and attempting to pull my hair out, I began to question my entire double-major track. Yes, I want a degree in both kinesiology and music, but all these prerequisite shenanigans are testing this desire. My main beef with this essay is that I neither care about how viruses evolved, nor can relate it back to something I do care about. And my ability to relate things back to my, I think pretty varied interests, has been my saving grace on many occasions. But not this time. Oh no.

So then I had one of those “what’s the point” moments that I’m hoping we all do at some point in our academic careers. Other than passing Bio 171, a valid reason to be sure, since taking this class again would be a disaster of magnanimous proportion, what is the point of making an argument for something I don’t care about? I still feel that, beneath all of the things that can be picked out by the Toulmin method, great arguments have an “X-factor” that results from a genuine interest in the topic. People, in my experience, have an innate knack for unveiling that which is not real, and, as a result, writing something that is inherently unreal and half-assed creates a type of friction inside me, regardless of the grade I receive. And what does that grade really mean anyways? Congratulations, you’re good/mediocre/bad at writing about things that don’t matter to you? And I don’t even know which of those sit best with me.

Charland (My Reservoir of Clever Titles is Running Dry)

2009-11-19T23:07:00.000-08:00

Charland’s argument regarding creating one’s own audience had very little effect on how I’m thinking about writing for a “public audience,” because I’m not really sure that I am writing for a public audience. Sure, my blogs can be accessed by the general public, but I’m not really sure that I can consider the public my “audience,” since the only people who read and actively comment on my blogs are members of my English 225 class. I feel like the audience for this blog is similar to the audience for a narrow-topic scientific journal; while the general public can definitely read these journals, they don’t unless it is necessary for a class or other research project. My audience for this blog, both in who it is written for as well as its readership, is my English 225 class, and I don’t have to persuade my audience to read this blog, as it is a class requirement. Thus, while I certainly think Charland makes valid points about the need to persuade the audience to essentially care about one’s arguments, Charland’s rhetorical theories cannot be easily applied to this blog. This blog is a niche-market item, written for a class and read by members of this very class. To take this blog out of this niche would require that I redefine the entire purpose of the blog’s existence. In other words, this blog would have to exist for a reason other than to fulfill class requirements. Since the blog exists in this light, however, it is very difficult to generalize it due to the fact that, as much as I would like this blog to not be assignment-driven, the reality is that it is. And this fact causes the blog to be written and read through a certain lens, and by a captive audience that renders Charland’s arguments irrelevant.

Cultural Identity And Hockey

2009-11-19T22:50:00.001-08:00

Last night I went to the Dallas Stars vs Detroit Red Wings game in Detroit. A life-long, some might say “hardcore,” Dallas Stars fan, I prepared myself before the game for the trash talk I would no doubt endure. My arsenal of clever rebuttals firmly in mind, most along the lines of “what happened in 1999?” (the year Dallas won the Stanley Cup), I went to “The Joe” in my full Stars attire. While I did receive a few “asshole” comments, the fact that the Stars were leading for over ¾ of the game made dealing with the trash talk a breeze. I would just make one gesture in the direction of the scoreboard and leave Red Wings fans tongue-tied. What I was unprepared for, however, were the large differences between professional hockey games in Dallas and Detroit, specifically in terms of their production value.

The phrase “everything’s bigger in Texas” definitely applies here. For pregame introductions, Stars players skate through artificial fog and a giant star-shaped cut out while the official team song (by Dallas-bred metalheads Pantera) reverberates through the arena and various green and white laser lights float through the stands. In Detroit, the players simply skated onto the ice to the soothing, monotone voice of the game announcer (seriously, this guy sounded like he should be on NPR) and the top 40 hit du jour. I guess I just expected more of a show from a place that calls itself “Hockeytown.”

But when I stopped to think about this discrepancy in production value of sporting events, it is very reflective of the difference in regional cultural identities between Texas and Michigan. In Texas, surface appeal is crucial (large generality, yes, but mostly accurate). Keeping with the sports theme, Texan sports fans are some of the most fickle, fair weather fans in the history of Earth. I used to go to Stars games in the early-90s when the team had a losing record and less than half the seats were full. During the Stars’ heyday in the late-90’s, getting tickets was near impossible. Now, the team is moderately good, and tickets are moderately hard to get. Being a supporter of a winning team, while undoubtedly more appealing nationwide, is much more important than sticking with a team through thick and thin because of the instant appeal of supporting a winner. In Detroit, on the other hand, a man who had held Red Wings season tickets for 25 years was introduced as the season ticket holder of the game, and the people around me acted like it was no big deal. Such devotion to anything is extremely rare in a Texas culture centered on flash. And I must admit that, after going to a game without the flash, I definitely miss it.

The Power of Paragraphs

2009-11-10T20:35:00.001-08:00

After looking at my own blog after writing about Lauren’s I noticed that I frequently don’t write more than one paragraph. I may have enough text for multiple paragraphs, but I rarely partition my writing into sections. My blogs essentially read like streams of consciousness, which, while easy to write, are not exactly easy reading. Analyzing Lauren’s blog has caused me to realize the importance of paragraphs for ease of reading. Long paragraphs, at least for me, tend to be a bit overwhelming when I first look over a blog when deciding whether or not to read it. More often than not, I read those blogs with a greater number of shorter paragraphs because it simply appears more palatable.

BOOMànew paragraph! In addition to the advantages of a cleaner, more segmented layout, Lauren’s blog has demonstrated the power of paragraphs in terms of organization of an argument. I feel that if I took the same arguments from my blogs and divided them into paragraphs, they would be infinitely more effective. Even though I feel like my blogs have good flow as is, paragraph divisions would help the reader navigate my arguments by segmenting important tidbits and providing readers with a chance to catch their breath. In the same vein, having a clearer picture of the direction of my blog entries before I write them would undoubtedly aid organization and enhance readability.

Lauren's Blog Is The Bees Knees

2009-11-10T13:05:00.000-08:00

The thing that jumps out to me about Lauren’s blog is the energy and mojo conveyed in the structure and titles of her posts. Blog titles like “How do you get men excited about shoes?” “Did the feminist movement fail if I opt out?” and “Hi, my name is Bill and I have cancer!” draw me in as a reader both in their humor and personality. These titles are more conversational than academic, which makes reading this blog much more accessible (read: appealing) to me. Additionally, these titles add a sense of “realness” to the blog that is often missing from academic writing—I really feel that this is Lauren’s real voice, not a product of her putting on her “scholar” hat for an academic class. Additionally, and more importantly, the content of her blogs lives up to the promises of these oh-so-clever titles. Well constructed, with a good flow and well-divided into paragraphs, reading Lauren’s blog is as easy as slicing butter. Nowhere is this more apparent than in her “Hitler: Can he convince you?” entry, in which she breaks down the reasons she probably would have been convinced by Hitler’s rhetoric into 3 easily digestible categories: The Context, The Man, The Propaganda. When placed in this context of this three-pronged attack, her argument is incredibly clear and convincing, making for an intriguing blog entry. Additionally, her liberal use of paragraph divisions makes the blogs seem less overwhelming, adding to the accessible vibe of blog. Overall, Lauren’s blog is a pleasantly intriguing read.

The LINK…

http://mblog.lib.umich.edu/lrhart28/

If Only Somebody Had Told Me All I Needed Was Axe

2009-11-06T11:23:00.000-08:00

Seriously. I could have saved a lot of time and money on hip clothes, flowers, and dinner dates if somebody had just let me in on the secret: I can be a totally average looking dude like our boy Homer, but if I’ve got Axe, I’ve got hundreds of supermodels at my doorstep.

This is a completely ridiculous advertisement. And yet it’s somehow appealing. I saw the tagline “love is a matter of chemistry” and let out a chuckle. And I’m not going to deny that Miss Boron aka Bianca caught my eye. Intuitively, I know that a simple body spray is not going to grant me a periodic table’s worth of beautiful women. And I can clearly see that Axe is trying to sell me their product on the basis of its association with sex. But I remain intrigued by this advertisement. Unlike some other advertisements, which try use sex in a more subtle manner, Axe is not bashful about being blatantly sexual. Axe knows it’s trying to sell you sex, and is totally ok with that. And that gives this advertisement a certain mojo and pizzazz that’s intoxicating. The advertisement practically exudes confidence, another thing that Axe is trying to sell. I saw a study recently that reported that guys who wear cologne are more confident around women. After seeing this ad, I’m thinking that ads like this definitely contribute to this confidence.

Yes, this ad is over the top. Yes, it’s blatantly sexual. But if I wasn’t a Right Guard man, I might just go get myself some Axe.

Propaganda and Me

2009-11-05T15:58:00.001-08:00

In class on Monday we watched “The Triumph of the Willing,” a propaganda film chronicling the events of the Nazi rally in Nuremberg in 1934. What struck me the most about this film was the masses upon masses of people lined up to welcome Hitler with genuine smiles and expressions of joy. While I’m sure that yawning grandpas and angst-ridden teenagers were edited out of the film, the reality of emotions depicted in this film was inescapable, and perhaps one of the main reasons “The Triumph of the Willing” is such effective propaganda. Everyone, from the farmers in traditional attire, to the frolicking, super-clean men in the labor camp, to the women and children lining the streets, was honestly happy to see Hitler. This was not just smiling for the camera, I could feel the raw, uncut emotions oozing out of the screen. And I found myself thinking, “If I didn’t know better, I’d probably wonder if Hitler could really be that bad.” And that leads me to the one horrifying aspect of this movie—and I use the term “horrifying” intentionally: How could that many people be that wrong about Hitler? For the sake of my own faith in human goodness, however, I’m not entirely sure that I want to know the answer to that question. I don’t really want to know how a single man captured the hearts of millions under the façade of hope and goodness, only to, often literally, break these same hearts with a campaign of unspeakable evil. I don’t want to know why and/or how more people couldn’t recognize his charade. My curiosity for these answers beckons, but I know that my faith in humanity will surely be deeply challenged by the answers.

Ambivalence and my True Self Don't Get Along

2009-10-29T21:56:00.000-07:00

So as all you faithful readers of MMRRR have probably insinuated, I have a love-hate relationship with my Intro to Biology class. Love in that upon completion, I will be 4 credits and one predominantly freshman prerequisite closer to my degree. Hate in that I find it very difficult to care about the relationships between ants and trees, the mating cycles of sea urchins, or caterpillars in Canada. Hate is a strong word though, and I do find some parts of this class intriguing, so perhaps “ambivalence” is more appropriate. Regardless, I found myself in an interesting predicament in trying to prepare for this exam: literally every time I attempted to study, I started dozing off after about 15 minutes. I studied in the morning, afternoon, and evening with the same result, and wasn’t particularly sleep deprived; I even was dozing off when I attempted to study in the 20 minutes just before the exam. Thus, after finishing the exam and taking one magnanimously large deep breath, I started to wonder if dozing off was a way of my true self fighting back against learning information that will most likely be disposed of after the completion of this class, never to be seen again. A little bit of a stretch? Maybe. But this is how my brain operates these days. If being unable to study without snoozing is truly a manifestation of the true self, then this has certain connotations. Firstly, my true self can distinguish between information that’s useful and must be learned in spite of its monotony and information that is irrelevant. Up to this point I have never actually had an issue studying for exams of “useless” subjects such as calculus, which has actually proven quite useful. Apparently Intro to Biology is in the latter category. Additionally, if dozing is a manifestation of my true self’s ambivalence towards Bio, why Bio and why now? I have no idea, but this train of thought is currently consuming my existence.

State of My Convincing Paper

2009-10-29T21:27:00.001-07:00

When I first began to look into college binge drinking as an identity-based phenomenon, it was in fact nothing more than an inquiry (pun intended) into a particular set of thoughts. I approached my inquiry neutral yet intrigued by the possibilities my topic held. After my inquiry and the pages upon pages of associated research, however, I began to actually believe that the prevalence of college binge drinking may actually be due in part to the place that binge drinking holds in the college identity. Carrying this belief into my convincing paper, however, has proven to be a double edged sword. On the one hand, trying to convince someone about something you truly believe in comes far more easily than convincing the reader to agree with you despite your ambivalence. On the other hand, I now have a vested interest in this paper, which clouds the lens through which I read my research. If you had asked me 6 months ago whether I thought lowering the drinking age would reduce teen binge drinking, I would have instantly replied “oh hell yes.” Now I can honestly say that I don’t think that a lowered drinking age would significantly reduce binge drinking. The now personal nature of my topic is beneficial in that it provides me with a certain energy with which I can approach my topic, but also makes it more difficult to carefully consider counter arguments. I often have found myself reading such arguments multiple times to try to successfully read them objectively, so that I can refute them with the greatest effectiveness. All in all, however, I’ll gladly trade the energy I gain for this paper from believing in my topic for a couple extra read throughs of counterarguments.

Pants, Pants, Pants

2009-10-21T20:07:00.000-07:00

Mad props to one Lauren Hartstein for pointing me in this direction.

I can’t stand shopping. I only go shopping once a year. I tell people who ask me about shopping that I only shop on tax-free weekend in Texas because I like the savings. But really I just hate shopping. Something about putting a label on myself through the clothes I buy just completely stresses me out. There are so many options, so many possible images. Just looking only at pants, I could get bootcut fit, slim fit, loose fit, straight fit, original fit, butt-grabbing fit, classic fit. Or whatever. I believe a similarly overwhelmed male shopper at the Gap put it best--“what if I just want pants?” These days, however, you can’t just get pants. When faced with all these options, you have to make a decision first about whether you see yourself in the pants of a particular store. Once you decide that a store aligns with your vision of yourself, then another decision has to be made as to which pants in that store fit your identity. Just buying a pair of pants requires that you make a number of decisions about who you are and who you are not. The options are so immense that a sense of personal style seems attainable. And yet all of these decisions are made in the context of people selling your identity in the form of pants.

Does your identity pick your pants, or do your pants pick your identity?

I Briefed My Hallmates On This Brief In My Briefs

2009-10-15T19:27:00.000-07:00

…not really—I just thought that was eye-catching.

Anyways…

In my inquiry paper, I examined the inner workings of how binge drinking in college students is an identity-based construct. I feel like the strongest argument that emerged from my inquiry paper was that the binge-drinking college student is an identity created and perpetuated by the media, as well as one’s peers to a lesser degree. This identity then becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy—college students view binge drinking as a necessary part of being a college student, and thus drink to fulfill this identity. For my convincing paper, my thesis is the following: since binge drinking in college students is an identity-based phenomenon, lowering the drinking age to 18 would have a negligible effect on binge drinking in this demographic. Essentially, college students don’t binge-drink because drinking beer is seen as forbidden, college students binge-drink to fulfill a part of the college student identity. I know that I’m going to be able to find a lot of counter arguments on this, but I’m a little bit worried that my identity argument is not going to hold up against a stream of research in favor of lowering the drinking age. I have good statistic-based research though, which can hold-up against most other evidence, so I think I’ll be alright.

See Matt Make A Real Life Persuasive Argument

2009-10-15T10:10:00.000-07:00

My Bio 171 GSI is attempting to penalize me for not attending class before I had added the class. Unfortunately, they forgot to tell her that I'm in Brett Griffiths' Academic Argumentation class and therefore the carefully supported hurt with lots of evidence will be coming. Thus, I thought it would be relevant to post my calculated response to this draconian policy...

<<>,

I wanted to clarify a few things with you about your discussion attendance/make-up policy. I realize that, by adding Bio 171 late, I am responsible for all material I have missed in the class periods (5 lectures, 1 discussion) before I added the class. In taking the first exam I have been held responsible for that material. I do not, however, understand why I am being penalized for missing a class period that, at the time, I did not realize I was missing because I was not enrolled in the class. Additionally, I fail to see the educational value in writing 2 pages and 5 questions on a topic for which I have already been held responsible. I assumed, albeit incorrectly, that, in terms of class attendance/participation grades, I would neither be punished nor rewarded for adding the class a week and a half late. Simply put, I thought my discussion grade would be taken out of 98 points instead of 100, so those 2 points would count neither for nor against me. It is in advocacy of this logical grading strategy that I write you today.

In your discussion syllabus you state, “Unexcused absences will result in a loss of attendance points for that week.” My absence was not unexcused. In fact, my absence was excused by the drop/add policies of the University of Michigan. Since I added Bio 171 within the drop/add period, I should not be penalized for using a procedure that the University openly endorses. Your syllabus also asserts, “No discussions can be made up after the week of the discussion has elapsed.” Had I known that I was going to be enrolled in Bio 171 and missing your discussion I certainly would have emailed you to “make alternate arrangements,” as your syllabus suggests I should. Given that I had no idea that I would be enrolling in Bio 171 or missing your discussion, it is unreasonable for you to penalize me for not attending a discussion I did not know I was supposed to be attending.

This brings me to my next point. Had I known I was missing class, and had contacted you in advance, I would understand your having me write a 2-page paper and 5 questions so that I could better understand the material. However, for you to give me such an assignment now, after I have already been held responsible for the material of that discussion, is, quite simply, ridiculous. I learned the material for the exam and was held responsible for it. To have me revisit that material now strikes me as being nothing but busywork.

You may be wondering why I did not contact you about this missed discussion section sooner. It is because I viewed this as a non-issue until grades were posted after the 1^st exam. I added the class late, but still within University policy. The material for that week’s discussion section is on CTools. I am a responsible student, so I learned the material for the exam. I had no idea adding a class within the drop/add period would have negative repercussions on my grade.

You may also be wondering why I am writing you a 2-page email instead of a 2-page summary of our discussion material for that week. If this was about getting my points back, I would have written the summary. However, I do not want the points. My absence the first week should be a non-event grade-wise. I was neither present nor absent. I was neither participating nor sleeping. I was not enrolled in the class, so it is not my responsibility to be a positive contributor to a class I did not know I was supposed to be attending.

Thank you for your consideration of my concerns. I look forward to hearing from you.

Matt

2009-10-02T14:03:00.001-07:00

Prompt: Write a list of what is “Known” in your field and a list of what is “unknown,” at least as far as you understand it. What questions seem open for exploration? What are the assumptions within your field that inform how you might pursue those questions?

A few weeks ago this prompt would have been easy. In typical ego-centric Western fashion I would have launched into a long list of the ins and outs of “known” musical truths like (Western) harmony and rhythmic concepts. But I now realize, my head still reeling from that fateful Wednesday in English 225, that to do so would be to neglect numerous Eastern and indigenous traditions. In the West, for example, there are 12 notes. In India, however, there are four notes between every one of the Western pitches, and thus the concept of melody and harmony is much different. The same holds true rhythmically. The most complex tune I have ever played had 13 beats in each measure. In India, beat cycles can contain over 100 beats! Clearly, using a list of steadfast rhythmic/harmonic/melodic rules to represent the known qualities of music is naive. Thus, I’m reduced to using a much more liquid, emotive set of things to describe the “knowns” in music, based on my experience:

Great music comes from the heart, not the brain.

If it doesn’t come from the heart, the audience knows because something doesn’t feel quite right.

Identity In The Lecture Hall

2009-10-02T13:37:00.000-07:00

I sat, sleep-deprived and with a case of the Wednesdays (so close, yet so far…) in lecture for my introductory Bio my professor/lecturer went over the room assignments for our exam on Thursday. My ears immediately perked up. Room assignments? I leaned over to my neighbor to make sure this was really happening, and she explained to me that the class is too big to fit in one room, so they have to split us up. One would think that in my third year at a school the size of the University of Michigan, I would have experienced this massive intro class phenomenon. But I hadn’t, until yesterday. I wondered how an institution that prides itself on producing the “leaders and best,” two labels that require a strong sense of personal identity can rationalize having classes so big that the individual is virtually insignificant. I do realize that, from a practical standpoint, this is the way things must be done. There are simply too many students to have 20 person introductory biology classes. Then I remembered the countless times I’ve seen the extensive “notable alumni” section in U-M literature/propaganda, and wondered how they did it. How were they, in the face of numerous attempts to make them one of the masses, able to retain and develop such strong identities? My only answer is essentially a cop-out: it’s the fact that people like Gerald Ford and Google co-founder Larry Page were able to retain their identities in the face of the bureaucracy and bullshit that makes them such strong personalities. That’s the Michigan difference.

Class Wednesday Made Me Question Everything In My Life.......Almost

2009-09-24T20:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I awoke to a much simpler world. Safe in the knowledge that Columbus discovered America in 1492, I woke a man at peace. I remained in said state until ~4:10, when I was introduced to a line of thinking that, if pursued could potentially undo everything that I “know” about the world. Sure, Columbus could have discovered America, contingent on a) how you define “discover”, b) how you define “America”, and c) what your perspective is. The difference in cultural perspectives especially struck me. I have been told for years about the differing “perspectives” of people from different cultures, but it hadn’t really become real to me until our class discussion on Wednesday. For instance, I always think of July 4 as a joyous day to celebrate freedom, but if I lived in Britain, perhaps I would view it as the day everything began to crumble, or as just another day.

Such thinking led me to ponder the immense roadblocks to a unified, and ultimately peaceful global existence. Under such thought processes, it would seem impossible to argue with those from different cultures, because, as was also mentioned in our class discussion, argument over an issue assumes a great deal of commonalities in culture and beliefs. That line of thought is depressing, so I chose a different tack. In spite of our differences in culture and beliefs our subsequent inability to effectively argue, we, as humans, feel things. I strongly believe, and have yet to been proven otherwise, that we are all given, by whom or whatever you wish to believe, a moral compass that enables us to feel what is right and wrong. And if we focus on this commonality, we can achieve much more than attempting to argue despite our differences.

My Beef With The Toulmin Method

2009-09-22T14:05:00.000-07:00

One of my high school English teachers, Mr. Crotty, once told a story of his first day of graduate school English. His professor was a renowned scholar who he held in high esteem. Mr. Crotty recounted to my class how he wrote pages of notes over the minor details of the first assigned reading, only for the professor to center the class discussion over the basic question “Did you like it?” And it’s this simple yet weighted question that I feel is missing from the Toulmin method. As the word “like,” in an argumentative context, is often associated with agreement, perhaps “did it affect you?” would be more relevant when analyzing arguments.

Nonetheless, that this essential question is absent from the Toulmin method is mind-boggling. Really, if an argument doesn’t cause some sort of desired intellectual response (thought, intrigue, conversation, action, etc.), then any claims, reasons, evidence, and refutations are completely irrelevant. If reading or listening to an argument is sleep- rather than thought-provoking, even the most watertight of arguments will be completely ineffective. It’s this argumentative X-factor that makes Barack Obama such an effective politician, and is the reason why I remained alert during his State of the Union address, while tuning out of each of the previous 8. I realize that the answer to the question “did it affect you?” is far more subjective and less concrete than identifying the claim, reasons, evidence, and refutation, and perhaps its this subjectivity that merited its exclusion from the Toulmin method. However, it is precisely because of its subjectivity that it must be included in any comprehensive system to analyze arguments. We humans are not robots. Our lives most often do not proceed according to logic and reason. We’re emotional. We feel things. And to omit an analysis of the answer to the question “did it affect you?” from an argumentative analysis is to contradict the fact that we aren’t robots. I respond to things that affect me. I remember things that affect me. Everything else is irrelevant.

Impermanence

2009-09-20T15:46:00.001-07:00

Last week my family sold the Dallas home in which I grew up and bought a house in Houston. Other than the presence of my family, my 1940’s Dallas home with sketchy air conditioning, spotty insulation, and awesome charm has been the constant of my life. “So where are you from?” Dallas. “You like it?” Hell yes. I feel I could answer those questions the same way running from the cops that I do in casual conversation. The place is that much a part of me. Yet now I wonder when I will cease to be “from Dallas.” I can say with relative certainty that, despite my mother’s attempts to endear Houston to me via sports, I will not be relinquishing my Dallas Cowboys for the Houston Texans anytime soon. It’s the effect of the daily things, or lack thereof, that I wonder about. Will no longer making the daily drive south on Preston Rd. and right turn to reach my house on Amherst Ave. have any effect what I call home, and the large part of my identity it encompasses? It has caused me to question the permanence of things—is anything really truly permanent? There’s a part of me that badly wants to say yes, but another part that reminds me that I don’t really have any evidence to support this answer.

This question of permanence relates directly to the question of tattoos, and the logic behind getting one. A tattoo is the most permanent thing you can voluntarily do to your body; they can be removed, but not without immense pain and expense. Thus, in a world of impermanence, getting a tattoo is an effort to assert control where such authority is fleeting. And while “inking oneself” certainly achieves such goals, I question whether the emotions and feelings behind the tattoo will remain constant and uncompromising. The tattoo isn’t going to change, but your circumstances certainly will. Just as relationships sour in the lack of compromise, the unchanging nature of the tattoo leads me to believe that one’s relationship with one’s tattoo(s) will suffer a similar fate.

Identity Conflict

2009-09-15T18:10:00.000-07:00

Am I a jock who plays drums, or a musician who likes sports? A question I have asked myself countless times when the pressures of trying to concurrently walk in the worlds of science/athletics and music appear to be unbearable. Clearly I can’t be both. Not now, not in this increasingly specialized world. Not when family friends are graduating with niche degrees in National Security and Pre-med. Not when I receive awkward laughs when I respond, “I’m just here to learn” to “what are you going to do with your degrees?” Learning is nice, after all, but a high powered school like UofM is about preparing yourself to kick ass and make the dollars flow. Right?

The thing is, I’ve tried being a hardcore-5-hours-of-daily-practice musician as well as a sports-first-school-second athlete and none of them really did it for me. 5 hours in a practice room broke me down, both physically and emotionally. And putting all my energy into sports just wasn’t real; I do care about school, and there’s a part of me that enjoys caring about it, regardless of how much I may whine and complain. There’s something about this balance of musician and athlete/fitness dude that just feels right. It’s inescapable yet frustratingly intangible. So I’m faced with the fact of constantly reminding myself that these two identities can coexist, that there is in fact no conflict.

At the end of the movie Accepted, as Bartleby Grimes (aka Justin Long aka “I’m a Mac”) is trying to justify the accreditation of his own unconventional university, he asks, “Did the system really work out for you? Did it teach you to follow your heart, or just to play it safe?” I’m not caring for a family. I don’t need a steady source of income. I have nothing to lose except sleep.

I’m a musician and an athlete. Eat it system

Introduction

2009-09-13T09:33:00.000-07:00

I’ve been told many times that I need to have an “elevator speech,” some way to summarize myself in 30 seconds. This is at the same time very easy and extremely complicated. On the one hand, if I keep this speech strictly to my work and studies, it’s short and sweet. “I’m a double major in Jazz Drumset and Movement Science, seeking to discover the connections between athleticism and creative musicianship,” I’ll say, taking a full 10 seconds only if I’m feeling especially Southern. While I like the compactness of this version of the me spiel, it not only leaves me with 20 seconds of an elevator ride to fill with small talk, but also a lingering question: is that really it? So then I revise, throwing in a few more bits of background information about myself: I have called Dallas, Texas home for all 20 years of my life, when I’m not playing music you’ll probably find me playing or watching sports, especially soccer, and I went to the same school with 50 of the same people from 1^st to 12^th grade. It’s the first and last tidbits that really open the floodgates, as they speak more to my experiences than my preferences. While Dallas and my prep school years are perhaps the most easily defining, can you really quantify which experiences are the most valuable or influential?

In 8^th grade my life goal was to come back to my prep school and teach high school English. In 9^th grade I wanted to go to college and play D-1 volleyball, my 5’5” parents be damned. In 10^th grade I stopped growing and (unrelated?) burned out on volleyball. My junior year I fell in love with soccer, fitness, and music. In 12^th grade, I decided it was all about music, fell horribly out of shape, and decided that science classes were superfluous as well. Freshman year of college my lack of fitness led to a development of back issues and an inability to physically play drums by the end of 2^nd semester. Sophomore year, 2 years after I decided I didn’t like science classes, I fell back in love with fitness, and added a major in Movement Science.

I haven’t even mentioned relationships and already I find myself in a conundrum. How does one even begin to decide which of these experiences merit inclusion in a 30 second speech? Short answer—I can’t. My whole life has been equally formative, and it is impossible for me to discount the importance of any life events. To do so would have been to tell the college sophomore that he really shouldn’t add a major in Movment Science, since the fact that science was his favorite class in 4^th grade is actually irrelevant. Or to tell the 11^th grader that music school isn’t for him because, you know how he used to get in trouble in elementary school for making beats with pencils and desks? Not important. If someone could present me with a formula for deciding which of my life’s many events are actually important and relevant, it would make my elevator speech much more comprehensive, but my life much more predictable and less interesting. And don’t even think the creation of such a formula is possible, because the fact that each of life’s experiences have been equally real makes them equally valid.

So, at the moment, I guess I’m OK with 20 seconds of small talk and awkward silences, and 10 seconds of “I’m a double major in Jazz Drumset and Movement Science, seeking to discover the connections between athleticism and creative musicianship.”