We read an article discussing the effects of crime in the media. Generally, the theme centered around the ability of the media to create and maintain a 'culture of fear' which turns Americans into sheep. The culture of fear goes beyond whatever news station you follow on a daily basis. Every station has something to offer you in a manner to which you may not like it. The media has the power to turn isolated incidents into pandemics stretching in every home in every neighborhood. Of course, many of the things that we fear as Americans have never touched our doorstep or the doorsteps of our friends. Rather we live vicariously through the sufferings of others perpetuating an ideology that the world we live in is a dangerous place.
We're hungry as Americans. When we're hungry, often times the best food isn't the food that we choose to consume. We sacrifice quality for temporary satisfactoriness. American media only offers us snacks. In search for real news, reporters 'stake out' like policemen, hoping that they'll catch the latest and greatest celebrity misdemeanor. Due to a fortunate loophole in the system, slander only applies to the non-famous allowing some media stations to produce 'slander stations' romanticizing and over emphasizing the importance of love lives, pregnancies, drug addictions, D.U.I.'s etc. In the feeding frenzy that is entertainment press, being the first to cover the story trumps the factual journalism that Americans are hungry for. What happens now is the portrayal of accusations or presumptions which may or may not eventually lead to a moment of truth. Day after day, the same story takes a new twist as the media strains to wrangle our attention for just one more story. It doesn't take a genius to realize that facts take time, especially when it comes to crimes. Why is it then that we desire immediate results? We are really just setting ourselves up to be lied to by the media day after day until the final truth has been reveled. When truth is revealed, we don't hold the station accountable for the series of misfires along the way, we seem to be content knowing that it's all over and anything that happened in the middle were just bumps along the way.
The lack of accountability is appalling, but at the same time, Americans seem to be hungry for the piecemeal interpretation of stories. If a major drug company engaged in the same behavior of only providing piecemeal perspective and truth, a country would be up in arms. Why then, do we allow ourselves only satisfactory 'snacks' when we should be holding out for a worthy meal? Yes, the fast food nation reference can also be applied to our media consumption. 'I don't care if it tastes like shit, I just want something to fill up on.'
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
How it all began...
I started college like many others; determined to establish a new identity but looking in the wrong places. I figured that my standing as a business major would afford me some academic respect from my peers who were members of 'soft sciences' or communication/public relations. Looking back, it was incredibly shallow to believe that somehow being a business major would place me above the 'soft majors' and afford me jobs right out of college. I never had ideas of grandeur, I didn't want to own a Fortune 500, but I envisioned a comfortable business with the nuclear family.
Having friends in the business school helped me to justify my academic placement. Being part of the 'business gang' felt empowering. Being collectively frustrated over economics or accounting homework somehow made us feel special, as if being challenged was a measure of the solidarity between business students, similar to law students or med students, living the college dream by having late night study sessions before a weekend of binge drinking.
Sophomore year, the 'business gang' was disbanded. My close friend transferred to 'follow his dream', going to a school that specialized in his area of interest. By second semester of sophomore year, he was gone and I was left with my own desire to transfer to a school that specialized in my area of interest. Of course I was slowly realizing that where as my other business buddies could study very little and maintain great grades, I worked very hard and seemed to just be scraping by. This left me in an anomic state, completely uncertain as to the direction my life should take.
Due to long and extensive core requirements by the university, I found myself in a Sociology 101 course to fulfill a social science credit requirement. The course was taught by a young, charismatic, and unorthodox professor. Of course, a 101 course is supposed to be as all encompassing as possible, often times sacrificing depth for breadth. But he wasn't teaching theory, or statistics, or even imposing his breadth of knowledge upon young and impressionable undergraduates. He was teaching us how to think. Sure, rattling off some statistics, or identifying the norms for a specific demographic makes an individual book smart, but not necessarily (to borrow from C. Wright Mills) Sociologically imaginative.
I felt natural in the following sociology classes that I took. Although my vocabulary and theory came to me in bits in pieces, a majority of it coming in my last three semesters, I realized that I could come up with original concepts and projects, and discovered that I had a keen social eye and an ability to write sufficiently enough to covey the wanderings of my mind in an academic manner. My perspective of society and social interactions earned me the ear of the charismatic professor who helped me to channel and direct my intelligence. He would become my academic adviser when I switched majors during the first semester of my junior year.
With his help, I'd discover the ability for sociology to collage my passions and interests into one academic discipline. As my classes provided me with the vocabulary and theory to sociologically define and legitimate my observations, I found my niche at the intersection of my passion for people with disabilities and my background of social justice and community service. I decided that I would focus my research and hopeful graduate school work on the Sociology of disabilities, which preliminary evidence would suggest is a sparse topic in sociology. My exposure to people with disabilities and their culture is extensive not only because of the disability of a family member, but also due to my, as of summer '08, four years of service at a residential summer camp for children through adults with a wide array of disabilities. These experiences have placed me in a unique situation where I have not only personal, but extensive knowledge of many types of disabilities and disabled individuals.
As I approach the final months of my undergraduate tenure, my graduate school applications are in, and my sociological imagination is working overtime for my 499 Sociological Analysis class. This blog will convey my thoughts as I explore my sociological imagination through the exploration of texts and ethnographic observations. Sometimes I play the devils advocate and this can lead to what some would call an 'elitist' or 'insensitive rich boy' perspective. I can be assured that this is not the case, rather, by examining critically the communities and social structure in which I directly live in I find perspectives that bear some truth, even if these truths can transcend my own justice oriented philosophy.
Having friends in the business school helped me to justify my academic placement. Being part of the 'business gang' felt empowering. Being collectively frustrated over economics or accounting homework somehow made us feel special, as if being challenged was a measure of the solidarity between business students, similar to law students or med students, living the college dream by having late night study sessions before a weekend of binge drinking.
Sophomore year, the 'business gang' was disbanded. My close friend transferred to 'follow his dream', going to a school that specialized in his area of interest. By second semester of sophomore year, he was gone and I was left with my own desire to transfer to a school that specialized in my area of interest. Of course I was slowly realizing that where as my other business buddies could study very little and maintain great grades, I worked very hard and seemed to just be scraping by. This left me in an anomic state, completely uncertain as to the direction my life should take.
Due to long and extensive core requirements by the university, I found myself in a Sociology 101 course to fulfill a social science credit requirement. The course was taught by a young, charismatic, and unorthodox professor. Of course, a 101 course is supposed to be as all encompassing as possible, often times sacrificing depth for breadth. But he wasn't teaching theory, or statistics, or even imposing his breadth of knowledge upon young and impressionable undergraduates. He was teaching us how to think. Sure, rattling off some statistics, or identifying the norms for a specific demographic makes an individual book smart, but not necessarily (to borrow from C. Wright Mills) Sociologically imaginative.
I felt natural in the following sociology classes that I took. Although my vocabulary and theory came to me in bits in pieces, a majority of it coming in my last three semesters, I realized that I could come up with original concepts and projects, and discovered that I had a keen social eye and an ability to write sufficiently enough to covey the wanderings of my mind in an academic manner. My perspective of society and social interactions earned me the ear of the charismatic professor who helped me to channel and direct my intelligence. He would become my academic adviser when I switched majors during the first semester of my junior year.
With his help, I'd discover the ability for sociology to collage my passions and interests into one academic discipline. As my classes provided me with the vocabulary and theory to sociologically define and legitimate my observations, I found my niche at the intersection of my passion for people with disabilities and my background of social justice and community service. I decided that I would focus my research and hopeful graduate school work on the Sociology of disabilities, which preliminary evidence would suggest is a sparse topic in sociology. My exposure to people with disabilities and their culture is extensive not only because of the disability of a family member, but also due to my, as of summer '08, four years of service at a residential summer camp for children through adults with a wide array of disabilities. These experiences have placed me in a unique situation where I have not only personal, but extensive knowledge of many types of disabilities and disabled individuals.
As I approach the final months of my undergraduate tenure, my graduate school applications are in, and my sociological imagination is working overtime for my 499 Sociological Analysis class. This blog will convey my thoughts as I explore my sociological imagination through the exploration of texts and ethnographic observations. Sometimes I play the devils advocate and this can lead to what some would call an 'elitist' or 'insensitive rich boy' perspective. I can be assured that this is not the case, rather, by examining critically the communities and social structure in which I directly live in I find perspectives that bear some truth, even if these truths can transcend my own justice oriented philosophy.
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