Raising Hellions to be Respectable

I had to write an essay on a public debate for one of my classes, and I picked the debate over who is responsible for children playing violent video games. I found a lot of information and it reminded me of some stuff in my family, stuff that couldn’t be put in the essay but can make a cameo here.

My siblings and I jokingly tell people that our family motto is “Violence is the Answer to Everything.” Our mother has tried for years to get us to stop saying it because she’s afraid of what people will think of us as a family and her as a parent. But she’s out voted six-to-one, and the motto joke continues.

Anyone who knows our family knows that we are mostly joking when we tell people this. Sure, when we were kids our main source of entertainment was harassing our siblings, our friends, and any other unsuspecting kid who wandered into our yard. And, yes, we still love regaling people with the stories of our childhood exploits of trapping our step-sister in a garbage can or convincing our younger sister to get into the washing machine for a fun ride, but we’re all grown-up now (or at least older) and we haven’t gone off to attack anybody lately.

While we were little, and spent a good chunk of our time terrorizing the neighborhood, our mother still managed to teach us right from wrong. We were allowed to watch television (even the Simpsons) and play video games (I still hold the high score for the first Mario game) and be corrupted by music (our crazy rock’n’roll), but our mom—the rightful ruler of our childish world—always laid done the law. TV was fake. The video games were fake. The music was just obnoxious. And we were never allowed to forget that.

When we were younger, it was a lot easier for children to separate video games from the real world. The games had little or no basis in reality. I wasn’t likely to walk down the street and find a goomba that I needed to jump on to save a princess who was locked away in a castle at the other end of a pipe. Goombas don’t exist, the royal family needs a shrink to save them not me, and Baby Jessica taught us all that pipe jumping is not a good recreational activity.

Games today are more realistic and the violence is more overt than it used to be, and I love them. I understand that parents are worried about their kids playing these games, but there are two really important things that a parent needs to remember: 1) The ultra-violent games (sometimes called killographic) are meant for adults, not children, and 2) a parent needs to do their job right and teach their children not just the difference between right and wrong, but make the kids understand which games they are allowed to play whether they are at home or at a friend’s house.

My mom got all of us to understand the boundaries of acceptable behavior. If she can get the six of us to be responsible for our behavior, anyone can teach their kid’s to. And that’s all of the stuff I couldn’t put into my paper. I’m done now.

The Search for the Super Sentence

“welcome to the wonderful world of girl–

please leave your expectations at the door;

i won’t be meeting them”

In my rhetoric class the other day, our teacher asked us what our favorite sentences were. He got a very underwhelming response. A moment of silence as we quickly tried to remember a sentence, any sentence, that we could answer with. I’ve never really thought about the sentences themselves. Books as a whole are good or bad, sentences are just sentences.

One guy in my class said that–as we are English majors–we love all sentences equally and couldn’t possibly pick just one. This is true for books. For a few minutes of entertainment the next time you’re feeling a little mean, ask an English major what their favorite book is. Then just sit back and watch them freeze as their brain throws book after book at them and they remember how much they love all of them. It’s like when a computer overloads. That’s a question we really hate.

But back to the sentences. All sentences are not created equal. All week, since my teacher asked, I have been noticing sentences. Some of them are really good. Some of them are just terrible. I’ve decided to start a search for the Super Sentence. Maybe this will help me be a better writer, or at least a more aware writer.

Here are some of the Super Sentence Contenders:

1. We don’t know anything until we know everything.

2. Never let a fool kiss you and never let a kiss fool you.

3.Vision is the art of seeing what’s invisible to others.

4. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, shame on you.

5. The talked-about is always the last to hear the talk.

And then, Henry Fielding gives us this description of a character in Joseph Andrews: “We shall handle them first negatively. He was not entirely ignorant; For he could talk a little French, and sing two or three Italian songs. He had lived too much in the world to be bashful, and too much at court to be proud: He seemed not much inclined to Avaice; for he was profuse in his Expenses: Nor had he all the features of prodigality; for he never gave a Schilling…” and it goes on and on.

I have always judged books as either good or bad, but I’ve never really paid attention to the sentences themselves. Maybe this is the literary version of stopping to smell the roses. We should stop to see the sentences. Maybe I’ll be able to find the Super Sentence.

It’s My Life

“welcome to the wonderful world of girl–

please leave your expectations at the door;

i won’t be meeting them”

Greetings! You appear to have stumbled into an alternate world where I am the center of the universe. I think every person should be the center of the world once in a while, though I admit I do abuse the privilege. In my world, everything revolves around me. I think I was born in a selfish phase and have not yet grown out of it.

Well, if you are lost, there’s no need to run right off. I hope you’ll at least sit and stay a spell. If not, watch out for the squirrels on the way out. They’re circling this world, waiting for a lax moment to pounce. They got me once a few years ago.

I was at school and let my guard down. They nailed me with an acorn. It didn’t hit me; it was funnier than that. The acorn hit the walkway right where I was putting my foot down. It rolled, I slipped and slammed my head against the wall I was walking next to. They got me but good and have been waiting for another chance ever since. Crazy squirrels and their crazy acorn throwing.

I hope to see you again and be careful out there!