Jackson’s Blog

                   People think suffering is bad.   In truth, it is, but sometimes people suffer for different reasons.  For instance, the Jews in the Holocaust suffered because the German nation was being mislead by a mentally insecure person( Hitler, for those of you who don’t pay a lot of attention).  The other instance, would be like that of Jesus in the bible when he was crucified to make up for people’s sins.  Sometimes people choose to suffer like he did, but some for different and often sort of weird reasons.  In all, suffering is a weird and painful thing.

                    When the Jews suffered and die during the Holocaust, it wasn’t their choice.  It’s probably the worst kind of suffering some people can go through, being gassed and tortured, etc.   But what makes it worse is that they weren’t given a choice either.  The Germans could have given them a chance to leave of their own power before being sent away, and those who wished to stand and make an example to the world could have stayed.  Instead, they were all rounded up like they were animals and killed, without a choice.  That is really what makes the Holocaust even worst.  The fact that nobody got a choice really hurts. 

                          Sometimes, people choose to suffer for a reason, like Jesus in the Bible, for those of us who are familiar with the story.  If you start from the beginning, and read through, you realize that from the beginning that it was Jesus idea to suffer the way he did.  Then, when his time came to atone for our sins, he could have chosen not to suffer the way he did (bleeding from every pore and then being crucified).  He had every chance to get away from the pain, and he chose to suffer for a good cause.   So, in all, he had a choice, unlike the Jews, and he took the pain.  That’s when suffering may not affect the victim as badly as a victim who it is forced upon.

                        The weird thing about having a choice to suffer, is that some people chose to suffer for bizarre or twisted reasons.  For instance, the Mayans.  They would poke themselves with the spine of a puffer fish in certain places and make themselves bleed, or cut themselves with a knife.   Some of it was religion, some of it, no one really quite why they did it.   But one thing is certain, they had a choice to do it or not.  Another example would be the people known as ‘Emo’s’, or people who cut themselves and like it.  I’ve heard they do it for fun.  I’ve also heard they do it  because they’re depressed.  Either way, I’m not sure why you would cut yourself because of that.  Personally, they’re kind of creepy, but that might just be me.

                          In all, suffering is a bizarre and twisted thing.  SOme people use it to their own selfish needs, and some use it to make a point.  Some suffer with out a choice, some suffer with one.  In all, suffering, and the pain that comes with it are never a good feeling, or a good thing.  We’d be so much better off with out it.

People say that you always will have a conscience, but one might wonder, can you kill your conscience?  I would say yes.  There’s plenty of people through out history who do  terrible things that people wouldn’t normally do.  I think they did it because they didn’t have the little nagging thought at the back of their minds, that maybe what they’re doing is wrong.  Hitler, Saddam Hussein, serial killers, etc. all probably killed their conscience off one way or another. I believe that there are two different types of these conscious-less people, those who are disturbed because of mental  and none physical stress, and those who are disturbed by a physical event.  A conscience affects so many little things, and it’s an interesting and sometimes disturbing concept.

I think that people can kill their conscience.  Just like sticking a knife through it, and it never comes back.  What happens is that they start doing some pretty crazy stuff-being Nazi, accidentally killing someone, etc, and they try to reason with themselves that it’s ok, when it really isn’t.  Then they do it again, because they’re convinced themselves that it was ok, so they don’t see any harm in doing it again, though they might have a small nagging doubt at the back of their head, they might just brush it aside.  Then, without a conscience, they just lose it.  With no conscience to reel you in and tell you whats wrong, you see no wrong because you have no conscience to tell you it’s wrong, so you just repeat it, and repeat it till you either go to jail, kill yourself because you’re crazy, or someone else kills you anyways.  In all, it’s kind of creepy.

I think that Hitler was one of those people who I would say are conscious-less because of mental stress and immorality.  Who wouldn’t be slightly loony in the head after being taught such twisted principles as a child Nazi, and then leading a country into war like that, but killing millions of Jews is a little over kill, even for a crazy guy.  He was kind of  a creepy character if you really think about it.

The other kind of conscience-less people who are a whole lot more common than Hitler, would be those who became conscious-less because of a physical event, mainly serial killers.   They probably started out by accidentally killing somebody, letting guilt get to them, and then convincing themselves that it was OK.  After a while, they’ve convinced themselves that killing is actually fun, and they start on it like on drugs, and then they just can’t stop.  That’s my theory anyways, but it’s still a little creepy.

In all, your conscience is pretty important in the end.  I think that if anyone I know seems to lose their conscience, I would report them to the cops if they did something illegal, but didn’t get caught.   If it wasn’t the case, maybe I’d talk to their parents.  Otherwise, please try to hold on to your conscience!

Sometimes I hear other kids talking about old war veterans and often I hear “They’re just old people.” That irritates me extremely. I have several relatives who are veterans and one of them recently served in Iraq and he is about twenty five. Not all veterans are old. They’re more than “just old people”. They’re people who deserve to be honored because they devoted their physical health, their personal life, and their mental well-being for their country.

First, many veterans have made sacrifices to defend our country or save lives. I wonder if I would ever have the courage to do that. The veterans who have passed away gave their lives to save the lives of others in the ultimate sacrifice. Sadly, we can never fully thank them. Others, who are with us today, have given their limbs or physical health to do the same. My Great Uncle Jack, a World War II Marine, severely injured his leg and back to save a ship when he fell down stairs carrying an artillery shell. He could have protected himself and dropped the shell, but he didn’t and probably saved many lives that day. Today, he is constantly in pain and wears a leg brace. He is an example of the special veterans who deserve to be honored.

In addition to giving their lives and physical health for America and their beliefs, some veterans, when deployed overseas, cannot be at home or with the ones they love. Civil War veterans came home and found everything they owned or cared about gone or destroyed. Veterans who have defended our country knew when they entered combat they risked losing all they cared about.

The most afflicting effect of being a veteran is probably the effect of war on a person’s mental well-being. The terrible images from combat or its aftermath have given veterans nightmares or permanent, unbearable memories. Soldiers entering Nazi Imprisonment camps during World War II saw horrors beyond imagining. We must respect the veterans for what they have seen.

In conclusion, I hear kids refer to veterans as “just old guys”, I should have the courage to stand up and tell them they’re wrong. Veterans of America’s past and present would have had such courage. I respect and honor them for their service and courage in defense of America and the liberty and freedom that it stands for.

If you look back on the world’s history, you’ll notice that a lot of people have spent the history of the world fighting or killing each other in violent conflict, and as history went from the first murder in the bible, to the latest soldiers killed in Iraq, one would notice that we, as a race, seem determined to kill each other in the quickest, most efficient ways.  Why?  Namely we just all plain loath each other, but sometimes we have to fight for a reason.  To protect ourselves or fight for our beliefs.  Often, it is not even necessary, sometimes it is.  I  have found that as I look back on history,  I can see how we are a disgustingly violent and uneducated people.  Let me give you my first views.

The Bible says that the first murder happened when Cain murdered Abel (though some might disagree, namely atheists), as I recall, using a stick as a club.  He killed Abel out of pure jealosy and hate for Abel’s wealth and good fortune.  This first murder probably set off a series of conflicts that now resulted in what we have today.

From a scientist’s or historian’s perspective, we as primitive humans, fought with rocks over hunting grounds or territory like animals.  Eventually, someone invented the axe, and then the spear, both just simple sticks with sharp rocks on the end.  All for killing each other, even though the spear could be used for hunting, and the axe was later found to be good for cutting wood for fire.  In fact, when we discovered fire, things really took a bad twist.  With fire, humans could melt metals and ores and create copper or bronze tools.  Eventually copper or bronze weapons started to appear as well, and we turned to kill each other with these.

As the years passed, the great Empires of the world have always had soldiers who have been equipped with metal weapons, like Empires of those of the Romans and Egyptians.  Both controlled plentiful amounts of base metals and firewood with which to made fires to fuel their forges.  The Egyptians slowly faded, but the Romans fell to a new kind of improved weapon-horses.  People had been riding horses to kill each other for a while, but the Huns perfected the art and destroyed the Romans.

From there, the Renaissance brought firearms which made killing people frighteningly easy.  Over the next few hundred years till about the 1900’s,  we perfected firearms, all in order to kill each other.  Then we started creating machine guns, poison gas, and warplanes.  Eventually we had perfected these too, till we got to where we are now, at hand held machine guns and bombs that could wipe out entire countries in days-all for killing each other.

When I ran through my breif history of the revolution of conflict, I confirmed that the human race hates itself and we are all probably going to kill each other, but you never know.  We get along alittle better nowadays than before, but we still have issues.  Hopefully we can resolve these issues before we get ourselves killed.  Another conclusion that I have come to is that anyone who is paid to work with the military, basically has a job to kill people, but the question would be, are they doing it because they have a choice?

Often people say the world is collapsing, and in truth it is.  When it al finally does come down on us, if it hasn’t already,  a tide of disaster will likely sweep us in a social way, if not physically too.  Often I feel like it has, but when I feel like that all is lost,  I find something I truly beleive in, and make my pillar, so that I can stand above the waves of chaos that surge around me.  In truth, I don’t feel comfortable sharing what I find as my pillar on the internet, as it might come to some critism, but I will encourage you to find your own pillar of beleif, which you could stand upon and be able to keep your head above the dark, chaotic waters below.  I encourage you to find a beleif, a loyalty so strong that you could never, ever break it down.  If you could not willingly take down, then neither shall the waves of choas, of the socail muck that plagues the world today.

It will take great amounts of mental will to stand upon your pillar, but if your pillar is strong, and your faith sturdy, then you shall always stay above the waves of choas.  Do not let others bring you down to their level for even a slpit second, because as soon as you are in the water, it will be a difficult task to get out.  Don’t ever even dare to think for a moment that one peek, or just on dip into the socail muck below will be alright, because it won’t.  If you come down even once, thern all is lost.

I can not define for you what the waves of choas are, or what the socail muck is, but I will encourage you to stick your haed out above it, and put yourself on your own personal pillar, and allow yourself to rise above the waves, and theb look down, and see what you once were, and see what you once did.  I will encourage you to get a little better each day, and I promise you, that there are certain benefits from not chosing to abide in the chaos and filth.  For some, chosing not to smoke would be a start, and it would grant them long life.  Or chosing not to curse, perhaps you would have cleaner language iwth higher standards, or more freinds that you did not have before because your language scared them away.  So once again, I will repeat, once again, build your own pillar to satnd upon, and stay above the filth and the waves of choas, and build upon that pillar, and maybe one day, one day you will endup with a palace.

As many people have stated, its hard times now.  The world is teetering on disaster in some places.  The markets about to crash.  We can hardly name a kid without disrupting some kind of law.  People get arrested for naming teddy bears Mohammad.  I’d say these are hard times.

Really at the bottom of it all is the world’s youth.  We’re influenced by what we see and hear from our elders, and act accordingly.  As you would expect, a good deal of kids have badly warped minds due to this sort of influence.  They tend to pick on people who they deem lesser than themselves, or place themselves in high places that they don’t deserve.  The small handfulls of kids that remain undamaged by outer events or other forces, seem to always come under critism from their peers because of what they do and how they are, is actually right, and others are wrong.  Sometimes, over life, kids fall from the path that remains safe and secure from outside influences, while others decide it isn’t the life for them.  Often though, it is because they ccan’t take the prewwure an longer.

Sometimes I feel like only me and a handfull of my freinds and my whole family walk along this straight and narrow path that  seems to be so hard to find.  Often  I feel like other people despise me because I do what is right, and lookdown in disgust on what is wrong, like looking down on a dead rat.  Sometimes, i feel like the straight and narrow path is disappearing, running away from me, but I run after it, and catch every time.  Sometimes life is hard with ups and downs, twists and turns, but I must encuorage anyone who reads this to see if they can find that straight and narrow path, even if it requires leaving a lot behind you to find the good ahead.

This year, my scout troop and I went to scout camp at camp Royaneh (I think I spelled that right-it’s a weird name), and it turned out that it was a very competitive camp. There were all sorts of competitions after dinner, starting Wednesday. The first few competitions that were part of a decathlon, we didn’t do very well. But on the last event of the decathlon, a relay race obstacle course, we won with a picture perfect finish.

We had to run in between a whole bunch of barrels, and then circle around a cone about ten times, and then run through some tires, and then run around some more cones. First went a first year scout, and he fell behind a little bit. Then, I went, and managed to pass up the other team’s racer. But last, was our smallest scout, running against this massive sixteen year old, who was probably twice his height. HE managed to stay in front of him, barely, but he did it, the whole time, and threw me a cone that we had to dunk into a barrel at the end of the race, and I slammed it into the barrel just before the other team did, and won.  WE all felt proud of ourselves, and I went to bed feeling like I had accomplished something.

The second winning stroke we had was in the tug of war competition, that wasn’t part of the decathlon. Only three other teams showed up, and my team was made of the strongest kids in our camp, which was a very impressive team, including me (I was the youngest, the rest were high schoolers). We beat all other teams with ease, and then came the championship round. The other team didn’t look that strong, but they definitely held a very large weight advantage over us (a very, very large weight advantage, by at least a hundred pounds). He started out strong, but then were slowly dragged back towards the other team’s winning point. Just as we were about to lose, I yelled “Kapo Pango!” a phrase a war chant that we used as a troop cheer, which originated in the Pacific somewhere. When I yelled that, my team went berserk. We dragged the opposition forward so fast, most of them fell down, and we pulled them across our winning point, and won!  I wasn’t incredibly surprised by this win, because we have some really strong kids in our scout troop, but I still felt like we had worked together to voer come an obstac;e, so once again, I was proud and happy.

Then, for me came two more wins. The first, was in the Scoutmaster and Scout Tomahawk throwing competition. My dad and I entered as a duo, as we were the best in our troop, and had been practicing all week. I was trying to get an award, which I unfortunately didn’t get. Anyways, out of ten throws, I scored three hits, and my dad scored the same for a total six out of twenty. The next morning, we found out that we had won, and the nearest score was two. That made me feel really good, because I hadn’t expected to win, but I had.  It also made me feel good because my ad and I had worked together to acheice a goal.  We silently celebrated in our minds that day.  But, I concluded later, that tomahawk throwing is part luck, part skill.

My second win, was in the scoutmaster and scout rifle shooting completion. My scores this time were not totaled with my scoutmaster, Brother Kipping, which is a good thing, because he landed about two shots out thirteen in the target’s outer ring. I, on the other hand, landed most of my shots within the first two rings, with a few wild shots that landed mostly within the black dot we were shooting at. I wasn’t sure I had won, because that wasn’t my best shooting ever, but as I found out the next day, I had won, and beat several other troops in the competition , with a score of 87 or something around that (looking back on it, I wasn’t very happy with it, but it won, so I’m okay with that now).  Though it sounds like I was sort of O.K. with it, sort of not, I really have begun to feel good about it.  It sort of told me (in my warped way of understanding), sort of proved  to myself that I actually had some skill with the rifle.  I’d heard that before, but never had thought it was true because I really don’t know very many good marksmen, though most of my scout troop is itno targe sports like archery or airsof guns.

In all, my troop had won most of the individual, team, or pair competitions in the whole camp, and we felt very proud of ourselves, but did not brag. It was the best winning streak I’d ever had!

My family has a kind of  interesting history.  On my mom’s side, he were typically framers from Holland and North Western Europe, and came over with the pilgrims on the Mayflower.  Then we came across the plains with the pioneers, and assisted in the rescue of a handcart company.

On my dad’s side, we came over from Scotland, and did some pretty normal stuff, except that the men on that side of the family fought in the Revolutionary War, the Civil war, World War 2, and the Iraq war, and soon the Afghanistan war.  If we follow our time line way back, it turns out that we could be related to Richard the Lionhearted!

So, like I said, it’s not a lot to look at, just a few words on a blog.

The book Lamplighter by D.M. Cornish is a sequel to The Monsterblood Tattoo, and follows its prequel extremely well. The author does a good job of introducing or reintroducing characters, and all her characters are colorful, and each has his or her own background or story. The book, is about a boy called Rossumund, who lives in a land called the Half Continent, which is ruled by several Eighteenth century style kingdoms, that have an addition of bizarre magical practices. Rossumund is training to become a Lamplighter, a kind of border patrol that lights street lamps during the night. In a bizarre twist of events, he is sent to the most remote and dangerous outpost before his training is complete. The book is really good, and also has a detailed glossary if any of the words in it confuse you. I would not recommend this book for squeamish readers.

My dad is by far the best dad ever.  He has a really good temper, and does all sorts of things with me.  We go camping whole bunch, and sometimes go places with my scout troop.  We once won a tomahawk throwing competition at a scout camp, and my dad nearly won the scoutmaster dance off.  He got second (the guy who won sprained his ankle).  My dad also supports me in all my after school activities like soccer and track, and likes to see me play and win.  He is always willing to give good advice, and is really smart (literally.  Hes a statitician). 

               He’s also really good with tools, and has completed all sorts of hard projects by himself at home.  He’s installed our microwave, TV, I think he’s installed most of our lights, the granite fireplace, remodeled all the bathrooms, built a five foot tall wall in the backyard, and relandscaped it and put in the lawn in the package.  I think he may have also remodeled the kitchen, and at least put in all the wash boards in the house and painted the living room.  He also saved the cat when he got stuck in the ventilation pipes in the attic.  My dad is about forty three, but when he was forty one, he did the Halfdome hike with me, and made it.  That’s actually really good for him, because then he was forty one, and spends a good deall of his time in an offce, even though he’s really strong.  He tends to eat out a lot too, which is fine with me, but annoys my mom incredibly (actually, one time we were driving back from an extremely dirty camping trip, and he wanted to go into a fancy buffet on Easter Sunday).  I know a lot of people think their dad is the best, but my dad’s the best because he’s my dad.