Don't Push The Button

Yesterday I drove home from the beach. The waves were weak, even with thunder. And the water was cold like ice, even my board thought so. I thought about it all, as I drove. The music took me deeper, and deeper, and by the time I noticed I was out of gas, it was almost too late.

I pulled off at the nearest exit. I searched until finally, I saw a neon light in the distance. I filled up my tank, and headed back to the highway. All of the sudden, out of nowhere, Vincent appeared in the middle of the street. I slammed on my breaks.

I opened the door and walked towards him, he looked so scared. "Vincent," I called out to him. The lights from my car made the fog appear thicker. I scwinted. "Vincent!" He began to move away from me before darting into the woods. And against my better judgment, I chased after him. I should know better.

After about ten minutes I returned to my car, breathless. I sat alone in my vehicle, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere. And for some reason, unbenownst to me, I felt a flicker of faith. There was nothing else I could do, he would have to find his own way home, he didn't need me. Settled, I returned to the turnpike and continued home.

All of the sudden, it began to pour. It rained so hard, I couldn't see, so I drove blindly into the storm. Because there was no shoulder, I was forced to drive. I put my blinkers on and blasted my windshield wipers. Nothing seemed to help. I began to feel anxious, nerve wracked and scared. After about ten minutes the rain slowed and the sun shinned brightly, I could feel the rainbow behind me.

As I continued to drive I thought about the last hour. The chain of events puzzled me. Before I had too much time to think, I noticed flashing lights in the distance. Several police cars decorated the highway with colorful warning lights. Traffic heading in my direction, west, had come to a complete stop. Dogs were playing with each other on the side of the road. Eastbound was also closed.

I exited my car and walked over to a group of people smoking cigarettes on the hood of a mustang. "Does anyone know what happened", I asked. A girl with dark hair, and black nail polish answered me. "A tractor trailer lost control, rolled over into West bound traffic and exploded."

Worthiness Was Based On Preexisting Religious And Work Related Values That Had Been In Place For Centuries

Katy Perry's new song, "I kissed a girl" is getting a good bit of flack from critics. Both religious leaders and child psychologists have criticized Perry for a host of reasons which include, but are not limited to, encouraging promiscuity and homosexuality. When are the closed minded souls of this country going to learn? I'm not attempting to be rhetorical here (well, maybe), but still, I would like to know how many unintentional teen-pregnancies and STD epidemics it will take before this pompous group of self-righteous thinkers accept that denial, discouragement, and namely abstinence only education DOESN'T WORK.

I'm not going to pummel you with the research (it's very easy to find, (http://www.guttmacher.org), because the evidence is overwhelming, and it strongly supports that talking and teaching about sexuality doesn't encourage sexual experimentation. It merely encourages responsibility and protects individuals from harm. Sexual experimentation is driven by something inevitable, human nature. Frankly, I'm getting a bit tired of society passing judgments and handing out labels.

Not that anyone actually reads my writing, but let's fantasize that I am a famous columnist and you are reading my column in a prestigious paper. How many hateful e-mails would I receive following the print of a piece like this? I imagine most of them would likely use my favorite insults, like slut and whore. Because if I'm an independent thinker and believe that young women should be emotionally free to experiment with their curiosities, obviously I'm a free-willed hooker.

Culture is learned. Every bit of structure within our society is built on a previously planted seed which bolsters what we accept as normal. Even our policies towards poverty relief and pan-handling can be traced to the English Poor Law of 1601, which is very persuasively attached to Protestant ethics which identify the deserving poor from the undeserving poor.

Religion plays a major role in culture norms. Let's return to sexuality. In the 1960's Margaret Mead conducted an ethnographic study of Samoan women, and their acquisition of sexual knowledge. In her ethnography, Mead reports that young adolescent women learn through experimentation. Unfortunately for Mead, between the writing and print of the ethnography, the island was infiltrated by Christian missionaries. Not surprisingly, the women Mead wrote about later recanted their testimonies as storytelling, which was later published by Derek Freeman. How tragic that this once isolated island was tarnished and forever changed by the we-know-better-do-gooders of the west.

I'm not saying that there isn't room to criticize Katy Perry. From the interviews I've seen, I don't buy the sexuality she's selling as genuine. Personally though, I'm not concerned if the song is a gimmick or not. In my opinion, Perry sends a much better message than that being sent by the alternative who is preoccupied with teaching young women to turn their backs on their own curiosities, and rather than explore the unique world around them and find out who they are, to sit tight with their legs crossed and wait for Prince Charming.

And Just Like That, She Was Gone

Sometimes, it becomes painfully obvious when the time has come. I prayed deeply that Libby would go peacefully on her own, but she wouldn't, and so I asked Locke for the heroine. As Hurley said his last words to her, I held her hand and stroked her face. After Hurley left, I put my face close to hers and comforted her with my gaze. I was only sure of our decision after I watched her little soul float away. Her eyes rolled slowly.

Back at the beach, we started to dig. To my surprise, the digging was tough and much more difficult than I had anticipated. The sand was wet and heavy; and rocks, roots, and random Dharma Initiative trinkets that made digging more difficult and even creepy, were plentiful. I wondered why we were doing this, and if maybe we should have listened to Jack and sent the body to the sea. Then I thought about Libby, and remembered that she loved us every bit as much as we loved her. I took comfort in digging for her and knowing that she would be close to me.

I told Jack it was time, and we returned to the Hatch for the body. How quickly the smell of Death fills the air. I wrapped her in my favorite sheet before Jack and I carried her to her final resting place. We placed her in the ground gently, and as we did, tears rolled off my cheeks and on to her stiff corpse. I suppose love never dies.