Casey Anthony: The Trial of a Lifetime

I really didn’t want to write about this trial. I didn’t want to hear anything about it. But as I was sitting in the eye doctor’s office yesterday, waiting for my grandmother, it seemed the whole world could speak of nothing else. The morbid story of a mother who possibly murdered her own baby in a very grotesque manner…of course it would attract all kinds of attention. My twitter feed has been chock full of various reactions of the verdict, most shocked and outraged, the rest exasperated by the media circus.

I think she was guilty, purely on her reaction at the trial. Upon hearing she was not going to be convicted for murder in the 1^st degree, she smiled and visibly relaxed. Her life would not be over. She still had something to live for. Except…she was on trial for the murder of her child, a very young child. And I saw no sign of heartbreak for the fact that her baby’s life was over and she’d been granted another chance. Maybe she was just relieved that she wouldn’t have to carry the conviction of the murder of her daughter on her shoulders anymore. Maybe. After all, who am I to argue with the jury or the judge? But it seems to me like it’s too soon for her to smile and be happy about anything. Her daughter is still dead. Her daughter was still viciously killed. Had that been my mother on trial for the death of me or one of my siblings, not even the verdict of not guilty would have made her smile. She would have been heartbroken. Crushed. A mess on the stand. She could not have endured the pictures of the baby’s corpse.

Remember Chicago? Based on a true story. These things happen. OJ Simpson. See? The justice system isn’t perfect. They could not convict her for lack of evidence, no matter how seemingly incriminating the material they had managed to collect. I’m sure those lawyers, that judge, the jury, and every legal professional in the U.S. is just as infuriated and frustrated as all of those who believe her guilty. But they cannot convict her without undeniable evidence. The system we use to punish the guilty is the same system used to protect the innocent. Sometimes though, those two get confused.

I don’t like all the talk about the mother getting assassinated and such. It’s not for us to punish her. If anyone did murder her they would be stooping to her level. I’m sure she felt justified in her violent actions as well. Murderers often do. She’ll get her punishment in due time. The human mind is a fragile entity and I’m sure her actions will catch up to her, and it will drive her mad, a slow, tormenting punishment she can never escape from. Until then, we must remember to report instances of child abuse and neglect. So there is never a repeat of this again. Listen, look, and love. RIP Caylee Anthony.

Things We Need from a Movie

Over the years I have developed a passion for movies and I’m a sucker for anything with a half decent story line and relatable characters. Of course, I have noticed a trend in the most popular movies. Everyone has that genre that they’re particularly fond of, mine is probably romantic comedy, although I do love a good action flick. With each genre we need to glean a sort of impression in order to truly enjoy the movie.

For horror movies, the story needs to be terrifying and horrific, leaving you afraid to leave even the theater, because that’s why people watch these movies. They need to be frightened in a safe area, but not feel safe. Its all part of the thrill, you see? With action movies, we need to feel impressed. Explosions, fantastic stunts, and a fast paced storyline that keeps us on the edge of our seats until the very end are a must.

Romantic comedies should make us fall in love, laugh, and leave with silly grins that we can’t seem to shake off, just like romantic dramas should make us fall in love, break our hearts, and make us fall in love all over again; and comedies should keep a giggle at the back of your throat, afraid to take a drink of your $4 soda for fear of spewing it all over the person sitting in front of you. And with fantasy and sci-fi movies we should feel mystified and entranced by the strange ideas and creatures shown.

There have been movies that have changed my life, The Little Mermaid taught me to dream big, Moulin Rouge taught me that love is the greatest thing you’ll ever know, and Star Wars taught me that your destiny lies within your hands and not to be afraid of it. These are the movies that left me wanting more at the end, left me thinking about them long after the credits stopped rolling and the screen went black.

And then there are the movies I don’t think about after they end, but which amused me nonetheless in watching them, Clueless, anyone? These movies brought me temporary joy and relief from a busy life with far more downs than ups, but served no greater purpose than eliciting a giggle or a thoughtful “hm”. And that’s alright, because not every movie can be life altering, nor would we want them to be. Far too disruptive.

There are many who complain that the movie industry is losing its artistic capabilities and that they’re pandering to the ignorant masses but movies are first and foremost, entertainment. And we have to remember that sometimes it’s okay to see a movie and just enjoy it for exactly what it is. There will be others that will mean far more to people. Until then, why not enjoy something that just makes you feel good?

The View from My Window on a Thursday Night

A few weeks ago, while I was still in school, I wrote a short piece as a writing exercise. I thought I'd share that for a blog post. :)

College campuses are stereotypically portrayed as social hubs, the genesis of wild, Greek parties and drunken excursions and like quite a few stereotypes, this has a basis in fact. But let me present to you a slightly different view of a college campus at night.

Its about 10:30 p.m. and the sun has been set for a few hours now. It is most definitely nighttime, the witching hour is right around the corner. The street lights illuminate the sidewalks just enough to find your way around campus with an almost eerie, orange glow which casts a strange tint on one's skin when they walk beneath it.

There are three dorm buildings directly outside my window and there are lights on in every building and quite a few rooms. For a party night there seem to be a lot of people staying in. Of course, finals are next week. I see a group of people gather on the porch of one of the dorm buildings and light up their cigarettes in unison. The smoke rises from their heads in curling streams. They kind of look like a hamlet of houses with smoking chimneys from cozy, little fires built within. I wish they wouldn't turn to nicotine for stress relief but its better than drugs and alcohol so everyone lets them be.

Night is the only time you can ever really see how lonely some people are. I see lone figures trudging along the sidewalks, shoulders bent, feet dragging. They look like they are carrying the weight of the world and I can't help but think, 'I know exactly how you feel.'

A car with the bass on its stereo turned up all the way just drove by. I can feel the beat in the base of my stomach. Its a very unsettling feeling and I wonder how they can stand it when it bothers me all the way up on the eighth floor? I assume they're doing it to impress someone but really they're just announcing how obnoxious they are. I mean, at that decibel, is it even music anymore?

Other than that, its a pretty quiet night. The stars twinkle sedately in the sky, the creek has settled into a comfortable rhythm after the run off from all the rain we've had. Its nights like these that bring out the philosopher in me. I can't wait for the sun to rise tomorrow.

Current thoughts about this: My college has announced their plans to ban smoking from their campus starting in July. I seriously doubt that's going to go over well. I mean, a LOT of students smoke. And with the work the professors load us down with can certainly drive one's stress level through the roof. I expect protests and such, or at least many murmured dissenting opinions. As for myself, if they would only ban smoking on the sidewalks to and from class I would be happy. Its hard for me to walk and breathe smoke in from the person's cigarette in front of me and I'm usually wheezing from it when I get to class.Another thought, not really related to college; I wish the American version of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone hadn't changed it to Sorcerer. I love the Philosopher aspect of the creation of the stone. Sorcerer, to me, translates to wizard and the book's full of them. Just saying.

The "Smart People Wear Glasses" Fallacy

I don't know how many times I've heard, "people who wear glasses are nerds", that they're typically the smartest people in school, yada yada yada. I haven't encountered as much of this at college as I did in middle and high school but it's always bothered me. I'm not saying it's a completely obsolete assumption but it is certainly not true of everyone who wears glasses. I've worn them since the fourth grade when my vision started going down hill. The reason? Part genetics, part Toonami (remember Sailor Moon, Tenchi Muyo, Dragon Ball Z?). Not constant studying.

I was a pretty average kid-intelligence wise-and hardly what one would call a nerd. It wasn't until I got my glasses that that stigma was slapped on me. Of course, later I took a great interest in reading and studying and I gladly accept that I am nerd, much better than "dumb blonde", right? I just wish people would think twice before assuming something about someone based on a superficial contraption.

I remember one time in high school, a teacher had put us into groups for an assignment. I was paired into what was arguably the dumbest group of boys in my grade so of course I wound up doing all the work. As they were copying the assignment, word for word, they were giggling Beavis and Butthead style that they would get a good grade because I was so smart. Now they had no way of knowing I was smart. They had never seen my grades and I was very quiet in all my classes. It was my glasses. Unlucky for them, the subject was not my best and I only half understood the assignment, so really I wrote down a bunch of random nonsense. I don't fully remember the grade I got on that assignment but I'm positive it wasn't anything above a C.

My point is, everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, regardless of what they look like or what you may think they're like based on a stereotype and if you depend solely on these assumptions, you could find you are way off base, as the group of boys did when they received their grades.