Weeding Out The Truth

Wednesday night I was treated to a visit from my friend Howard. I say treated because I consider him a kindred intellect (he's affectionately known as "Dr." as I am likewise known as "Professor"). During the course of our chat, we came to the topic of Marijuana.

It was something I thought we would only touch on, but it turned into a bit of a discussion. Howard stated that he could not understand why people would smoke Marijuana. I replied that people do it because of how it makes them feel- weightless, calm, prone to laugh, docile, numb, etc.
"But," he said "it kills brain cells."

I responded that something like that would only happen from constant, long term exposure-i.e., being a 'pot head'. But soon I would discover that is not true at all.

The next day, after work I started to research just how much you would have to smoke and how long it takes people who smoke to begin to suffer brain damage. The answer I found was not what I heard from teachers and peers.

None of the recent tests used to show brain damage in humans have found that Marijuana is harmful to brain cells or brain chemistry. So why do people believe it does? I found two reasons.

The 1982 Journal of Pharmacology contains an article titled “Remote Memory During Marijuana Intoxication." It states that "Marijuana produces immediate, temporary changes in thoughts, perceptions, and information processing." Because people that smoke 'weed' are subject to these effects, the perception is that they are...well...stupid. For some they appear slow in thought, perceiving events in delay, and being confused by something like a simple TV program.

Funny Example: I've heard tell of a couple of girls who smoked weed one night and popped in a DVD to watch a movie. After seeing what appeared to be the same images over and over, they were confused about why the films plot points seemed to repeat. After some time, one of them realized the problem. *They had only been watching the DVD menu.*

Like the article on memory states, the changes in thought are immediate, but also temporary. They only last for the length of intoxication. Know people who seem like they're always affected?? Its probably because they're always smoking!

Weed is not killing their brain cells, though they may be doing that themselves. There is a practice among some smokers of holding their breath after inhaling. Its common knowledge that holding your breath for too long cuts off Oxygen to the brain. "And what do brain cells need class?"

OXYGEN!

"Right!" Holding your breath for too long can cause brain damage. It is also a pointless practice since THC, the chemical in Marijuana that gets one 'high' starts affecting the brain as soon as it hits the lungs.

But that is just one reason people think Marijuana kills brain cells. Another is because of a speculative study done over 25 years ago that has, to this day, never been substantiated by any other(+). This involved Rhesus monkeys who were subjected to high concentrations of Marijuana for an extended period of time, more than an average human ever would.

The experiment was government sponsored and most likely carried out in a way to produce results to support Marijuana criminalization. And criminalization is ultimately why weed is 'bad.'

Because of its illegality, we associate weed with being something more negative than what is legal. Cigarettes are proven to be packed with poisons and highly addictive because of nicotine. Weed? Neither poisonous or addictive. Most Marijuana smokers do so occasionally, causing 'minor' irritation to their lungs.

We have virtually the same effects on our body breathing in emissions from vehicles and factories. Cigarettes and other drugs (yes, I'm calling cigarettes drugs) have no positive effects on humans. Marijuana, on the other hand, not only doesnt kill brain cells but is proven to stimulate the growth of brain cells in certain regions of the brain http://www.druglibrary.org/schaffer/hemp/BRAIN.HTM

While this post may seem like a long winded way of convincing people why they should smoke weed, it is-in fact- not. I am not encouraging anyone to smoke. Anything! I am, however, encouraging people to be knowledgeable about facts and the science of what is around us.

People can and will tell you anything. The government especially. (Don't even get me STARTED on gay-marriage!) Remember when it was said that because of skin color blacks were inferior, and that because of skull shape some people were smarter? That women were not as smart as men, and that crack babies existed?

Most reading this are not old enough to recall, but Im sure we all know how it was commonly thought that you could get HIV/AIDS from kissing, or sweat. Miseducation stretches throughout history, and the miseducation becomes mythology and fear tactics in examples like "Masturbation causes blindness" or "Black men want to rape white women."

I admonish you, dont believe everything you hear, or read. Research, and cross reference. Do not only be taught. Learn for yourself. The less you do, the more the truth goes up in smoke.

(+)“Cannabis Sativa: Effects on Brain Function and Ultrastructure in Rhesus Monkeys.” R. G. Heath Biological Psychiatry 15 (1980)

No Doubt About It

Saturday night. As my friend Jessica and I walked through one of the many gravel lots of the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater in Charlotte, we could here in the distance a soaring chorus.
*Whoaaa, I never meant to braaag, but I got him where I want him nooow*

It was the sound of Paramore on the stage, singing there hit "Misery Business." It was only a short time before we were in view of the stage, and the hundreds of people gathered before it. Jumping, dancing, and singing along.

You'd think they were the main act!

Though they weren't, they were no less energized. Hayley, the lead singer, sounds remarkably like she does on CD (difficult to do live). And naturally, the rest of the band...played their part ;)

But when they're time on stage had ended, and they had properly hyped up the crowd, it was time for what we'd all really been waiting for.

The lights went down and the screams went up. There, on a screen on stage, the silhouettes of the band members appeared one by one. Last of them all, Gwen Stefani. The crowd went...well... b-a-n-a-n-a-s!

When the screen lifted, we were treated to "Spiderwebs," a single from their third, and possibly most popular, album "Tragic Kingdom."

When the song began I was instantly back in 1995, No Doubt being a favorite band of mine for years. "Spiderwebs" was the first song I ever heard from the group, so it was really quite poetic for me.

Over the next two hours, we were treated to hit after hit from the bands stellar decade plus career. "Dont Speak," "Simple Kind of Life," and a rendition of "Just a Girl" in which all of the guys in the audience were asked to sing aloud. "Can we do that here in North Carolina?" Gwen asked, tauntingly. While the concert was a raucous walk down memory lane, it was also a look to the future.

Not just because of the space age set, or the band members modernist, monochromatic wardrobe. The band is reportedly coming out with a new album in 2010, and this tour is really getting people worked up about it. Some people say they did their best work in the 90's. Others think since they recorded their dance-hall inspired "Rock Steady" in Jamaica, they haven't been better. Im sure all will agree, whatever comes next, it will definitely be worth checking out. Critiques may question weather the group can turn out another album with the same punch as their firsts, and the same groove as their most recent. I, for one, have no doubt.

"EVEN"

Sun, bright shining,
Giving relief from a from a freezing building.
Who thought the wide open could be so warm?
A space where no one is.
To be warm and alone feels like a contradiction.

But I am not alone.

Strong flowers, full blooming, giving off intoxicating aromas.
Their sweetness alone is heaven,
But it is mixed with something.
Smoke?
Yes...

But there is no alarm to this scent. No danger. No cigarette even.
No.
This smell is piped tobacco. This smell is sweet like the flowers.
This smell is a memory.

This pipe, wherever it might be, is a funeral pyre.
The plants mourn their fellow.
Their tears...
Perfume.

A lightning strike in distant past.
A fire ignites and billowing clouds follow.
Nothing new under the sun.

Even then- heat.
Even then- fire.
Even now we need to breathe.
Even now we breathe in smoke.

--Alva Jones Jr.

Reel Advice

Summer is here once again and that of course means summer blockbusters. The casual movie goer has plenty to choose from, but it is the fan-boy(and girl) who has something to go crazy over. This summer audiences will get to see two very popular novels turned into films (Angels and Demons, Harry Potter) and one wildly successful children's book(Where the Wild Things Are). Not to mention seeing some of television and films favorite characters return in J.J. Abrams STAR TREK, and a hilarious looking send up of the 70's classic Land of the Lost, starring Will Ferrel.

When I look at the next few months coming attractions, two words come to mind.
High Expectations.

It's true. In the past I was a bit of a purist. Especially with comic book franchises. For me they have a rich, complex history which must be respected. A few years ago, any deviation would have been complete and utter disrespect to that history. Having Storm lose her African accent felt like having a part of someone I had known for years changed in an instant.

And that is just a minor alteration. In some films, entire back-stories have been changed, or, totally fabricated. But in some instances, these new elements have enhanced film versions. Batman Begins is a good example. The fresh take on Batman's origin breathed life into a dead franchise.

After reading Watchmen and watching the movie, I saw how boring a direct adaptation can be. All the characters were there, the same events, the same costumes...even the same dialogue!

There was nothing new or unexpected. No creativity. No imagination. No reason to watch if you've already read. It was faithful to a fault.

That's what I liked about 'X-Men Origins: Wolverine'. This film has gotten less than favorable reviews from fans of the comic and television series. But its mostly thanks to the common argument- "It's not like the book." Ive come to the realization, its not supposed to be. Having read "Origin", the comic that details Wolverine's beginnings, I would have been bored to tears with a shot-by-shot, Watchmen-like, treatment.

'Origins' does just what its supposed to and takes a well known character and fleshes him out with a compelling back story. A story full of tragedy, hefted up to a near Shakespearean level by the romance in the film, as well as a few twists. Twists I did not see coming because the film maker, Gavin Hood, deigned to do something different. And I thank him

When I watched with my family opening weekend, we were blown away, seeing some puzzle pieces fall into place as well as being surprised. Sometimes on the edge of our seat, sometimes clutching ourselves, sometimes each other, barely even wanting to blink at some parts (see fight scene toward the end). It was a complete movie experience.

So if something you've read or known in a different form is being shown in a theater near you, take some time before you go, if you go, to leave your version of it behind before you watch. I did with Wolverine. And despite what people are saying, I still recommend it...claws and all.

TEARS. RUNNY NOSE. MOUTH HANGING OPEN. HEART...BROKEN

That describes me at the end of The Wrestler. The film, staring Mickey Rourke(Body Heat, Sin City) deals with the life of a theatrical wrestler who knew his greatest glory in the 1980's and is now living out his life in present day New Jersey in much less than splendor.

The wrestler in question, Randy "The Ram" Robinson begins the film being locked out of his trailer and being reduced to sleeping in his van until he can get money for rent. Its a long fall for a guy who had a video game made with him as a main character.

This man was famous. He was big. Now, he plays that video game on what appears to be the first Nintendo ever made with a young boy who seems to have more important things to do than Robinson does.

But Robinson does have important things to do. He has to get his entire life sorted out. He needs to sort out his love life with the stripper, Cassidy (Marisa Tomei), fix his damaged, threadbare relationship with his daughter, Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood), and retire from wrestling in order to regain his health.

Despite a healthy dose of humor, the film is hard to watch. Its sad and its violent. But out of the aspects of the film that make it not only bearable but actually uplifting is that Robinson does sort it all out. But its not by falling in love, or mending the wounds he's caused his daughter. Robinson sorts it out by realizing just what his whole life really is. Its wrestling.

After taking a job in a grocery store, Robinson assumes an accidental "Clark Kent" persona. Because of a jerk boss he is forced to wear a nametag with states 'Robin.' He wears a hair net and jokes with the customers. You wouldnt assume he is the man who sustains body slams and barbed wire by night. He's more lamb than "Ram."

And after trying life a different way-reaching out and attempting to foster a relationship with Stephanie and Cassidy, quitting wrestling- he goes back to what he knows. He turns his ear to the ones who were always there and listens to them.

You see, although his fame dwindled, his popularity never did. He's still recognized and lauded for his talent by people in and outside of the profession. He has fans all over the place. People who havent forgotten who he was, and who still believe he is that person.

By the end of the movie he's not making decisions for himself any more. His life doesnt belong to him. It never did. The life that he had, at the height of his success, belonged to the fans. And everytime he steps into the ring, its theirs again. Thats the only life worth living for him. And thats the life he chooses.

The film is gritty and ruff. Its real. An effect created by the sprinking of non-actors who appear in the film. Some, average people with small speaking parts. Many others wrestlers themselves who's "stage" names scroll across the screen during the credits.

In places I was reminded of the character Budd from Kill Bill vol.2, destitute and alone, with nothing but a shotgun and a country song as company. But there is nowhere near the amount of sympathy present for that character as there is for Robinson. Budd is so full of hate, so villainous you feel he deserves his place alone in the desert.

Though Robinson is no saint, you want his life to work. You want to stand in the thearter and cheer him on. Strangely you become one of his ever present fans. You keep him alive, all the way to the end.

I Was There

I was recently blessed with the opportunity to travel to DC with friends to witness the inauguration of Barak Obama as President of the United States of America.

The chance just fell in my lap the Saturday before it was to take place thanks to my friend Ke' Shawn, and I moved Heaven and earth to make sure I would be able to attend. With everything paid for I simply needed to clear it with my parents, my professors, and my place of employment.

It was an easy enough sell for all three, understanding this as a unique moment in history. With that taken care of, we were on our way that Monday night and that morning we were there with the throngs of people in Washington, DC, all ready to see and experience this unprecedented event.

By tram we made our way to the Mall to meet the day with millions of our fellow countrymen. It was as cold as ice with barely any room to move but at one moment, a current surged through the crowd and all discomfort was forgotten.

There were times leading up to that moment -favored dignitaries being announced and taking their seats (Jimmy Carter, Colon Powell, etc.)- which hinted at feelings of warmth. But at 12noon, Barak Obama said "So help me God," and suddenly the 20th of January became the hottest day in July.

I could scarcely take it in. I stood, grinning like a child, wholly rapt in the moment. I felt like crying, but I laughed aloud instead, gladdened more than moved. Besides, that warmth was only a feeling and not a truth. We were still basically on the surface of Pluto and, my tear ducts having frozen, I could produce no tears.

We stood and listened to his speech. And I felt a great connection to those millions there who had gathered there that day. And to those across the country who were watching on TV. To those who viewed it in other countries, and even those who listened on the radio.

When I think about it I am reminded of a revelation I had one day driving back to school from my home town. I was listening to a performance of "My Man's Gone Now" from Porgy and Bess on NPR. It was a live performance and the woman's voice reminded me of a soprano I had heard in a performance at the War Memorial Auditorium a year before with my friend Jameel.

When the performance was over, the applause began and ended and the radio personality announced that the song was performed by a woman who won an award from UNC-G's School of Music. I sat for a moment and remembered that the woman who sang at War Memorial won a similar award. In fact, it was the same award. It was the same woman. The same performance. It had been recorded and rebroadcast on the radio.

When I realized this, I thought back to the applause and knew that I was apart of that sound. Some of those claps and cheers were mine. I was there. It is such an interesting, complicated feeling. You know you are you, an individual. But in an instance such as that, you are lost, among a sea of people, of sound.

But like the great and terrible moments in our recent history, since the advent television and radio, you are-in a way- preserved along with that moment. From those poor people who's screams are audible in the background as the newscaster describes the tragedy of the Hindenburg to the grateful millions who's cheers filled the Mall on Washington that day- we are the ones who can say "I was there." Whether like a burden or a badge, we carry it.

I am one of the grateful millions. One who can utter that phrase for all the years of my life. One who can say "When History called the role, I was there to answer back 'Present'."

Gran Torino- A Picture of a People

Gun toting, teeth grinding, epithet spewing, septuagenarian. This is the main character, Walter Kowalski, in Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino.

The film, one of this years Oscar contenders, finds Eastwood's Kowalski- a taciturn World War II veteran- living in a neighborhood now populated with those he once only saw as war-time enemies.

The power of this film comes partly from Eastwood's now typical performance, that of the grizzled, growling 'man with a problem' who's going to 'fix it.' In 2004 his 'problem' was Maggie Fitzgerald, the paralyzed boxer of Million Dollar Baby. This year, its a violent Hmong gang that has terrorized his neigbors Thao and Sue, whom he befriends during the course of the film.

The other part of Torino's power owes itself to the ever present racial slurs Kowalski and others let loose. Some might make you squirm while others could cause you to snicker or laugh out loud. Whether you're squirming or squeeling, you must take the time to stop and think about the material that is presented. I was able to find quite a few lessons in this story. A story which, in truth, sounds impossible at first.

Walter Kowalski hates foreigners (Koreans especially) but they're his neighbors and he ends up becoming friends with them?

That extreme oversimplification of the plot gives it an almost Disney-like 'cheese' factor. But I assure you, this is no Disney picture. And while at first the premise seems unbelievable, the films pacing makes sure no major character developments occur too quicky or, quite possibly, at all.

Torino does a good job of informing viewers about its supporting cast, the Hmong- people from different parts of Laos, Thailand and China who came to America after being targeted and killed for fighting alongside the U.S. in Vietnam. This is a culture and a history I knew nothing about, despite going to school and working with Hmong people. I was happy to be enlightened.

Throughout Torino, we find Kowalski grumbling something or other. One scene shows him chiding Thao about the neighbors lack of curb appeal. Kowalski, the 'American,' is a man concerned about appearances. His grass always cut, his car washed and waxed, and his flag-our flag- always waving. Meanwhile, he has virtually no relationship with his sons, failing health, and guilt so burdensome he can find only one relief. His neighbors, on the other hand, may have shabby facades, but inside those houses are close knit families with strong ties to their heritage.

The trailer for the film calls it "prime, vintage Eastwood." That's an easy critique considering some of the scenes look like they were filmed with 'Dirty Harry 6" in mind. Instead, I say that this is prime, vintage America. The America that, despite its sublime curb appeal, put its racism in the front yard (right beside the Gardenias) and held so many problems inside.

Kowalski is a man out of place and out of touch with the larger world around him. Perhaps like last years Academy Award winner for Best Picture, this film would be called No Country for Old Men, that is, if it did not display some hope that there is a place in the present for those who suffered through the history many of us only read about. The history that made them bitter and hateful. The history that made them 'American.'