Statement of Purpose

As part of the application process for graduate school I was asked to write a very brief (500 words) statement of purpose. I wrote as honestly as I could and I figured I'd share.

It took a few years of experimentation and failure, but by the end of my first course in ethical theory I understood what passion and purpose were. My passion was philosophy and my purpose was to learn how to think. I realized that I should not attend college merely to satisfy the expectations of my family, my community or myself. There were ideas out there I could connect with; ideas that were not easily defined or categorized as good or bad; correct or incorrect. The black and white academic world that I knew with its sharp corners and comfortable separated spaces was shattered. I was allowed and even encouraged to think for myself. I was taught that my view mattered as long as it was based on reason and supported by logical argument.
I made my decision and declared philosophy as my major. It was not always an easy decision to explain to people outside of my small academic bubble. College is widely viewed as a necessary step on your journey to a high paying job, professional success and financial stability. This was not my view, it still isn’t. I understood, even then, that a bachelor’s degree in philosophy was not a money maker however I was compelled to follow my passion. I was confident that the rest would fall into place.
I graduated in December of 2006 and was confronted with the consequences of my decision. I watched friends with accounting and finance degrees climb corporate ladders. I had worked my way through school in sales and this is where I remained. I was unfulfilled and frustrated yet I knew that had I chose an accounting or finance degree I would not be happy. I was one of the only people I knew who could honestly say he used his bachelor’s degree every day of his life.
I made another decision. I did not want to be one of the people who settled for a life they did not choose. I decided I wanted to help others have the same academic epiphany I had. I decided I wanted to teach at the collegiate level.
I have experienced how difficult and important our college years are and I want to teach students that it is okay to find and follow their own passions.
The Master of Arts in Humanities external program will allow me to follow my own passion for philosophy and history while giving me the proper knowledge and credentials to teach at the community college level. I am very excited for the opportunity to both learn and to share what I have learned with students who are beginning to seek their own paths.

I sincerely thank you for considering my application.

Revolution is a Lost word.

This is a piece I found recently while cleaning up. I believe it was written around election time. It seems politics frustrate me!

Revolution is a Lost Word

Revolution is a lost word, a lost thought; a forgotten action long since stricken from our tongues.

Our blades have dulled; our venom has been diluted by inaction and indifference. What do we care of those outside our boxes? We sit entertained as our minds melt and our passions wane.

Freedom, honor, respect, these words have evolved into catch phrases; relics worn for show like medals.

We graze in our field, chewing, always chewing; unaware of the fences that restrict us, indifferent to our domestication.

Consume! Consume you beasts! Make sure your masters are as fat as you! How can the show continue without you? You must play your part, oblivious. Let them create your contentment; they will dull you like your blades and dilute you like your poisons. You’ve boxed up your weapons and now you pay them for storage.

Believe what they tell you and think of nothing else. They offer you both options. Choose the team you root for, who cares? They own them both. The game is fixed.

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain; there are no strings, no puppets. You are free to do as you choose as long as they approve.

Stealing Christmas (from Christ) part 2

Stealing Christmas (from Christ) Part 2

Or: Christless Christmas Begins

Christmas is no longer (exclusively) a Christian holiday. There I’ve said it. The elephant in the room has a name tag. This is an obvious observation; one that any of us could verify at any time, in any mall in the western world.

There exists a completely separate secular Christmas and it’s popular, I mean really popular. Every year, the Santa worshipers increase their lead over team virgin birthday. This majority is quiet, filled with people either unaware or unwilling to admit their own allegiance.

Take a moment to think about your Christmas; is it more Kringle or Christ? Look around your home and take inventory of your Santas and your snowmen. How many baby Jesus decorations did you find? One? In your nativity scene, right?

Christmas was once based on Christ but many of us don’t celebrate that Christmas anymore. We pretend it isn’t true. We trim our trees and sing our songs and light candles on Christmas Eve yet we always feel like we’re crashing the party. We‘ve been raised to believe that Christmas is for Christians; but why? Who says so?

I want Christmas too!

I love Christmas. It’s my favorite time each year. I love the lights, I love finding the perfect tree, I love listening to Christmas carols and eating my Mother’s peanut butter fudge[i]. I savor the merriness that arises in people for those few precious weeks after Thanksgiving. People become almost tolerable.

Christmas reflects my childhood and rekindles in me the last handful of traditions I’ve maintained. I clutch them tightly. Every December my eyes grow wide looking at lights. I listen to Frank Sinatra and Vince Guaraldia, Nat King Cole and Burl Ives. I spend fifteen minutes testing branches for an ornament I’ve had over twenty years. In a mind as muddled as mine these memories are important. Christmas is important. Christmas means something to me…

But,

I am not a Christian. I played the role for many years[ii] , but it never agreed with me. I do know a lot about the baby Jesus and his virgin birth; his manger and his wise men, his kings and especially his giant star.

I went to high school in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. They know all about giant stars[iii].

So where does that leave me?

I am not a Christian and I love Christmas.

I am not a Christian and I love Christmas. It feels good to say that.

I feel less like a mouse stealing Christmas crumbs.

Raise your hands. Are there others like me? Are you on your tippie-toes in the back of the room, trying desperately to join in all the reindeer games? Has your enjoyment of Christmas been hampered by your lack of Christ?

No more! Let the Christians keep their Christmas (as if they need my permission). This year I’m proclaiming my own, Christless Christmas.

A non Christian Christmas; the oxymoron is delightful.

There isn’t much to change. I mean what the hell do reindeer, elves and snowmen have to do with the birth of the Messiah anyway? Christless Christmas is already here. All I have to do is advertise!

This year, if you are not a Christian and you love Christmas; stand proud! Enjoy your Christmas. Celebrate what it means to you. This year, stop feeling like an intruder in your own traditions. Hang your stockings, bake your cookies and wish everyone you know a Merry Christless Christmas!

---

[i] I’m fat, just in case you didn’t read Stealing Christmas (from Christ) part 1

[ii] I attended Sunday school for years as a child, I even sang in a church choir. This was followed by four years in a Catholic high school and eleven years of collegiate philosophy classes such as Comparative/ world religions and Philosophy of Religion.

[iii] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bethlehem,_Pennsylvania#Christmas_star

Stealing Christmas (from Christ) Part 1

Stealing Christmas (from Christ) Part 1

or Rise of the Christmas Heathens

T’was a few weeks before Christmas when I realized the heist

The day had been stolen; it was no longer for Christ

There were stockings and presents and a big shiny tree

Some cookies and candy which were sucked down with glee [1]

A fat man named Santa who flew in a sleigh

Had bribed all the children and swept Jesus away

No crosses at Christmas but how could this be?

T’was all fine and dandy for a heathen like me.

The Godless took Christmas, We retrieved it in fact

They stole it from heathens, and we wanted it back

The pagans had danced at this time of year

They sang ‘round their fires; they drank some dark beer

The Yuletide’s been merry for quite a long time

A long time before this particular crime

No churches or mangers; not even a star

Are needed this Christmas, just seats at the bar

The heist was successful; Christmas heathens unite

A Christless Christmas to all, and to all a drunk night

- K. Michael Beers

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[1] I’m what you would call portly or robust. As such I enjoy the sweets.

Honeymoon in Italy

My wife and I went to Italy on our honeymoon. When we returned she created one of those photo books online. Once she finished most of the grunt work she asked me to write an introduction for the front. This is what I wrote:

Honeymoon in Italy

A few hours earlier we left Rome; a city haunted by memories and history. The Coliseum, the Pantheon, The House of Caesar Augustus; these things previously existed as legend but were made real. They had been seen, touched, inhaled and admired.
The last few days had touched us. We had walked tree lined Italian streets. Each day we stopped to enjoy a new bottle of wine at another perfect sidewalk Café. Tiny bowls of snacks and bottles of Prosecco became our companions. It was our honeymoon and we enjoyed each other.
We reflected on these things as our driver teetered precariously on the cliffs; winding through streets which looked too narrow for a single car, let alone the truck passing us and thirty seven scooters which buzzed around our car like flies. Cameras in hand, we tried to digest the view, it was stunning on all sides: from passing Mt. Vesuvius to rounding the corner and….
There she was: our golden dome, our town, our love, our Positano. She balanced on the cliffs. No, she nestled in the cliffs, she was a part of the cliffs and for a time we were a part of her.
A canopy of flowers hung lackadaisically over its wooden frame, fumigating the walk with romance. The Hotel Buca di Bacco; our home. Our balcony gave us lasting memories of sun soaked cliffs and crystal water; of ancient towers and modern fireworks. We met friends and ate food, we discovered wine and wisdom and beauty. But most of all we discovered each other. What Rome gave us in reverence, Positano matched in Love. This was our Honeymoon in Italy and part of us will never leave.

I'm smarter than you (at least I used to be)

I used to be a genius.
My mother told me so.
I have no reason not to believe her.

I used to have it all figured out, I was going to be a writer; have people pay for my thoughts and beg for more.

Why wouldn't they? I was a genius after all and this plan sure beat the reality of a cubicle and a boss over your shoulder right?

Then...
The last 15 years are a bit fuzzy. Somewhere along the sidewalk of my world, which lay strewn with bottles and buzzes and bands my genius left my side; our paths diverged. There was no Dear John letter and I couldn't tell you the exact date it happened but I am no doubt dumber now.

I am still unsure if this intellectual collapse is due to the chemical chorus which has continually serenaded my brain or if my awareness merely caught up with reality; either way: it happened.

Luckily, (for at least one of us) I still have some juice up there. Eleven years of collegiate philosophy is floating around somewhere and if I hunt long enough perhaps some wisdom can be wrung out.

So...
Here is your introduction. Here is your invitation. Visit at your own risk. Much of my mind is minced and I'm not entirely sure what you'll get but I've managed to escape my box and my headset and for now, I'm free. I offer you what I have: opinions on music and sports and politics, observations, hazy memories, random writings. Free Beers for you, how can you beat that deal?

Sold yet?
Ready to subscribe?

Let's see what we find up there.

-K. Michael Beers