Roots

Authors Note- This is a "mini-essay" about technology in the United States, and how much we crave it. This also includes some references to Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury- a genius author. Enjoy :)

Values in our country continue to worse, day by day, and year by year. New technology is the thing we most desire, we work for it. It buries itself deeper into our lives. Forming roots  deeper, needing more products to remain satisfied. Why do we work so hard, only to become weakened by our desperation? We are no longer focused on what used to be important? Books. Plays. Articles. Learning from life experiences.  Why have we gone so down hill? Why is technology so deeply rooted into our lives?

January 24, 1984: the date the Macintosh was released by Apple. This was the seed of our obsession. The thing that caused the roots to start to grow. This piece of technology replaced our writing notebooks, pencils, and pens. It made life easier, and inspired an era of new technology. If the Macintosh was not created- Apple would cease to exist, along with Dell.  Without these companies the U.S. would continue to research in books. Read them. Have more intelligent conversations. Things that are very difficult to do, when there are so many roots constricting you.

In Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, which takes place in a futuristic United States, technology continues to be rooted in to everyday life. However,  the strength of the roots has overtaken human intelligence, brainwashing them into thinking books are evil. Televisions are more craved than before as well. Each household aspires to have four walls of TVs. Without these symbols, they are considered poor- outdated. They neglect the books they once knew, as the roots continue take money putting it towards selfish and foolish goals.

Ray Bradbury predicted what is to come, and what has become. This book was published in 1953-- 31 years before the Macintosh planted itself into our lives. He saw the 1925 version of television. He saw it would become a problem. He knew roots must be weakened. He did not want the United States to become too reliant.

 Unfortunately, we now are reliant on televisions. Computers. iPods. Everything that is not important. Everything that Fahrenheit 451 predicted. If we do not learn from his, accurate descriptions of what is to come- the roots will be stronger, making it ever so difficult to break free. We are deeply rooted in to technology, and it will only worsen over time. 

Pieces

A newly constructed house shines tall and proud, as its shadow covers its old, broken pieces. Pieces of all shapes and colors hide in the dark, fearing one would find them.  Then comes the light. It shines bright, and begins to see the ruins. Yet they still are not visible, causing them to be forgotten. The owner, has not forgotten though. The failures. The discouragement. The losses. The pieces are still there.

It had been a year since my father had died, and left me with my druggy of a mother.  He was the one who protected me. He was the one I told everything. He was the one who helped me through school. And he was dead. And no one knew why. The police had their suspicions: heart attack, brain dead, suicide. But nothing added up. After a while they were only left with one scenario -- murder. 

My mother had murdered my father. I was all alone. And this was the first piece of me to fall.

Naturally I was put into the care of my grandma. She lived in the hills of Orange County, a place which was all too expensive for my taste at the time. But it was better than nothing, or at least I thought. I ended up staying almost two years in OC, finishing my high school education . And every day I received more critics, but even more discouragement towards my aspiring writing career, and everything I did. I wasn't talented enough. I wasn’t dressed right.

I cut myself for the first time that year. And with every slit, another piece of myself fell.

After I graduated Fullteron Union High School, along with "esteemed classmates", I had a choice to make. College? Or begin working immediately? I wanted my writing career. I wanted it with a deep passion. So I applied to Hamilton, in New York. That was the school I had dreamt of going to, ever since I saw my dad's diploma. After weeks of waiting for a letter back, I received mine. My application had been rejected.

I was a failure. My father was great enough. I crushed my laptop, which contained all my writing. Another piece fell.

And another piece.

And another.

And another.