Mary-Kate and Ashley.

The idea that everyone reads differently because of their unique life experiences reminds me of what it is like to be a twin.

Yes, I have an identical twin sister named Sarah Beth. When people learn this fact about me one of the first questions they ask is: "What's it like to be a twin?", closely followed by: "Can you read each others' minds?"

The answer to the former question: I don't know the difference. I only know what it is like to be a twin. For the entirety of my twenty years I have had someone in my life that looks just like me and shares my birthday. To be a twin brings a unique set of blessings and challenges. The gift of being a twin is that you can always have your best friend with you. Whether it was in ballet class or taking the SAT, Sarah Beth has always been the ally at my side. And what are the challenges of having a twin? Well, due to us doing everything together, people constantly compare us. We had to work hard not to build an unhealthy competitive relationship as we both strove to excel in the same fields.

The answer to the latter question: Yes and no. I don't believe there is a supernatural connection that allows us to read each others' minds, but because we have had very similar life experiences our minds tend to work the same way... Therefore we can usually guess what the other is thinking. It's only logical.

An important step in the life of a twin is individuation. It is particularly hard for us to find our own unique voice because we are acutely aware that there is someone in the world with whom we share our very DNA. As a twin I intensely identify with writers who are constantly seeking to find their individual voice. Whether it is dyeing our hair different colors or going to different colleges, twins find ways to separate ourselves from each other and learn to be our true selves.

Moderation.

"Moderation in everything, even moderation."

My mother taught me this little quote when I was a child and I refer back to it in all aspects of life. When it comes to food, I attempt to eat in moderate healthy portions, but simultaneously I allow myself to indulge my cravings - in moderation, of course. I don't allow myself to feel guilty for these indulgences because if I overdo it, my body feels the effects. Through experience I choose to avoid binging on sweets and meats, and because I know how those foods will affect me it is no sacrifice to forego a few small pleasures.

The ill effects of the luxurious choices of the Romans only emphasizes the wisdom of moderation. It is only logical that Christianity began to place a taboo on overindulgence. Granted, they took it too far when they began to associate pleasure with damnation. This extreme attitude is merely the age-old legalistic stumbling block of the church... But they had a point: the outrageous feasting of the Romans boded little health. The Christians attempted to become the antithesis of the Romans, but they might have done better to strive for a balance.

We do not have cravings and pleasures for no reason. Humans are created to enjoy the fruits of the earth and therefore it is perfectly fine for us to occasionally binge on Sunchips or indulge in a box of chocolates. The trick is to find moderation in everything, even moderation.

Gourmandizing.

Taste is the one sense that most affects our physical appearance. Americans, in particular, are prone to succumb to our taste buds' cravings, which tend to be for the most unhealthy foods (like a Big Mac from McDonald's... Supersize). Our lack of self-control allows taste to dominate our appearance by leading to obesity. We plan intense exercise routines around the holidays in order to be able to fully enjoy a glass of boiled custard, an extra cookie, or second helpings of Christmas dinner. We have a sensuous lack of control when it comes to food. At all costs we desire to satisfy the cravings of taste.

It is interesting how we all seem to have a weak spot for sweets but must develop a taste for things such as wine or vegetables. In her chapter on taste, Ackerman explains that taste buds weaken over time, which accounts for our changes in taste. This phenomenon of the taste buds slowly wearing out is the reason that children so greatly enjoy candy: "Children adore sweets partly because the tips of their tongues, more sensitive to sugar, haven't yet been blunted by years of gourmandizing or trying to eat hot soup before it cools." Therefore pediatricians have lollipops for their patients and grandmothers stow peppermints in their purse when babysitting.

Due to health benefits, my parents have in the last year cut back on their intake of meats and animal by-products. As I was living at home over the summer, I adopted their new eating habits. At first I craved meat or yogurt, but I soon acclimated to the meals that centered around fruits and vegetables. When I came back to school I continued in this type of diet because I quickly noticed the positive effects. Though I still sometimes enjoyed animal by-products, the partial elimination of meats and milk from my diet soon became an easier decision. It is no longer a hard choice for me: meat no longer appeals to me. My taste buds have changed with my dietary choices. I am

pretty revolted by a triple stack cheeseburger from a certain pigtailed redhead...

Enjoy Your Flight.

The concept of "Field Writing" (keeping a stream-of-conscious-style journal and then revising to produce studies of subcultures, places, or events)reminds me of why I adore going to the airport. 

Allow me to explain this connection. Every time I step foot in the airport, my mind instantly goes wild with all of the opportunities for people-watching. I absolutely love the feel of the airport. Any time one of my friends needs a ride to the airport I jump at the opportunity. There is ample room for the imagination whilst people-watching at the airport: should I sentimentally watch the soldier be reunited with his wife and children? Or would I rather watch the nonchalant business man who can go through security in record time? Perhaps I should keep tabs on the wealthy old lady struggling with her matching set of Louis Vuitton suitcases that weigh 50 each. All of these observations would be prime material for field writing. The airport is a singular place in the way it allows for so many different subcultures to be briefly juxtapositioned together.

Speaking of subcultures, I have recently been pondering the structures and dynamics of subcultures. This fascination preceded from an article I read for my Intro to Sociology class. The article, by Velliquette and Murray, is entitled "The New Tattoo Subculture" and suggests that subcultures are undetectably divided into two groups. The first group is comprised of the people who become a part of a subculture because of self expression. The second group is composed of those who join the subculture merely because they want to be cool by association. Essentially, the two groups are the genuine and the striving. After reading this article I have been attempting to analyze the subcultures surrounding me. This week my field writing notebook would be filled with questions of "Does she really want a tattoo or does she just think it will make her look cool? Does he really like wearing those tight jeans or does he just want to fit in at Belmont?"

I have a sudden urge to do a field writing exercise on the subculture of the scarf-wearing, Bongo-Java-coffee-drinking, skinny-jeans-wearing, guitar-playing Belmont kid.

A Glad Bag of Ramen.

I distinctly remember the night in 3rd grade when I had to stick my hand in a large black trash bag to touch its slimy contents at some otherwise unmemorable church function. I was horrified and terrified by the oozing substance which met my nervous fingers. Instantly my stomach turned as my mind's eye went wild. Was I touching the bowels of a fish? Maybe just a batch of rotten food? Or, worst, perhaps the slippery matter was in fact gray matter - a human brain? Surely my Sunday school teacher hadn't put a person's brain in a Glad bag! Moments later, the lights were flipped on to reveal that the sickening substance which had struck such fear to my heart was nothing more than a handful of well-cooked spaghetti noodles. This supposedly ingenious learning tool was designed to enable children to face their fears. However, for me the experience only heightened my awareness of touch's ability to stimulate my sensitive imagination.

In her chapter on touch, Ackerman describes her adventures in the Touch Dome in San Francisco. Her trip through the Exploratorium seems comparable to my encounter with the trash bag of ramen. Blindly plunging through darkness, hands passing over normal objects that become hostile in the pitch black, and blundering into cubby holes... All of these elements seem terrifying while the lights are extinguished, but illumination decimates the preposterous anxieties. Ackerman observes that some of her fellow explorers experienced attacks of shrieks and claustrophobia as a result of the inability to see and identify the objects that they were touching.

We humans have a great dependence on touch, but we want it to be augmented by the other senses. We don't want to touch something unless we can see it. In A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L'Engle devises a species that does not have eyes and therefore uses touch to "see". These creatures are forced to use touch to identify everything in their world. They don't miss sight because they don't know the difference. To these beings the fear of reaching my hand in a trash bag would be a completely foreign notion. Our culture has developed a fear of touching anything out of the ordinary. The only people who touch weird things are the maniacs who go on Survivor. Although I have absolutely no desire to be one of those maniacs, I have recently made a step towards overcoming my skittishness about touch by kissing a giraffe while in Kenya.