A Good Intro For Once

This isn't a traditional blog post. This is the introduction to a paper that I am writing for my Honors class. I'm choosing to share it here because I rarely write an introduction that I am proud of. Normally, I write my introductions at the end of the writing process, when I have finally figured out what I am trying to say. But this time, I was so excited to share my ideas that this intro just happened. I chose to write on Locke and Rousseau for this paper. I hope you enjoy this example of a paper introduction:

The way we view the things around us - ours, his, mine, hers, their - drastically impacts the way we live our lives. In the cultural west, we tend to stay in our own little corners. If we need or want something, we have to take action to get it, or at least make a case for why we should have it. If we have something that we don’t want, we give it to someone who offers us the most in return rather than the one who needs it the most. If we can get more than we need, we congratulate ourselves, and we strive to be like those who have the most. These are generalizations, yet they seem to hold true in more capitalist societies. Some of us thrive in the midst of capitalism, but some of us struggle to find a place in these environments. Why is there such a gap between the thrivers and the mere survivors? Arguably, because we don’t listen to John Locke and Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Although Locke and Rousseau disagree on the impact of private property on humankind, they both argue for enforced moderation of individual consumption for the purpose of relative equality and human flourishing.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Perfect Sentence

There are no pretty-good sentences. They are either perfect or incredibly awful. Silence filled the dark stillness with a frigid air that bit my skin, and I shivered despite the weighty cloak I bore. Icy sweat trickled down my back as I struggled to breathe. Can you tell which of those sentences is perfect and which is incredibly awful? You may be able to guess. But you won't be able to know in the way that I know. I can tell you are simply quaking with anticipation, so I will tell you which sentence is which, and I will do my best to explain why. The first sentence is perfect because the room was silent, because the room wasn't full of emptiness but of silence, and because the room was terribly dark, and terribly still. The air was frigid, and it was the silence that filled the room with the frigid air. The air didn't brush my skin, and it didn't tickle my skin. It bit my skin. The cloak I wore wasn't heavy, but it was weighty. In fact, I didn't wear it...
Read more

Hevel

Ecclesiastes 1:2 Life is fleeting, like a passing mist. It is like trying to catch hold of a breath. Hevel. Vapor. Mist. This is the word the author of Ecclesiastes chose to describe life. Life for himself? Life for humanity? Life for all things living? He doesn’t specify. A New Testament author uses a similar word in Greek to describe the lives of his readers. “What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes,” he writes in James 4:14. Normally, I read the Bible with my fuzzy gray blanket wrapped tightly around me, keeping the words at a distance. These verses, though, penetrated the gray fuzz. I found them comforting. I don’t have to craft my life into a perfect sculpture for the keepers of eternity to criticize or place value on. I’m just here for now, and then I will be gone. If I am like most people, I will be easily forgotten. The stakes, then, aren’t as high as everyone says. The transience of life as mist mist brings ...
Read more

The Tale of the Longer Recess

When I finished reading the last page of Heidi , I stood up and stretched, bumping my head against the plastic red slide. I stepped into the sunlight, shading my eyes with my hand. I squinted, searching for my classmates. Older children from the third grade dominated the playground, as usual, and most of them were chasing or being chased. I didn’t see my teacher, but I could spot Frank, a quiet boy from my class. If he was still playing, that meant my class hadn’t climbed the hill back to school yet. I walked in circles, kicking bark chips and looking for my friends. Sweat dripped down my neck and I started breathing faster. I didn’t want to ask Frank where everyone had gone. But as the minutes crawled by, I knew that was my only option. I considered approaching a teacher I didn’t know, but the pit in my gut told me that I couldn’t betray Mrs. Welbourne by asking another teacher for help. Finally, I tapped Frank on the shoulder. He whipped around, and my heart stopped beating. Alth...
Read more