A New Idea- input would be awesome

He moved somewhat slowly through the silent town. An eerie, almost not present song floated through the haunted air. He walked towards the saloon, the song growing slightly larger. He reached the half-hinged swing double door, looking into the saloon. The building was silent now but for the piano player—presumably. He pushed the doors open silently and walked into the large wooden room. He looked over at the piano. The regular piano player had been replaced by a young woman. She had a slim figure dressed in a simple patterned cloth. Her hair was hidden by a straw-woven bonnet. Her slender fingers moved gently over the ivory keys as she played the soft, quiet music—music not usually heard in the saloon.

A floor board creaked as his foot came down upon it. The next movements happened in just a moment. The young woman stopped playing and spun to face the sheriff, a handgun held out before her; the sheriff unsheathed his gun and held it steadily, ready to fire, at any moment, hot rounded metal into the piano-player’s forehead. They stood in silence, guns pointed.

“Put it down,” he said sternly, his gaze fixed on hers. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, but if you make it necessary, I will kill you.”

“You really think I wouldn’t be able to put this bullet in your head before you even knew I’d pulled the trigger? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow you away.”

“I’m a sharper shot than you, faster too.”

Her eyes flickered down from his, examining the strange man’s clothing. Her eyes widened as they came to rest on the golden badge fixed upon his black leather belt. Her mouth formed words but no sounds erupted. Her hands began to shake. She dropped the gun to the floor, her eyes still fixated on the badge.

He put his pistol back into its holster. “I really am sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to frighten you. I heard the music and—” he stopped.

The young woman continued to stare, her eyes transfixed in a constant gaze of terror, flipping between his pistol, his badge, his face, and back to the badge once more.

“What’s your name, Miss?” he asked, trying to break her stare.

“Azalea Jameson,” she said, lowering her eyes.

“Azalea,” he smiled. “That’s a lovely name. I’m Sheriff Nash.”

She did not respond.

“Miss Jameson, I really did not mean to frighten you. I don’t have you at gun point anymore,” he raised his hands. “And you don’t have a pistol either, so I’ve no reason to harm you. But you are still acting scared.”

Again she was silent.

“I should be going. It was a great pleasure meeting you, Miss Jameson,” he said, tipping his hat and heading back towards the saloon doors.

“Oh, Little Jimmy, you aren’t going to stop there, now are you?” a smooth voice entered the conversation.

Nash turned slowly. Standing at the bottom of the back staircase was a stunning woman. She had bright red hair that swirled down in soft curls over her bare shoulders. She wore a corseted satin gown that ruffled in the skirt.

Nash looked from Azalea to the woman at the stairs. “She isn’t—” he paused, a look of disgusted disbelief on her fault.

“No, no, no, Jimmy,” the woman said walking towards the sheriff swinging her hips seductively. “But come now, Jimmy. You know you wish she were.”

“Goodbye, Sally,” Nash said sharply. He tipped his hat to Azalea and left the saloon.

Damage

I love police shows. There's no reason to deny it, so I won't. I find the law interesting, and law enforcement even more so. Perhaps it's my mild fear of authority that spurs most of my interest, or perhaps it is something completely different. Either way, it's something I want to do--something I want to follow: psychology can lead to some interesting places.

I've been noticing more and more that Americans, or at least Hollywood, seem to have a very incorrect view of the criminal justice system. If any of you watch police shows, you'll notice that a lot of the confessions they get wouldn't be worth a dime in real court due to how they were obtained. My favorite new example of this arose in a new show: Detroit 1-8-7.

Detroit 1-8-7, I feel, has a lot of potential (unless they destroy it in the next few episodes, which I'm afraid seems somewhat likely at this point).

TANGENT! There are lines for every show and every character on every show. The writers of these stories don't seem to realize this. Every show wants their bad-boy character, and they take all sorts of strange routes to get one. Sometimes they succeed, other times... well, they try really hard. Detroit 1-8-7 was failing on the bad-boy front, and they over-compensated.
Back to the original point.

The episode story pertained to a crime regarding a vetran whose son had been murdered and his murder was attempted... I think that made sense. Suffering from severe amnesia due to a blow in the head, the soldier would not have been able to identify the two men who the police were sure were at fault for the crime. So what did the police do? Well, they told the two men that they could either plead guilty or they could go in for a line-up (obviously without informing them of the amnesia). If they chose the line-up, the prosecution would go for the death penalty. WAIT! They were threatening the suspect to get a confession!? And Michigan doesn't even have the death penalty!

Now there are plenty of reasonable explainations as to why this would not result in a false confession, but there is no way to explain that there was no option besides threating the suspects. Threatening to get a confession is one of those things that can get a case overthrown.

Perhaps there's a reason a lot of police show story-lines end before they reach the courtroom.

Something Wrong

I was considering transferring schools--my current school doesn't have my major.



I asked a professional what I should do; he was a professional in what I want to do. He told me the major didn't influence the liklihood of my getting a particular postion: I should study what interests me.



My thought? Oh good! I can settle for the major I'm going for now, not transfer, and keep my family happy!



Is there something wrong with me? Doesn't "study what interests you" mean major in what you want to major? Apparently in my head it means something more along the lines of: you don't NEED that major, so why risk upsetting a family member when you could just full-knowingly upset yourself? I guess there's not as much risk involved in that decision. I do, afterall, know how I'll respond better than I do my father.



I have one friend who continually tells me that I should ignore what my family wants because it's my life. I have another friends who continually reminds me that I am currently attending the "better school" and would thus have more opportunities coming out of this school than the one to which I would transfer. This coming from an Ivy Leaguer.

The Response

You know, I had the perfect begging response to this all planned out, but I've changed my mind. I don't want to play this game with you--I've played it more times already than most people play it in their whole lives. I refuse to beg; I refuse to accept your criticism. If you don't like who I am, deal with it. If you want to ignore all of the times I have talked to you because I am over-flowing with joy, so be it. If you want to deny that maybe you had a hand in this, go ahead. I was told that in these situations I should treat the recipient like a child, but I will not. You're not a child; I will not bow to your every whim; I will not apologize for figuring myself out; I will not apologize for failing to wear a happy mask every time we speak; I will not apologize for showing you what you were signing up for when you dared to sit next to me on that bus so many years ago, when you dared to call me friend. If you want to cut and run because you've finally noticed that I'm a pessimist, I'll just let you know that this semester was better than the last, both of which were better than freshman year of high school (when you first met me, remember?), and let you walk away. I want you to know that this is on you now. I refuse to feel bad about this.

I refuse to beg.

Rhetoric

There has been much talk recently in the media and between politicians about rhetoric. There has been some pointing fingers, some denial, and just about everything that comes in between.

I feel this has been handled incorrectly. I don't care who it is, but someone, anyone, should come forward and admit that they have used inflammatory language. Doing so does not claim responsibility for the tragedy in Arizona, yet that seems to be how it is seen at the moment. There is no doubt that the language used in politics today is highly inflammatory and needs to be changed. Whether Sarah Palin is the first to acknowledge that she could have been more careful with her words and actions (which she won't be) or a liberal who doesn't even have a record of inflammatory rhetoric doesn't matter. Someone has to be first! Maybe then the others will follow suit.

The simple fact of the matter is that it doesn't take much to spark a flame on dry wood. In other words, it doesn't take much to make someone who is severely mentally unstable think that they're being told to do something that most people think to be unspeakable--especially if the one sending the message is a political figure.

The level of hatred being reflected back and forth from both parties is ridiculous. Personally, I don't want to see the 60s. I've read enough about it in history books and heard enough stories that I really don't want to live through it myself. We need to fix this before it becomes a severe issue. Six people have already died to open our eyes. Whether or not they were actually victims of the effects of inflammatory rhetoric is irrelevant.

Now is the opportunity to address the issue; now is the time to fix the issue.