You can also go to the google homepage today and use their zip-code search bar to contact your Congresspeople.

Here is a slideshow of an Orwellian glimpse of the Internet.

What exactly is the situation with your coverage? Do your parents have health insurance?

My mother is on disability and Medicare. She has a condition called avascular necrosis and cannot walk well or work. When she did work for a retirement center, I was covered under her dental plan but nothing else. This helped me get my wisdom teeth removed in 2009 for only around $300 as opposed to $1,000. Now, she cannot work, so I no longer have that coverage. My father is a independent cabinet maker living in Arizona and, to my knowledge, has no coverage either. We have never made enough money to get private insurance. When I was a kid, we lived in Arkansas, and I received ARKids. That was helpful until I was too old to receive that coverage. I remember that getting help was easier in Arkansas than Missouri. I was able to get free birth control in Arkansas when I was 16, and I pay about $30 for the same pills in Missouri. I’ve never looked into Medicaid, but that is something I might do in the future. I’ve always just assumed that I would not be eligible. I’m hoping to find a job that will provide some coverage or pay enough to allow me to get private coverage.

What would happen, today, if you got seriously ill? Would you be scared to go to a hospital?

Yes, I would. I’m always paranoid about getting seriously ill. I’m afraid the hospital would turn me away because I don’t have insurance. I’ve very worried about getting a long-term illness, like cancer, although my lack of preventive care would probably keep me in ignorance of any issue like that for a long time. My mother waited a long time before getting her condition addressed. She waited until the pain was unendurable and she could no longer walk. She wasn’t turned away, but she did amass a lot of debt while trying to apply for Medicare and disability. She had to have surgery on her hip (the ball part of the socket was completely deteriorated). She’s waiting for the other hip to be replaced and is struggling with her finances. I’m terrified that her condition might be genetic. My older sister has hyperthyroidism, but her husband’s insurance covers her and her children. All of my siblings health issues make me a little paranoid. I already have debt from college loans; I don’t want to have debt from an emergency room visit. When I get sick, I wait it out as long as possible. I’ve only been to see a doctor, not including Planned Parenthood, twice in the four years I’ve been in Springfield. Both times, I had severe bronchitis, and the trip and the medicine cost almost $200 each time. The second time, they prescribed a more generic medicine, which was nice.

How do you feel about being uninsured at such a young age?

Well, I don’t feel good about it, that’s for sure. I feel like I am missing out on preventive care that would make my old age easier. I’m worried about amassing more debt at a young age as well due to health emergencies. That will also make my life more difficult in the future. I also have hope that I will be able to use my degree to find a job that will supply me with coverage. However, the job market is tough right now, so who knows what will happen. Insurance almost seems like a myth to me. But there are so many types we should have: health, car, house, life, etc etc. It’s overwhelming for someone who is starting their life right out of college. I don’t place much hope in the government for anything, including my health care needs.

Do you think the government has a responsibility to its citizens to make sure they can go to the doctor if they get sick?

That’s a tough question. I feel like any government should strive to provide the best life they can to the citizens. As citizens, we give up some of our rights to be governed. In that trade off, the government should protect us. But does that include protecting us from illness? I’m not sure. Advances in medicine also increase the problem of overpopulation. So, I can’t really justify my position, but I do think that health coverage should be one of the responsibilities of our government. Maybe this is because I know how tough it is to lack coverage. It’s tricky because hospitals and a lot of insurance companies are privately owned and run and not governmental. They are businesses. I honestly think that all of that should have some restrictions from the government based on the maximum amount of cost for care. But this point of view depends on how you feel about government. If you want less government control, then you might be against this. I, however, this it is naive to think that our government’s influence can be shrunk or that it even needs to be in such a large country with so many citizens.

Have you accrued any debt from any previous medical work since you aren’t covered?

I haven’t accrued any debt yet. I chalk that up to luck and a reluctance to ever seek medical care. I only go to the doctor if I am very ill. I rely on over-the-counter medicine and bed rest. I was lucky that I did have some coverage for my wisdom teeth. Otherwise, I would not have been able to afford the surgery. That would have put me $1,000 in debt. I feel like it is only a matter of time before I do accrue debt due to an illness. The human body is susceptible to so many illnesses. I’ve been lucky so far, but my luck will eventually run out. I hope that I can get coverage once I find work.

Group bonding. Tradition. Rite of passage.

Hazing is a taboo, aloof subject at many universities throughout the country. As many students say, it is often mentioned only in rumors.

“I’ve heard of Greek hazing, but I’ve also heard rumors of hazing in the academic honor housing, too,” Ginny Helgeson, a freshman at the University of Kansas (KU), said. She has heard vague mentions of hazing and “traditions,” but nothing specific.

In recent years, many universities have adapted zero-tolerance anti-hazing policies following tragedy. Students at University of Colorado-Boulder, Southern Methodist State and KU both cited recent student deaths for the severity of their schools’ policies.

“KU has really cracked down on hazing within the past few years after Jason Wren died of alcohol poisoning after drinking excessively at the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity house in 2009,” said junior Amie Young.

Even the mention of the word triggers strong emotions for some.

“[We have] a strict no-hazing policy that the Greek community abides by, and we take any allegations of hazing, however small, very seriously,” said Brooke Dainty, a junior at Southern Missouri State.

But despite the policy crackdowns, it is clear hazing is still prevalent—take, for instance, Robert Champion, the 26-year-old drum major at Florida A&M who died last month, presumably from hazing.

Taylor Raobin, a sophomore at Vanderbilt, knows hazing is real. He was a victim of it.

“I was a freshman on a sports team, and I was very uncomfortable with [what was going on]. At one point, I was legitimately scared for my wellbeing, to the point that I cried,” he said.

Others have witnessed various “rites of passage.”

“I have seen a fraternity make their new members deliver a brick to Austin (four hours away) and back (another four hours) in eight hours overnight,” said Katherine Wright, a sophomore at Texas Christian University.

Wright said she also knew of a sorority that would made pledges sit on top of a running dryer in their bathing suits. The members circled the parts of the pledges’ bodies that “jiggled.” The pledges were expected to lose the extra weight by the time they were initiated.

Many students agreed that Greek organizations and sports teams are especially notorious for these practices.

“There are large amounts of people trying to get into an exclusive group. Older members feel like they have the right to make new members work for their spots,” Dainty said.

Some students see hazing as a tradition, for better or for worse.

“I was in a fraternity last year, and the only instances that could be considered hazing involved alcohol, but most of the pledges were more than willing to do it,” said Alex Milam, a sophomore at Louisiana State University. “I wasn’t necessarily comfortable, but it wasn’t exactly what I consider hazing, either.”

Some are not sure what they consider “hazing.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in an actual hazing situation. I mean, I’ve done stupid stuff before to fit in with new friends, but who hasn’t? It’s never been a serious or threatening situation,” Helgeson said.

But for others, the possibility of being hazed seriously dissuades them from joining organizations.

“It would most definitely make me questions their ethics and instantly turn me off from wanting to join,” Esteban Hernandez, a senior at University of Colorado-Boulder, said.

Dainty agreed.

“Anything that would make a group of people feel lower than another isn’t something I agree with, nor would I ever be part of an organization that made me go through something like that,” she said.

Of course, this totally stresses me out and I get to add it to the arbitrary list of “things I’m currently worrying about but do not actively seek to fix.” (Among those being writing the next great American novel, cleaning my room, and feeling bad for not taking my dog on walks.)

So, I feel I must come to you, dear reader, and explain why I haven’t been blogging this summer. I am in the Twilight Zone.

I just finished up my first year of school at TCU in Fort Worth, and I came home to KC for the summer. I knew going back to my quiet, little suburban was going to be a little strange after a year of city life and college freedoms…but wow. I legitimately feel like I am in the Twilight Zone. The notorious summer after freshman year.

Now that I’m back in my hometown, I remember who I was when I lived here, and then I think about who I am in Fort Worth. I know the two are different, but I cannot quite put my finger on the difference. I know I’ve gained independence, I know I am more confident, etc. etc. But being back in KC sometimes feels like I’m having a recurring dream of being back in high school. It feels like I’m wearing a sweater from the 8th grade. It’s just misshapen and outdated.

Moreover, I have spent more time being alone this summer than I might have in the entire first year of college, combined. I’ve spent hazy Saturday afternoons reading in bookstores, shopping by myself at the mall, even just walking around antique stores. Being alone is weird and makes me feel isolated and overly introspective, two things that do not make for a good blog post.

Being home is also confusing, because “home” is such a tricky word. Of course I feel at home here with my family, but I also miss my new life in Texas. Sometimes I feel like my home is just boxes waiting to be schlepped between the two cities.

All in all, this summer has been interesting. I braced myself for it, expecting it to be the most boring, depressing, isolating thing ever. I thought I would be dying to go back to school. But it wasn’t really bad, and it wasn’t really excellent. It was just in-between, a vague passing of time.

And so, I could blame my exhausting babysitting gig or my trip to Scotland (ahhh!) or my internship at a local environmental magazine or all my art projects or whatever list of excuses I have, but that’s the best I’ve got—I don’t quite know who I am when I’m home, and so I find it hard to write anything genuine.

(I know that sounds angsty, but that’s not the intention.)

However! I will be moving back to Fort Worth a week from today, where I fully anticipate I will be bitten with the blogging love-bug yet again. So, do not fear, mighty reader. I will be back at it shortly. (Because I knew you were worried.)

Rewind: I went to Scotland with TCU’s Disciples on Campus group from May 10 to May 19, 2011. We went there to study how the Protestant Reformation and how Scottish celtic religions paved the way for other protestant religions today, namely The Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).  We flew into Edinburgh, the country capital, and later drove up into the highlands of Sterling and visited the Island of Mull, Staffa, and Iona.

I have a billion pictures, but here are some of my favorites.

Aside from General Assembly itself (which I am regrettably missing and desperately following via Twitter), Texas Christian University is one of main faces of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in modern society. That is, other than Colonel Sanders. (Sadly not kidding—there’s some trivia for you!) After all, we’re the biggest Disciples school! That, and we won the Rose Bowl.

Throughout highschool, TCU was the beacon of  all things DOC for me. I knew at least 20 people who had gone there, and I imagined it to be one happy, close-knit community. It was largely due to this that I chose the school.

Once I got to school, I realized both how much and how little being “Disciples of Christ” really means.

On one hand, every time I met another DOC student, we were both particularly excited due to the rarity of meeting other Disciples. “Disciples” serves almost as a nationality or ethnicity, it is so deeply engrained in our faith identity. Whenever I meet those students, it is similar to the phenomenon of running into Americans outside the states. “No way! Small world!”

However, on the other hand, finding another “Disciple” doesn’t mean much in regards to beliefs.

Growing up at St. Andrew Christian Church, the home of the Rev. Holly McKissick (whom I hope everyone heard at General Assembly), I was under the grandiose impression that all Disciples congregations were like mine—explicitly open to all people regardless of age, gender or gender identity, sexual orientation, financial status, etc. I thought all youth groups went to anti-war rallies together and spent Wednesday nights in the summer watching documentaries about immigration.

But as I grew older and started attending a regional church camp, and then especially when I got to TCU, this idea was quickly corrected. Not everyone has a faith tradition like mine. Not many do, really.

Whenever I talk about my congregation and all of its openly gay couples who adopt children, some of my fellow Disciples get visibly uncomfortable. It’s clear—that’s not at all what their churches would accept. Moreover, when a pastor in the TCU area recently came out, people were considerably upset.

It’s reasons like these why many in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) claim we should not make an official statement proclaiming the equality and acceptance of GLBTQ members of our denomination. We’re already divided enough, they say. It’s changing too fast, especially for Texas, they add.

But TCU itself has offered far too strong of a counterargument for me to agree with those opponents. The reason? Gay students with no faith home.

Almost all of my gay friends were spiritual or went to church when they were growing up, but quit shortly after coming out. Why? Why not. They don’t want to be part of an institution that doesn’t accept them. They don’t want to be part of an institution that makes meandering statements, beating around the bush about an “open table.” What does that really mean?

They want the church to reach out to them and say: “YOU are accepted. YOU are loved. God made you this way.”

And while Disciples of Christ, of course, does claim to seek “wholeness in a fragmented world,” what good is that when I am trying to explain what our denomination believes to my skeptical, hurt LBGTQ friends? “Uh, it’s this denomination, and we’re pretty progressive and it’s gay-friendly…Well, not officially, exactly…”

It’s when you mention this little loophole—“not officially”—that your LGBTQ friend stops listening. She’s heard it all before. He wants specific validation, someone who is willing to accept him for who he is. Although someone would claim it’s petty or unnecessary, they need it printed in black on the bulletin. Otherwise, it’s just an empty statement—to good to be true.

LGBTQ or not, most young people who have become disenchanted with the Church say it’s due to the Church’s stance on homosexuality. Why doesn’t the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) realize this and capitalize upon it? Why don’t we see this as a time to finally find something to believe in?

If the church can find the strength to officiate our stance on an “open table” for all—including during our hiring of clergy—perhaps we can reach out to those who want so badly to be accepted and actually mean it when we say—“Welcome.”

1. I was born in 1992.

2. I have always attracted strange people who tell me everything about themselves.

Let me elaborate:

1. I was born in 1992.

Ah, 1992. Bill Clinton hadn’t skeezed around yet, gas was $1.05 a gallon, the first Nicotene patch was sold (to, as I once thought, chain-smoking pirates,) and “Sister Act” made a killing in the box office. That was also the year I was born in an orderly suburb of Kansas City.

But here is what is important—because I was born in 1992, I have experienced the phenomenon of living in two worlds: Before Internet and After Internet.

(Technically, the notion of the “internet” and various “networks” had been in the works since the late 1950’s, with the first tangible connection of networks made in 1969.  On August 6^th, 1991, a European particle research group founded the “World Wide Web” project, and in 1995, Microsoft introduced Windows 95, featuring a “World Wide Web” browser. But it wasn’t until 1996 and later that the term “internet” became less academic and more commonplace.)

I remember having household computers and at least a vague idea of the existence of an “Internet” as early as ’96, which was 1 or 2 years before my friends’ families. When I was as young as four, I dictated made-up stories while my father typed them in a word processor. That’s what you get when your dad works in computers. But as a whole, my world was Internet-free until I was about 7 or 8 years old.

Granted, my Before Internet memories are somewhat faded—blame it on all the Backstreet Boys and Go-gurts. But here is what is important about what I do remember—We called people and heard their voices. We played outside, like most little kids. We physically spent time with other people.

And now? People don’t have house-phones. Kids play video games instead of hopscotch. Some would rather video-call their friends than see them in real life.

Let’s be clear—I’m not playing the typical old-fashioned curmudgeon card. I am typing this on my Macbook Pro, while happily Facebooking away, signed in to Twitter and Skype. I am guilty of the inevitable digitalization just as much as those brat-faced 4-year-old texters.

But the difference between me and them is that I remember a different time. I can’t help but wonder, like most, what the consequences of this digital age will be.

The first time I wondered if this whole “texting” thing was really so great, I was a sophomore in high school. I had arrived at school that day to find that my terribly nerdy first boyfriend no longer wished to date me. Hoping for a civil face-to-face conclusion, I sought him out. He literally ran and hid in the hallways from me. Not sure if I was more embarrassed of myself or him, I gave up, and broke up with him via text message—“Since you don’t have the balls to do it: we’re over.” (I thought I was so cool.) Despite his uncoolness and awkward Chewbacca noises, I was still lingering with uneasiness about the breakup. The complete lack of human interaction was disturbing.

And so it went on through high school, where texting became the new “best friend” status quo. And so it went on through college, where every drunken evening produced a text message confession that would never be spoken in real life.

2. I have always attracted strange people who tell me everything about themselves.

Perhaps it’s my own apparent weirdness, perhaps it’s my oversized green eyes that give off a look of interest or understanding…I don’t know. But as my father loves to tell me, “you just know how to pick ‘em.”

Yet the thing is, I don’t pick them. For example, I have had a total of five people confess to me their oppressed homosexuality for the first time in their lives. Do I give off a vibe that says “I love gays?” (Perhaps—one of them claims I am a “fruit fly”—a young female who simply attracts gay friends.)

Either way, it’s a pretty useful trait to possess.

These two factoids lead me to the question—how deep can digital interaction be?

And that question leads me to the website—Chatroulette.

Founded in November 2009 by a 17-year-old Russian boy, Chatroulette is a website that randomly connects two strangers via video, audio, and text. If you don’t want to talk to whoever you were paired with, you “next” them and are paired to a brand new person. It is, essentially, chatting with strangers.

Chatroulette used to be a very fringe Internet phenomenon, starting with only 500 members in its first month. A month later, it had 500,000.

As you could imagine, Chatroulette was soon infested with people whose sole intent was to use the site as some sort of sexual tool. In a study of 2,883 Chatroulette sessions, the database analytics company RJMetrics found that 1 in 8 sessions yielded something “R-rated” (primarily male nudity).

“Chatroulette was great in the first honeymoon days after it was launched, before it was discovered by strange people who started to abuse the true freedom and democratic nature of the service,” founder Andrey Ternovskiy said in a blog post.

However, in June 2010, Chatroulette cracked down on these voyeuristic exhibitionist users, reporting their images and IP addresses to local police. The online service became much cleaner and found itself working back to its true goal—to connect people who would have never meet otherwise.

Although about 50% of users are American, according to the aforementioned study, the other 50% are a diversely international clientele, ranging from Iceland to South Africa. Their ethnicities are not the only thing so diverse—you may find yourself connected to an Asian man wearing a pink bra, a group of giggling 13-year-old girls at a slumber party, a professor studying communication, or maybe even Ben Folds giving an impromptu concert.

Everyone seems to be on there for different reasons—bored, can’t sleep, think it’s fun—but they all seem to honestly boil down to one ineffable truth. Chatroulette lets you be anyone you want. If you don’t like someone, it is in your power to “next” until you find someone who you find interesting. It’s beyond real life.

After a few chats with different people, I realized quickly that Chatroulette has this exhilarating phenomena of submerging you in another’s life. It’s strangely intimate to see their bedrooms, watch them turn on the fan, hear about their day.

It was this sense of intimacy that made me wonder: how much would someone willingly tell an absolute stranger?

The following pages are the answer to that question. They are the stories I heard, the lives I learned, and the identities with which I became familiarized. I altered names only to protect their privacy, whether they cared about such a notion or not.

Some of the experiences documented are funny and vacuous, others are heartfelt and lonely. But they all proved one underlying idea—As our world becomes digitalized, there is one word that is exponentially losing meaning. “Stranger.”

Such is the case for Duke Nukem Forever, a sequel game to 1996’s Duke Nukem 3D, which is being made by Gearbox Productions and will be sold for Xbox 360, Playstation 3 and Microsoft Windows starting June 19.

The game’s premise, bluntly stated on the official website, is that drunk aliens are invading Earth and “kidnapping women—especially the hot ones.” Players take on the role of the protagonist, Duke, and “save” various women, who are depicted as prostitutes. 

Yet funnily enough, one of the multiplayer modes is called “Capture the babe,” which somehow sounds a bit more sinister than saving women. In this mode, the player abducts scantly-clad women, and can slap them if they do not comply.

Xbox magazine’s interview with Gearbox downplayed the mode, explaining that “the ‘Babe’ will sometimes freak out while you’re carrying her (somewhat understandably we’d say), at which point you have to hit a button to gently give her a reassuring slap.”

Moreover, other modes of the game require the player to go on a quest to look for sex toys and topless photographs of women. The very beginning of the game insinuates two twins giving oral sex.

As if all these things weren’t dreadful enough, it’s what Gearbox CEO Randy Pitchfork said in response to the obvious outcry from various religious and gender activist groups.

“Our goal isn’t to shock people, but I think there’s some stuff that’ll be just a bit uncomfortable,” he said. “We try to get right up to that edge and then relax enough so people don’t reject it.”

Don’t get me wrong—“pushing the envelope” can be a useful tool when the goal is to broaden people’s perspectives or start a public dialogue. However, what is Gearbox hoping to do? Even to argue that the game is satirical would be a gross misrepresentation.

When the CEO’s defense for his allegedly sexist video game is simply that it is “meant” to be “uncomfortable,” then you know things are bad.

Given the complete lack for any positive possible outcome of this chauvinistic, violent game, it leaves people wondering how this could affect society.

“These depictions of women are extremely harmful, especially to young women,” Jamia Wilson, vice president of the Women’s Media Center, said.

While I do find myself wondering how violent video games like this and countless others (such as Grand Theft Auto) affect the people who play it, and the girls who see the outrageous representations of women, it is not truly this that bothers me.

It’s Gearbox’s complete lack of remorse or regard for ethics that infuriates me.

The original game, Duke Nukem 3D, was offensive. Duke Nukem Forever takes it ever further, as if to see how far they can take their crude premise.

While the company claims that they aren’t trying to appeal to shock value, I see no other explanation for why they would choose to create a game that they know isn’t right.

Although they know there is, indeed, a market for their sexist and violent games, that doesn’t mean that they have to cater to it.

Maybe, for once, Gearbox Productions could use its power as an opportunity to help society rather than to make a quick buck.

Take, for instance, the Baby Shaker, a game whose goal is to shake the iPhone fast enough to make an infant stop crying. When a player “wins,” the baby dies. Immediately after Apple was alerted to this app’s existence, Apple removed it.

How about the one like “PhantomAlert” or “Trapster0,”which let users upload known police checkpoints so drunk drivers can avoid them? That app was deleted, also.

Clearly, these were awful apps that had no place in Apple’s App Store, which currently offers more than 350,000 apps for download, according to Apple.

The word “censorship” does not immediately register when one considers Apple’s actions on the aforementioned applications. But that’s what it is — censorship. So, what else is Apple censoring?

Just plain stupid apps, too, like “I am Rich,” which had no purpose other than to show others you could afford its hefty $999.99 price tag. Eight stupid people bought this app before Apple pulled it.

Apple also does not allow pornography, which is actually somewhat surprising, considering the potential revenue.

“Right” and “wrong” get murkier, however, when one considers the app by Exodus International. It aimed to “cure” homosexuality and offered Bible scriptures, testimonials and stories. Don’t get me wrong — this app is downright offensive.

But some people, unfortunately, would not even blink an eye at an app like that. They don’t find it offensive — they find it as their religious perspective.

And what about atheists, who claim a Bible app is offensive? Everyone has different religious beliefs, and there will always be dissidents.

One must also consider religion’s controversial sister — politics.

According to an April 26, 2010 article from Wired, Apple decided to remove a political cartoon app by Mark Fiore, won has won a Pulitzer Prize. Apple’s reasoning? “It ridicules public figures.” Well, that’s the point. It’s a political cartoon. After massive backlash, Apple reversed its decision and the app is now back on the market.

The more thinly you slice the issue, the more difficult it becomes. Why is it so difficult to tell how an app could get banned? The lack of transparency in Apple’s policies.

At the moment, Apple’s only official standard for content is found in the user agreement, which states “Apple’s reasonable judgment may be found objectionable, for example, materials that may be considered obscene, pornographic, or defamatory.”

I don’t mean to say that I believe there should be apps for condoning drunk driving or shaking a baby to death. But apps that are ideological in nature, whether they are offensive or not, simply can’t be censored.

At the risk of going off on an Orwellian rant, the repercussions of Apple censoring political matters could be grave. Do you really want Apple controlling what news you do and do not receive via iPhone app? Do you really want Apple to shape your opinions for you?

Sure, it’s not 1984, but it is 2011,and it’s time Apple writes up clear and specific guidelines for content regulation.