Event of the Day
Unfortunately, me brain tends to be more stubborn than my gut. This morning, as I was grabbing my various lunch items and putting them into my lunch sack, my gut gave a gallant effort to avoid disaster. When I was about to place a can of Shasta soda in to my sack, I hesitated. This is how the internal conversation basically went.
Gut: I wouldn't do that
Brain: huh?
Gut: Don't put the soda in, something is not right
Brain: huh?
Gut: Honestly...
Brain: No, I like soda...a lot
Gut: Okay, never mind
I'm sad to say this story does not end well. After I finished my basketball class, I opened up my backpack, where I keep my lunch and my street clothes. I pulled out one of my favorite shirts. It was wet. Did I place it on a wet spot on the bench? No, the truth was much, much worse. Discovering that the entire interior of my backpack was sticky and wet, the truth sailed down like a lightning bolt from Zeus - my soda was leaking. So, not only am I currently wearing a lemon lime-flavored shirt, I am also hungry, because my sandwiches got doused and consequently dumped.
Mundane Genius
Today, I saw a large group of students huddled around a table. Apparently, my college is hosting a contest to win a PS3. To win, you simply have to hold onto the table the longest. I shrugged off the obvious questions - "Why?" and "Aren't they encouraging skipping class?" - and instead listened to the people crowded around the table. I was rewarded by this brief exchange between two contest hopefuls.
First Guy: I don't know, should I do it?
Second Guy: (with an incredulous stare) Duh, its a PS3!
First Guy: Well, I'll probably get fired if I don't go to work.
Second Guy: So?
Obviously, in today's technology and entertainment-based society, traditional forms of motivation ( torture, blackmail, gold stars) are outdated. The PS3 is now the ultimate motivational tool. If you get a 4.0, you get a PS3 as well. If you perform well at work, your Sega Genesis is promoted to a PS3. If you clean up ten pieces of trash, bam! a PS3. If you refuse to give up your country's deepest military secrets, no PS3 for you. The possibility of mass societal change is too hard to ignore.
That Other Gender
Rating systems are like the Constitution. They are often referred to, full of ambiguity, and everyone thinks that their interpretation of the rating system is correct. (Man, I wanted to include "often ignored by those in power" to that list, but I couldn't see what it had to do with rating systems.) Most people insist on using a 1-10 system. So your friend tells you about the girl that's a 7 in his biology class that said "hi" to him. What does that mean to you? On a normal scale of 1-10, a 7 would put you in the top third of the group, which is fairly prestigious. However, I think a 7 would not sound that amazing to most guys. The problem is, many guys accidentally change the rating system. They set the bar at 6 or 7 (depending on how picky they are) then call everything else a "one" - which basically means "not worth bragging about." Thus, they cut the scale by more than half. If you only talk about 7's or higher, than a 7 is the lowest possible number. Moving the scale to 1-20 would do wonders, but mankind is too deeply rooted in base ten thinking. My personal favorite is categorizing. This clears up a lot of confusion, and a number can even be attached at the end for nostalgia's sake. "She is dateable" is a reasonable, balanced statement for a girl in the 6-7 range. "She's a sweet spirit" eupemises that ghastly "one" rating. "She is a drop-dead gorgeous, not-even-afraid-to-stare-at-her-cause-she's-so-hot babe" is a marvelous substitute for 10 in category rating system. I wonder if girls have a similar problem when rating us?
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Friday, January 26, 2007
Day Two - The Anticipated Return
Nothing like suspense to capture an audience, right? Right? Errr...sorry, I promise to update this site more often for now on. Okay, now that we got that awkward moment over with, we can get to the good stuff.
Event of the Day
You know the stereotypical art teacher.; the one who asks you to express your inner aura, or to dance like you felt on the best day of your life, or to sing to your clay pot? Well, that stereotypical art teacher is now my African dance teacher. African dance? Well, that's a story in and of itself. Anyhow, on any other day this post would probably be a subtly cynical regurgitation of her insistent demands to feel "my African self." However, circumstances (that will be more fully explained in the third section of this post) changed my dance class today. The two requirements of the class are to attend, and to attend with a positive attitude. Heading into my class at 7:00 at night with anger and heartbreak being my two strongest emotions, I had a feeling I couldn't possibly fulfill both requirements. My predictions held true through the first part of class, but the zaniness of my stereotypical dance teacher and the dancing began to take over. Believe it or not, it is hard to shimmy and frown at the same time. The same holds true when you're doing the "parting the tall grass" move or the "throw the fishing nets" move. My frown was removed for the rest of the class period when our teacher told us that we needed to think of friends who needed "spiritual healing" for the next dance. Three of my friends in that class (two girls and a guy I just barely met) pointed to me, targeting me as their spiritually broken friend. My friends' recognition of my pain coupled with the silliness of the whole situation was too much. I broke into my patented half-smile, and decided to forget about past events for the rest of the class period. I spend most of my African dance classes embarrassed and skeptical, but who knows, maybe I am starting to find my African self.
Tip of the Hat/Wag of the Finger
Sorry about the seriousness of my last post. Seriously, that is too serious for my strictly-unserious goals for this mostly unserious blog. I will try to make it up for you with this new section. At the request of my readership, I will incorporate the mighty Stephen Colbert's popular segment into my humble web log. My tip of the hat goes to [insert drum roll] Stephen Colbert. I know Colbert's show is always amazing, but lately Stephen has been on fire. Just look at the interviews he has been racking up: Mike Wallace, "Papa Bear" Bill O'Reilly, and the reanimated corpse of Abraham Lincoln (I can't confirm the last one). If you've never had the opportunity to see the Colbert Report, you haven't lived people. Trust me. My Wag of the the Finger goes to...yep, you guessed it, bears. Why bears? Well, for one thing my idol Colbert is rather unfond of them. Also, what do they do besides sleep and kill things? The only thing that contributes less to American Society than bears is Hollywood, but the Lord of the Rings movies allow me to barely tolerate them. Bears have nothing going for them.
[edit: some people may feel that I tried to glorify Stephen Colbert and condemn bears as part of an elaborate attempt to keep the Colbert Report from suing me for copying part of their show. Obviously there is no truth to this. Go with your gut and you'll be able to see through the facts.]
That Other Gender
Wow. Generally, I would like to use this section to reveal how clueless I am in a humorous way. I can't stop this go-around from becoming a rant, though. There's a girl who I have had a crush on for a few years now. I always labeled her as a hopeless dream, but earlier this year, around Halloween, I decided to go for broke and I told her how I felt. She denied me, saying that I was too good of a friend (that phrase will certainly be the topic of a future "that other gender"). Well, I have tried to move on since then, but it's hard to be "just friends" after everything that has happened. Well, today, I went to hang out with her for a while, and she admitted that she had been dating two guys while she had been at college. Not only that, but she broke up with the first guy because he didn't communicate very well. Sorry, but does anyone see the irony here? Perhaps said girl could have "communicated" that she was going out with someone, and I wouldn't have made a fool of myself on Halloween. After I left, I was forced to confront the years I spent thinking about her. Was it all a waste of time? I spent years thinking she was worth all of it, and now I had to confront the fact that I probably should have moved on a long time ago. Balance that with the conflicting feelings I still have for her, and you could guess it was a confusing day for me. I don't mean this as a denouncement of her, she is a great person - her greatest fault being that she is so amazing she can't be with me. I also know that there is a gargantuan back story that would make this small snippet difficult to understand, but this day was more for the writer than the reader, if you catch my drift. I feel better writing this down, but I still have no idea what I'm going to do with that other gender.
Event of the Day
You know the stereotypical art teacher.; the one who asks you to express your inner aura, or to dance like you felt on the best day of your life, or to sing to your clay pot? Well, that stereotypical art teacher is now my African dance teacher. African dance? Well, that's a story in and of itself. Anyhow, on any other day this post would probably be a subtly cynical regurgitation of her insistent demands to feel "my African self." However, circumstances (that will be more fully explained in the third section of this post) changed my dance class today. The two requirements of the class are to attend, and to attend with a positive attitude. Heading into my class at 7:00 at night with anger and heartbreak being my two strongest emotions, I had a feeling I couldn't possibly fulfill both requirements. My predictions held true through the first part of class, but the zaniness of my stereotypical dance teacher and the dancing began to take over. Believe it or not, it is hard to shimmy and frown at the same time. The same holds true when you're doing the "parting the tall grass" move or the "throw the fishing nets" move. My frown was removed for the rest of the class period when our teacher told us that we needed to think of friends who needed "spiritual healing" for the next dance. Three of my friends in that class (two girls and a guy I just barely met) pointed to me, targeting me as their spiritually broken friend. My friends' recognition of my pain coupled with the silliness of the whole situation was too much. I broke into my patented half-smile, and decided to forget about past events for the rest of the class period. I spend most of my African dance classes embarrassed and skeptical, but who knows, maybe I am starting to find my African self.
Tip of the Hat/Wag of the Finger
Sorry about the seriousness of my last post. Seriously, that is too serious for my strictly-unserious goals for this mostly unserious blog. I will try to make it up for you with this new section. At the request of my readership, I will incorporate the mighty Stephen Colbert's popular segment into my humble web log. My tip of the hat goes to [insert drum roll] Stephen Colbert. I know Colbert's show is always amazing, but lately Stephen has been on fire. Just look at the interviews he has been racking up: Mike Wallace, "Papa Bear" Bill O'Reilly, and the reanimated corpse of Abraham Lincoln (I can't confirm the last one). If you've never had the opportunity to see the Colbert Report, you haven't lived people. Trust me. My Wag of the the Finger goes to...yep, you guessed it, bears. Why bears? Well, for one thing my idol Colbert is rather unfond of them. Also, what do they do besides sleep and kill things? The only thing that contributes less to American Society than bears is Hollywood, but the Lord of the Rings movies allow me to barely tolerate them. Bears have nothing going for them.
[edit: some people may feel that I tried to glorify Stephen Colbert and condemn bears as part of an elaborate attempt to keep the Colbert Report from suing me for copying part of their show. Obviously there is no truth to this. Go with your gut and you'll be able to see through the facts.]
That Other Gender
Wow. Generally, I would like to use this section to reveal how clueless I am in a humorous way. I can't stop this go-around from becoming a rant, though. There's a girl who I have had a crush on for a few years now. I always labeled her as a hopeless dream, but earlier this year, around Halloween, I decided to go for broke and I told her how I felt. She denied me, saying that I was too good of a friend (that phrase will certainly be the topic of a future "that other gender"). Well, I have tried to move on since then, but it's hard to be "just friends" after everything that has happened. Well, today, I went to hang out with her for a while, and she admitted that she had been dating two guys while she had been at college. Not only that, but she broke up with the first guy because he didn't communicate very well. Sorry, but does anyone see the irony here? Perhaps said girl could have "communicated" that she was going out with someone, and I wouldn't have made a fool of myself on Halloween. After I left, I was forced to confront the years I spent thinking about her. Was it all a waste of time? I spent years thinking she was worth all of it, and now I had to confront the fact that I probably should have moved on a long time ago. Balance that with the conflicting feelings I still have for her, and you could guess it was a confusing day for me. I don't mean this as a denouncement of her, she is a great person - her greatest fault being that she is so amazing she can't be with me. I also know that there is a gargantuan back story that would make this small snippet difficult to understand, but this day was more for the writer than the reader, if you catch my drift. I feel better writing this down, but I still have no idea what I'm going to do with that other gender.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Day One - Bold Beginnnings
Event of the Day
I start with the following event because it just happened while I was writing the illustrious intro to this blog. It all begins with two harmonica-wielding young men who were sitting across the hall from me. My personal belief is that the majority of Americans possessing more than six teeth find the sound of a harmonica annoying. Don't get me wrong, pretending you can play the harmonica for a few minutes is certainly amusing, but incessant playing grates on me very quickly. Just as the harmonica players were starting to get on my nerves, however, something even more vexing surfaced - war protesters. In response to Bush's decision to send 20,000 more troops to Iraq, a procession of eight or nine students carrying computer paper/magic marker signs brought their march right in front of me. As the protesters passed in between me and the harmonica brothers, something amazing happened. With the perfect timing achieved only by practiced skill, gratuitous fortune, or divine intervention, the protesters' outcries were interrupted by a loud, mournful tune from the harmonica players. Unsure whether the music was a tribute to them, the marchers paused for a moment. Some of the protesters' faces grew more resolute with the patriotic music, while others saw the silent chuckles of the hall's audience and put their heads down. To their credit, they continued their antiwar march down our colorful campus halls till they were out of my sight. Refreshed from the complete absurdity of the moment, I felt like I could go throughout the rest of the day with a smile on my face, and love for the harmonica in my heart.
Mundane Genius
This is the section where I offer sound advice from my life experiences that other advice-givers would generally ignore because it lacks...usefulness. I present to you the "Free-Stuff Principle." My school is currently holding a job fair, which basically equates to spamming the halls with businesses in desperate need of skilled college laborers. Despite my disillusionment with their purpose, these businesses do know how to "get 'er done." Recognizing that signs reading "Work for Terminix Pest Control!" will most likely not garner any attention, every business instead enticed the students will all sorts of free stuff. Free candy! (a traditional favorite) Free stress-balls! Free Dance Dance Revolution! Wow, these guys are sharp. I can't count on my nine fingers (long story) the times my inner revulsion for a teacher has been quickly smoothed over by the offering of a free pencil. A pencil for goodness' sakes! Anyhow, I believe that the "Free-Stuff Principle" should be applied more generously to fix the world's problems. 20,000 troops to Iraq? I've got a better solution. 20,000 free copies of the Little Mermaid air-dropped into Iraq. The advantages of this plan are threefold. One, no more protesters in my college's halls. Two, after viewing the movie Iraqis will realize that there is a better life awaiting them once they escape their watery realm (fascist fanaticism anyone?) and the mustachioed King Triton (Hussein?). Of course this movie analogy turns the US into UrSula, as the dangerous facilitator of change with self-serving ulterior motives, but I digress. Three, the "Free-Stuff Principle" would soften the hearts of Shiites, Sunnis, and Kurds alike. Not to mention the nifty name I have derived for this plan: Operation Ariel Bombardment.
That Other Gender
I have two goals in life: to rule the world, and to understand the female mind. Any guy could tell me which one of these goals is actually feasible. In spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I still foolishly believe that someday I will finally understand what girls are really about, so I'll pose questions and observations in this section that should help me progress towards this goal. Feel free to provide feedback ladies and gentlemen. Despite numerous distractions such as homework, education, and learning, I am proud to declare that I have stayed focused on the most important thing in school, hooking up. In elementary school you had kissing tag. In Junior High it was passing notes to that certain cutie in your Pre-Algebra class. In high school, you are supposed to figure out all the drama associated with relationships. I'm still trying to understand the college relationship game plan. Are you supposed to up the ante on closeness? Or is the purpose of college to discover the magic of NCMO? (non-committal make-out for those of you who don't know) I'm still unsure. I'll get back to you when I've figured out the answer.
I start with the following event because it just happened while I was writing the illustrious intro to this blog. It all begins with two harmonica-wielding young men who were sitting across the hall from me. My personal belief is that the majority of Americans possessing more than six teeth find the sound of a harmonica annoying. Don't get me wrong, pretending you can play the harmonica for a few minutes is certainly amusing, but incessant playing grates on me very quickly. Just as the harmonica players were starting to get on my nerves, however, something even more vexing surfaced - war protesters. In response to Bush's decision to send 20,000 more troops to Iraq, a procession of eight or nine students carrying computer paper/magic marker signs brought their march right in front of me. As the protesters passed in between me and the harmonica brothers, something amazing happened. With the perfect timing achieved only by practiced skill, gratuitous fortune, or divine intervention, the protesters' outcries were interrupted by a loud, mournful tune from the harmonica players. Unsure whether the music was a tribute to them, the marchers paused for a moment. Some of the protesters' faces grew more resolute with the patriotic music, while others saw the silent chuckles of the hall's audience and put their heads down. To their credit, they continued their antiwar march down our colorful campus halls till they were out of my sight. Refreshed from the complete absurdity of the moment, I felt like I could go throughout the rest of the day with a smile on my face, and love for the harmonica in my heart.
Mundane Genius
This is the section where I offer sound advice from my life experiences that other advice-givers would generally ignore because it lacks...usefulness. I present to you the "Free-Stuff Principle." My school is currently holding a job fair, which basically equates to spamming the halls with businesses in desperate need of skilled college laborers. Despite my disillusionment with their purpose, these businesses do know how to "get 'er done." Recognizing that signs reading "Work for Terminix Pest Control!" will most likely not garner any attention, every business instead enticed the students will all sorts of free stuff. Free candy! (a traditional favorite) Free stress-balls! Free Dance Dance Revolution! Wow, these guys are sharp. I can't count on my nine fingers (long story) the times my inner revulsion for a teacher has been quickly smoothed over by the offering of a free pencil. A pencil for goodness' sakes! Anyhow, I believe that the "Free-Stuff Principle" should be applied more generously to fix the world's problems. 20,000 troops to Iraq? I've got a better solution. 20,000 free copies of the Little Mermaid air-dropped into Iraq. The advantages of this plan are threefold. One, no more protesters in my college's halls. Two, after viewing the movie Iraqis will realize that there is a better life awaiting them once they escape their watery realm (fascist fanaticism anyone?) and the mustachioed King Triton (Hussein?). Of course this movie analogy turns the US into UrSula, as the dangerous facilitator of change with self-serving ulterior motives, but I digress. Three, the "Free-Stuff Principle" would soften the hearts of Shiites, Sunnis, and Kurds alike. Not to mention the nifty name I have derived for this plan: Operation Ariel Bombardment.
That Other Gender
I have two goals in life: to rule the world, and to understand the female mind. Any guy could tell me which one of these goals is actually feasible. In spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I still foolishly believe that someday I will finally understand what girls are really about, so I'll pose questions and observations in this section that should help me progress towards this goal. Feel free to provide feedback ladies and gentlemen. Despite numerous distractions such as homework, education, and learning, I am proud to declare that I have stayed focused on the most important thing in school, hooking up. In elementary school you had kissing tag. In Junior High it was passing notes to that certain cutie in your Pre-Algebra class. In high school, you are supposed to figure out all the drama associated with relationships. I'm still trying to understand the college relationship game plan. Are you supposed to up the ante on closeness? Or is the purpose of college to discover the magic of NCMO? (non-committal make-out for those of you who don't know) I'm still unsure. I'll get back to you when I've figured out the answer.
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