Ah, here I am, finding myself in a familiar place, late at night, in front of my computer, racking my brain for any sort of idea I can use as a base point to launch a new rant from. The problem is, I'm not entirely in a ranting sort of mood. And, even scarier, is the fact that I have been finding myself in that sort of a mood less and less lately. Now, this is a pretty drastic statement for me to make. Since my elementary school days, my unusual blend of eclectic views, and my ease of falling back to an energetic, and often aggressively verbose defense of the views that I had harbored for a very short period of time, and actually developed within myself for even less time. This rambling, the very thing that set me apart from the crowd, is the very thing that is slowly eroding from beneath me. And I'm not sure if there is anything else there to support me, anything else even remotely notable about me, some unusual or special characteristic that will sustain my self image until I'm able to pave my own way in life.
This is a small post.
But I refuse to resign it as just another draft.
Until next time.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Friday, November 24, 2006
Reason for Living
A post that was begun before it was thought out. Isn't that the way all good posts begin? Admittedly, I have published very few posts in this blog lately. I have quite a few drafts however, half sketches of half crazed ideas formed during periods of half consciousness during the time of mellowness between the end of school and the beginning of my after school activities. Phrases that have popped into my head which I haven't bothered extrapolating upon to form coherent sentences, and, even more intimidating, paragraph structures. So, like always I'm going to set out to make this post a complete one. Whether it makes sense or not will remain to be seen.
Okay, here's a small sub-topic that might tide me over while my mind searches for something to rant about: Do different people interpret the idea of "completeness" in different ways? Think about it for however long you feel comfortable doing so. For example,. int eh above paragraph, I said this post would hopefully be a "complete" one. What did I mean by that? That it was my standard five or six paragraphs long? Is that when a post is "complete"? Or when I pose a rhetorical question, follow it up with my somewhat cynical view of reality and how the truth for this question may be uncovered. Maybe throw in one or two witty jokes, poke some fun at a few stereotypes along the way? Is that when a post is complete? Or, even deeper, are my post's complete when they force my reader to seriously consider the question and it's ramifications on their life? Truthfully, I have posed no such topics thus far that would so drastically alter someone's perception of the world. But that is certainly something to strive towards isn't it? I believe if every writer worked to change a single person's opinion of the world, then we'd see a lot better examples of good writing out there in the world today.
And now I'm rambling.
Here's another small sub-topic: It is extremely hard to write and think coherently when you're listening to music. Currently I'm listening to Prayer for the Dying by Seal, from his old album that came out in 1994. Over a decade ago. That was quite a bit of time ago. And yet, for some strange reason I love his music more than ever. I can't stop listening to it. And not just one or two songs. The entire album. Every song, from first to last, click the repeat button, turn up the volume on my speakers, sit back and enjoy. Best served late at night.
It isn't helping me to think though. But I feel great. i'm just typing and I'm aware that I'm not making any sense, but my fingers refuse to stop because if they stop then the truth of what I may or may not be saying might catch up to me and I can't, at all costs, let that happen. When a writer truly sits down and considers what he/she has written, there is always the fear that they may find a flaw in their own work. In many cases not a flaw. But a contradiction, a mistake. They didn't mean it exactly like that. Sure the gist came across okay, the overall point of the piece of writing survived relatively intact, but now, 10 minutes later, 30 minutes later, two hours later, five years later, when you're looking back on what you've written you are unable to escape the conclusion that the person who began writing was not the same person who finished writing, and no matter how fast you write, you'll never be able to convey your thoughts completely accurately, completely up to date with the way your mind is turning over and picking apart the things that you're writing. Is that why so few people choose to write? I don't think so. I think the best writers are those who are not able to write fast enough to capture their thoughts like water streaming through a close pair of hands, but instead good writers are people who are able to pick their stances on subjects that are so broad and meaningful, interpretable on so many levels, that after everything is said and done, the reader will ultimately fail to understand the true point the author had in mind, the true point; lost amid the countless symbols, motifs, themes, fancy words, and creative uses of imaginative punctuation.
So there, that was quite a bit of ramble. My point? Seal is an amazing singer and I think it's a downright shame to consider the shabby shape of the modern music industry in comparison to such giants. Mellow giants. Giants who didn't wish to stop being giants, but rather wished to accentuate other areas of themselves.
I'm not a giant, and I might not ever be. But if I do become one, some day, whenever that happens, I can only hope I'll have the strength and self-integrity to preserve what small amount of principles I may still have. They're flowing out of my mind pretty fast, and I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep them there, cupped in my mind.
Okay, here's a small sub-topic that might tide me over while my mind searches for something to rant about: Do different people interpret the idea of "completeness" in different ways? Think about it for however long you feel comfortable doing so. For example,. int eh above paragraph, I said this post would hopefully be a "complete" one. What did I mean by that? That it was my standard five or six paragraphs long? Is that when a post is "complete"? Or when I pose a rhetorical question, follow it up with my somewhat cynical view of reality and how the truth for this question may be uncovered. Maybe throw in one or two witty jokes, poke some fun at a few stereotypes along the way? Is that when a post is complete? Or, even deeper, are my post's complete when they force my reader to seriously consider the question and it's ramifications on their life? Truthfully, I have posed no such topics thus far that would so drastically alter someone's perception of the world. But that is certainly something to strive towards isn't it? I believe if every writer worked to change a single person's opinion of the world, then we'd see a lot better examples of good writing out there in the world today.
And now I'm rambling.
Here's another small sub-topic: It is extremely hard to write and think coherently when you're listening to music. Currently I'm listening to Prayer for the Dying by Seal, from his old album that came out in 1994. Over a decade ago. That was quite a bit of time ago. And yet, for some strange reason I love his music more than ever. I can't stop listening to it. And not just one or two songs. The entire album. Every song, from first to last, click the repeat button, turn up the volume on my speakers, sit back and enjoy. Best served late at night.
It isn't helping me to think though. But I feel great. i'm just typing and I'm aware that I'm not making any sense, but my fingers refuse to stop because if they stop then the truth of what I may or may not be saying might catch up to me and I can't, at all costs, let that happen. When a writer truly sits down and considers what he/she has written, there is always the fear that they may find a flaw in their own work. In many cases not a flaw. But a contradiction, a mistake. They didn't mean it exactly like that. Sure the gist came across okay, the overall point of the piece of writing survived relatively intact, but now, 10 minutes later, 30 minutes later, two hours later, five years later, when you're looking back on what you've written you are unable to escape the conclusion that the person who began writing was not the same person who finished writing, and no matter how fast you write, you'll never be able to convey your thoughts completely accurately, completely up to date with the way your mind is turning over and picking apart the things that you're writing. Is that why so few people choose to write? I don't think so. I think the best writers are those who are not able to write fast enough to capture their thoughts like water streaming through a close pair of hands, but instead good writers are people who are able to pick their stances on subjects that are so broad and meaningful, interpretable on so many levels, that after everything is said and done, the reader will ultimately fail to understand the true point the author had in mind, the true point; lost amid the countless symbols, motifs, themes, fancy words, and creative uses of imaginative punctuation.
So there, that was quite a bit of ramble. My point? Seal is an amazing singer and I think it's a downright shame to consider the shabby shape of the modern music industry in comparison to such giants. Mellow giants. Giants who didn't wish to stop being giants, but rather wished to accentuate other areas of themselves.
I'm not a giant, and I might not ever be. But if I do become one, some day, whenever that happens, I can only hope I'll have the strength and self-integrity to preserve what small amount of principles I may still have. They're flowing out of my mind pretty fast, and I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep them there, cupped in my mind.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
What Are You? A Bumper Sticker?
The title surmises it all. As you may or may not know or care, there was a recent commercial for the fast food joint Sonic on T.V. As you may or may not know or care, these commercials are generally funny and feature a low quality and very "indie-film-noir" style "car-camera" in which the reactions of people eating Sonic food (generally the same people who I have actually come to believe are not real actors, but actual customers), are recorded. These commercials are humorous and usually end with a very vibrant camera pan of a few wax recreations of some sort of Sonic food, sometimes the one the people in the care are eating, sometimes not. Okay, so on the latest commercial that I saw, a wife and husband were eating something in their car. We'll refer to the actual meal here by the alias of "Sonic's New Cherry Cheesecake Milkshake". The wife talks about her quest during the summer to lose weight, and her angst over not eating as much dessert as she would have normally been accustomed to. The husband responds by saying perhaps she should opt for enjoying the dessert she has now instead of complaining about the ones she missed. She responds with the punch line of the commercial (wait, commercials have punch lines now?!) by saying, and this is a real kicker, "What are you? A bumper sticker?"
If you did not just laugh, even very quietly to yourself, you do not belong on this site reading my blog. I believe the entire character of human nature, and our evolution through this world to find our purpose in life might, could, and will (for the next 10 minutes) be characterized by that exact phrase: "What are you? A bumper sticker?" For that truly does explain quite a bit, does it not? Think more deeply about it. That's right all you little teenage girls out there, put down your Starbucks double-frappuccinos and think. All you boys put down your anabolic steroids and Axe body spray for one moment and think about it.
Bumper stickers seemed to be, and increasingly are the most common mode of the communication of Very Useless and Disturbingly Common Axioms, or VUDCA. Wait, that almost spells Vodka...Unfortunately, there is now way I can change it so it still contains the words 'useless' and the phrase 'disturbingly common'.
Anyway, you know the exact sort of bumper stickers I'm talking about. The kind that make you squirm in your seat when your driving and throw your lumbar support system all out of whack. The kind that make your blood run hot, and your desire to pass on the right increase. The most common are the following:
-Jesus loves you.
-Jesus really loves you.
-Jesus hates you, but might love you if you give my Church some money.
-Honk if you hate yourself.
-Smile if you've just paid your taxes but "forgot" to fill out IRS form 1-A17/D-446
-My son is an honors student.
-My daughter is an honors student.
-My son could beat up your honors kid.
-Jesus loves my son and is going to help him beat up your honors kid. Damn Arabs! We should kill all foreigners and make NASCAR the national pastime!
So you see the situation that plagues our national roadways, infects the bumper of every 1992 white Ford Escort, and has driven our nations drivers mad with the road-rage inducing affects of bumper stickers that are too small to see anyway.
So when you think about it, 'What are you? A bumper sticker?' Can actually be interpreted on many different levels. We are all victims in one way or another of senseless advertising or stupid people pitching stupid products or stupid ideas. People spouting non-sensical nosense (yes I know that's redundant) because they saw it on a bumper-sticker is a sure-fire sign of the coming apocaylpse, and when that comes, I think the last thing you want to hear is, "What are you? A bumper sticker?"
Monday, October 09, 2006
Korea with Nukes
So, North Korea officially tested a nuclear weapon yesterday in an underground facility slightly north of the capitol. This is strangely exciting and strangley disturbing. Distubring because I now know for certain that one more country, with morons as leaders, has nukes. Excited because I got to listen to Bush talk about it and was excited to see if my new Predict-a-Phrase would actually work.
These are quotes from an AFB article on the subject. Let the dissection begin. Words highlighted in blue represent certain key words Bush likes to use. Words in red are things that Bush says to increase American commitent to the war on terror. Words in yellow are things he thought up one his own and decided to "wing it" and see how they sounded outside of his head.
These are quotes from an AFB article on the subject. Let the dissection begin. Words highlighted in blue represent certain key words Bush likes to use. Words in red are things that Bush says to increase American commitent to the war on terror. Words in yellow are things he thought up one his own and decided to "wing it" and see how they sounded outside of his head.
Bush declined to confirm the Stalinist regime's claim overnight that it had successfully tested a nuclear device but branded the announcement itself "a threat to international peace and security."
"We reaffirmed our commitment to a nuclear-free Korean peninsula. And all of us agreed that the proclaimed actions taken by
"Once again
Bush said that he remained "committed to diplomacy" but also stressed that the
He also warned
"We would hold
"We're working to confirm
"Threats will not lead to a brighter future for the North Korean people, nor weaken the resolve of the
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Some Notes on the Shortcomings of the Contemporary American Teenager (Part 1)
Yes, I said "part 1" because I intend this to be a multifaceted series of posts, a sort of refined flow of the ideas and little thoughts I've had over the years on, you guessed it, the shortcomings of the contemporary American teenager. Some of it may not make sense. Some of it may be contradictory. Some of it may even infuriate. However, overall, my goal for this post series is to relay my thoughts and opinions as and when they are influenced by things I have experienced, or by new revelations I've had, or by being influenced by someone I've talked to or someone I've read. Let me say this, that above all, this is not aimed at anyone in particular, and that in all instances there are individuals on both sides of the fence, along with some uncomfortably situated on top of the fence, and some who have removed the fence all together and replaced it with something entirely more sinsister, or more wholesome. As the case may be, and as I have learned over the years, teenagers form the most volatile and energetic population percentile of almost every nation on earth. You can explain it away with hormones, or unproper upbringing, or the work of the devil, but what it all comes down to is that teenagers are often misunderstood and that leads to an unfortaunte cycle resulting in more misunderstanding, a cycle which irrevocably repeats and repeats until the teenagers themselves are too busy with their lives to continue anymore.
A'ight, that was a pretty big-ass paragraph, and I'll try to make a mental note to keep them a bit shorter and more focused than that. It is hard to write about such a complex subject as the shortcomings of teenagers when you yourself are a teenager, eh? Of course, this may be the unique prespective no one has had before. Someone on the inside. Someone with direct information, for once a sensible link to understanding and dealing with the problem that is teenagers. I think that writers, scientists, teachers, and most importantly parents will pounce all over this blog once they've heard about all of the wonderful little nuggets of information I have regarding thier teenage children. Of course, I plan to make a profit out of this. Hmm, let's say 50 USD for every child I help to assimilate into the "normal" American culture of Baby Boomers and prescription drugs. It'll be just like that episode of Star Trek where Captain Picard almost gets assimilated by the Borg. Except without the happy ending of course.
The ones who have detected the sarcasm, and did not appreciate it, have left, and all that remain are those who were oblivious to it before (and probably will be oblivious to it for the rest of the post), those who noticed it, dismissed it as the mere unrelenting wryness of one of our pubscent young ones, and have continued to peruse the blog for useful information, and those who have noticed the sarcasm, appreciated it for what it was, and continued to read, truly believing they might in some way gain or alter thier perspective of thinking my reading my very altered perspective of thinking.
Well I suppose that's enough for Part 1, I just provided those people out there with no direct experience with teenagers a crash course into understanding the mind of one. If you've gotten this far, don't forget. It's currently 9:00 PM. Do you know where your kids are?
A'ight, that was a pretty big-ass paragraph, and I'll try to make a mental note to keep them a bit shorter and more focused than that. It is hard to write about such a complex subject as the shortcomings of teenagers when you yourself are a teenager, eh? Of course, this may be the unique prespective no one has had before. Someone on the inside. Someone with direct information, for once a sensible link to understanding and dealing with the problem that is teenagers. I think that writers, scientists, teachers, and most importantly parents will pounce all over this blog once they've heard about all of the wonderful little nuggets of information I have regarding thier teenage children. Of course, I plan to make a profit out of this. Hmm, let's say 50 USD for every child I help to assimilate into the "normal" American culture of Baby Boomers and prescription drugs. It'll be just like that episode of Star Trek where Captain Picard almost gets assimilated by the Borg. Except without the happy ending of course.
The ones who have detected the sarcasm, and did not appreciate it, have left, and all that remain are those who were oblivious to it before (and probably will be oblivious to it for the rest of the post), those who noticed it, dismissed it as the mere unrelenting wryness of one of our pubscent young ones, and have continued to peruse the blog for useful information, and those who have noticed the sarcasm, appreciated it for what it was, and continued to read, truly believing they might in some way gain or alter thier perspective of thinking my reading my very altered perspective of thinking.
Well I suppose that's enough for Part 1, I just provided those people out there with no direct experience with teenagers a crash course into understanding the mind of one. If you've gotten this far, don't forget. It's currently 9:00 PM. Do you know where your kids are?
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Nerf, Myspace, Halo, and Flamingos
A'ight, time to get down to business. From here on out, it's coming hot and heavy. Serious, real, true-to-life, aweinspiring, wonderful, surprisingly humurous, occassionally distrubing, moronically opptimistic, non-belligerent, bloggy, blog blog blogness.
I mean it, enough of the formalities, I'm going to start voicing my opinions on things, and I'm going to type as I voice them, and see how close I get to typing what I'm saying, and then alter it to fit my needs, and then post it on here, and then edit it to fit my needs again, and then smile, and the reread it, and then edit it for typos, and finally serve it to the intenet community on a burnished titanium platter.
I have introduced myself, I have written down my thoughts on what life means, I have told you what I think is good, what I think is wrong, and what I think needs to be changed. I'm just getting started but now you know where I stand, and I'm basking in the fiar amount of confidence I have in the fact that I have narrowed my reader base to people who can truly relate to the things I'm talking about. From here on out, it's going to be controversial, not so controversial, opinionated, not so opinionated, trying hard to be anti-conformist without it being too obvious while retaining what little sense of humanity I have left. Get ready for the big times, the small times, the medium times, and the XXXL times. The bright lights, me and what I have to say. It might not be pretty a times, but to me, thats perfectly fine.
Okay, down to business. The first thing I gotta do today is give you a little rundown on my summary of todays events.
I woke up.
I woke up late.
I woke up a little too late.
I ate an omellete.
I went to church.
I came back.
I called my friend.
I logged onto the computer.
I worked on Rhino, a 3D program creating a space ship.
My friend called back.
I went outside and mowed the lawn.
My friend came over.
We used Rhino.
We watched some Red vs. Blue.
We played some Halo.
We watched Star Trek I.
We laughed.
We watched the last half of Kung Pow.
We chuckled nervously.
We played with some Nerf Guns.
Friend went home.
I went back no the computer and worked on some school work.
I logged onto the Blogger Beta Dashboard.
I mentally discussed with myself the benefits and disadvantages of writing a new post for my blog.
I decided to go with it.
That pretty much surmises my activites for today.
Now onto the topics up for discussion (And by discussion, I mean me ranting about them).
Nerf. I like some aspects of Nerf. first of all, it is extremely fun. Everyone likes Nerf. If someone gives you a Nerf gun and tells you to fire it at a glass window, and you do, and you dislike the feeling, then something is extremely wrong with you. I'm talking about on a physical, mental, and spiritual level. If you think Nerf is too much work, and doesn't give enough reward for the time invested in it, you've got yourself a trifecta of problems. I sympathize with you, however there is really nothing that can be done for you, outside of mandatory drafting into the armed forces.
However, Nerf is not all fun and games. It has it's "dark" side, and this is mostly finanically related. First of all, Nerf is expensive. I'm talking about name brande, goodnees-to god, official Hasbro, made in China Nerf with a registered trademark after it brand guns. There are many cheaper alternatives to Nerf, my current favorite being the "Air Blasters" series from Buzz Bee toys. They may not be the most reliableor long lasting, but by god, you can get the same results for the first ten times you use it as you could with a name brand Nerf gun for at most, I kid you not, half the price. Please. Restrain yourselves from throwing aside your computer desk (or laptop) and rushing to the nearest toy store to buy yourself an Air Blasters Tek 10.
Nerfing is fun and well, and can provide something you can do inside, in the winter, with your friends without worrying about breaking something breakable. Given, it's usually hard to break something unbreakable, but given the alternatives of airsoft and paintball, I'd say Nerf is a fun cheap, and relatively simple option.
Of course, Nerf can be enjoyed on countless levels, from a collector's point of view, from an enthusiast's point of view, and from the point of view of someone who wants to create a super powerful homemade Nerf gun, which is fun in its own right.
The next subject: Myspace. Uh-oh, this is a pretty touchy topic and I don't want to cross the line here. To put it as diplomatically as I can, people who log on to their Myspace more than twice a day should be sent to prison. Whew. Feels good to get that off my chest!
Halo. Halo 3 is due out sometime next year, and rumors are flyin' about who's doing what when and how with Halo: The Movie, due out sometime 2008. This is great, in my opinion, because you can never have enough Halo. Ever.
Oh yes, if anyone has any sort of hints or tips on how to get past the second Arbiter level in Halo 2 one Legendary, let me know. I flew through the other levels on Legendary with my brother on co-op, but that dang Heretic leader is tough to kill.
Finally, Flamingos. No I am not referring to the pink, lawn grazing, often ceramic birds which always stand on one leg (are they extinct now?). No, I'm talking about the Flamingo render plug-in for Rhino. I was playing with it the other day with a good friend of mine, and I was a bit suprised at its capabilities. More folling around is neccessary, me thinks.
More to come.
I mean it, enough of the formalities, I'm going to start voicing my opinions on things, and I'm going to type as I voice them, and see how close I get to typing what I'm saying, and then alter it to fit my needs, and then post it on here, and then edit it to fit my needs again, and then smile, and the reread it, and then edit it for typos, and finally serve it to the intenet community on a burnished titanium platter.
I have introduced myself, I have written down my thoughts on what life means, I have told you what I think is good, what I think is wrong, and what I think needs to be changed. I'm just getting started but now you know where I stand, and I'm basking in the fiar amount of confidence I have in the fact that I have narrowed my reader base to people who can truly relate to the things I'm talking about. From here on out, it's going to be controversial, not so controversial, opinionated, not so opinionated, trying hard to be anti-conformist without it being too obvious while retaining what little sense of humanity I have left. Get ready for the big times, the small times, the medium times, and the XXXL times. The bright lights, me and what I have to say. It might not be pretty a times, but to me, thats perfectly fine.
Okay, down to business. The first thing I gotta do today is give you a little rundown on my summary of todays events.
I woke up.
I woke up late.
I woke up a little too late.
I ate an omellete.
I went to church.
I came back.
I called my friend.
I logged onto the computer.
I worked on Rhino, a 3D program creating a space ship.
My friend called back.
I went outside and mowed the lawn.
My friend came over.
We used Rhino.
We watched some Red vs. Blue.
We played some Halo.
We watched Star Trek I.
We laughed.
We watched the last half of Kung Pow.
We chuckled nervously.
We played with some Nerf Guns.
Friend went home.
I went back no the computer and worked on some school work.
I logged onto the Blogger Beta Dashboard.
I mentally discussed with myself the benefits and disadvantages of writing a new post for my blog.
I decided to go with it.
That pretty much surmises my activites for today.
Now onto the topics up for discussion (And by discussion, I mean me ranting about them).
Nerf. I like some aspects of Nerf. first of all, it is extremely fun. Everyone likes Nerf. If someone gives you a Nerf gun and tells you to fire it at a glass window, and you do, and you dislike the feeling, then something is extremely wrong with you. I'm talking about on a physical, mental, and spiritual level. If you think Nerf is too much work, and doesn't give enough reward for the time invested in it, you've got yourself a trifecta of problems. I sympathize with you, however there is really nothing that can be done for you, outside of mandatory drafting into the armed forces.
However, Nerf is not all fun and games. It has it's "dark" side, and this is mostly finanically related. First of all, Nerf is expensive. I'm talking about name brande, goodnees-to god, official Hasbro, made in China Nerf with a registered trademark after it brand guns. There are many cheaper alternatives to Nerf, my current favorite being the "Air Blasters" series from Buzz Bee toys. They may not be the most reliableor long lasting, but by god, you can get the same results for the first ten times you use it as you could with a name brand Nerf gun for at most, I kid you not, half the price. Please. Restrain yourselves from throwing aside your computer desk (or laptop) and rushing to the nearest toy store to buy yourself an Air Blasters Tek 10.
Nerfing is fun and well, and can provide something you can do inside, in the winter, with your friends without worrying about breaking something breakable. Given, it's usually hard to break something unbreakable, but given the alternatives of airsoft and paintball, I'd say Nerf is a fun cheap, and relatively simple option.
Of course, Nerf can be enjoyed on countless levels, from a collector's point of view, from an enthusiast's point of view, and from the point of view of someone who wants to create a super powerful homemade Nerf gun, which is fun in its own right.
The next subject: Myspace. Uh-oh, this is a pretty touchy topic and I don't want to cross the line here. To put it as diplomatically as I can, people who log on to their Myspace more than twice a day should be sent to prison. Whew. Feels good to get that off my chest!
Halo. Halo 3 is due out sometime next year, and rumors are flyin' about who's doing what when and how with Halo: The Movie, due out sometime 2008. This is great, in my opinion, because you can never have enough Halo. Ever.
Oh yes, if anyone has any sort of hints or tips on how to get past the second Arbiter level in Halo 2 one Legendary, let me know. I flew through the other levels on Legendary with my brother on co-op, but that dang Heretic leader is tough to kill.
Finally, Flamingos. No I am not referring to the pink, lawn grazing, often ceramic birds which always stand on one leg (are they extinct now?). No, I'm talking about the Flamingo render plug-in for Rhino. I was playing with it the other day with a good friend of mine, and I was a bit suprised at its capabilities. More folling around is neccessary, me thinks.
More to come.
Friday, September 15, 2006
The Purpose
What is the purpose of everything? I think it's the one question we were all born to try and answer, and we all do answer it in our own way. It's impossible to say with any certainty what the purpose of life is. But it's not hard to find out what your own purpose is. Quite easy be comparison.
For starters, I tried to figure out what the purpose of a few daily thing are. Like this blog. I'm sure some of you out there are asking, with sarcasm, yes Andrew, what IS the purpose of this blog? And I'll admit it, I have been skirting that question. I know I'm only ten posts into this blog, and less than a month since it began, but I plan to keep this thing going for quite awhile.
The purpose of this blog is to relay what I think of everyday life and, tell you my interpretation of events, and express myself through words, something I happen to really enjoy. Some people have told me I'm a good writer, I've told people they're great writers, I have friends who are great singers, friends who can take apart a computer and put it back together in minutes, friends who are black belts, friends who are white belts, and friends who seem to have it all together. So when they tell me I'm a good writer, I think just how much that compliment means coming from people like them.
I enjoy writing, I enjoy talking, I enjoy music, and mostly, life in general. This blog is meant to help me enjoy life more. But what does it do for you? I can't tell you that, but I can sure tell you what I hope it does for you. I hope you read the things I write in this blog, think about it, and use my opinion on things to change and influence the way you think. Not controlling your mind. Expanding the way you think. Sounds condescending? Not at all. I know from reading and listening to other people, I have learned far more than I could ever figure out by myself. We're humans, all of us, we should work together. If everyone in the world thought about the same thing at the same time for one hour, non stop, what sort of changes would take place? The world wouldn't be the same, would never be the same.
You have those people who say the above is not the way we were developed. We are just like other animals, and simply live to survive, relying on instinct and knowledge to quide us through our lives without dying. We are simply the top of the food chain, the deluxe supreme of animals and beasts, we hit the genetic lottery and came out upright, talking, talking, and with McDonalds. Pretty lucky eh?
Let me say right off the bat that I don't believe in creationism. It's stupid. Nine straight years of Sunday school did nothing to persuade me otherwise. I believe in god, but the god I believe in isn't a man or woman, and loves us, doesn't hate us. I also believe that god doesn't care if you capitalize his first name, and was more concerned about the people who lost family members in every war that has ever happened than concerned about how big or how powerful the army was the caused the destruction.
However, we have determined that we are one of the very few organisms that are "sentient" or self aware. We realize that one day we'll die, and so we try to reassure ourselves our entire lives. So, really, who is luckier? We've been given the incredible gift on sentience, thought, and interpretation of our natural world on a level far superior, in our opinion, to any creature on earth, and how do we use it? We kill each other regularly, enslave others, toxify the world, and think about the short term. You could visit any hippie/peace protestor/tree hugger website to hear the full list; it's not my point. My point is that, since we seem to be making such a big mess of everything, who is luckier? The man who knows he will die someday and tries his best to forget about it, burying himself in material things, or the animal who is carefree and until it's dying breath lives to live.
So what is the purpose of this blog? The purpose is not to "enlighten" you or to cause an instant awareness and immediate understanding of the world around you. No one is perfect, but that doesn't mean we should resign ourselves to being "just human".
For starters, I tried to figure out what the purpose of a few daily thing are. Like this blog. I'm sure some of you out there are asking, with sarcasm, yes Andrew, what IS the purpose of this blog? And I'll admit it, I have been skirting that question. I know I'm only ten posts into this blog, and less than a month since it began, but I plan to keep this thing going for quite awhile.
The purpose of this blog is to relay what I think of everyday life and, tell you my interpretation of events, and express myself through words, something I happen to really enjoy. Some people have told me I'm a good writer, I've told people they're great writers, I have friends who are great singers, friends who can take apart a computer and put it back together in minutes, friends who are black belts, friends who are white belts, and friends who seem to have it all together. So when they tell me I'm a good writer, I think just how much that compliment means coming from people like them.
I enjoy writing, I enjoy talking, I enjoy music, and mostly, life in general. This blog is meant to help me enjoy life more. But what does it do for you? I can't tell you that, but I can sure tell you what I hope it does for you. I hope you read the things I write in this blog, think about it, and use my opinion on things to change and influence the way you think. Not controlling your mind. Expanding the way you think. Sounds condescending? Not at all. I know from reading and listening to other people, I have learned far more than I could ever figure out by myself. We're humans, all of us, we should work together. If everyone in the world thought about the same thing at the same time for one hour, non stop, what sort of changes would take place? The world wouldn't be the same, would never be the same.
You have those people who say the above is not the way we were developed. We are just like other animals, and simply live to survive, relying on instinct and knowledge to quide us through our lives without dying. We are simply the top of the food chain, the deluxe supreme of animals and beasts, we hit the genetic lottery and came out upright, talking, talking, and with McDonalds. Pretty lucky eh?
Let me say right off the bat that I don't believe in creationism. It's stupid. Nine straight years of Sunday school did nothing to persuade me otherwise. I believe in god, but the god I believe in isn't a man or woman, and loves us, doesn't hate us. I also believe that god doesn't care if you capitalize his first name, and was more concerned about the people who lost family members in every war that has ever happened than concerned about how big or how powerful the army was the caused the destruction.
However, we have determined that we are one of the very few organisms that are "sentient" or self aware. We realize that one day we'll die, and so we try to reassure ourselves our entire lives. So, really, who is luckier? We've been given the incredible gift on sentience, thought, and interpretation of our natural world on a level far superior, in our opinion, to any creature on earth, and how do we use it? We kill each other regularly, enslave others, toxify the world, and think about the short term. You could visit any hippie/peace protestor/tree hugger website to hear the full list; it's not my point. My point is that, since we seem to be making such a big mess of everything, who is luckier? The man who knows he will die someday and tries his best to forget about it, burying himself in material things, or the animal who is carefree and until it's dying breath lives to live.
So what is the purpose of this blog? The purpose is not to "enlighten" you or to cause an instant awareness and immediate understanding of the world around you. No one is perfect, but that doesn't mean we should resign ourselves to being "just human".
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Tell Me a Story
FRIEND: Tell me a story.
andrito bandito: Okay, but its a long one.
FRIEND: I'm ready.
andrito bandito: Are you serious?
FRIEND: Yeah.
andrito bandito: Why?
andrito bandito: Nevermind
FRIEND: ...?
andrito bandito: Okay, one of my many "camping" stories.
andrito bandito: You see, my parents were and still are big outdoor enthusiasts. I'm talking Sierra Club, tree hugging, backpacking with a single set of underwear outdoor enthusiasts.
andrito bandito: And we lived in California, convenient.
andrito bandito: One of my goals for life is to take you out to Yellowstone and Tahoe and Yosemite and all those places, because I think you would really like it. They're beautiful, these places, not like out here. New England has a lot of great forests and mountains, but the air out in the West is different. It's a little hard to desrcibe, I guess it has to do with the humidity and all that sort of stuff, but trust me when I say you haven't really breathed until you've breathed out in the west.
andrito bandito: Anyhow, my parents were never rich, far from it, not destitute, but they didn't have a lot of money. That didn't stop them from traveling everywhere together. They met at the Sierra club, so their marriage was based really on a similiar love of the outdoors.
andrito bandito: the financial situation didn't stop my parents from going everywhere in an old yellow rusting Subaru that routinely fell apart and was so rusted from years of being used out here on the East coast with the salted roads in the winter time, that the whole under carraige was rusted through in some places.
andrito bandito: Anyway, the big landmass that seperates California from everything else are the Sierra Mountains. They seperate California from Nevada. beyond that is the Great Basin, the national park haven of America. It stretches through Nevada and includes Wyoming, Utah, Montana, Arizona, New Mexico, the eastern parts of Washington and Oregon, and Idaho.
andrito bandito: This place was carved out big time by the glaciers of years gone by, and is carpeted with pine trees.
andrito bandito: The Sierra Mountains slope away from California, and fall jaggedly into Nevada. From my school, on the swing, I could see the tips of the Two Sisters, a pair of foothills for the Sierra Mountains. It was quite a drive from Sacramento (about 30 minutes from where I lived) to the base of the Sierras, and from there another couple hours through the mountains. They have roads, but that place is downright treahcerous in the winter. The Donner Monument and Museum is located up there by Donner Lake. You can see the trees that are cut off half way up, because that was how high the snow was packed when the Donner party came through and had to cut down the trees for fire wood.
andrito bandito: Past Donner Lake is Lake Tahoe, one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited. Hiking paths galore, the water is ice cold, there are trees everywhere, and the mountains surrounding everything on all sides. I've hiked pretty far up with my cousin (a fantastic guy, you'd love him). He lives not far from there with his wife and children.
andrito bandito: Anyways, I'm kinda getting off on a tangent there.
andrito bandito: The story is based around Yellowstone National Park.andrito bandito: This is the famous park where the have tons of bears and moose and buffalo that roam free and commit more acts of terrorism towards Americans than all of Al Queda combines.
andrito bandito: combined*
andrito bandito: Anyhow, it's a really nice park, lots of camping sites and trails.andrito bandito: So were setting up one night, and this park ranger comes by in a pick up truckandrito bandito: He says there is a grizzly bear loose in the camp site, and everyone should get in their cars until they say it's safe. After awhile he comes around saying we could get out (we've gotten rid of the crappy car by this time, and got a brand new Subaru, my mom has a thing for Subarus).
andrito bandito: So anyway, we roast marshmellows, tell stories, get crazy drunk on hot chocalate and go off to bed.
andrito bandito: In the middle of the night I hear rustling outside. I ignore it and go back to sleep (by the way sleeping in a flannel sleeping back in the middle of a tent in the middle of a forest is a great experience, unless you need to go to the bathroom, in which case camping doesn't seem too great).
andrito bandito: when we wake up in the morning, we find that our supply tent, a slightly smaller tent next to our main sleeping tent had been totaled.
andrito bandito: Apparently our friend the grizzly had come back in the middle of the night, torn through the camp site searching for food (which we obviously hid out of his reach in a tree), ripped the 1 foot tent stakes right out of the ground, and sent the tent flying. We found a footprint, and this guy was big. He must have been at least a couple hundred pounds, and left a footprint the size of Rhode Island.
andrito bandito: And he had been right NEXt to us when were sleeping.andrito bandito: It was awesome, to know that you had been that close to such a powerful animal in the wild.
andrito bandito: I've got tons of those stories, actually, because instead of watching TV (when we did it was PBS), my parents substituted camping as the one large experience in my youth.
andrito bandito: Story told, more or less.
andrito bandito: As good as AIM will let me, it usually involves a lot of gesturing.
FRIEND: Ahhh, that's amazin'.
andrito bandito: Okay, but its a long one.
FRIEND: I'm ready.
andrito bandito: Are you serious?
FRIEND: Yeah.
andrito bandito: Why?
andrito bandito: Nevermind
FRIEND: ...?
andrito bandito: Okay, one of my many "camping" stories.
andrito bandito: You see, my parents were and still are big outdoor enthusiasts. I'm talking Sierra Club, tree hugging, backpacking with a single set of underwear outdoor enthusiasts.
andrito bandito: And we lived in California, convenient.
andrito bandito: One of my goals for life is to take you out to Yellowstone and Tahoe and Yosemite and all those places, because I think you would really like it. They're beautiful, these places, not like out here. New England has a lot of great forests and mountains, but the air out in the West is different. It's a little hard to desrcibe, I guess it has to do with the humidity and all that sort of stuff, but trust me when I say you haven't really breathed until you've breathed out in the west.
andrito bandito: Anyhow, my parents were never rich, far from it, not destitute, but they didn't have a lot of money. That didn't stop them from traveling everywhere together. They met at the Sierra club, so their marriage was based really on a similiar love of the outdoors.
andrito bandito: the financial situation didn't stop my parents from going everywhere in an old yellow rusting Subaru that routinely fell apart and was so rusted from years of being used out here on the East coast with the salted roads in the winter time, that the whole under carraige was rusted through in some places.
andrito bandito: Anyway, the big landmass that seperates California from everything else are the Sierra Mountains. They seperate California from Nevada. beyond that is the Great Basin, the national park haven of America. It stretches through Nevada and includes Wyoming, Utah, Montana, Arizona, New Mexico, the eastern parts of Washington and Oregon, and Idaho.
andrito bandito: This place was carved out big time by the glaciers of years gone by, and is carpeted with pine trees.
andrito bandito: The Sierra Mountains slope away from California, and fall jaggedly into Nevada. From my school, on the swing, I could see the tips of the Two Sisters, a pair of foothills for the Sierra Mountains. It was quite a drive from Sacramento (about 30 minutes from where I lived) to the base of the Sierras, and from there another couple hours through the mountains. They have roads, but that place is downright treahcerous in the winter. The Donner Monument and Museum is located up there by Donner Lake. You can see the trees that are cut off half way up, because that was how high the snow was packed when the Donner party came through and had to cut down the trees for fire wood.
andrito bandito: Past Donner Lake is Lake Tahoe, one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited. Hiking paths galore, the water is ice cold, there are trees everywhere, and the mountains surrounding everything on all sides. I've hiked pretty far up with my cousin (a fantastic guy, you'd love him). He lives not far from there with his wife and children.
andrito bandito: Anyways, I'm kinda getting off on a tangent there.
andrito bandito: The story is based around Yellowstone National Park.andrito bandito: This is the famous park where the have tons of bears and moose and buffalo that roam free and commit more acts of terrorism towards Americans than all of Al Queda combines.
andrito bandito: combined*
andrito bandito: Anyhow, it's a really nice park, lots of camping sites and trails.andrito bandito: So were setting up one night, and this park ranger comes by in a pick up truckandrito bandito: He says there is a grizzly bear loose in the camp site, and everyone should get in their cars until they say it's safe. After awhile he comes around saying we could get out (we've gotten rid of the crappy car by this time, and got a brand new Subaru, my mom has a thing for Subarus).
andrito bandito: So anyway, we roast marshmellows, tell stories, get crazy drunk on hot chocalate and go off to bed.
andrito bandito: In the middle of the night I hear rustling outside. I ignore it and go back to sleep (by the way sleeping in a flannel sleeping back in the middle of a tent in the middle of a forest is a great experience, unless you need to go to the bathroom, in which case camping doesn't seem too great).
andrito bandito: when we wake up in the morning, we find that our supply tent, a slightly smaller tent next to our main sleeping tent had been totaled.
andrito bandito: Apparently our friend the grizzly had come back in the middle of the night, torn through the camp site searching for food (which we obviously hid out of his reach in a tree), ripped the 1 foot tent stakes right out of the ground, and sent the tent flying. We found a footprint, and this guy was big. He must have been at least a couple hundred pounds, and left a footprint the size of Rhode Island.
andrito bandito: And he had been right NEXt to us when were sleeping.andrito bandito: It was awesome, to know that you had been that close to such a powerful animal in the wild.
andrito bandito: I've got tons of those stories, actually, because instead of watching TV (when we did it was PBS), my parents substituted camping as the one large experience in my youth.
andrito bandito: Story told, more or less.
andrito bandito: As good as AIM will let me, it usually involves a lot of gesturing.
FRIEND: Ahhh, that's amazin'.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Gravitas
What! I haven't posted something yet with the word gravitas in it? This needs to be changed.
Before going on, let me explain something to you. Gravitas is my favorite word. More than favorite. If I had to BE a word, I would choose gravitas. There is NO better word, and I love it not only because of what it means, but because even SAT trainers 9 times out of 10 have no idea what the hell it means. I do, however, which I think is great, and I've been trying my hardest to explain to my friends what gravitas means. It's not even in my Webster's dictionary. Webster needs to get his act together, because this isn't the first time I haven't found a word in there. That guy is responsible for a lot of lost bets in Scrabble.
Okay, I just checked Dictionary.com (the best source of definitions you'll be able to find in less than 10 seconds from a reputable internet source. what? you don't trust the internet? why the hell not?). Gravitas WAS listed on there as a word that exists, which is very reassuring to me. What isn't very reassuring is the definition.
grav‧i‧tas/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[grav-i-tahs, ‑tas]
–noun
seriousness or sobriety, as of conduct or speech.
That is a completely direct Copy and Paste which has been edited to fit my needs. Basically, this definition falls a little short in more than one area. First of all, gravitas cannot be limited to one's speech or conduct. Gravitas applies to all things, including thought and the way one expresses onself through writing, or chanting, or painting, or building balsa wood sets of Abraham Lincoln's face in your basement. Gravitas is an assured confidence, a subtle non-chalance, a preplanned series of graceful movements, words, and thoughts that come together to form the fabric of life. If Yoda knew what it meant he would have ditched "The Force" faster than a can of freeze dried lima beans.
Gravitas can be explained best through a series of forceful swiping hand gestures that looks like this:
WHIFF
WHIFF
WHOOF
..............
WHIFF
Do you understand? No? Damn.
Gravitas is....Well...let me use an example. Let's say Charles is very "gravitas oriented". He is accustomed to the extent and practical use of everyday gravitas. He handles himself with confidence, and stands with his chin up, facing the world around him with brilliant confidence. He is the master of his domain, an aspiring gravitas master.
Some guy comes up behind him and hits him in the back of the head with a rotten beet. what would a normal response be? Most likely a verbal or physical assault coupled with "bustin' a cap" depending on where you live. Not Charles. No, our dear friend Charles has something else in mind. Stepping calmly up to this troubled individual Charles confidently positions himself with his shoulders square, feet set chest width apart, leaning slightly to the left, with his right arm extended to meet his waist slightly above the hipline, his other hand nestled in the confines of the front left pocket of his European silk sport jacket.
"Excuse me sir, but I believe you dropped this." Charles holds up the half crushed beet cradling it gently in fingers that could easily crush the lanryx of the responsible individual.
"Whatever dude, you think your so cool walking around like that. You're in Chicago. Why the f*ck are you wearing a sports jacket?"
Laying his hand solidly on the young man's shoulders Charles calmly appraises the situation.
"You're obviously troubled. I'm willing to help you. But first you need to grow and develop. Take charge of your mind, and work actively to make something of yourself."
"Get your hands off of me assh*le."
"Sorry, sir. I was just returning your beet."
The young man discovers, to his obvious distaste, that Charles has smeared the beet all over his shoulder.
"You're going to pay for that."
"I'll bet." Charles smiles, knowing he has the upper head. He remembers the first and only gravitas rule: A clear mind can conquer any situation. The man grins showing two rows of scraggly rotten teeth.
"You think you can take me? I'm a streetfighter! B*tch! I'll tear you apart!"
Charles smiles, revealing two rows of sparking white teeth. "I bet you could."
At this point, the man is confused. Charles has not shown the usual signs of fear or abrupt anger. Instead, Charles has gotten control of the situation and this nameless troublemaker suddenly finds himself at the opposite side of the spectrum. This is not where he expects himself to be, and his surprise and confusion results in only a more rapid deterioration of the situation. His limited use of "street" gravitas can do little to slow the exponential effects of his ultimate failure. Charles has won, and he is that much stronger for it.
Of course, not ALL situations go as above, but it is a general rule that people who have mastered their gravitas generally do better in their lives. They are finacially, physically, and mentally assured in both their personal and proffessional lives, and they live with confidence, something so many troubled individuals out there go from day to day without.
Confidence is everything. Even if you're not sure of something, people will look for confidence when talking with you, and recognize it. they will respect you, and you willrespect them. That is the circle of gravitas, the cycle that controls the flow of the natural world.
So come on, hit me with your best shot. My good friend Mr. Gravitas and I are waiting for you. Bring it on.
Before going on, let me explain something to you. Gravitas is my favorite word. More than favorite. If I had to BE a word, I would choose gravitas. There is NO better word, and I love it not only because of what it means, but because even SAT trainers 9 times out of 10 have no idea what the hell it means. I do, however, which I think is great, and I've been trying my hardest to explain to my friends what gravitas means. It's not even in my Webster's dictionary. Webster needs to get his act together, because this isn't the first time I haven't found a word in there. That guy is responsible for a lot of lost bets in Scrabble.
Okay, I just checked Dictionary.com (the best source of definitions you'll be able to find in less than 10 seconds from a reputable internet source. what? you don't trust the internet? why the hell not?). Gravitas WAS listed on there as a word that exists, which is very reassuring to me. What isn't very reassuring is the definition.
grav‧i‧tas/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[grav-i-tahs, ‑tas]
–noun
seriousness or sobriety, as of conduct or speech.
That is a completely direct Copy and Paste which has been edited to fit my needs. Basically, this definition falls a little short in more than one area. First of all, gravitas cannot be limited to one's speech or conduct. Gravitas applies to all things, including thought and the way one expresses onself through writing, or chanting, or painting, or building balsa wood sets of Abraham Lincoln's face in your basement. Gravitas is an assured confidence, a subtle non-chalance, a preplanned series of graceful movements, words, and thoughts that come together to form the fabric of life. If Yoda knew what it meant he would have ditched "The Force" faster than a can of freeze dried lima beans.
Gravitas can be explained best through a series of forceful swiping hand gestures that looks like this:
WHIFF
WHIFF
WHOOF
..............
WHIFF
Do you understand? No? Damn.
Gravitas is....Well...let me use an example. Let's say Charles is very "gravitas oriented". He is accustomed to the extent and practical use of everyday gravitas. He handles himself with confidence, and stands with his chin up, facing the world around him with brilliant confidence. He is the master of his domain, an aspiring gravitas master.
Some guy comes up behind him and hits him in the back of the head with a rotten beet. what would a normal response be? Most likely a verbal or physical assault coupled with "bustin' a cap" depending on where you live. Not Charles. No, our dear friend Charles has something else in mind. Stepping calmly up to this troubled individual Charles confidently positions himself with his shoulders square, feet set chest width apart, leaning slightly to the left, with his right arm extended to meet his waist slightly above the hipline, his other hand nestled in the confines of the front left pocket of his European silk sport jacket.
"Excuse me sir, but I believe you dropped this." Charles holds up the half crushed beet cradling it gently in fingers that could easily crush the lanryx of the responsible individual.
"Whatever dude, you think your so cool walking around like that. You're in Chicago. Why the f*ck are you wearing a sports jacket?"
Laying his hand solidly on the young man's shoulders Charles calmly appraises the situation.
"You're obviously troubled. I'm willing to help you. But first you need to grow and develop. Take charge of your mind, and work actively to make something of yourself."
"Get your hands off of me assh*le."
"Sorry, sir. I was just returning your beet."
The young man discovers, to his obvious distaste, that Charles has smeared the beet all over his shoulder.
"You're going to pay for that."
"I'll bet." Charles smiles, knowing he has the upper head. He remembers the first and only gravitas rule: A clear mind can conquer any situation. The man grins showing two rows of scraggly rotten teeth.
"You think you can take me? I'm a streetfighter! B*tch! I'll tear you apart!"
Charles smiles, revealing two rows of sparking white teeth. "I bet you could."
At this point, the man is confused. Charles has not shown the usual signs of fear or abrupt anger. Instead, Charles has gotten control of the situation and this nameless troublemaker suddenly finds himself at the opposite side of the spectrum. This is not where he expects himself to be, and his surprise and confusion results in only a more rapid deterioration of the situation. His limited use of "street" gravitas can do little to slow the exponential effects of his ultimate failure. Charles has won, and he is that much stronger for it.
Of course, not ALL situations go as above, but it is a general rule that people who have mastered their gravitas generally do better in their lives. They are finacially, physically, and mentally assured in both their personal and proffessional lives, and they live with confidence, something so many troubled individuals out there go from day to day without.
Confidence is everything. Even if you're not sure of something, people will look for confidence when talking with you, and recognize it. they will respect you, and you willrespect them. That is the circle of gravitas, the cycle that controls the flow of the natural world.
So come on, hit me with your best shot. My good friend Mr. Gravitas and I are waiting for you. Bring it on.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Five Years
Has it really been five years? Five whole years, January to December? But, it's not January to December is it? We measure it from September to September, don't we? How many people actually still measure a year from September to September? At what point did their lives so drastically change that they stopped caring about the insignificant number of years after some guy they didn't even know got nailed to a cross? Should we even care what year it is? Or should we just measure from the significant points in our lives?
These, among others, are the questions I think the entire nation is asking itself today. I am American, I live in America, I am a natural born citizen, born in this country, I'm going to die in this country if I have anything to say about it, and while my family and friends live in this country, this IS the country I'm going to care about.
Don't get me wrong, I am not an ultra conservative, ultra patriotic, ultra isolationist, libertarian, lets-build-a-giant-steel-wall-around-our-national-borders-so-the-damn-foreigners-don't-get-in kind of person. I like to think of myself as slightly above center. Why limit oneself to left and right when you can rise safely above the fence and examine the mess from both points of view. there are some Republican things I agree with and some Democratic things I agree with, and some things that I agree in that both parties have also managed to agree on. Given, there isn't much in that third column but trust me, I'm not the only person who believes in its existence.
I am Pro-Choice, if a woman gets raped and doesn't want a baby, just kill the baby before its born. People who believe that every-sperm-is-sacred crap sicken me. I'm also Pro-Guns. well, that doesn't make much sense. Suffice it to say I'm anti-Pro-Gun Control. If we as citizens don't have the power to overthrow our government if we don't like it, then we are being denied some very serious human rights. It's written in the Constitution, but it shouldn't need to be for people to understand and respect it. However, I'm also a strong believer in the people as the government. Our nation isn't split into two sides, the government and everyone else. Our government is run by citizens. We aren't governed by a military figure, and we aren't governed by a religous figure. In a free and secular world, the basis behind the United States kicks ass. Of course, it falls apart a bit when one factors in the pointless bureacracy, the corruption, and general human vices such as greed and malice. These are not things we're born with, but if raised in the wrong environment, we are all potential killers.
We are also all potential Ghandis, or Ben Franklins, or Albert Einstiens as well. We have choice in the way we present ourselves, but our ability to understand this is governed directly by the people who raise us and protect us and teach us values. The apple can fall at the base of the tree, but this isn't neccessarily bad if the tree is strong and healthy. On the other hand, an apple from a not so healthy tree has every chance of rolling away and landing somewhere better. The best thing is, humans are a whole bunch smarter than apples, and if we wanted to, I'm sure we could blow the hell out of that outdated euphamism.
My point is, America as a country has its problems. Obesity, corruption in politics and industry, a widening seperation of the rich and poor along with a decrease of the middle class, and some serious problems overseas. But America as a nation is not that bad. We can band together, and no one can disagree that after 9/11 we banded together. Hell, my family bought a gigantic flag big enough to serve as a makeshift trampoline at the Olympic trials, I'm sure.
The big point is this: It's been five years after 9/11 and we should stop thinking about how weak our country is, or how evil other people out there are going to be. How much of an effort owuld it be to work hard to train our children the generation of tommorrow to be better, compared to the tradeoff. we should stop showing them that simple problems must be solved through war, violence and misdirected anger. Ignorance breeds ignorance, stupidity breeds stupidity, anger breeds anger, and somewhere in there a terrorist is born, or a serial killer, or a corrupt politician, or the kid down the street who enjoys kicking other kids in the ribs when no one is looking.
The next generation is the future, but that doesn't mean we can't do anything. By just teaching our kids tolerance, we'll be helping out. By practicing tolerance, we'll be helping out. Remember this, anger breeds anger, but peace and intelligence breeds in turn peace and intelligence and if we're lucky enough, we'll all be able to appreciate the fruits of our labors (probably apples) before our lives are over.
It's not that life is too short. It's just that people spend too much time thinking about it instead of living and enjoying it.
And that's my post for today.
These, among others, are the questions I think the entire nation is asking itself today. I am American, I live in America, I am a natural born citizen, born in this country, I'm going to die in this country if I have anything to say about it, and while my family and friends live in this country, this IS the country I'm going to care about.
Don't get me wrong, I am not an ultra conservative, ultra patriotic, ultra isolationist, libertarian, lets-build-a-giant-steel-wall-around-our-national-borders-so-the-damn-foreigners-don't-get-in kind of person. I like to think of myself as slightly above center. Why limit oneself to left and right when you can rise safely above the fence and examine the mess from both points of view. there are some Republican things I agree with and some Democratic things I agree with, and some things that I agree in that both parties have also managed to agree on. Given, there isn't much in that third column but trust me, I'm not the only person who believes in its existence.
I am Pro-Choice, if a woman gets raped and doesn't want a baby, just kill the baby before its born. People who believe that every-sperm-is-sacred crap sicken me. I'm also Pro-Guns. well, that doesn't make much sense. Suffice it to say I'm anti-Pro-Gun Control. If we as citizens don't have the power to overthrow our government if we don't like it, then we are being denied some very serious human rights. It's written in the Constitution, but it shouldn't need to be for people to understand and respect it. However, I'm also a strong believer in the people as the government. Our nation isn't split into two sides, the government and everyone else. Our government is run by citizens. We aren't governed by a military figure, and we aren't governed by a religous figure. In a free and secular world, the basis behind the United States kicks ass. Of course, it falls apart a bit when one factors in the pointless bureacracy, the corruption, and general human vices such as greed and malice. These are not things we're born with, but if raised in the wrong environment, we are all potential killers.
We are also all potential Ghandis, or Ben Franklins, or Albert Einstiens as well. We have choice in the way we present ourselves, but our ability to understand this is governed directly by the people who raise us and protect us and teach us values. The apple can fall at the base of the tree, but this isn't neccessarily bad if the tree is strong and healthy. On the other hand, an apple from a not so healthy tree has every chance of rolling away and landing somewhere better. The best thing is, humans are a whole bunch smarter than apples, and if we wanted to, I'm sure we could blow the hell out of that outdated euphamism.
My point is, America as a country has its problems. Obesity, corruption in politics and industry, a widening seperation of the rich and poor along with a decrease of the middle class, and some serious problems overseas. But America as a nation is not that bad. We can band together, and no one can disagree that after 9/11 we banded together. Hell, my family bought a gigantic flag big enough to serve as a makeshift trampoline at the Olympic trials, I'm sure.
The big point is this: It's been five years after 9/11 and we should stop thinking about how weak our country is, or how evil other people out there are going to be. How much of an effort owuld it be to work hard to train our children the generation of tommorrow to be better, compared to the tradeoff. we should stop showing them that simple problems must be solved through war, violence and misdirected anger. Ignorance breeds ignorance, stupidity breeds stupidity, anger breeds anger, and somewhere in there a terrorist is born, or a serial killer, or a corrupt politician, or the kid down the street who enjoys kicking other kids in the ribs when no one is looking.
The next generation is the future, but that doesn't mean we can't do anything. By just teaching our kids tolerance, we'll be helping out. By practicing tolerance, we'll be helping out. Remember this, anger breeds anger, but peace and intelligence breeds in turn peace and intelligence and if we're lucky enough, we'll all be able to appreciate the fruits of our labors (probably apples) before our lives are over.
It's not that life is too short. It's just that people spend too much time thinking about it instead of living and enjoying it.
And that's my post for today.
The Sweet Smell of True Love...
Love. It's a wonderful thing. Some people say that it is what deifnes us as humans. What encompasses us everyday of our human lives, and what truly makes the world go round. These people rarely survive more than five months outside of the protection of their parents. No, no, I am not a callous individual who cares not for the human emotions that define us. I just think its stupid to proclaim your love for someone (or something) when you still live with your parents, don't have a job, and watch Saturday morning cartoons. Do young people really need companionship that badly? I'm a teenager, always have been, will be for at least a couple more years. The doctor says that I am at the peak of my hormonal activity. Why is it, that I'm finding it hard to openly say I love someone when I truly do not.
True love (for teenagers) smells like goose shit. I kid you not.
There is a pond near where I live. If it weren't for the type of water it has floating in it, its size, shape, and location, I'm sure it would be quite a nice pond. The trouble is that the water is barely hip deep in most places, yet the visibility is limited to approximately an inch, below which blossoms a large presumably unididentified form of algae that I believe might have migrated here from hell. On top of the water a decent sized flock of ducks and geese thrive, if you classify a daily existence of attempting to survive off of the bits of plastic floating in the water "thriving". These geese have mastered a very unusual ability. I like to calll this the "ability to get out of the water, onto the sidewalk (which circles the pond), excrete solid waste, and climb back into the water. I'm sure this is the only species of bird that has an actual preffered place of depositing solid waste, and unfortunately, it makes the place smell really bad.
This grassy areas around the pond have become a famous place for young "couples" to lounge in the cancerous grass, basking in the sweet glow of thier pubscent lust, and attempt to ignore the pervasive stench of algae that surrounds the place. I believe that if the smell was a certain color, the area around the pond effected by the smell would be visible from the Space Station.
Why is this place such a great "make-out" spot? The finer points of intimacy are admittedly not my forte, but I believe that even a Pokemon intensive five year old would know there would be quite a few places you'd want to take your better half than a goose's shithole.
I was walking my German Shepard, Killer, the other day, and happened to find myself circling the aforementioned pond. As I attempted to persuade my dog that each little pile of goose droppings smelled the same and that she did not need to smell each one every time we passed by, I noticed a few "couples" lounging in the midday sun. One pair had brought out a blanket and what looked to be a lunch container of some sort. Their faces were currently bonded at the molecular level. I walked past, keeping my gaze forward, knowing full well the proper ettiquette once must show in such a decorous world that we live it. How dare I act rudely to these people who apparently were giving a lesson on intimate foreplay in a nieghborhood full of children. I should be ashamed to even notice it. As I kept walking along, dragging Killer, I noticed another couple a few meters down the stretch. They had decided to go au naturale and had skipped the blanket and tentatively pre-identified food container altogether and just sat with each other on the grass. I wondered for a brief moment if whether or not they knew that the geese rarely limited themselves to the pavement, when I noticed their faces weren't chemically bonded. If this was a bad sign, a quick microscopic flick of my eyes confirmed that they weren't even holding hands. Uh-oh. This was a bad sign. The man (and I mean man in this case by someone one or two years younger than me) was sitting back with his arms crossed attempting to look muscular, non-chalant, disinterested, and extremely focused on one goose all at the same time. The woman (and I mean woman in this case by someone one or two years younger than me), was gazing out at the water, not even trying to cover up her obvious boredom. She was repeatedly tapping a long thin branch against the ground, seeming to find some form of relief in watching it break into tiny fragments. I'm not a phycologist, but I believe that if your girlfriend is finding more interest in a dead tree limb than you, something isn't right with your relationship.
True love (for teenagers) smells like goose shit. I kid you not.
There is a pond near where I live. If it weren't for the type of water it has floating in it, its size, shape, and location, I'm sure it would be quite a nice pond. The trouble is that the water is barely hip deep in most places, yet the visibility is limited to approximately an inch, below which blossoms a large presumably unididentified form of algae that I believe might have migrated here from hell. On top of the water a decent sized flock of ducks and geese thrive, if you classify a daily existence of attempting to survive off of the bits of plastic floating in the water "thriving". These geese have mastered a very unusual ability. I like to calll this the "ability to get out of the water, onto the sidewalk (which circles the pond), excrete solid waste, and climb back into the water. I'm sure this is the only species of bird that has an actual preffered place of depositing solid waste, and unfortunately, it makes the place smell really bad.
This grassy areas around the pond have become a famous place for young "couples" to lounge in the cancerous grass, basking in the sweet glow of thier pubscent lust, and attempt to ignore the pervasive stench of algae that surrounds the place. I believe that if the smell was a certain color, the area around the pond effected by the smell would be visible from the Space Station.
Why is this place such a great "make-out" spot? The finer points of intimacy are admittedly not my forte, but I believe that even a Pokemon intensive five year old would know there would be quite a few places you'd want to take your better half than a goose's shithole.
I was walking my German Shepard, Killer, the other day, and happened to find myself circling the aforementioned pond. As I attempted to persuade my dog that each little pile of goose droppings smelled the same and that she did not need to smell each one every time we passed by, I noticed a few "couples" lounging in the midday sun. One pair had brought out a blanket and what looked to be a lunch container of some sort. Their faces were currently bonded at the molecular level. I walked past, keeping my gaze forward, knowing full well the proper ettiquette once must show in such a decorous world that we live it. How dare I act rudely to these people who apparently were giving a lesson on intimate foreplay in a nieghborhood full of children. I should be ashamed to even notice it. As I kept walking along, dragging Killer, I noticed another couple a few meters down the stretch. They had decided to go au naturale and had skipped the blanket and tentatively pre-identified food container altogether and just sat with each other on the grass. I wondered for a brief moment if whether or not they knew that the geese rarely limited themselves to the pavement, when I noticed their faces weren't chemically bonded. If this was a bad sign, a quick microscopic flick of my eyes confirmed that they weren't even holding hands. Uh-oh. This was a bad sign. The man (and I mean man in this case by someone one or two years younger than me) was sitting back with his arms crossed attempting to look muscular, non-chalant, disinterested, and extremely focused on one goose all at the same time. The woman (and I mean woman in this case by someone one or two years younger than me), was gazing out at the water, not even trying to cover up her obvious boredom. She was repeatedly tapping a long thin branch against the ground, seeming to find some form of relief in watching it break into tiny fragments. I'm not a phycologist, but I believe that if your girlfriend is finding more interest in a dead tree limb than you, something isn't right with your relationship.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Hmm...(and Winter)
Today was boring. And I mean boring. And I feel really bad because there is no way that I can possibly relate to you the series of events that made up today without losing your interest, which is not something I want to do. I've also tried to update this blog daily, and while I'm not the most realistic person, even I have to admit that after awhile, it's just not going to be possible.
Well, I guess you can't do everything everyday.
I've gotten into the rythm of the new school year now, or at least I think I have. I understand my teachers, know who I like or dislike, and I'm starting to act a bit more like myself in class. This is a big step for me as the first few days of school, my level of excitement is on par with what you might expect from broken chair. In fact, a few of my friends came up to me and asked me if I was feeling alright. Of course I was, I was merely mourning the death of a friend, in this case summer.
But I'm looking forward to winter, looking forward to the cold. Despite the fact I was born in California, I like winter, and I like snow. I'm an avid snowboarder who takes great pride in the way I've mastered how to fall and look like it was on purpose. This is a fairly large achievement because it's hard to make it look like you meant to lose your balance and slam into the cold hard snow at upwards of twenty miles and hour. But I try.
"So, Andrew you sure you're ready for this triple black diamond?"
"Are you crazy? I heard this thing got a Death Rating of 127% from Ski Magazine. I'd be stupid not to try it."
"Whatever, I just want to make sure you're up for it."
"Of course I am. Did you know my mom used to ski when she was pregnant with me? I practically having skiing in my blood. My blood is ice cold."
"Whoa, that's pretty cool."
"Yeah it kind of is. I should write that down. Where are we again?"
"About halfway up the ski lift."
"Yeah, that seems about right." *looks down at ski slope beneath that runs at a roughly ninety degree angle. "Doesn't look so bad."
"I lost four uncles to this slope, along with breaking my arm last year trying it. Makr my words Andrew, this thing is a monster of a run."
"I could ski this thing in my sleep."
*whoosh as I slide cleanly down the ramp away from the ski lift at the top*
"Okay let's do it."
BAM
"Andrew! Are you okay?! I've never seen anyone wipe out that bad in my life!"
"Are you kidding? I've never seen a snow rabbit that slow in my life!"
"What?"
"You didn't see it. There was a mother snow rabbit with two babies transversing this slope. I wiped out to save them." *friend looks around*
"Where? I don't 'em."
"Well, of course not, they're SNOW rabbits. They blend in to hide from predators."
"Never mind that, are you okay enough to get to the bottom?"
"Sure I am, I'm pretty sure my pelvis is in no more than three pieces. no worries!"
So that is how most of my ski trips go, and let me tell you, I have some kind of fun! You haven't been snowboarding unless you've been snowboarding with me!
But winter isn't all fun and games. The snow and ice that can build up on our New England roads out here can make car travel pretty dangerous. Tons of people wipe out everyday, and even at school, the buses get into snow-related fender benders on occasion. However, the constant atmosphere of pervasive death and the constant danger of a car accident are more than compensated by the never failing humor of the soccer mom who believes that her 4WD will help her brake.
Ok, I've found my rant for the day. People in winter not understanding how a 4WD works. It's actually not that complicated and while my dad happens to be a mechanic by trade, I think the common ground squirrel could probably understand the basics of 4WD. A car moves by turning it's wheels. In most cars the front wheels are turned by the engine. In some, the rear wheels are turned. In a 4WD car, you have the option to connect the engine to all four wheels. this is useful if you're stuck on an icy patch in the road, and need traction on all the wheels. So you enage your 4WD, keep it in low gear, and accelerate away happily down the road. This concept doesn't seem too hard to me, so it always baffles me why year after year, we have people spinning out at stop lights because they're going they're usual fifty miles per hourspped they use in the summer. They live in a state that annually gets a little north of five feet of snow annually, but it always seems to continually surprise them, year after year when winter rolls around. "Wow!" They say to each other on their cellphones while they're driving. "What's all this white stuff everywhere? It's so cold, I think that my Starbucks Cappuchino is freezing. Well, I'd better get in my five hundred ton GMC Yukon and blaze down the road at fifty miles an hour even though I have no where to go. Luckily I hav 4WD which will obviously help me stop, even though I have no idea how the actualy system works!"
That is a common conversation here in the New England, and these people spin out without fail when they slam on thier brakes at a stop light. There are only two thing that'll help a car stop: 1) the type of tires you have and, 2) Surprise! That kind of BRAKES you have. Nowhere does it say that having 4WD automatically makes you unable to have an car accident in the winter, and anyone in the world with even a limited, Lego induced, knowledge of mechanics could tell you why. So it really makes no sense to me that after these people crash into a telephone pole, or more commonly, another car, they angrily slam their hand down on their hood and yell at the policeman, "It's not my fault! I have 4WD! I don't know how this happened!" I've actually seen this happen.
So, even though today was boring, I was able to get a pretty nice post going here.
Until next time...
Well, I guess you can't do everything everyday.
I've gotten into the rythm of the new school year now, or at least I think I have. I understand my teachers, know who I like or dislike, and I'm starting to act a bit more like myself in class. This is a big step for me as the first few days of school, my level of excitement is on par with what you might expect from broken chair. In fact, a few of my friends came up to me and asked me if I was feeling alright. Of course I was, I was merely mourning the death of a friend, in this case summer.
But I'm looking forward to winter, looking forward to the cold. Despite the fact I was born in California, I like winter, and I like snow. I'm an avid snowboarder who takes great pride in the way I've mastered how to fall and look like it was on purpose. This is a fairly large achievement because it's hard to make it look like you meant to lose your balance and slam into the cold hard snow at upwards of twenty miles and hour. But I try.
"So, Andrew you sure you're ready for this triple black diamond?"
"Are you crazy? I heard this thing got a Death Rating of 127% from Ski Magazine. I'd be stupid not to try it."
"Whatever, I just want to make sure you're up for it."
"Of course I am. Did you know my mom used to ski when she was pregnant with me? I practically having skiing in my blood. My blood is ice cold."
"Whoa, that's pretty cool."
"Yeah it kind of is. I should write that down. Where are we again?"
"About halfway up the ski lift."
"Yeah, that seems about right." *looks down at ski slope beneath that runs at a roughly ninety degree angle. "Doesn't look so bad."
"I lost four uncles to this slope, along with breaking my arm last year trying it. Makr my words Andrew, this thing is a monster of a run."
"I could ski this thing in my sleep."
*whoosh as I slide cleanly down the ramp away from the ski lift at the top*
"Okay let's do it."
BAM
"Andrew! Are you okay?! I've never seen anyone wipe out that bad in my life!"
"Are you kidding? I've never seen a snow rabbit that slow in my life!"
"What?"
"You didn't see it. There was a mother snow rabbit with two babies transversing this slope. I wiped out to save them." *friend looks around*
"Where? I don't 'em."
"Well, of course not, they're SNOW rabbits. They blend in to hide from predators."
"Never mind that, are you okay enough to get to the bottom?"
"Sure I am, I'm pretty sure my pelvis is in no more than three pieces. no worries!"
So that is how most of my ski trips go, and let me tell you, I have some kind of fun! You haven't been snowboarding unless you've been snowboarding with me!
But winter isn't all fun and games. The snow and ice that can build up on our New England roads out here can make car travel pretty dangerous. Tons of people wipe out everyday, and even at school, the buses get into snow-related fender benders on occasion. However, the constant atmosphere of pervasive death and the constant danger of a car accident are more than compensated by the never failing humor of the soccer mom who believes that her 4WD will help her brake.
Ok, I've found my rant for the day. People in winter not understanding how a 4WD works. It's actually not that complicated and while my dad happens to be a mechanic by trade, I think the common ground squirrel could probably understand the basics of 4WD. A car moves by turning it's wheels. In most cars the front wheels are turned by the engine. In some, the rear wheels are turned. In a 4WD car, you have the option to connect the engine to all four wheels. this is useful if you're stuck on an icy patch in the road, and need traction on all the wheels. So you enage your 4WD, keep it in low gear, and accelerate away happily down the road. This concept doesn't seem too hard to me, so it always baffles me why year after year, we have people spinning out at stop lights because they're going they're usual fifty miles per hourspped they use in the summer. They live in a state that annually gets a little north of five feet of snow annually, but it always seems to continually surprise them, year after year when winter rolls around. "Wow!" They say to each other on their cellphones while they're driving. "What's all this white stuff everywhere? It's so cold, I think that my Starbucks Cappuchino is freezing. Well, I'd better get in my five hundred ton GMC Yukon and blaze down the road at fifty miles an hour even though I have no where to go. Luckily I hav 4WD which will obviously help me stop, even though I have no idea how the actualy system works!"
That is a common conversation here in the New England, and these people spin out without fail when they slam on thier brakes at a stop light. There are only two thing that'll help a car stop: 1) the type of tires you have and, 2) Surprise! That kind of BRAKES you have. Nowhere does it say that having 4WD automatically makes you unable to have an car accident in the winter, and anyone in the world with even a limited, Lego induced, knowledge of mechanics could tell you why. So it really makes no sense to me that after these people crash into a telephone pole, or more commonly, another car, they angrily slam their hand down on their hood and yell at the policeman, "It's not my fault! I have 4WD! I don't know how this happened!" I've actually seen this happen.
So, even though today was boring, I was able to get a pretty nice post going here.
Until next time...
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Parlez-Vous le Français ?
Do you speak French? I sure don't, never have, and probably never will. The old "french is a dead language" speech has gotten a little old, but let's face facts, out of all the countries in the world, only a handful of countries have French as their primary language, though due to a mental block, I am not able to currently look up the exact statistics. Suffice it to say that for worldwide use of first languages, a rough estimate puts English at 1,125,664,397 people who learn it as a first language. Compared to French, which finds trouble pulling 400 million people at a measly 381,193,149. I've been to some Wal-Marts out here in A-Merica that could house that many people easily in just the produce section. If you're going to throw your lot in with any language, make it Mandarin (aka Chinese). They come in at a whopping billion and a half.
Don't get me wrong, I have no beef with the French. In fact, I'm a quarter or eighth french, which means a lot to me, given that the size of the individual parts of my genetic makeup mostly consists of decimal places and zeros. I'm a mixed bag of tricks, to be sure. No the reason I don't speak French is because I'm currently taking Spanish as my language of choice in high school. In my mind Spanish is great because I grew up in California, and though I was closer to the Bay Area than down south, I grew up surrounded by a warmer South American culture, a culture which is all but non-existant out here in New England. I love Mexican food, and can tell you truthfully that it does get better the closer you get to the border. I'm also a big fan of sombreros, but then again, it's hard not to like those.
The reason I'm talking about all of this is because today I joined the French club at my school. This was an incredibly rash thing for me to do, and I did it because I have a few friends in the club, a few friends who...you guessed it! A few friends who speak French. At the beginning of the session, the leader, a French teacher, asked who was taking French this year. A healthy smattering of hands rose into the air. She then asked who had taken French in the past. Another large chunk rose thier hands. At this point I was getting nervous. My friends had assured me in the most sensitive way that I did not need to know French to join the club.
"Don't worry Andrew, you don't need to know French. We love all people at the French club."
"I hope so."
"And don't mind the brain washing equipment in the corner. We only use that on really dedicated members."
"............."
So you could see that, though well intended, the total sincerity of my friend's assurance wasn't completely conveyed to me. And there I sat, in a room I had never been in before surrounded by French propaganda, and I was truly nervous. Of course, my face had long since assumed the look of a non chalant peice of cabbage. The teacher spoke again asking who had never taken French before. I rose my hand along with a another girl in the room. The girl spoke up. "But I take Latin." The teacher said. "Whew, that's a relief."
That was just about the high point of my day. I had exact proof, finally after years of prowling, that there WAS a secret alliance between the French and Latin clubs. And the had excluded us Spanish speaking hombres. Those bastards. Didn't France and Italy learn the lesson of secret alliances after two world wars. At this point you may be thinking, "Andrew, you ignorant fool, Latin was the language of the ancient Romans not modern day Italians." Yes, I know they don't speak Latin over in Italy anymore. In fact, Latin isn't spoken anywhere any more, except in school. Outside of high school and college, the only people who speak Latin are Latin teachers who do so in a private chatroom online every other thursday at three in the morning.
So yes, I do have a slight thing against Latin, but I have many friends who have taken Latin and I've never had any problem with them. Of course, none of them have put me in the awkward position I currently found myself. The teacher turned towards me. "And what is your name?"
"Andrew."
"And do you take a language?"
"...yes."
"Which is what?"
"Spanish."
SILENCE
"What?"
*trying to sound in control* "I said Spanish. I take it."
"Oh, well that's nice. Welcome to the FRENCH club."
"Thanks."
"This is the FRENCH club."
"Yeah."
"What do you think of the FRENCH club."
"I'm not sure yet."
SILENCE
At this point I believe I might have blacked out, but when I finally realized I was conscious again, they were discussing in English mixed with French the details of the year end trip to France. This was initially what I had been interested in, but I later began to seriously consider the Islam club's annual pilgramage to Mecca which costs only $173 compared to the couple Ben Franklin's north of three grand it would cost for me to take a plane ride that would normally cost on the south side of six hundred for a round trip ticket.
At this point, you may be thinking, "Andrew, you culturally unaware bigot, don't you understand that Paris is the center of the international fashion, movie, music, and literary industries. I would personally give my left big toe just to visit there for one day!"
You must have more big toes than I do, or else make more money than I do. The thing is, I plan to go to college, and maybe own a bicycle when I grow up, and such a high expense trip this early on in my childhood is sort of out of the question. Not to mention, this is France. I would love to visit there, but not for that much. Especially if I don't speak French. I don't even speak Spanish well enough to pass for a tourist from Spain. They will immediately pin point me as an American, and then it would be all fun and games anymore. I will immediately be arrested by the French police and taken to some tourist friendly American part of Paris with a name like "le America" where I will be surrounded by McDonalds, Nike, American Flags, Nintendo, and Ford Focuses, and where I will be assured in extremely unaccented English, that I will feel just like I did in my "native land". This is not something I want, nor is it something I'm willing to pay over three thousand dollars for. Not to sound rude, but a visit to France isn't worth that much.
Don't get me wrong, I have no beef with the French. In fact, I'm a quarter or eighth french, which means a lot to me, given that the size of the individual parts of my genetic makeup mostly consists of decimal places and zeros. I'm a mixed bag of tricks, to be sure. No the reason I don't speak French is because I'm currently taking Spanish as my language of choice in high school. In my mind Spanish is great because I grew up in California, and though I was closer to the Bay Area than down south, I grew up surrounded by a warmer South American culture, a culture which is all but non-existant out here in New England. I love Mexican food, and can tell you truthfully that it does get better the closer you get to the border. I'm also a big fan of sombreros, but then again, it's hard not to like those.
The reason I'm talking about all of this is because today I joined the French club at my school. This was an incredibly rash thing for me to do, and I did it because I have a few friends in the club, a few friends who...you guessed it! A few friends who speak French. At the beginning of the session, the leader, a French teacher, asked who was taking French this year. A healthy smattering of hands rose into the air. She then asked who had taken French in the past. Another large chunk rose thier hands. At this point I was getting nervous. My friends had assured me in the most sensitive way that I did not need to know French to join the club.
"Don't worry Andrew, you don't need to know French. We love all people at the French club."
"I hope so."
"And don't mind the brain washing equipment in the corner. We only use that on really dedicated members."
"............."
So you could see that, though well intended, the total sincerity of my friend's assurance wasn't completely conveyed to me. And there I sat, in a room I had never been in before surrounded by French propaganda, and I was truly nervous. Of course, my face had long since assumed the look of a non chalant peice of cabbage. The teacher spoke again asking who had never taken French before. I rose my hand along with a another girl in the room. The girl spoke up. "But I take Latin." The teacher said. "Whew, that's a relief."
That was just about the high point of my day. I had exact proof, finally after years of prowling, that there WAS a secret alliance between the French and Latin clubs. And the had excluded us Spanish speaking hombres. Those bastards. Didn't France and Italy learn the lesson of secret alliances after two world wars. At this point you may be thinking, "Andrew, you ignorant fool, Latin was the language of the ancient Romans not modern day Italians." Yes, I know they don't speak Latin over in Italy anymore. In fact, Latin isn't spoken anywhere any more, except in school. Outside of high school and college, the only people who speak Latin are Latin teachers who do so in a private chatroom online every other thursday at three in the morning.
So yes, I do have a slight thing against Latin, but I have many friends who have taken Latin and I've never had any problem with them. Of course, none of them have put me in the awkward position I currently found myself. The teacher turned towards me. "And what is your name?"
"Andrew."
"And do you take a language?"
"...yes."
"Which is what?"
"Spanish."
SILENCE
"What?"
*trying to sound in control* "I said Spanish. I take it."
"Oh, well that's nice. Welcome to the FRENCH club."
"Thanks."
"This is the FRENCH club."
"Yeah."
"What do you think of the FRENCH club."
"I'm not sure yet."
SILENCE
At this point I believe I might have blacked out, but when I finally realized I was conscious again, they were discussing in English mixed with French the details of the year end trip to France. This was initially what I had been interested in, but I later began to seriously consider the Islam club's annual pilgramage to Mecca which costs only $173 compared to the couple Ben Franklin's north of three grand it would cost for me to take a plane ride that would normally cost on the south side of six hundred for a round trip ticket.
At this point, you may be thinking, "Andrew, you culturally unaware bigot, don't you understand that Paris is the center of the international fashion, movie, music, and literary industries. I would personally give my left big toe just to visit there for one day!"
You must have more big toes than I do, or else make more money than I do. The thing is, I plan to go to college, and maybe own a bicycle when I grow up, and such a high expense trip this early on in my childhood is sort of out of the question. Not to mention, this is France. I would love to visit there, but not for that much. Especially if I don't speak French. I don't even speak Spanish well enough to pass for a tourist from Spain. They will immediately pin point me as an American, and then it would be all fun and games anymore. I will immediately be arrested by the French police and taken to some tourist friendly American part of Paris with a name like "le America" where I will be surrounded by McDonalds, Nike, American Flags, Nintendo, and Ford Focuses, and where I will be assured in extremely unaccented English, that I will feel just like I did in my "native land". This is not something I want, nor is it something I'm willing to pay over three thousand dollars for. Not to sound rude, but a visit to France isn't worth that much.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
A Stern but Firm Kick to the Face
No I haven't been kicked in the face, however I think there are a lot of people in the world who might need one.
As you obviously don't know, I take Tae-Kwon-Do, a fantastic Korean martial art which involves moving around rapidly in these really neat cotton clothes that seem to have a built in "wrinkle system". If you've ever done anything remotely physical in the sort of clothes I'm talking about you now what I mean. It is not an uncommon occurence among us "martial artists" to discover, after a session, that the left leg of our pants, for example, have developed a wrinkle down the side the rivals the Rio Grande in size. This is disturibing to me, not because I really care whether or not a large geographical formation has formed on my pantlegs during a workout, but that my instructer, a young Korean man with enough energy to power a small city just by running on a treadmill attached "Looney Toons Style" to a power converter, might find out about my unsightly wrinkle, and order me to do some light training excersise to discipline myself such as push ups, or learning to base jump "without all those stupid lines and chutes".
Of course I am being funny here, but the fact remains that in Tae-Kwon-Do the first thing any new white belt must learn is that to discipline one's body, one must first discipline one's mind. You see the inverse of this scenario ALL the time. Take the guy standing behind you at the fast food place, you know the guy I'm talking about. He has a neck the size of a small redwood tree trunk, arms that seem to be constructed in the same factory they use to make Hummers, and short little legs with way too many viens. He is also usually wearing athletic shorts, shoes with no socks, and stretched across a freight train chest, some old T-Shirt that is always from a painting company.
At first glance one of these individuals might seem pretty impressive. Taken at face value, such a massive mound of muscle must surely posess the skills, knowledge, and maturity to act as responsible family man, caring neighbor, and politically aware citizen. Only when he strides up the counter and begins to order twice the daily out put of the entire restaraunt, do you begin to realize your mistake in assuming.
"Hello sir, may I help you?"
"Yeah, you know, I'd like a, whaz it called, 42 1/2 pound Burger, on an ultra large sesame seed roll with a you know, the ketchup and the mustard and all that crap. Also, one a those super large cheese infused orders of french fries. If it's possible make 'em less French. Five milkshakes, four ultra large, make the last one medium, cause I'm on a diet. Also, I need some fries or something."
"You already ordered fries sir, would you like me to double your order."
"Yeah, double it, I like the sound of that. Double. Some pie."
"Excuse me sir?"
"Yeah, some PIE! You know PIE! It tastes so good like my grandma used to make. Tasty ya know?"
"Would that be all sir?"
"What iz you crazy?"
"No sir, I...."
"I sittin' here at this counter orderin' food and you treat me like a dog off da streets!?!"
"Sorry sir."
"Whatever. Also some ice cream. For the kids. I figure two gallon's 'll hold 'em."
"That'll be 146.83 sir."
"What, they raised prices again?!"
"Our prices are listed right there."
"I know, lady, I can see 'em." pulls paint splattered credit card out of bill fold (wallets are for the french).
So you see my point. These are the types of people who assault little league players when their son's team loses. Looks can be decieving. On the other hand, my instructer is disciplined in both the mind and body, and I have a strong feeling that he would be able to precisely disable most of the ^above's organs before the guy registered him even moving.
That might be exxageration, but trust me, if you ever find yourself in a fight, side with the people who seem to be able to keep thier calm and understand the situation there in. Otherwise, you run the hazard of recieivng a stern but firm kick to the face.
As you obviously don't know, I take Tae-Kwon-Do, a fantastic Korean martial art which involves moving around rapidly in these really neat cotton clothes that seem to have a built in "wrinkle system". If you've ever done anything remotely physical in the sort of clothes I'm talking about you now what I mean. It is not an uncommon occurence among us "martial artists" to discover, after a session, that the left leg of our pants, for example, have developed a wrinkle down the side the rivals the Rio Grande in size. This is disturibing to me, not because I really care whether or not a large geographical formation has formed on my pantlegs during a workout, but that my instructer, a young Korean man with enough energy to power a small city just by running on a treadmill attached "Looney Toons Style" to a power converter, might find out about my unsightly wrinkle, and order me to do some light training excersise to discipline myself such as push ups, or learning to base jump "without all those stupid lines and chutes".
Of course I am being funny here, but the fact remains that in Tae-Kwon-Do the first thing any new white belt must learn is that to discipline one's body, one must first discipline one's mind. You see the inverse of this scenario ALL the time. Take the guy standing behind you at the fast food place, you know the guy I'm talking about. He has a neck the size of a small redwood tree trunk, arms that seem to be constructed in the same factory they use to make Hummers, and short little legs with way too many viens. He is also usually wearing athletic shorts, shoes with no socks, and stretched across a freight train chest, some old T-Shirt that is always from a painting company.
At first glance one of these individuals might seem pretty impressive. Taken at face value, such a massive mound of muscle must surely posess the skills, knowledge, and maturity to act as responsible family man, caring neighbor, and politically aware citizen. Only when he strides up the counter and begins to order twice the daily out put of the entire restaraunt, do you begin to realize your mistake in assuming.
"Hello sir, may I help you?"
"Yeah, you know, I'd like a, whaz it called, 42 1/2 pound Burger, on an ultra large sesame seed roll with a you know, the ketchup and the mustard and all that crap. Also, one a those super large cheese infused orders of french fries. If it's possible make 'em less French. Five milkshakes, four ultra large, make the last one medium, cause I'm on a diet. Also, I need some fries or something."
"You already ordered fries sir, would you like me to double your order."
"Yeah, double it, I like the sound of that. Double. Some pie."
"Excuse me sir?"
"Yeah, some PIE! You know PIE! It tastes so good like my grandma used to make. Tasty ya know?"
"Would that be all sir?"
"What iz you crazy?"
"No sir, I...."
"I sittin' here at this counter orderin' food and you treat me like a dog off da streets!?!"
"Sorry sir."
"Whatever. Also some ice cream. For the kids. I figure two gallon's 'll hold 'em."
"That'll be 146.83 sir."
"What, they raised prices again?!"
"Our prices are listed right there."
"I know, lady, I can see 'em." pulls paint splattered credit card out of bill fold (wallets are for the french).
So you see my point. These are the types of people who assault little league players when their son's team loses. Looks can be decieving. On the other hand, my instructer is disciplined in both the mind and body, and I have a strong feeling that he would be able to precisely disable most of the ^above's organs before the guy registered him even moving.
That might be exxageration, but trust me, if you ever find yourself in a fight, side with the people who seem to be able to keep thier calm and understand the situation there in. Otherwise, you run the hazard of recieivng a stern but firm kick to the face.
I Agree!
Today in school, I witnessed an example of humanity at one of its high points. I was walking along, as fast as I can in the hall ways, which isn't very fast due to our density level (slightly higher than water logged pine wood). I had a book under one arm, and my backpack slung over my shoulder in a very cool style I like to call "I didn't have time to push my arm through the other strap before I was swept up by the wave of humanity that is our school". I had neutralized my face into an expression one would commonly associate with dead cabbage, to blend in with the other dead cabbages around me. The last thing I would want to do is stand out. Other students might point and say, "Look! That guy over there has neutralized his facial expression into one commonly associated with cabbage that isn't quite dead yet! Let us haze him in a manner that will make us feel better about ourselves!" As you can see, standing out in my high school is a big problem.
Anyhow, I'm walking along attempting to look bland and non-confrontational, when from behind me, someone yells out in a voice I would only describe as molasses sliding over low grit sandpaper, "Whoa! Someone has BO like a mother f*cker!" Before you think anything, rest assured he was not talking about me. I smother myself with enough "Old Spice High Endurance After Hours Keepin' It Real Ultra Aromatic Body Spray Deodarant" to supply a third world nation for at least a year. So no, I was not the one in possession of such BO, rather it was someone ahead of me, or so I assumed because by that point, I had begun to detect the faint odors of something not of this world.
No, this isn't a blog about BO, nor is it a blog about the sorry state of our high school system (that one is still to come). this is a blog about the guy behind me. The one with such creative language. I knew the person from elementary school, and grown up with that young child. Not that I would call him a friend, but I had seen him when he was still under five feet tall, and thought that Pokemon was a fad that couldn't possibly end in his lifetime. To see someone grow and develop next to you is both interesting and disturbing. Interesting, because it allowed me to measure myself against other people I knew, and thus re-assure myself that I was on the "right track" developmentally. Disturbing, because if someone had told me eight years ago that I would eventually hear this person utter the words I heard him utter, my reaction would have most likely been, "Wha?(without the 't')".
Is it just me, or do people swear a lot? I mean A LOT. What is it? Did I miss the episode of Power Rangers with the subliminal message of "Go out and use as much crude language as often as possible, especially around women because it'll make you awesome." I must of, because all of my life so far, growing up, swearing has always seemed a little alien to me. As in, if you can't express your feelings without swearing, SHUT UP and let people WHO CAN, talk in peace. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think so, and the reason for this is that I have friends, who also feel the same way. Of course, you can't exactly ask someone whether or not swearing is crude in thier opinion, they'll just swear at you to break the ice.
"So, Friend, I must ask you a simple question?"
"What is it, Bringer of Hopes to Orphans?"
"I must ask you, when you make verbal hemorrhages, do you feel as if you have done something you are uncomfortable with?"
"I believe the answer your searching for, dear Bringer, is to GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME, ASSH*LE."
"I'm sorry you feel that way."
"Oh, sorry, I just said it cause the girl I like was watching and I wanted to impress her."
".............."
Unfortunately, this is the way a conversation like that would go, and their is no avoiding it. But I have a question. What if everyone believes they could express themselves without swearing, but are too embarrassed to admit it. Wouldn't that be hilarious? Like the stupidest thing the human race has done, a worldwide embarrassment. Do you know how we would cover it up? I think I do. We all say, at the same time, "Whoa, someone has BO like a motherf*cker!" Wouldn't that be great? As you can tell, swearing is not my forte, I probably actually quoted the guy in the hallway wrong, and it is painfully obvious that my choice of words was awkward and ill planned.
So, this is my third post in this blog, and I'm likin' it so far. I'm going to push up a picture of myself here pretty soon, and I expect nothing less than pure wonder expressed through poetic e-mails about my ravishing good looks.
And I also promise to start posting things that actually have to do with something by next week. For now, I'm going to post stuff similar to the one above (without the swears), just so anybody who reads this can get an idea of who I am, and where I'm coming from.
Anyhow, I'm walking along attempting to look bland and non-confrontational, when from behind me, someone yells out in a voice I would only describe as molasses sliding over low grit sandpaper, "Whoa! Someone has BO like a mother f*cker!" Before you think anything, rest assured he was not talking about me. I smother myself with enough "Old Spice High Endurance After Hours Keepin' It Real Ultra Aromatic Body Spray Deodarant" to supply a third world nation for at least a year. So no, I was not the one in possession of such BO, rather it was someone ahead of me, or so I assumed because by that point, I had begun to detect the faint odors of something not of this world.
No, this isn't a blog about BO, nor is it a blog about the sorry state of our high school system (that one is still to come). this is a blog about the guy behind me. The one with such creative language. I knew the person from elementary school, and grown up with that young child. Not that I would call him a friend, but I had seen him when he was still under five feet tall, and thought that Pokemon was a fad that couldn't possibly end in his lifetime. To see someone grow and develop next to you is both interesting and disturbing. Interesting, because it allowed me to measure myself against other people I knew, and thus re-assure myself that I was on the "right track" developmentally. Disturbing, because if someone had told me eight years ago that I would eventually hear this person utter the words I heard him utter, my reaction would have most likely been, "Wha?(without the 't')".
Is it just me, or do people swear a lot? I mean A LOT. What is it? Did I miss the episode of Power Rangers with the subliminal message of "Go out and use as much crude language as often as possible, especially around women because it'll make you awesome." I must of, because all of my life so far, growing up, swearing has always seemed a little alien to me. As in, if you can't express your feelings without swearing, SHUT UP and let people WHO CAN, talk in peace. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think so, and the reason for this is that I have friends, who also feel the same way. Of course, you can't exactly ask someone whether or not swearing is crude in thier opinion, they'll just swear at you to break the ice.
"So, Friend, I must ask you a simple question?"
"What is it, Bringer of Hopes to Orphans?"
"I must ask you, when you make verbal hemorrhages, do you feel as if you have done something you are uncomfortable with?"
"I believe the answer your searching for, dear Bringer, is to GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME, ASSH*LE."
"I'm sorry you feel that way."
"Oh, sorry, I just said it cause the girl I like was watching and I wanted to impress her."
".............."
Unfortunately, this is the way a conversation like that would go, and their is no avoiding it. But I have a question. What if everyone believes they could express themselves without swearing, but are too embarrassed to admit it. Wouldn't that be hilarious? Like the stupidest thing the human race has done, a worldwide embarrassment. Do you know how we would cover it up? I think I do. We all say, at the same time, "Whoa, someone has BO like a motherf*cker!" Wouldn't that be great? As you can tell, swearing is not my forte, I probably actually quoted the guy in the hallway wrong, and it is painfully obvious that my choice of words was awkward and ill planned.
So, this is my third post in this blog, and I'm likin' it so far. I'm going to push up a picture of myself here pretty soon, and I expect nothing less than pure wonder expressed through poetic e-mails about my ravishing good looks.
And I also promise to start posting things that actually have to do with something by next week. For now, I'm going to post stuff similar to the one above (without the swears), just so anybody who reads this can get an idea of who I am, and where I'm coming from.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Did I Miss Something?
Uh oh, post number two, and I'm pointing out mistakes with post number one. On all of the blogs that I have read that are long and interesting and funny, I have noticed one thing in common. They all have melodramatic beginnings in which the blogger posts about the opening of the blog. I apparently missed that memo and preceded to be the dumb american I am by skipping right over any form of introductions and right into the crazy content. I sincerely apologize. To remedy this, I'll name off all the details you guys need to know about me in the post.
My name is Andrito, which is short for Andrew (not really short, but, wait...1,2,3,4,5,6,7....wait a sec, Andrito is longer than Andrew! No! NO! Well, whatever the case may be, Andrito is still a hell of a lot more fun to say than Andrew unless you opt for Andres, which is really hard for those of us who are hispanically challenged (I mean that in the least racist way)). My last name is Bandito because my last name is, well, Bandito. I'm not going to tell ya my age because it would really stupid if I let it leak out how old I am. Suffice it to say I am currently learning the difference between "capital" and "lowercase" letters in school (11th grade). I play the sport of lacrosse very intensely once a year for about a week, after which I sort of shuffle around on the field looking like some aquatic dwelling animal lost on the subway in New York City. I am making numerous jokes very much all the time. My success rate in making people laugh at any joke I give is very good, one of the highest in the country for my age level. Currently it's at a 92.5% for light chuckles, 80% for laughing out loud, 65% for knee-slapping side splitting fun, and a tragic 7% for sending people to the hospital due to laughing related injuries. Luckily, if you don't count weekdays, this has only happened twice.
I play with squirt guns. I mean I PLAY with them. I'm in high school, and water guns still fascinate me. I have a bucketload of 'em, and I paint them, modifiy them, and use them in paintball-ish games of 1HK and CTF. In fact, if you look at me and my friends from a distance of about ten miles away, it ACTUALLY looks like were doing something useful like hiking, picking up garbage, enjoying nature, or hacking down trees to create the world's first completely wood powered computer (Those sniveling fools at MIT think they're going to beat us to it, but we're going to shove this project in their face so hard, they'll wake up and all their calaculators would have gone back to Texas.).
I'm definently an A-Personality, I love being with people, but actually have a suprisingly small circle of close friends. Id rather spend time with a few good friends then a whole bunch of lukewarm conformists.
Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not a big anti-conformist, I'm not gothic or emo, I just like to act a little different to set myself away from the crowd. Sort of like peace protestors in China. You want to stand up for what you believe in without standing up high enough for people to blow your brains out.
I like hiking, swimming, biking, running, breathing, walking, talking, being, playing, and ing.
I like to play video games. Though mostly I'm not into games as much as other people myage, if I get going in Halo it's a bit hard to stop me. I'm not talking about killing me in the game, I'm talking about physically seperating my fingers from the controller. I really like Halo, and though I've never played Half Life, I've learned that I'm required by Halo fan law to say that Half Life and Half Life 2 both suck beyond belief.
I'm big into politics and culture. I watch PBS (gasps) listen to NPR (sound of gun being loaded, pickaxes sharpened), and am a registered moderate (worse than being a democrat or republican, in this country if you stand for compromise you're apparently a terrorist. I wasn't around when this country was being formed (though I wish I was. I hear George Washington threw some pretty crazy parties), however I get the impression that if our founding fathers were away today, they would tsk-tsk, and then go back to growing mud or whatever they did in thier spare time.
I like movies and music. I like soft rock, stuff like Coldplay, Audioslave, Spoon, Creed when they were godless (everything but the last couple days of their career). I like to listen to some Linkin Park if I want to feel twelve again.
I eat a healthy diet consisting mainly of food. My liquid intake for a day usually consists of 10% filtered water, 5% soda/juice/milk/vinegar etc., 5% crazy non-alchoholic energy drinks, and roughly182% green tea (I did the math and unless the decimal system was voted out of use by the U.S. congress, then those figures are entirely correct).
I wear New Balances because they're made in the U.S.A., though currently I'm wearing Adidas. Sometimes you just can't resist the smell of exported labor.
Boxers not briefs.
The next post in this blog'll be something that matters, perhaps a rant or something.
Until then, peace.
My name is Andrito, which is short for Andrew (not really short, but, wait...1,2,3,4,5,6,7....wait a sec, Andrito is longer than Andrew! No! NO! Well, whatever the case may be, Andrito is still a hell of a lot more fun to say than Andrew unless you opt for Andres, which is really hard for those of us who are hispanically challenged (I mean that in the least racist way)). My last name is Bandito because my last name is, well, Bandito. I'm not going to tell ya my age because it would really stupid if I let it leak out how old I am. Suffice it to say I am currently learning the difference between "capital" and "lowercase" letters in school (11th grade). I play the sport of lacrosse very intensely once a year for about a week, after which I sort of shuffle around on the field looking like some aquatic dwelling animal lost on the subway in New York City. I am making numerous jokes very much all the time. My success rate in making people laugh at any joke I give is very good, one of the highest in the country for my age level. Currently it's at a 92.5% for light chuckles, 80% for laughing out loud, 65% for knee-slapping side splitting fun, and a tragic 7% for sending people to the hospital due to laughing related injuries. Luckily, if you don't count weekdays, this has only happened twice.
I play with squirt guns. I mean I PLAY with them. I'm in high school, and water guns still fascinate me. I have a bucketload of 'em, and I paint them, modifiy them, and use them in paintball-ish games of 1HK and CTF. In fact, if you look at me and my friends from a distance of about ten miles away, it ACTUALLY looks like were doing something useful like hiking, picking up garbage, enjoying nature, or hacking down trees to create the world's first completely wood powered computer (Those sniveling fools at MIT think they're going to beat us to it, but we're going to shove this project in their face so hard, they'll wake up and all their calaculators would have gone back to Texas.).
I'm definently an A-Personality, I love being with people, but actually have a suprisingly small circle of close friends. Id rather spend time with a few good friends then a whole bunch of lukewarm conformists.
Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not a big anti-conformist, I'm not gothic or emo, I just like to act a little different to set myself away from the crowd. Sort of like peace protestors in China. You want to stand up for what you believe in without standing up high enough for people to blow your brains out.
I like hiking, swimming, biking, running, breathing, walking, talking, being, playing, and ing.
I like to play video games. Though mostly I'm not into games as much as other people myage, if I get going in Halo it's a bit hard to stop me. I'm not talking about killing me in the game, I'm talking about physically seperating my fingers from the controller. I really like Halo, and though I've never played Half Life, I've learned that I'm required by Halo fan law to say that Half Life and Half Life 2 both suck beyond belief.
I'm big into politics and culture. I watch PBS (gasps) listen to NPR (sound of gun being loaded, pickaxes sharpened), and am a registered moderate (worse than being a democrat or republican, in this country if you stand for compromise you're apparently a terrorist. I wasn't around when this country was being formed (though I wish I was. I hear George Washington threw some pretty crazy parties), however I get the impression that if our founding fathers were away today, they would tsk-tsk, and then go back to growing mud or whatever they did in thier spare time.
I like movies and music. I like soft rock, stuff like Coldplay, Audioslave, Spoon, Creed when they were godless (everything but the last couple days of their career). I like to listen to some Linkin Park if I want to feel twelve again.
I eat a healthy diet consisting mainly of food. My liquid intake for a day usually consists of 10% filtered water, 5% soda/juice/milk/vinegar etc., 5% crazy non-alchoholic energy drinks, and roughly182% green tea (I did the math and unless the decimal system was voted out of use by the U.S. congress, then those figures are entirely correct).
I wear New Balances because they're made in the U.S.A., though currently I'm wearing Adidas. Sometimes you just can't resist the smell of exported labor.
Boxers not briefs.
The next post in this blog'll be something that matters, perhaps a rant or something.
Until then, peace.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Un Blog?
A blog, eh? That apparently seems to be the cool thing to do. At least among cool people. Do I become cool if I have a blog? I certainly hope so. Not that I'm not cool already, it's just that I'm sure if I found such a sure fire way to become cool, I could probably make a profit off of it. Then again, why is it cool to be cool? Obviously, cool is a derivative of some ancient form of human dominance, a trait whose usefulness became extinct along with the mastadons. Mayhaps I'm being too cyncial. Maybe being cool is something that is useful simply because it makes you feel better about yourself. Then again, why does being cool make you feel better about yourself? If being cool is not directly related to your survival as an individual, then why should you want to be cool? I meant, why would your genes or whatever tell you that it is something that is important, something you need to do. I've narrowed it down to two possibilities.
One, evolution has some serious lag. I mean, I know that it the scope of the creation of the universe, that human existence is one second on the clock of the world. But then again, it did take us awhile to invent the clock, so maybe we just don't understand it correctly yet. I'm going to skip right over the usual sterotypical 'Why Are We Here?' debate and head right to:
Two, maybe being cool is important on a level that we don't understand yet. Perhaps there is another plane of existence that we can be elevated to by smelling nice (Don't worry, I smell nice), or wearing real expensive name brand clothes (Don't worry I, uh.....).
So, in conclusion, if being cool isn't important, why do people continue to try to be cool? And if it is important, but because of something we don't yet understand, if you stopped being cool, it's not as if we would be missing anything.
So this is a blog, eh?
One, evolution has some serious lag. I mean, I know that it the scope of the creation of the universe, that human existence is one second on the clock of the world. But then again, it did take us awhile to invent the clock, so maybe we just don't understand it correctly yet. I'm going to skip right over the usual sterotypical 'Why Are We Here?' debate and head right to:
Two, maybe being cool is important on a level that we don't understand yet. Perhaps there is another plane of existence that we can be elevated to by smelling nice (Don't worry, I smell nice), or wearing real expensive name brand clothes (Don't worry I, uh.....).
So, in conclusion, if being cool isn't important, why do people continue to try to be cool? And if it is important, but because of something we don't yet understand, if you stopped being cool, it's not as if we would be missing anything.
So this is a blog, eh?
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