Jesus Saves

One afternoon while I was in Chattanooga last summer, I was contentedly taking a hike with my dog, minding my own business. I got back to my car that was parked on the side of the road at the trail head. Parked behind me was some guy. As I got to my car, he approached me.
"I just wanted to give you this," this complete stranger says to me.
He handed me a Bible.
I gave him a funny look and tried to give it back. I'm sure I could find a Bible at my house. He gave it back.
"I saw your bumper stickers and I used to think a lot like you do. Before I was saved."
A brief synopsis of the ideals I have on the back bumper of my car consists of messages of Peace, Coexist (i.e. multiple religeons can coexist peacefully), a Presidential campaign sticker promoting a Stewart/Colbert ticket for the 2008 elections, and namaste (the light in me honors the light in you - i.e. respect people and their differences). On a side note, while I am aware of the slighly hippie tendencies of my bumper stickers, they at least force me to be a nicer driver - because, really , with those messages on the ass of your car, you can't really be an asshole driving. I hate hypocrites. But when he commented on my stickers, I couldn't even respond for a minute because I couldn't wrap my head around the concept of my non-hateful, pro-lovin' bumper stickers being against anything specifically Christian. That was a frightening thought. So, before driving off, I stopped and asked him, "Why?" Because I could not pass up the opportunity to fight it out with one of these condescending Christian evangelists that give Christianity a bad name.
The explanation that ensued was mind boggling. It reaffirmed the fact that you really cannot argue with stupid people. I am so disappointed that I couldn't argue with him rationally about it. The general message I left with from him was that people are born with evil in them. People are inherently bad. Jesus must save them from that evil. Eastern religions, on the other hand, are based on the idea of the goodness of the person, which is clearly a terrible thing. I don't claim to be immaculately perfect or pure or anything, but I also can't bring myself to believe that people are evil. I couldn't even comprehend the metaphors he was using because they simply didn't make sense. I was astounded. Offended, bemused, and shocked. And above all, unconvinced and repulsed.

More Conversation Blogging

Do you ever have those conversations where you get really, really worked up and passionate? You and the imaginary offender are having it out and you're probably winning, but you get so worked up you are in tears by the end?...Yeah, me neither.
My favorite, however, are the arguments you start in your head with complete strangers that you judge to be horrible people because, seriously, who needs to drive a bright yellow, take-up-the-entire-URBAN-road Hummer?
Me- Come on, you haven't even ever been off-roading in that thing have you?
Hummer Driver- This is America! If I can afford it, it's none of your business what I drive!
Me- It is my business if I'm doing what I can to not destroy the environment so badly that my future grandchildren have to live in space while you are polluting the earth pretty much single handedly AND taking up all of the space on the road!
Hummer driver- I don't have to listen to you and your stupid hippie conspiracy theories!
....

Ill At Ease with My Lack of Concern

I'm having one of those days, weeks - maybe even lives - where I feel like I am out of the loop. I feel like the world has failed to let me in on some very important facts. I tend to lean towards the side of oblivious despite my distinct and strenuous efforts to figure out what is going on. Lately this may have something to do with the fact that I'm about to go into my senior year as an art and journalism major in an economy that is sucking with two interests that will make certain the fact that I will be poor for the rest of my life. It's also not really the time to go into journalism, as newspapers are struggling to find a way to survive in the internet era. Anyway, I'm not that worried about it, which worries me, because it gives me that feeling like I'm missing something. I guess I just figure that I'll find a way to do what I want eventually.

Extending a Thanks to QUOOP

My most recent endeavor has been to start swimming again. I swam for something like 8 years of my life and have to admit that I really do miss it sometimes. So, I went down to the Queens pool. For those who haven't had the privilege of swimming here, let me explain this wonderland. I'm fairly certain that by taking just one breath while in the room, one ingests 100,000,000 fungal spores that spawn and latch on to you lungs to incubate for the next 20 years there. The growths on the walls and ceiling are impressive, but are nothing compared to those around the bottom of the pool near the filter at the bottom. The last time I was there, it was raining. Inside. I actually love it when that happens, though, there's a very derelict quality about our poor under-loved pool that I find very appealing in an indie film kind of way.
There's also a plaque on the wall near the door noting that QUOOP is responsible for getting a pool at Queens. QUOOP is the Queens University Order of the Pool, I think, but more importantly, is the best acronym ever.

Promoting Pointlessness

We all have causes. I'm all for that. But my new cause is causless-ness. Here are my thoughts on the matter:
-There are too many causes
-I'm tired of hearing about it
-People with causes are snobby and condescending
-I don't care how good the cause is
-Actions speak louder than words
-Causes attract attention-getting do-gooders, it gets a bit narcissistic.
-If someone wants to buy a $500 dollar pair of shoes, they probably won't listen to a snobby cause-preaching person yell at them about their ignorance because, frankly, they think they're too fabulous for you
-Yes, people like that do suck

So, my new cause is the promotion of pointless, causeless absurdity. Because, honestly, we could all do without the seriousness sometimes.

Cassette Tapes

Remember the days before CDs, where cassette tapes dominated the musical world? You could fast forward or back to exactly the spot in the song that you wanted. This really only worked when it was only a few seconds away from the thing you were looking for. If you were looking for the start to another song, though, you end up alternating between the fast forward and back buttons for a good 5 minutes before locating the song (much less the beginning of it) that you're looking for. But my favorite part of having tapes was the sound that they made when you took them out or put them back into their little designated cases. It was such a crisp sound and feel when you opened those clear plastic doors and, with a slight rattling sound of the tape reel and the hinges of the case, you slip the tape into its little slot.

How Dare!

I came across this thing called the world wide web recently. I've been told it's also referred to as the Internet. Well, it was sent from Satan to destroy the world! Let me educate you on the evil of its ways. It destroys jobs because who is going to go out to buy things at a register from a person when they can have it delivered to them at their home? It promotes hatred because there are websites for hate groups. It allows for capitalism to prevail, advertising overwhelms the experience of internet use. It allows for people to publish things about eating babies! There are things that promote the eating of animals! And journalists are losing their jobs because newspapers can't compete with this Internet fad! Job losses abound and multiply as this Internet pheomenon sweeps the world. People are starving and dying while you order your new cushions for your lounge chair with the click of a mouse. Incidentally, the cushions are made by the children who aren't being eaten in sweatshops across the world. Boycott the Internet! Stop sitting on your high-horse with your cushions, snacking on turkey legs and babies like a savage sultan and spitting upon the common man, you hateful internet users!

BJ's Dating Tips

Jean, "Big Jean" (BJ), "Grandmama", Tipton is my dad's mother. She is 95 years old and still lives alone and is mentally sharper than I could ever hope to be. When I was home for Easter, the family got together at her house for supper cooked by Sherri, a dear family friend and the lady who helps BJ out during the day. It had been a while since we had all gotten together and my sister and cousin, both a year younger than I, have both obtained boyfriends since I last saw them. They have both been dating their designated men for 3 months. This inevitably came up - more often than I would have liked - over the course of the weekend and during our meal. I value my Grandmama's opinion and she always has something worth noting, if only for a bit of laugh (she is understandably a bit old fashioned sometimes). When she found out that they were both dating people, she gave us all a bit of worldly advice that I plan to take very seriously. It went something like this: I think it's terrible young people date. How are you supposed to know what's out there, if you don't date a lot of people? You can't know what you want if you only date one person. You girls have to date a lot of people until you get tired of it and then you just give up and marry one of them. Like I did with your grandfather. I have to say, I agree whole-heartedly with her dating philosophy.

Octobeastie

The endearing term "Octomom," as monster like as it may sound to the untrained ear, is the loving mother of octuplets...and six other children. Now, I'm not one to judge because, hey, she could just love kids. But, seriously? As a single mother with no job and currently being supported by public assistance programs, I think I'll get in-vitro treatments! Again!
Well, I congradulate her on her on being capable of having 8 babies at once, at least. At the same time, I can't help but think that at this point she's just exploiting the media attention that was given her. And why shouldn't she, I suppose? There are worse things. She plans to trademark her name for use selling diapers. I guess by now she should be pretty familiar with them. Good luck to the kids though! I'm sorry that you're subject to the destroying effects of the media.

Well, at least she turned down the porn career that was offered to her...at least until the baby fat is gone.

I'm blogging about the weather

Oscar Wilde said that only the most boring, unimaginative people talk about the weather. I am one of those people. It's most unfortunate. However, since it's spring time and the weather couldn't be nicer, I feel like it is a crime to be forced to blog inside on such days. This is the kind of weather that makes me want to be in victorian England taking a stroll down a country lane, picking wild flowers beneath ancient trees while handsome men ride by in coats atop gleaming black steads. That sounds a lot better than blogging.

Reality of Fiction

Do you ever imagine conversations that you haven't had with people? It can be a conversation that you are dreading/planning to have with a friend or colleague or boss. Or a conversation that you may or may not ever even have with the person. It could be with a total stranger that you pass on the street or the conversation that would ensue should you ever meet that celebrity. For example, the conversation that I expect to have should I ever meet Jason Mraz would go something like this:

Me: Hello, Jason Mraz. I am obviously a fan because I had to wait in line for so long to meet you, but I'm not here to have another fade away fan conversation or to alert you to the fact that you have a freak stalker fan that wants to kill you or anything.

Jason: So this is different?

Me: Yes. And don't take that joke seriously. You know like in Forgetting Sarah Marshall how he -

Jason: -sees her for the first time in Hawaii and makes that joke. Of course. It's a great movie. What's your point?

Me: Right. My point is that I feel like we are supposed to be friends. Every time I hear your music I feel like that. And I know your music isn't hard to relate to and there are a lot of other people that like it too, but don't get the impression that I am only intrigued by your music. I'm not. Some of the lyrics are good, but none of it's really all that impressive. Which is why it's so relatable.

Jason: That's kind of mean. Why are you telling me all this?

Me: I'm not saying it to be mean. I'm just saying that it's not because of your songs that I want to be friends with you exactly. It's more the idea that you present of yourself, which, admittedly is through your songs, but it's something else. I just think we should be friends is what it comes down to.

Jason: You and me? Well, that's kind of weird.

Me: I know it is. I thought so too. But trust me. I'm not a freak. I'm not exactly sure why you should believe that, but I think you should.

Jason: So you think we should be friends because of the idea I present through my songs that suck?

Me: Kind of. It's more that the idea of your style mixes well with what I know about my style. I think we would click. I also think that you're probably a reasonably intelligent person and you remind me of a friend of mine. Not that I really know you.

Jason: Yeah, you don't. But I don't know you either, right?

Me: See. We're on the same page here. I knew you would get it.

Jason: So who are you?

Me: Oh! Right. I'm Kate Robinson. And I'm going to give you my phone number not in order to become your next hook up, but so we can be friends. Because it must be lonely on the road. Or a whole lot of fun where you never get lonely. In that case, I still think we would be good friends.

Jason: So I'm supposed to call you?

Me: Yep.

Jason: Next time I'm in Charlotte?

Me: Unless you want to fly me to wherever you happen to be.

Jason: And you're not a freak fan?

Me: Jason. I'm obviously not, okay? I'm leaving this up to you, not begging for your number. I would be way too awkward to call you. I don't want to be that person.

Jason:Great. Well I'm convinced. I could use someone like you in my life. I'll give you a call.

Me: I'm glad you agree. It's been lovely talking with you.

April 20 - Spring: It's in the Air

Today is a magical day. The scent of grass floats by on a wisp of wind. But it's not just in the air. It's in my clothes, my hair, my very being! Dusk coolly settles down on the ground, a colorful blanket of sky and I pull my sweater around me. People pass by on the other side of the soccer field on their way somewhere. The ground is so flat and clean! I've never noticed. It makes everything stand out. The chain-link fence on the other end stands especially tall and separated from the flat houses across the street. Oh yes. Yes...Yes, spring is in the air tonight. The budding scents of spring bring the night to life. People are coughing a lot. Must be allergies.

Where's that music coming from?

I just spent 10 minutes of my life trying to figure out which window I had open on my internet was replaying the same 3 guitar chords over and over again. For those of you who have had this experience before, it is incredibly frustrating when you think you have 7 reputable websites open and none of them should be playing music.

A brief comment on scooters, vacation, and fall

I like the examples the blog people give for possible labels for your post: scooters, vacation, and fall. My favorite is scooters. I have never actually owned a scooter, but I think I did try to ride one once. I definitely got to ride an electric scooter once, which was fun because we crammed 3 to 4 people onto the narrow metal base, seat, and handles. It was also great because my intimidating German rowing coach tried it out after us. Needless to say, he looked ridiculuos. Aside from that, my knowledge of scooters is decidedly limited. I would really like to read a blog specifically dedicated to a serious discussion about scooters.

Riding Topless

Today in my Media Law and Ethics class, we somehow began to discuss what is lawful behavior while one is riding a subway in New York City. It is, by law, acceptable for one to ride topless. Because of equal opportunity statutes, etc. this law technically should apply to people of both the male and female persuasion. On the other hand, I have a vague feeling that when this law was created, it was not intended for the latter gender.
However, I must note that due to the tightly packed nature of New York subways, I would not particularly like to ride next to either gender if they were topless. I can't help but imagine standing at the hairy sweaty armpit of a middle-aged, smelly man (or woman) without the at least vague shield provided by a thin layer of fabric between us. And while the freedom of being topless on a subway would be quite nice, ladies, I can't help but think that the vile nature of male humans would somewhat tarnish that freedom.
But if you're ever in New York, ladies, give it a try once or twice, and see what happens...Keeping some mase on hand might do you good too. Of course utilizing your mace in a closed subway car in an underground tunnel doesn't provide much in the way of fresh air flow. It would much more likely result in the macing of the entire population of the subway car and a teary, angry bunch of passengers. It would also make for a serious opportunity for some Type 3 fun: It's not fun now, but it's fun later - in other words, it would make for a good story.
Maybe there are some rights better left untested.

In Case You Missed It

This weekend I was home for Easter with the fam. The entirety of my family and my dad's side of the family went out for lunch, which includes only one other family of 3 and my grandmother. As we were eating lunch, a guy at another table caught my eye. It finally occured to me that I used to actually know him. In fact, we were engaged, if I remember correctly. We went to school with each other until 5th grade and he was my only friend in preschool. He used to be a history-obsessed, chubby, pushy litte boy. Turns out, puberty did him good. Shit, he's like really cute. Is that actually him? I can't believe it. Ha! I was totally engaged to that fine specimin of a human being...

After our meal, I was getting ready to leave when suddenly he appeared beside me, hand outstretched. "Hey, do you remember me? I'm Ryan."
As if to say, in case you missed it, I'm all grown up now.
I took his hand, "Yeah. Hey, Ryan, of course I know who you are."
We started talking. Apparently his summer plans are to go to Sudan for 2 weeks and then to Scottland to do research on the origins of the banjo in celtic music. His green eyes locked confidently on mine as he started to explain the history of the conflict in Sudan. I stopped him, explaining that I was really interested in this trip because I had been working with a student organization that works to stop genocide, Sudan being one of the main focuses. I asked him what he was majoring in. History. I laughed.
"You always did like history."
I'm not sure how he took this, but he responded perhaps sarcastically "Yeah, that's a good memory of me."
How is this happening? I haven't seen this guy since 5th grade when he still had cooties. Did he notice that I was blatantly stalking him all through lunch? He's cute. His eyes are kind of green. Why is this conversation not as awkward as I feel like it should be? (Note: I was having an exceedingly awkward day.) He is no longer a boy, he is a man. Maybe our preschool engagement was telling of things to come. I would love a fall wedding. Maybe in that place on the bluff -

Our conversation ended shortly thereafter as we both were being left by our families. I was flustered and interested. I couldn't tell if he was still the pushy know-it-all of a boy I used to know or if he was as interesting as he sounded. Because, honestly, if you have the intention of spending a summer studying the origins of the banjo in celtic music, then I'm intrigued. I need to know more.

Oh Dear Me

ATo the younger more naive Kate:
You have so much to learn. On the bright side, you do know what it is that you need to work on. And "the first step is admitting your mistake" as They say. It's also good that you will realize that your writing isn't as coherent to others as you think it is. And you suck at conclusions. Unfortunately, while having learned a lot, most of it is what needs improvement, not the brilliance of your writing as it exists in your head. The trick is to convey the importance of something in your world that no one cares about into the world on paper that people are meant to relate to. So, you need to find better conclusions that make your stories more care-about-able, if you will. Another helpful tip, concentrate on A main idea - like ONE - instead of 6 main ideas - you don't do a good job making multiple intricate points without your writing becoming awkward and confusing. Focus on one main idea and save the others for other papers because - you know - you can write other papers, after all. On a final-ish note, doing all this is far easier to talk about that actually do. Have fun!

North Carolina Tree Climbing Competition

So last weekend the prestigous tree climbing competition (7th annual, I believe) was held in Charlotte's own Freedom Park. Fortunately, almost no one in Charlotte knew about it, or perhaps they simply overlooked the opportunity before them. This is fortunate because it wasn't too crowded. Most of the crowd consisted of other tree climbers. And by tree climbers I mean of the world class variety, not your next door neighbor's kid who refers to himself as Monkey Man. In fact, the women's world champion tree climber was there. We were in the presence of greatness, in other words.
I spent the two days of the competition taking pictures and the majority of the second day unknowingly working on one of the worst sunburns of my life.
With ropes, climbing gear, helmets, and harnasses, each competitor used his or her preferred method of hoisting themselves into the designated tree. Once up, they would swing, scramble and leap their way from branch to branch in an effort to ring the strategically placed bells throughout the tree in the fastest time. This included cleaning their ropes and anchors from the tree after they got back down. Arguably the most exciting part of each round was the person wrestling their rope down from the branches before time ran out. There were competitors from Australia, New Zealand, and Minnessota. The most impressive participant in the competition was possibly the tree. I had reasonable skepticism that the combination of precariously placed bells on the far-reaching ends of branches with the weight of the climbers would end in some dismembered tree branches and climbers, but the tree hardly seemed to make a distinction between 180 pound man and 2 pound squirrel scrambling around it.

Where the Wild Things Are

One of the greatest children's books of all time is Where the Wild Things Are. I adore this book. Everything about it makes me happy. One of my favorite pictures is when the kid's bed is growing into the ground and turning into part of the forest.
I read an article about a year ago that made my world a little brighter. It said that they were making Wild Things into a movie. Now, normally, I am not impressed with Hollywood adaptations of movies, and find them to be all the same. They try to hard to make these film adatpations (especially children's stories) far more action-packed than they actually are. But this time, the one and only Dave Eggers, my favorite author, is helping write the film. I just looked up a trailer for it the other day, and I'm a bit skeptical, but still hopeful.

My Big Date

I am bound and determined to see the Watchmen movie while it's still in theaters. I had the odd pleasure of reading the brilliant graphic novel last semester. I left the experience thoroughly impressed, if a little jolted and feeling slightly guilty for being part of the human race. I have long awaited the arrival of the film, and now that it's here no one will go with me to see it.
My solution is: a) a bit of a revelation; b) getting me through this week; and c) magnificent.
I have decided to...go...alone.
Because, oh yeah! I don't have to have other people with me all the time (what a wonderful thing!). I cannot put into words how much I'm looking forward to my date with me.
I'm not really sure why I'm so excited to see this movie, but I know this is the one I have to see. I have heard there's a lot of sex in it, which is fun (especially with costumed vigilantes!), or maybe I'm just looking forward to seeing a movie damning the human race, but whatever the reason, I will be sorely disappointed if it sucks.
That said, I have talked to people about it, those who have and have not read the novel. Those who did read it, said it's definitely worth seeing, even though they messed up the ending.

So, all in all, if I must go sit alone to watch the film adaptation of a comic book, with only my $10 small bag of popcorn (because, face it, you really just can't beat movie theater popcorn) and smuggled-in Coke for company, then I am pretty damn sure it's going to be a good night.

The Art of Scheduling Classes

The whole process of advising and signing up for classes is one meant to be a cruel punishment for aspiring scholars. As a junior signing up for my senior year classes, I have a new found respect for those of you who made it to your senior year at all. To those of you who are not yet seniors, don't choose the double major route. Something I should have learned by now, but somehow manage to erase from my memory every semester, is that Queens is a small school. Thus, it is never a simple task trying to organize your classes so as to achieve maximum packing-in of said classes. And now, since we're part of the glorious age of technology, we are signing up for classes online, a thing that I always thought would be easier instead of more difficult. This is not the case. Attempting to penetrate the vast confusion that is the Queens Portal/Black Hole is more than I can take. I try signing up for a Comm Theory class - which has no prerequisites that I could establish - only to be turned down by a big red angry alert telling me that I don't have the prerequisite for this class. Sign up for - no, just trying to find an advanced studio art class is a far greater inconvenience because of the lack of TLC the administration has for our dear art program. On the other hand, I can fit an environmental science or calculas class into my dreary, ragged schedule. Or one of the ample business courses offered. Or, hell! maybe I'll take an extra CORE class.
Alas, it looks as if I still have some work left to do.

Contour Abs

I am a fan of infomercials. Who doesn't want to watch obnoxious people yell at you and bad actors being appalled by their clearly inferior products that ruin their days? One of my personal favorites is the Magic Bullet, where actors terrificly over-play their roles as the cynical, grumpy, chain-smoking house guests of the perky, well dressed and obnoxiously awake hosts, who show them how the Magic Bullet can take care of all you chopping and mixing needs in one-two-three seconds! Today, however, I was intrigued by the Contour Abs infomercial. For those of you who have tried EVERYTHING in hopes of getting those "sexy flat abs" we all want, there's a new solution! You don't even have to do that pesky thing called exercize. I mean, really, who wants to do that anyway? All you have to do is put on this belt, turn it on, and presto! you send an electric pulsing current through your abdominal muscles for the best abs of your life! Okay, I know better, but look at those happy people and their wonderful results! There's even a money back guaruntee! Oh. My. God. It's perfect!
I eventually dragged myself away and recovered my rational thoughts that reminded me that I don't really want to electrically shock my way to a better body...but still...maybe...
No! I have resisted purchasing my very own Contour Abs, though. You haven't won my soul yet, you vile capitalist swine!

Big Daddy's Fireworks

One of the greatest institutions to come out of the south is undoubtedly the ample number of fireworks super-stores that grace the sides of I-75 on my drive home from Charlotte to Chattanooga. The greatest of them all: Big Daddy's Fireworks. The enormous sheet metal warehouse hosts an array of fireworks, guns and beer enough to satisfy even the most jorts-wearing, mullet-rocking homeboy you could ever hope to encounter. The face of the warehouse is adorned with a larger than life announcement to the world that you are, in fact, at Big Daddy's firework emporium. Flashing lights set the sign shine, giving hope to passersby, reminding them that here are the best prices brands and variety of fireworks you could ever hope for! Just in case you aren't satisfied with fireworks (after all, there's onlyy so many times you can shoot bottle rockets at one another until you graduate to bigger and better things), your one stop shop provides you with an array of actual weapons! And of course, whether you are shooting fireworks or guns, or some brilliant new combination of the two, where would you be without a case of beer with which to wash it all down?

Superpowers

If I could have a super power I would be able to apparate and disapparate. For all you non-Harry Potter dorks, I want the ability to appear wherever I want and idsappear to wherever I want, whenever I want. I want the power of teleportation, essentially. It may not be as glamorous as shooting laser beams out of some orifice of my body (eyes seems to be the common choice, but ears could be cool) or flying, which is always a tempting albeit unoriginal option. But I thought about it and I have to say that life would be a lot easier if I could appear anywhere whenever. I would never have to buy another plane ticket again, or really any ticket at all if I could just appear inside said destination (i.e. concerts, movies, top secret government headquarters). So, yes, this is my choice superpower for the time being should I ever meet a genie to grant me a super power.

Ben Folds

Last night it snowed. A lot. This is an incredibly exciting thing for me usually, except that I had Ben Folds tickets that I was not willing to relinquish to my southern fear of “inclement weather.” So, with my trusty Bostonian friend, Katy, I dared to drive in snow. It was a bold move, but I had to see Ben. She showed me all the cool tricks that people know when they actually have to deal with cold weather and not shut down their lives. When we got there, we parked and pulled up the windshield wipers, so the snow didn’t stick them down (so clever!) and headed in. It was totally worth it.
Ben Folds…Ah, where to begin. It was my first time to see him live. I have to admit, I was more than a little shocked by the audience that gathered for this concert. It was the strangest assortment of surprisingly older people. That, and these people were the sketchy people that linger in corners and don’t seem like they go out often – I saw a lot of that. Give me 10 to 15 years and I’ll be among them, I’m sure. It wasn’t that part of the crowd that wierded me out, though. It was the amount of normal people there. I was a bit surprised by that. I mean, if you know anything about Ben Folds, aside from him being the love of my life, I just don’t expect exceptionally normal people to go to his shows.
Needless to say, he was amazing. Everything I had hoped for. He actually liked us! And assured us of his loyalty to us in the song “Brick,” where there is a line that say “Mom and Dad went down to Charlotte.” He said he never changed it depending on the city he was in. I feel much better now.

PS - Just noticed Carissa wrote about Ben Folds too. I didn't see you there!

Snow Day

So we have a snow day today! Hands down the most snow we’ve gotten since I’ve been here at Queens. I was thoroughly disappointed in the lack of school-wide snowball fighting throughout the day, though. I did manage to drag a couple of people out of bed eat 6:30 to go get Chic-fil-A, which was closed! We got McD’s instead. That meal, without a doubt, took 2 years off my life.
Instead of snowball fights, I had to settle for snowman building. This turned out to be a worthwhile way to spend my time. We built a big snow man in front of Triple Arch. He had your traditional 3-part body structure, with stick arms, but there was much more to Vlad than that. He had a broccoli Mohawk, mushroom nose, green pepper ears, and carrot buttons. This was not your average snowman. He was way above average.

Feed the Birds

I confiscated a loaf of bread from the cafeteria and wandered over to Freedom Park in the snow to feed the ducks. I haven’t fed the ducks in years, but there is one thing that holds true no matter where you are or how old you get. Bread tastes better when you’re getting ready to feed it to ducks. Really, there’s no other way to eat bread that compares. I stopped myself from nibbling away my entire gift to them before I got there, though.
Those ducks are trained. I had no idea. The second I got there and stood, looking vaguely like I might have something matter to attend to between the ducks and myself, they were all flying and paddling and racing over to where I stood. So I passed out little chunks of delicious bread to all the ducks, distributing it as evenly as I could and avoided praising the mean ducks that chased all the other nice ducks away.

Notes on Essay 1

Point: I love adventure. I didn’t always. I used to be totally scared. Something changed (?). Home was too small/needed to leave. College was great first escape. Changed my perception of home. Now home is a safe place again, but not a place to stop. It’s a between places recharging place/re-grounding.

The point is that there is no final destination in sight for now. I’m restless and hopeful and hopeless all at once. And scared, but of missing out on things instead of trying new things. That fear of trying new things is there still but overridden by the self loathing I feel when I miss out on something.

My list of dreams include glass blowing, marine biology, oceanographer, photographer, writer, magazine photojournalist, hiking the AT, living in another country that different from my own, learning about people, conquering my awkwardness in conversations and find a way to really enjoy meeting new people, explore a castle in Europe without tourists or barriers, scuba dive, live in Hawaii, California, and Colorado, raft guide, be a great kayaker, be a good skier, teach, go back to Haiti, take a cross country road trip to get to know my own country.

You start off talking about your boring normal life. You have to see the world! Now Queens is just another pit stop, where I feel comfortable, less innocent, but still bored.

Generation Apathetic

I missed my decade. The 1960s were tough years for the country and there was a lot going on. But the difference was that people cared! We’re going to be the generation who saw huge things happening and our only response has been a continual mocker of the government from SNL and of “bushisms,” and a sea of bumper stickers with the oh so clever captions of “Buck Fush,” and “Can’t wait till ’08.” I have some faith restored through the election of Obama (the love of my life), but still. Come on, people. We haven’t been happy with the way things are going for a while. I know that I have not personally organized any great rallies, but I promise, I’ve tried to change things in smaller ways. I’m not just talking about politics, though. Queens, incidentally, houses the largest percentage of apathy maybe ever. (This is not a scientifically accurate statement, nor is it probably a fair one, but I stand by it). I include myself in this apathetic nonsense as well on occasion, for which I am not fond of myself. Now, I love the people here dearly, but people just want you to do everything for them. I’ve tried starting this Outdoor Club on campus. I got all excited and overzealous perhaps to begin with, and due partly, if not mostly, to my poor planning abilities the club has not become what I had hoped. The thing is, though, that despite the enormous number of people signed up for said club, not a single person, aside from close friends have volunteered with any earnest intention of doing anything. I can understand why. It hasn’t been a simple job. It’s required much of my two arch nemeses, Paperwork and Budgeting. Without an army to combat them, I am sadly losing hope. I’ll go camping with alcohol and friends instead of with advisors and school policies, damn it! I don’t like to fail, but am certainly no stranger to it, so I am going to see what the rest of the year holds by way of my shriveling confidence in my once hopeful project, but it is not the end yet!

So, Generation Apathy, do your worst. Nothing. In the mean time, I will be slowly pulling myself out. I catch myself being apathetic with blogging and art projects. I love writing and art! So what’s the problem? I, being plagued with the afore mentioned illness, would instead sit and stare at a wall, or examine my hangnail-y fingers than produce a world changing masterpiece. So, again I say to you, you sneaky monster. You have not won yet! I have identified you and will put up with you no longer!

Chuck Klosterman

Chuck Klosterman. My first impression: Oh. My. God. I am in way over my head. I have, on a good day, only a mediocre library of pop culture knowledge in my head. I am intrigued, but not as well informed as I wish to be. But, like listening to Dr. Kobre talk, I am thoroughly impressed by his infinite knowledge of all things, both important and trivial.
My next thought: Wow, he likes to hear himself talk way too much. Perhaps this is because it Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs is a collection of essays, and I would do better to read them in smaller doses, but I felt like this man loved his own opinions. Okay, I know, as a writer, we all like our own opinions; otherwise we wouldn’t want to share them so fervently. But I feel as if his peacock display of his knowledge is just tiring after a while.
My final major thought: He does a fantastic job of taking the most mundane thing and using it to create a much bigger point. And he does it in a very amusing way. I had to laugh.
So, overall, Chuck Klosterman has my respect as pop culture guru and go-to man on the art of talking a lot of nothing-ness into something-much-bigger-ness.

Thoughts and Notes on Essay 1

I'm writing about home, a topic that I've certainly written about before, but I feel like it is going to be something I can talk in depth about and hopefully something interesting and something with more of a point than just describing my house. The main point that I want to convey is the idea of home as a place that I love, but can't be my destination at this point. It's more something that I need to get away from for now. I'm trying to find a way to express this, though, in a way that isn't so cliche as it sounds. I've used snippets from an essay in which I was told to describe my house, but I'm expanding into something more than just a description. I'm also trying to think of other possible topics that I could transform this into from the draft because I don't know if my topic is going to be too vague. I don't have any very concrete ideas just yet. I feel like maybe I should pick one anecdote to expand on from childhood or something that has "shaped" me, but, again, it sounds so trite. I also need to find a vehicle through which to tell this story. I always think of the movie "Atonement" when I think of that sort of thing. Obviously film is a totally different medium, but I loved how the story was told focusing so much on sounds (typewriter, paper rustling, shoes on wood floors, etc). In other words, it's all about the angle I use, I suppose.

As far as my nonfiction writing experience, last semester I took Advanced Expository Writing, which was all nonfiction. I enjoyed it a lot, perhaps because I found it easier to draw from what I've experienced than to create a world completely from scratch. Or maybe I am just self involved enough to want to write about myself all the time so everyone can know how great I am! That usually tends to backfire when I realize that my own life is something that even I don't find particularly newsworthy, and from what I can tell, people always find their own life much more interesting than anyone else finds that person’s life to be. But I guess that’s what it’s about: trying to find a way to tell the world all the truths you've come to understand and question and invent in a way that does make people care.

A Virgin of the Blogoverse

Up to this point in my time as an Earthling, my experience with blogging has been minimal at best. Of course, living in a rather technologically filled/polluted society, I have had little choice but to be familiar with at least the idea of what a blog is. I have to admit that I never really was entirely sure what a blog was until now. I did have my suspicions, which, I'm happy to say, turned out to be accurate, from what I'm seeing. To be honest, I am still uncomfortable with the fact that all of this writing will be online (big infinite black hole of a place that it is) and not on physical paper. I'll get used to it though, and maybe even grow fond of it...one day...
Anyway, in middle school, the closest to a blog I got was through a group of friends who belonged to a "FanFic" archive. They would post their stories online. It was a bit of a crazed fad for a year or so with them. They went about sharing their "FanFics" with one another in the mornings, crowded in groups on the hallway floor on laptops. It was mostly gossipy things and fantasy couples between friends from what i understood. Sometimes I read them, but mostly was just confused by the big commotion. I caught wind of some exceedingly bizarre adaptations of stories (especially involving Harry Potter) that people would find and read with great vigor. I have no idea if this site is still in existence. So I guess I'm not a totally innocent blog virgin, but we certainly hadn't gotten past second base...until now.