Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's been a bajillion years. Calm down. I don't do interesting things, so I've decided to write about your futures. Mwa ha ha ha!
It'll probably be great, but also, I'm not a skilled horoscope writer so have patience, you snerbs. Also, these horoscopes will be your future for the next year, because I'm lazy and don't want to write them continuously. Plus, the chances that something I write comes true in a whole year are pretty good. I guess. Unless I write something like, "You'll walk to the moon." Because that's physically impossible. So, here we go!
ARIES (March 21- April 19): You, my strange friend, are about to have the weirdest year of your life. You'll probably find a large mammal, but actually it will just be a reptile dressed as a mammal, because people are inherently afraid of reptiles. This speaks to your ambition to be yourself and not hide under the cloak of a furry animal, instead putting your scales our where everyone can see them. Fear not, because there are still those who love their reptilic beasts.
TAURUS (April 20- May 20): You will stop creating things for a little while, because you will be very busy with an intriguing article of clothing. It may be colorful, but more likely, this piece of clothing will be dark and mysterious. It will require your full attention to discover its true purpose, and whether or not it is worthy of your time, and when you determine if you should like to keep it close, you will once again be confronted with art. Don't mingle the art with the mystery.
GEMINI (May 21- June 20): An angry anonymous philosopher once said, "Many people think that the world is there for them, but in reality, the world is there for everyone else." This saying will resonate with you as you explore uncharted territory in an underwater adventure. Be sure to keep close tabs on everything you see, because nothing is not of use to you. Pay special attention to anything that reminds you of french horns.
CANCER (June 21- July 22): Many things that you come in contact with are overrated. Anything that looks like it might be worth some substantial value should be treated with the utmost disrespect. Don't forget to polish your garbage every three hours, because it often feels under-appreciated.
LEO (July 23- August 22): If you like reading, this is your year. You may become a fluent reader of all of the languages of the world, and at the very least, you will learn one new word from a language you already speak. You might think this is not an accomplishment, but if you think about it, any learning is better than being dead.
VIRGO (August 23- September 22): A boulder can stand in your way without being an obstacle. There are always ways to get around your problems, and this year will provide ample opportunity to prove your problem solving skills are adequate. If you find yourself facing a mountain, just make sure you've brought your hammer to chisel away at the rock. Even if it takes forever, it's better than turning around and going back.
LIBRA (September 23- October 22): New things are dangerous, but at the same time, if all you do are old things, the danger becomes repetitive. Try to mix up your dangers, alternating new and old, until you feel comfortable enough to rewrite history with a dangerless society. Provide for your friends with less danger than ever before.
SCORPIO (October 23- November 21): While circumnavigating the globe, theoretically or in reality, be sure to pack enough food. The worst thing that could happen on a trip of your lifetime would be to realize that your apples will only last for a couple days. Anything less than 150,000 pounds of food would be lacking. Also, invest in a large cargo plane.
SAGITTARIUS (November 22- December 21): Firstly, you should try to be born in a different month, because your star sign is too hard to spell. Secondly, after you've completed that task, apply for a patent on your newly developed time machine.
CAPRICORN (December 22- January 19): An energetic wave is coming your way. You will be unable to complete the boring tasks because the exciting ones take up too much of your time and energy, It's better this way, because boring things are a waste of your resources. You should plan extra time to sleep, because all this energy does come with a crash, and when that happens, you might end up sleeping for years on end.
AQUARIUS (January 20- February 18): Oceans and skies await you. You'll have to chose whether you want to dive into the depths of the fishes or fly high with the birds. Either choice will yield disappointing results, but the alternative is staying on land, and land is rich with failure. You can go for the unknown or stay in the safe but disappointing familiar.
PISCES (February 19- March 20): Oh darn. You've lost something. Probably multiple things. But this year will be a year of return. You should find yourself a trusty shovel and dig at every chance you get. Not only will you find all your lost items, you may even stumble upon some strange, well-hidden pirate treasure. This is especially true if you move to a desert island. Watch out for sharks.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Monday, May 18, 2015
How To: Philosophy
I'm so almost done, I can almost taste it, except that's probably actually just the Milkway chocolate-y goodness that I ate, but the end of the school year probably tastes the same way.
Anyway, I still have a philosophy reading/debate/paper to write, and also a Spanish final that I really should study for, but no one actually taught me how to study so that's out of the question, and also a linguistics take home final/paper to do. And I still have to clean things. I hate cleaning. But what I'm here to talk about today, while I'm procrastinating like a crazy person, is philosophy.
I don't understand why philosophers have to write like the goal is to get as few ideas across as possible in the most pages as possible. Especially modern day philosophers. Like, I maybe understand (not really) why people from the 12th century write word upon word upon word of the exact same thing, and I also acknowledge that most of these are originally written in Japanese, and so it could be lost in translation, but if you're writing in 1995, like my current philosopher, maybe you could speed it up a little bit? This is the age of technological freedom and not spending more than five minutes reading a thing lest you bore yourself to tears! Get with the program, um, Merold!
His name is Merold Westphal. Let me know if you know what he's trying to say about religion and postmodernism.
I guess there's probably a reason I'm not going to be a philosopher. I do like thinking about things and concepts and ideas, especially when I can understand them, but I do not think I could spend my life writing and analyzing texts about life. So I give lots and lots of credit to those people who can.
Anyway, when you start out reading a philosophical text, you should always have your highlighter handy. Because if highlighting passages doesn't make you feel like you're making progress, nothing else will. Be careful, though, because unless you have one of those fancy highlighters with the clear tip, you might accidentally highlight too much and then you'll wonder what you've done to deserve such anger.
Also, highlighter related, you should probably actually read the entire thing you're highlighting and decide where to stop. Because I just did this: I was highlighting a sentence that was seemingly very relevant to my thoughts, but I didn't read the whole sentence, and I was highlighting, but all of a sudden, the information wasn't important any more, but I had already colored half of it bright neon yellow and how could I stop now, in the middle of a sentence, because either it would look horrible, or the last half of the sentence would think I didn't love it and I would be the creator of a huge familiar tragedy! So I highlighted the entire ginormous paragraph and it's not even important. Snerbs.
I also advise that you, once you've read the first couple of pages, go to the last page and read the essay backwards. Because the last paragraph actually has some important summarizing information in it. And, writers, tell me this: Why don't you put the essential informative summaries AT THE BEGINNING of the text? Is it because you hate me? I could have saved myself half an hour of trying to figure out your argument on the first page if I had know you put the important stuff at the end! I don't understand your irrational abhorrence of clarity.
But, you really do need to start at the beginning. Because then, at least you've tried. Effort is 93.7% of the battle. I calculated that. In my head. Because I'm a math major.
Anyway, I still have a philosophy reading/debate/paper to write, and also a Spanish final that I really should study for, but no one actually taught me how to study so that's out of the question, and also a linguistics take home final/paper to do. And I still have to clean things. I hate cleaning. But what I'm here to talk about today, while I'm procrastinating like a crazy person, is philosophy.
I don't understand why philosophers have to write like the goal is to get as few ideas across as possible in the most pages as possible. Especially modern day philosophers. Like, I maybe understand (not really) why people from the 12th century write word upon word upon word of the exact same thing, and I also acknowledge that most of these are originally written in Japanese, and so it could be lost in translation, but if you're writing in 1995, like my current philosopher, maybe you could speed it up a little bit? This is the age of technological freedom and not spending more than five minutes reading a thing lest you bore yourself to tears! Get with the program, um, Merold!
His name is Merold Westphal. Let me know if you know what he's trying to say about religion and postmodernism.
I guess there's probably a reason I'm not going to be a philosopher. I do like thinking about things and concepts and ideas, especially when I can understand them, but I do not think I could spend my life writing and analyzing texts about life. So I give lots and lots of credit to those people who can.
Anyway, when you start out reading a philosophical text, you should always have your highlighter handy. Because if highlighting passages doesn't make you feel like you're making progress, nothing else will. Be careful, though, because unless you have one of those fancy highlighters with the clear tip, you might accidentally highlight too much and then you'll wonder what you've done to deserve such anger.
Also, highlighter related, you should probably actually read the entire thing you're highlighting and decide where to stop. Because I just did this: I was highlighting a sentence that was seemingly very relevant to my thoughts, but I didn't read the whole sentence, and I was highlighting, but all of a sudden, the information wasn't important any more, but I had already colored half of it bright neon yellow and how could I stop now, in the middle of a sentence, because either it would look horrible, or the last half of the sentence would think I didn't love it and I would be the creator of a huge familiar tragedy! So I highlighted the entire ginormous paragraph and it's not even important. Snerbs.
I also advise that you, once you've read the first couple of pages, go to the last page and read the essay backwards. Because the last paragraph actually has some important summarizing information in it. And, writers, tell me this: Why don't you put the essential informative summaries AT THE BEGINNING of the text? Is it because you hate me? I could have saved myself half an hour of trying to figure out your argument on the first page if I had know you put the important stuff at the end! I don't understand your irrational abhorrence of clarity.
But, you really do need to start at the beginning. Because then, at least you've tried. Effort is 93.7% of the battle. I calculated that. In my head. Because I'm a math major.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
How To: An Ode. In the form of prose. To fruit. That has been dehydrated.
Oh, my strange kiwi that I just discovered the beauty of today. If I was about grammar, that sentence would have been "Oh, my strange kiwi the beauty of which I just discovered today" but I'm not about grammar. I'm giving up on that. I give up on everything except dehydrated fruit and acoustic covers of pop songs.
And gummy bears.
Only because I just bought some today, along with my dehydrated fruit, because I have lots of money, but don't worry, guys, I'm down to less than $300 now, but just barely. Plus, both of those things feel healthy because they don't contain chocolate.
But really, though. Who invented kiwi that could have all the liquid SUCKED OUT OF ITS SPINE, because it's delicious. The worst part is that the bag only comes with three pieces. Maybe I'll buy the store out of all its mal-thirsted fruits. Because I have $292.94 to spend on food in a week.
As I sat in wonder of this strangely addictive fruit substances, I wondered why all the fruits were kinda squishy (that's a technical business term, guys, don't hurt yourselves) except for the bananas. Do the bananas get a special process, or something? Why are they not squishy? They're like little banana chips. Crisp and crunchy, just as bananas should be. Of course.
BUT DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DID THEY PUT THE MOST TERRIFYING THING IN THE FRUIT OF DEHYDRATION BAG BECAUSE IT LOOKS GREAT AND TASTY AND ORANGE (because everyone knows that orange is a delicious color) BUT IT'S ACTUALLY TERRIBLE AND GROSS AND PROBABLY KILLED A PERSON IN A PAST LIFE.
Even though people can't reincarnate as inanimate objects, they can reincarnate as TREES which give off fruit. I can't even tell what fruit it was supposed to be back before it turned evil. Probably sulfur. The ingredients say sulfur, and I bet the maker accidentally dehydrated just some sulfur and put it in the bag with the delightfulness.
The lovely pineapple is also great. It's probably my second favorite after the kiwis and the bananas. No, I'm not wrong. Stop yelling. I don't like yelling. I don't even like things. I just live here. But only for another week. Please make it go faster. I beg to the [insert non-offensive term for whatever you believe in].
My friends all got together and took pictures together and my dad told me that it's not like they're going to spend three weeks together and forget about me but my insecurities are feeling angry this evening so I'm trying really hard to not let it bother me but it's hard because it is.
There's also a different weird orange fruit thing that's pretty delicious, unlike the EVIL. But unfortunately I can't tell the difference between the two different kinds so it's a game of chance. I'll be thinking I'm safe, but then I DIE but not really that's an exaggeration.
Also, there's a starfruit, and it basically looks like I'm going to eat a starfish, and I'm kind of afraid that it'll actually be the texture of a starfish, so I'm putting off eating it because I'm like the cowardly lion, except occasionally I have good hair days.
Okay, here's the actual ode (except not in the form of an ode, because that's hard and a lot of work):
Oh fruit
So sparkle
So chewy chewy chewy
Except for banana
Why have you no juice left?
Because you might
GET THIRSTY
and/or get a head ache
Because water is important
And hydration is essential
Oh fruit
So sad
So thirsty thirsty thirsty
Why have you to die?
Because you might
BE EATEN
by me
Because yum yum yum
Yum yum yum yum yum
How was that? I should be done now. But really, why should I give up on genius? I know! We'll make it a system: you pay me money and I'll write an ode just for you and it'll go on my blog. And all the people can read it. Just kidding. You don't have to pay me money. I'll do it for free. You just have to request one, and it will be great. And I promise to make it great. Greatness is my guarantee! I'll eagerly await your call.
(No, really, I'll write you an ode if you ask me to. Do it.)
And gummy bears.
Only because I just bought some today, along with my dehydrated fruit, because I have lots of money, but don't worry, guys, I'm down to less than $300 now, but just barely. Plus, both of those things feel healthy because they don't contain chocolate.
But really, though. Who invented kiwi that could have all the liquid SUCKED OUT OF ITS SPINE, because it's delicious. The worst part is that the bag only comes with three pieces. Maybe I'll buy the store out of all its mal-thirsted fruits. Because I have $292.94 to spend on food in a week.
As I sat in wonder of this strangely addictive fruit substances, I wondered why all the fruits were kinda squishy (that's a technical business term, guys, don't hurt yourselves) except for the bananas. Do the bananas get a special process, or something? Why are they not squishy? They're like little banana chips. Crisp and crunchy, just as bananas should be. Of course.
BUT DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DID THEY PUT THE MOST TERRIFYING THING IN THE FRUIT OF DEHYDRATION BAG BECAUSE IT LOOKS GREAT AND TASTY AND ORANGE (because everyone knows that orange is a delicious color) BUT IT'S ACTUALLY TERRIBLE AND GROSS AND PROBABLY KILLED A PERSON IN A PAST LIFE.
Even though people can't reincarnate as inanimate objects, they can reincarnate as TREES which give off fruit. I can't even tell what fruit it was supposed to be back before it turned evil. Probably sulfur. The ingredients say sulfur, and I bet the maker accidentally dehydrated just some sulfur and put it in the bag with the delightfulness.
The lovely pineapple is also great. It's probably my second favorite after the kiwis and the bananas. No, I'm not wrong. Stop yelling. I don't like yelling. I don't even like things. I just live here. But only for another week. Please make it go faster. I beg to the [insert non-offensive term for whatever you believe in].
My friends all got together and took pictures together and my dad told me that it's not like they're going to spend three weeks together and forget about me but my insecurities are feeling angry this evening so I'm trying really hard to not let it bother me but it's hard because it is.
There's also a different weird orange fruit thing that's pretty delicious, unlike the EVIL. But unfortunately I can't tell the difference between the two different kinds so it's a game of chance. I'll be thinking I'm safe, but then I DIE but not really that's an exaggeration.
Also, there's a starfruit, and it basically looks like I'm going to eat a starfish, and I'm kind of afraid that it'll actually be the texture of a starfish, so I'm putting off eating it because I'm like the cowardly lion, except occasionally I have good hair days.
Okay, here's the actual ode (except not in the form of an ode, because that's hard and a lot of work):
Oh fruit
So sparkle
So chewy chewy chewy
Except for banana
Why have you no juice left?
Because you might
GET THIRSTY
and/or get a head ache
Because water is important
And hydration is essential
Oh fruit
So sad
So thirsty thirsty thirsty
Why have you to die?
Because you might
BE EATEN
by me
Because yum yum yum
Yum yum yum yum yum
How was that? I should be done now. But really, why should I give up on genius? I know! We'll make it a system: you pay me money and I'll write an ode just for you and it'll go on my blog. And all the people can read it. Just kidding. You don't have to pay me money. I'll do it for free. You just have to request one, and it will be great. And I promise to make it great. Greatness is my guarantee! I'll eagerly await your call.
(No, really, I'll write you an ode if you ask me to. Do it.)
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
A Journey
I have a ginormous head ache. It's pretty great. I'm also really bored and should be doing things besides writing this (which seems to be a common theme among the beginnings of my posts) but too bad. So I'm just going to write and see where this goes.
The sunset outside my window is pretty incredible right now. It's mostly orange surrounded by some dark gray-ish purple and them some yellow clouds overhead. I don't know what I did to deserve this view, but maybe I was a good child in some universe.
There was once a child who tried to be a good kid, but everything he did was entirely wrong, because people just didn't understand what he was trying to do. They said, "No, no kid. That's not how good people behave, why aren't you doing the right thing?" But they just didn't understand. Because somehow the "right thing" became a social norm in which trying to ignore all the problems of the world was good. The kid didn't want to ignore the problems, so he tried his gosh darn hardest to fix them all one by one. Soon, though, the kid realized that his futile efforts were being wasted, because no one else could understand what he did. They shunned him, they exiled him, and the kid grew up on an island all alone.
I wore a dress today, because dresses and nice clothes are supposed to make you feel good about yourself. But it's kind of weird when people who normally mostly just ignore you randomly come up to you and say, "Wow! You look so nice today!" I know it's supposed to seem like a compliment, but it kind of just makes me feel like they usually think I look like a hobo. But I also don't care. I like how I look. I also went to dinner today wearing my dress, because I was too lazy to change, and tennis shoes, because my feet hurt from wearing nice shoes all day, and an old high school jacket, because it was raining and I needed pockets. And I didn't even care that people probably thought I was a super weirdie. So that's a plus on the self-esteem side of things.
But his island was the best place on earth. There was no hunger or pain or danger or hatred or indifference. There was only the kid and his pets and his love of the world. Soon, though, the kid was lonely, and he missed his abilities to help people. He felt the poorness of the world growing and knew there was nothing he could do because he was stuck on the island.
I should draw more. I don't even like drawing. I like doodling though, which is like the baby version of doodling. It's pretty great, even though I hate it when my notebooks are filled with random scribbles. I need a special notebook that I can just doodle in. And I need colorful pens to make everything more colorful. If someone wanted to get me those for my birthday, that would be pretty great.
He decided that he would use his new found magical powers to transport his island to a place where people didn't take helping others for granted. He waved his unicorn's horn above the island and the magic filled the air, swirling and dancing above the lush purple leaves of the Jenaple trees. The island took off from the water as if it were a helicopter. All the people who had exiled the kid stared in wonder and awe as the inexplicable kid flew his paradise to a new land.
Do you know what I'm about? I'll tell you. I'm about happiness and if not that then contentedness. I'm about tolerance. I'm about playing with children and making sure my brothers always think I'm weird, even if I don't talk to them everyday. I'm about thinking about things. I'm about worrying about things that won't matter a year from now. I'm about Spanish. I'm about figuring out how to tell people I love them, even if it's scary. I'm about grammar. I'm about learning and teaching and helping. I'm about working hard but making sure it's fun to sit still. I'm about music and wonder. I'm about toast (occasionally) and butter. I'm about judging in a completely not judgmental way. I'm about forgiveness and remembering. I'm about keeping the best friends I have. I'm about magic. Mostly about magic.
They begged and pleaded and screamed and cried for him to land his island. They wanted to share his magic, they finally understood what he meant by trying to be good. But the kid just shook his head sadly. He knew they would never be able to fully appreciate his magic and his words, because they had not yet lost their most fatal flaw. He almost took pity on the people, but there was nothing he would ever be able to do for them. He knew they had to come to the understanding, not through a magic which certainly could have cured their shallowness, but through their own suffering.
I think I've lost a lot of my clothes since coming to college eight-ish months ago. I was looking for shorts to change into, when I, you know, finally decided that sitting in a dress wasn't comfortable enough, but I could not find them. I know I brought like three pairs to school, and I could not find a single one and I was about to start dying, but then it turns out they were hiding at the front of my drawer. Which makes no sense, because I haven't worn shorts for a bunch of months, so why would they be at the front, riddle me this, Joker??
As he left the farthest corner of the land, he heard the faintest cry, the words of a little girl. She said, "Kid, I'll never stop looking for you." He peered over the edge of his island, and the girl, holding a tiny green balloon, missing all but her two front teeth, waved a tiny hand. "Kid, I'll never not believe in the goodness," she said. And he smiled back at her, revealing a grin of only two front teeth.
I wish I liked singing and dancing in front of other people. That would make life a lot more easier/funner maybe. Maybe people would think I like having fun! Maybe you don't need to sing and dance to have fun. Maybe that's a culturally perpetuated stereotype that we should be breaking down through sociology. Maybe I should be praised for my timidness.
He was not a kid anymore. He knew the world he was leaving would be safe in the new kid's hands.
You're the new kid.
The sunset outside my window is pretty incredible right now. It's mostly orange surrounded by some dark gray-ish purple and them some yellow clouds overhead. I don't know what I did to deserve this view, but maybe I was a good child in some universe.
There was once a child who tried to be a good kid, but everything he did was entirely wrong, because people just didn't understand what he was trying to do. They said, "No, no kid. That's not how good people behave, why aren't you doing the right thing?" But they just didn't understand. Because somehow the "right thing" became a social norm in which trying to ignore all the problems of the world was good. The kid didn't want to ignore the problems, so he tried his gosh darn hardest to fix them all one by one. Soon, though, the kid realized that his futile efforts were being wasted, because no one else could understand what he did. They shunned him, they exiled him, and the kid grew up on an island all alone.
I wore a dress today, because dresses and nice clothes are supposed to make you feel good about yourself. But it's kind of weird when people who normally mostly just ignore you randomly come up to you and say, "Wow! You look so nice today!" I know it's supposed to seem like a compliment, but it kind of just makes me feel like they usually think I look like a hobo. But I also don't care. I like how I look. I also went to dinner today wearing my dress, because I was too lazy to change, and tennis shoes, because my feet hurt from wearing nice shoes all day, and an old high school jacket, because it was raining and I needed pockets. And I didn't even care that people probably thought I was a super weirdie. So that's a plus on the self-esteem side of things.
But his island was the best place on earth. There was no hunger or pain or danger or hatred or indifference. There was only the kid and his pets and his love of the world. Soon, though, the kid was lonely, and he missed his abilities to help people. He felt the poorness of the world growing and knew there was nothing he could do because he was stuck on the island.
I should draw more. I don't even like drawing. I like doodling though, which is like the baby version of doodling. It's pretty great, even though I hate it when my notebooks are filled with random scribbles. I need a special notebook that I can just doodle in. And I need colorful pens to make everything more colorful. If someone wanted to get me those for my birthday, that would be pretty great.
He decided that he would use his new found magical powers to transport his island to a place where people didn't take helping others for granted. He waved his unicorn's horn above the island and the magic filled the air, swirling and dancing above the lush purple leaves of the Jenaple trees. The island took off from the water as if it were a helicopter. All the people who had exiled the kid stared in wonder and awe as the inexplicable kid flew his paradise to a new land.
Do you know what I'm about? I'll tell you. I'm about happiness and if not that then contentedness. I'm about tolerance. I'm about playing with children and making sure my brothers always think I'm weird, even if I don't talk to them everyday. I'm about thinking about things. I'm about worrying about things that won't matter a year from now. I'm about Spanish. I'm about figuring out how to tell people I love them, even if it's scary. I'm about grammar. I'm about learning and teaching and helping. I'm about working hard but making sure it's fun to sit still. I'm about music and wonder. I'm about toast (occasionally) and butter. I'm about judging in a completely not judgmental way. I'm about forgiveness and remembering. I'm about keeping the best friends I have. I'm about magic. Mostly about magic.
They begged and pleaded and screamed and cried for him to land his island. They wanted to share his magic, they finally understood what he meant by trying to be good. But the kid just shook his head sadly. He knew they would never be able to fully appreciate his magic and his words, because they had not yet lost their most fatal flaw. He almost took pity on the people, but there was nothing he would ever be able to do for them. He knew they had to come to the understanding, not through a magic which certainly could have cured their shallowness, but through their own suffering.
I think I've lost a lot of my clothes since coming to college eight-ish months ago. I was looking for shorts to change into, when I, you know, finally decided that sitting in a dress wasn't comfortable enough, but I could not find them. I know I brought like three pairs to school, and I could not find a single one and I was about to start dying, but then it turns out they were hiding at the front of my drawer. Which makes no sense, because I haven't worn shorts for a bunch of months, so why would they be at the front, riddle me this, Joker??
As he left the farthest corner of the land, he heard the faintest cry, the words of a little girl. She said, "Kid, I'll never stop looking for you." He peered over the edge of his island, and the girl, holding a tiny green balloon, missing all but her two front teeth, waved a tiny hand. "Kid, I'll never not believe in the goodness," she said. And he smiled back at her, revealing a grin of only two front teeth.
I wish I liked singing and dancing in front of other people. That would make life a lot more easier/funner maybe. Maybe people would think I like having fun! Maybe you don't need to sing and dance to have fun. Maybe that's a culturally perpetuated stereotype that we should be breaking down through sociology. Maybe I should be praised for my timidness.
He was not a kid anymore. He knew the world he was leaving would be safe in the new kid's hands.
You're the new kid.
Friday, May 1, 2015
How To: Surrealism
It's been a very strange week this week. For example, I thought that I had written a post just, like, yesterday. But it turns out that it was actually sixteen days ago. The fact that sixteen days ago feels like yesterday begins to concern me.
So, I shall now tell you how to deal with some of the surreal situations you might encounter. Please do exactly as I say, no more no less, lest you die. On the scale of things that are bad that can happen to you, dying is at the tippy-top.
Perhaps you have entered the kitchen of your college or university, and perhaps you see, so nicely, placed upon a tray, two legs. Yes. Legs. And they're probably, like, legs of lamb, or something that someone was once planning on cooking and serving to the unsuspecting students, but for right now, they sit, staring at you, whispering, "Why can we no longer walk, Jen? What has happened to us?" And you just don't even know what's going on, because they've been there for like three hours. To solve this problem, I recommend ignorance. Yes. Simply don't look at them, ever. Ever ever ever. Pretend like they don't exist. The end.
And let me introduce you to another scenario. Pretend you have always worked with a person, and you've always assumed her name is Joyce. Joyce, however, occasionally wears the name tag of Denise. But you know she is Joyce just the same. And so one day you go to work and say hi to Joyce as she passes you by, and as you round the corner, THERE JOYCE STANDS ONCE AGAIN. But you swear you just passed her, and you look back and indeed, Joyce is on the other side of the wall, but Joyce is also in front of you looking at you strangely, as if she knows that you've just discovered her secret. But the Joyce in front of you has "Denise" pinned upon her shirt. And it occurs to you that there must be two of them. That in fact one Joyce must be named Denise, and they just look exactly the same. To solve this problem, I recommend ignorance. Yes. Simply don't look at them, ever. Ever ever ever. Pretend like they don't exist. The end.
Now pretend that you knew a person. And you really liked and respected this person, and they were a pretty great friend, and you liked to help them and talk to them and do the things with them. But all of a sudden, they began doing the not things. They began earning your disrespect and you find yourself at odds, because parts of you still think they're worth it, but most of you knows that they're just going to be pulling you down into the quicksand of pain and worry and you should just let them go, because the things they do, they're just not worth your brain and heart power. And you feel sad. To solve this problem, I recommend ignorance. Yes. Simply don't look at them, ever. Ever ever ever. Pretend like they don't exist. The end.
On to less scary things, children of mine.
Pretend like you were taking a shower, and you brought your clothes with you, because you're not about wandering around the hallway mostly naked except for a towel. But then pretend, all of a sudden there are five people waiting in line for the shower, and you definitely should hurry the heck up. So you finish and you try and bolt out of there as fast as you can, except you're mostly freaking out about having no clothes on. And people think you're weird and you can't handle your brain. To solve this problem, I recommend wearing clothes all the time. Even while showering.
Pretend your favorite chef has just yelled your name. Pretend that she wants help removing some of the pans that she has just taken from the pan rack, because they have holes in them to, you know, help drain water and things from them. But she doesn't want them. "I don't want the holey ones, Jen. I can't cook bacon on the holey ones!" And then she leaves and you have no idea what happened. To solve this problem, I recommend laughter. Laughter is the only thing you can do in these situations. Holey trays filled with bacon.
Pretend you had such a lovely week and that none of these strange things happened to you. Because they all happened to me, and them happening to just one person is enough for the entire world. Don't forget to not die. I'm opposed to dying! And I'm opposed to you dying! So there! Camilo Canegato would be proud of you. Just kidding. He basically killed someone. Yet another surreal experience! Poor Camilo, je je.
So, I shall now tell you how to deal with some of the surreal situations you might encounter. Please do exactly as I say, no more no less, lest you die. On the scale of things that are bad that can happen to you, dying is at the tippy-top.
Perhaps you have entered the kitchen of your college or university, and perhaps you see, so nicely, placed upon a tray, two legs. Yes. Legs. And they're probably, like, legs of lamb, or something that someone was once planning on cooking and serving to the unsuspecting students, but for right now, they sit, staring at you, whispering, "Why can we no longer walk, Jen? What has happened to us?" And you just don't even know what's going on, because they've been there for like three hours. To solve this problem, I recommend ignorance. Yes. Simply don't look at them, ever. Ever ever ever. Pretend like they don't exist. The end.
And let me introduce you to another scenario. Pretend you have always worked with a person, and you've always assumed her name is Joyce. Joyce, however, occasionally wears the name tag of Denise. But you know she is Joyce just the same. And so one day you go to work and say hi to Joyce as she passes you by, and as you round the corner, THERE JOYCE STANDS ONCE AGAIN. But you swear you just passed her, and you look back and indeed, Joyce is on the other side of the wall, but Joyce is also in front of you looking at you strangely, as if she knows that you've just discovered her secret. But the Joyce in front of you has "Denise" pinned upon her shirt. And it occurs to you that there must be two of them. That in fact one Joyce must be named Denise, and they just look exactly the same. To solve this problem, I recommend ignorance. Yes. Simply don't look at them, ever. Ever ever ever. Pretend like they don't exist. The end.
Now pretend that you knew a person. And you really liked and respected this person, and they were a pretty great friend, and you liked to help them and talk to them and do the things with them. But all of a sudden, they began doing the not things. They began earning your disrespect and you find yourself at odds, because parts of you still think they're worth it, but most of you knows that they're just going to be pulling you down into the quicksand of pain and worry and you should just let them go, because the things they do, they're just not worth your brain and heart power. And you feel sad. To solve this problem, I recommend ignorance. Yes. Simply don't look at them, ever. Ever ever ever. Pretend like they don't exist. The end.
On to less scary things, children of mine.
Pretend like you were taking a shower, and you brought your clothes with you, because you're not about wandering around the hallway mostly naked except for a towel. But then pretend, all of a sudden there are five people waiting in line for the shower, and you definitely should hurry the heck up. So you finish and you try and bolt out of there as fast as you can, except you're mostly freaking out about having no clothes on. And people think you're weird and you can't handle your brain. To solve this problem, I recommend wearing clothes all the time. Even while showering.
Pretend your favorite chef has just yelled your name. Pretend that she wants help removing some of the pans that she has just taken from the pan rack, because they have holes in them to, you know, help drain water and things from them. But she doesn't want them. "I don't want the holey ones, Jen. I can't cook bacon on the holey ones!" And then she leaves and you have no idea what happened. To solve this problem, I recommend laughter. Laughter is the only thing you can do in these situations. Holey trays filled with bacon.
Pretend you had such a lovely week and that none of these strange things happened to you. Because they all happened to me, and them happening to just one person is enough for the entire world. Don't forget to not die. I'm opposed to dying! And I'm opposed to you dying! So there! Camilo Canegato would be proud of you. Just kidding. He basically killed someone. Yet another surreal experience! Poor Camilo, je je.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
How To: Have a Writing Career
A short anecdote by me:
So, I began writing a super long time ago. Like, probably when I was 4 or 5. I mean, you've seen that story I wrote with my brother when we were but wee ones. However, I like to think that I've improved since then.
I used to just have notebooks filled with random thoughts and things that would make good stories, but somehow, there always just happened to be a thing that was like, "All your stories are weird and no one would read them so you might as well stop writing because they're horrible." That's basically what my internal monologue is for a lot of stuff, actually, and it takes a lot of work to combat that stupid little voice.
In sixth grade, I wrote this story, and it was about a girl who kept being abducted, but then she found out that aliens were protecting her, but the aliens were really confusing and the people trying to kill/kidnap her were really evil and she had to get a little tiny baby alien to protect her as her personal body guard, and it was actually a really good story.
I'm pretty sure that I deleted it.
Unless it's miraculously saved on some flash drive somewhere, that 60 pages of writing by 11 year old me is gone forever.
That stupid little voice is why I have more than fifteen first ten pages of stories on my computer that I never look at again because they suddenly sound stupid in my head after I come back to write some more.
I think (know) that middle school made me stop writing. Suddenly people were grading my work, suddenly I didn't have enough time to think up my own plots, suddenly there was no extra space in my brain. I told myself that if I could just get through middle school, I would have plenty of time to write in high school. Ha. Yeah, that didn't happen.
And then, it was "get through high school and write in college!" And that's kind of happening. I write a blog. But it's not the same. But maybe some people aren't meant to write stories.
The fact that the last two years of my English classes have basically been people telling me that everything I write is bad doesn't really help this situation either.
Somehow, though, I think that all the people who ever try to write go through this process of WHY IS EVERYTHING I WRITE HORRIBLE AND WHY DO I SOUND LIKE A CAVE PERSON WHEN I READ THIS STUFF? Maybe that's the point. Maybe we can't be great at something unless we dedicate large amounts of time and effort and practice to it, unless you're born some kind of genius child. And I don't think I'm willing to spend my life writing. Actually, I would be, but I just don't think I'm good enough. I'm looking for something I'm good enough at.
Sometimes, I'll have these brilliant ideas or even just sentences that could be the perfect beginning or end to a story, but inevitably I'll be walking around campus or hiking through trees and won't have anything to transcribe my thoughts. Why can't I ever have thoughts when I'm at my desk or in class where I have an ample supply of paper?? Oh, right. Because indoors and education drag creativity back into the dark abyss of anti-individuality where everything must be the same and equal so we can all pass a test, goodness knows that's the most important measure of your abilities, so you gosh darn better not have an original idea about anything.
I'm very jealous of all the people who know how to write stories. You should teach me. But for now, I'll settle for this strange blog on which I share all my thoughts about thoughts. It can sustain me and my creative endeavors.
Mostly, I just hope I don't give up something that once made me so happy and excited (and still sometimes does!) just because I feel like I'm not good enough. I'm trying to learn to write for me and not my stupid little internal voice that hates things. That's not me. I'm better than that! Yeah! Optimist!
So, I began writing a super long time ago. Like, probably when I was 4 or 5. I mean, you've seen that story I wrote with my brother when we were but wee ones. However, I like to think that I've improved since then.
I used to just have notebooks filled with random thoughts and things that would make good stories, but somehow, there always just happened to be a thing that was like, "All your stories are weird and no one would read them so you might as well stop writing because they're horrible." That's basically what my internal monologue is for a lot of stuff, actually, and it takes a lot of work to combat that stupid little voice.
In sixth grade, I wrote this story, and it was about a girl who kept being abducted, but then she found out that aliens were protecting her, but the aliens were really confusing and the people trying to kill/kidnap her were really evil and she had to get a little tiny baby alien to protect her as her personal body guard, and it was actually a really good story.
I'm pretty sure that I deleted it.
Unless it's miraculously saved on some flash drive somewhere, that 60 pages of writing by 11 year old me is gone forever.
That stupid little voice is why I have more than fifteen first ten pages of stories on my computer that I never look at again because they suddenly sound stupid in my head after I come back to write some more.
I think (know) that middle school made me stop writing. Suddenly people were grading my work, suddenly I didn't have enough time to think up my own plots, suddenly there was no extra space in my brain. I told myself that if I could just get through middle school, I would have plenty of time to write in high school. Ha. Yeah, that didn't happen.
And then, it was "get through high school and write in college!" And that's kind of happening. I write a blog. But it's not the same. But maybe some people aren't meant to write stories.
The fact that the last two years of my English classes have basically been people telling me that everything I write is bad doesn't really help this situation either.
Somehow, though, I think that all the people who ever try to write go through this process of WHY IS EVERYTHING I WRITE HORRIBLE AND WHY DO I SOUND LIKE A CAVE PERSON WHEN I READ THIS STUFF? Maybe that's the point. Maybe we can't be great at something unless we dedicate large amounts of time and effort and practice to it, unless you're born some kind of genius child. And I don't think I'm willing to spend my life writing. Actually, I would be, but I just don't think I'm good enough. I'm looking for something I'm good enough at.
Sometimes, I'll have these brilliant ideas or even just sentences that could be the perfect beginning or end to a story, but inevitably I'll be walking around campus or hiking through trees and won't have anything to transcribe my thoughts. Why can't I ever have thoughts when I'm at my desk or in class where I have an ample supply of paper?? Oh, right. Because indoors and education drag creativity back into the dark abyss of anti-individuality where everything must be the same and equal so we can all pass a test, goodness knows that's the most important measure of your abilities, so you gosh darn better not have an original idea about anything.
I'm very jealous of all the people who know how to write stories. You should teach me. But for now, I'll settle for this strange blog on which I share all my thoughts about thoughts. It can sustain me and my creative endeavors.
Mostly, I just hope I don't give up something that once made me so happy and excited (and still sometimes does!) just because I feel like I'm not good enough. I'm trying to learn to write for me and not my stupid little internal voice that hates things. That's not me. I'm better than that! Yeah! Optimist!
Monday, April 13, 2015
Random Thoughts with Me
That's because I don't really have anything that can be written about for an entire post, even though--YES I KNOW I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN FOREVER SORRY FOR FIGURING OUT HOW TO HAVE A SOCIAL LIFE IN COLLEGE--I've been away for so long. So here are a collection of things that I've been thinking about since I've not been writing.
1. Today I had to watch a movie for my scholar's class tomorrow. It was about a guy who walked the tight rope between the Twin Towers. And they tried to make it less scary by playing calming flute music over all the terrifying footage of the guy tilting and swaying 200 feet above the ground, but in my head I just scream: BE CAREFUL PHILIPPE, YOU'RE GONNA DIE. THERE'S A REASON NORMAL PEOPLE DON'T WALK ON TIGHT ROPES WITHOUT NETS.
2. Also, a lot of this movie is in French, and so as I read the subtitles, there's one part where Philippe says, "Out of frustration, I took all my clothes off." I'm kind of hoping this was just a phrase that couldn't be correctly translated from French to English, but at the same time, I hope this was what he actually said.
3. At work last Friday, I got assigned to work a serving line that I don't usually work, because there are never enough workers on Fridays. Anyway, this line is the one where you get to cut up giant chunks of meat into little slices. But since I'm not supposed to work it, I was excited when this other guy came to replace me so I could go back to my normal job! But apparently, he didn't really know what he was supposed to do. So I showed him, but I was really weird about it, because that's who I am. And somehow, knowing how to do something that other people don't know how to do gives me weird confidence. So this is how I instructed him: "FIRST!" I said, scarily, "you need to put on this plastic glove. THEN! You put on this cutting glove and your hand will get all gross and weird and it might fall off. THEN! You put on this other plastic glove. Then you take this giant chunk of meat and drop it here and then you SLICE IT LIKE IT'S DONE EVIL. Do you think you can handle that?" And then, I don't know why, he just looked at me like I was really weird. So I left him to fend for himself. The weirdie.
4. I'm thinking about getting a pet turtle.
5. Then again, that thought really isn't a new thought. I'm basically always thinking about getting a pet turtle.
6. Someone made a comment about marching band the other day, and made me kind of frustrated. I'm not even in marching band anymore, but that doesn't mean that I didn't dedicate of 1,000 hours of my life to it in high school. The comment went something like, "Why do schools give so much money to the marching band? They get to buy new tubas and we only got new uniforms two years ago!" Okay, this may have been an exaggeration, but the point is the same. So, strange comment maker, allow me to say some things. 1. In our band lobby in high school, there were pictures from 1999 in which the people were wearing the same uniforms that they wear today. If I can do some math here (which I maybe can't but I'll try), that means we've had the same uniforms for 16 years. That's 8 times more years than you. Also, tubas are expensive, and we don't buy new ones. We get to use rented ones from someone else, if we're lucky. I feel like I have more things to say about this. Maybe I should make this topic an entire post sometime. Okay.
7. Do you know how hard it is to shop for clothes? Maybe that's just me. I don't know. But inevitably I end up buying two of the same thing in different colors just because I found something that I like, finally, after being in the store for like three hours. Just kidding. You probably couldn't force me to be in a store for three hours. ALSO: I was trying to buy a swimsuit, and they're all called things like "Sexy Swimsuit for Women" or "Sexy Red Swimsuit with Cats" like, maybe I just wanted to buy a normal swimsuit that doesn't make me feel weird about either purchasing or wearing it. Can that be a thing? Not that being sexy is weird. Oh, gosh, now that I've offended all the people.....
8. I have to go eat dinner. I wonder if there's anything delicious.... Stay tuned to see if I survive! (It might be a couple of weeks, the way this is going so far...)
1. Today I had to watch a movie for my scholar's class tomorrow. It was about a guy who walked the tight rope between the Twin Towers. And they tried to make it less scary by playing calming flute music over all the terrifying footage of the guy tilting and swaying 200 feet above the ground, but in my head I just scream: BE CAREFUL PHILIPPE, YOU'RE GONNA DIE. THERE'S A REASON NORMAL PEOPLE DON'T WALK ON TIGHT ROPES WITHOUT NETS.
2. Also, a lot of this movie is in French, and so as I read the subtitles, there's one part where Philippe says, "Out of frustration, I took all my clothes off." I'm kind of hoping this was just a phrase that couldn't be correctly translated from French to English, but at the same time, I hope this was what he actually said.
3. At work last Friday, I got assigned to work a serving line that I don't usually work, because there are never enough workers on Fridays. Anyway, this line is the one where you get to cut up giant chunks of meat into little slices. But since I'm not supposed to work it, I was excited when this other guy came to replace me so I could go back to my normal job! But apparently, he didn't really know what he was supposed to do. So I showed him, but I was really weird about it, because that's who I am. And somehow, knowing how to do something that other people don't know how to do gives me weird confidence. So this is how I instructed him: "FIRST!" I said, scarily, "you need to put on this plastic glove. THEN! You put on this cutting glove and your hand will get all gross and weird and it might fall off. THEN! You put on this other plastic glove. Then you take this giant chunk of meat and drop it here and then you SLICE IT LIKE IT'S DONE EVIL. Do you think you can handle that?" And then, I don't know why, he just looked at me like I was really weird. So I left him to fend for himself. The weirdie.
4. I'm thinking about getting a pet turtle.
5. Then again, that thought really isn't a new thought. I'm basically always thinking about getting a pet turtle.
6. Someone made a comment about marching band the other day, and made me kind of frustrated. I'm not even in marching band anymore, but that doesn't mean that I didn't dedicate of 1,000 hours of my life to it in high school. The comment went something like, "Why do schools give so much money to the marching band? They get to buy new tubas and we only got new uniforms two years ago!" Okay, this may have been an exaggeration, but the point is the same. So, strange comment maker, allow me to say some things. 1. In our band lobby in high school, there were pictures from 1999 in which the people were wearing the same uniforms that they wear today. If I can do some math here (which I maybe can't but I'll try), that means we've had the same uniforms for 16 years. That's 8 times more years than you. Also, tubas are expensive, and we don't buy new ones. We get to use rented ones from someone else, if we're lucky. I feel like I have more things to say about this. Maybe I should make this topic an entire post sometime. Okay.
7. Do you know how hard it is to shop for clothes? Maybe that's just me. I don't know. But inevitably I end up buying two of the same thing in different colors just because I found something that I like, finally, after being in the store for like three hours. Just kidding. You probably couldn't force me to be in a store for three hours. ALSO: I was trying to buy a swimsuit, and they're all called things like "Sexy Swimsuit for Women" or "Sexy Red Swimsuit with Cats" like, maybe I just wanted to buy a normal swimsuit that doesn't make me feel weird about either purchasing or wearing it. Can that be a thing? Not that being sexy is weird. Oh, gosh, now that I've offended all the people.....
8. I have to go eat dinner. I wonder if there's anything delicious.... Stay tuned to see if I survive! (It might be a couple of weeks, the way this is going so far...)
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