Today is definitely one of my favorite days of the year. Thanksgiving. Perusing Facebook posts yields public affirmations of what people truly appreciate...at least for this one day. I feel like I have a lot to be thankful for, but I never think that Facebook is the best place for me to discuss them, as the things I tend to focus on aren't on the macro scale. Sure, I'm thankful for the things like family, shelter, food, a good job, school, etc., but I tend to try to think of the frequently overlooked commodities in life. In this post I'm going to discuss just a couple things I'm thankful for and why I appreciate their existence.
First, I would like to express my gratitude for new socks. Sure, clothes in general are a wonderful thing, and I love socks, but I don't feel like there is anything more luxurious than the feel of new socks (sure, some of you may argue that living in a mansion with maids and butlers and gold door knobs and ivory...bathtubs and drinking fountains that can read your mind would be more luxurious, but for us normal folk, I would say new socks is definitely up there.) Let me ask you this question: have you ever been on a camping trip where it gets bleeding cold at night? Have you ever changed into a new pair of socks right before going to bed? Well, if you haven't, I would HIGHLY recommend that you do so, because it is heaven. Serious. Like, when I think of heaven, I think of new socks...and possibly all-you-can-eat pudding... preferably not out of the socks, but I'm not entirely opposed to that idea. So, socks = good.
Second, I want to express my gratitude for the concept of tolerance. No, I'm not talking about tolerance as it's most frequently used in the media these days. I'm talking more about the concept of tolerance for bad humor, and how much of it I make my friends put up with. Seriously. Let me give you an example: I was at a friends house, and someone said to someone else (not me) "looks like you're on the hot-seat," and I added, "literally, you're on the hot seat...because you're sitting in front of the fireplace." Awful, although it was followed by a weird arm-shake dance thing. I mean, in a world where people didn't tolerate bad humor, I likely would have been shot on the spot, even though there's little to no chance that I would have made it past my 9th birthday. So people, thank you for tolerating.
Third, I want to say how grateful I am for the fact that my car hasn't exploded. Sure, it's not TECHNICALLY my car, but the meaning is the same. Let me let you in on a little routine that goes through my head when I'm leaving for work. I get my badge, car keys, and then think "Gee, I really hope my car doesn't explode while I'm in it today." And it has yet to do that. I have to admit, however, that I would probably just laugh hysterically if it were to explode. I mean, I've been telling people it's going to happen for years now, and it hasn't yet. Hopefully by writing this I'm not jinxing myself. Keep your fingers crossed, people.
Lastly, and on a lot more serious note, I want to thank the people that help make my life worthwhile. I've been richly blessed with talents and abilities, but in my eyes, all of that would be worthless if I didn't have people around me to give me opportunities to use those talents for a greater good. So, if you're one of the people who has allowed me to be a part of your life, I wish to offer you my sincerest and most humble thanks. I can pretty much guarantee that I have gained far more as a result of it than I possibly could have given back. Also, I want to thank all you people for putting up with my sometimes less-than-welcoming nature (by that, I mean the rude comments I make betimes. It's never intended maliciously; I can guarantee that.) So if you've been the recipient of one of those types of comments, thank you for not murdering me. I genuinely appreciate it.
I wish everyone the happiest of Thanksgivings possible. Let's have today be the beginning of a year full of thanksgiving and not allow it to be limited to a single day.
Oh yeah, and Go Utes!
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Creaky Joints? Here's the Solution.
There are few things in this life as predictable as weather: gas prices, thoroughbred horse racing, women, hot pockets (what?), but I do not intend to dwell upon the more finicky aspects of life and chance. With the cold season (weather, not disease) approaching, and because there seems to be so much discussion about the bad elements thereof, I want to discuss briefly some of the more favorable qualities of the winter season.
First, everyone is always giving me a hard time about how much time I spend in front of the computer. "You're so lazy," they say. "Why are you on your computer so much? Go outside." Well, during the winter season, all I have to do is give one excuse, and one excuse alone: it's cold. And from 90% of my critics the response is, "yes, that's true. It is cold, but what does that have to do with you not going outside?" Usually, at this time I just storm off in a fit and start throwing things, not because I'm mad, but to make a point. What point is that? The fact that things break. I'm simply trying to educate here, people. We can't go about thinking that objects are indestructible...because they're not (unless you're throwing around an indestructible metal rod, in which case it won't break).
Anyway, the second thing I love about the weather is the benefit to the economy. Sure, a lot of travel agencies may suffer, like those giving trips to Yellowstone, but think of it this way: there is a definite boon for the chocolate industry. Sure, times like Valentine's Day and...other holidays may help them out quite a bit, but the increased demand for hot chocolate (maybe this is just my excessively Utahn paradigm coming out) surely must be something the chocolate accountants (don't be fooled: this means they're accountants for the chocolate company, not accountants made out of chocolate. Trust me, this is not a mistake you want to make) are grateful for. Also, I think that was the most broken up and hard to follow sentence I've written in a while. Just remember, parenthetical statements aren't planned, they just happen...kind of like some pregnancies.
The third thing I love about the winter is that I daily get to do battle with my nemesis: the wind. Sure, some of you may say "how can you have a nemesis that you can't see, grasp, or even fight?" Well, to you I say, Learn Newton's Laws, jerk. I will refute your comment thusly: I may not be able to see the wind, but it's not like the wind can see me. I mean, it doesn't even have eyes. So looks like we're on equal ground there. Also, you say I can't grasp the wind? Well, I guess that depends on whether you are referring to the concept of physically or intellectually grasping the wind. Because I understand it, so eat those words. And I fight the wind all the time, but most of the time I just do it by playing Starcraft. Trust me, it works. Or at least that's what I'll keep telling myself.
So there it is. Just like I said. Three things I like about winter. Sure, they may not "make sense," but they do, so there. If you have anything you also love about winter, feel free to comment it. In the mean time, I'm going to go do battle. ROCK!
Oh, one last thing, as promised, the solution to creaky joints is just putting a splint on every joint you have. They can't creak if they can't bend, right?
First, everyone is always giving me a hard time about how much time I spend in front of the computer. "You're so lazy," they say. "Why are you on your computer so much? Go outside." Well, during the winter season, all I have to do is give one excuse, and one excuse alone: it's cold. And from 90% of my critics the response is, "yes, that's true. It is cold, but what does that have to do with you not going outside?" Usually, at this time I just storm off in a fit and start throwing things, not because I'm mad, but to make a point. What point is that? The fact that things break. I'm simply trying to educate here, people. We can't go about thinking that objects are indestructible...because they're not (unless you're throwing around an indestructible metal rod, in which case it won't break).
Anyway, the second thing I love about the weather is the benefit to the economy. Sure, a lot of travel agencies may suffer, like those giving trips to Yellowstone, but think of it this way: there is a definite boon for the chocolate industry. Sure, times like Valentine's Day and...other holidays may help them out quite a bit, but the increased demand for hot chocolate (maybe this is just my excessively Utahn paradigm coming out) surely must be something the chocolate accountants (don't be fooled: this means they're accountants for the chocolate company, not accountants made out of chocolate. Trust me, this is not a mistake you want to make) are grateful for. Also, I think that was the most broken up and hard to follow sentence I've written in a while. Just remember, parenthetical statements aren't planned, they just happen...kind of like some pregnancies.
The third thing I love about the winter is that I daily get to do battle with my nemesis: the wind. Sure, some of you may say "how can you have a nemesis that you can't see, grasp, or even fight?" Well, to you I say, Learn Newton's Laws, jerk. I will refute your comment thusly: I may not be able to see the wind, but it's not like the wind can see me. I mean, it doesn't even have eyes. So looks like we're on equal ground there. Also, you say I can't grasp the wind? Well, I guess that depends on whether you are referring to the concept of physically or intellectually grasping the wind. Because I understand it, so eat those words. And I fight the wind all the time, but most of the time I just do it by playing Starcraft. Trust me, it works. Or at least that's what I'll keep telling myself.
So there it is. Just like I said. Three things I like about winter. Sure, they may not "make sense," but they do, so there. If you have anything you also love about winter, feel free to comment it. In the mean time, I'm going to go do battle. ROCK!
Oh, one last thing, as promised, the solution to creaky joints is just putting a splint on every joint you have. They can't creak if they can't bend, right?
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
It's Kind of Like...Cheese
Sometimes it's the time off of school that gets my brain jump-started. I don't think that's necessarily a good thing. With that in mind, I remembered a topic that I've been approached with on several occasions. If you have hitherto read any of my entries, you can probably tell I'm a fairly opinionated person. I would like to stress the fact, however, that my opinions aren't something I create just for kicks. I mean, I don't sit around and think, "You know, I really hate mallard ducks. yeah, that sounds right." That doesn't happen (just in case you, for some reason, thought that it did.) My opinions, just like anyone else's, are based largely on personal experiences revolving around that given topic. That being said, I would like to introduce you to my newest topic of discussion (and by discussion, I mean ranting, considering the fact that in a blog of this nature, very little discussion actually occurs.) That topic is: age.
There is a commonly held belief that after high school, age doesn't matter that much. And I would, to an extent agree. At the age of 18, it doesn't really matter, and perhaps the reason is because there is no legal ramification for a 18-year-old girl to be hit on by a man of age 27. Note: I made the distinction of LEGAL ramification, as that given scenario would probably have some social consequences...like....disgustingness (if anyone reading this is married to someone who is either 9 years older or younger, note that I'm speaking my personal opinion, and if it works for you...good on ya.)
The thing that brings this up is an experience I had the other weekend. I was hanging with friends, and I invited someone, who invited someone, who invited someone. The third someone happened to be in high school, and at the moment we found out, almost simultaneously, we took a big step backwards...like, physically. Her own words stated "it's no big deal," but I guess that's because she may not have had a grasp on the legal aspect of things. There's something wrong with 24-year-old guys hitting on high school girls. If you disagree, well, I would advise counseling.
Being 18 can be a rough time for a person. So much changes in an individual's life; I like to call it "second puberty." A magical transformation occurs when a person is forced to experience college life for a year or two. It's almost like when a pokemon gains enough experience and evolves. Yeah, I just dropped that reference. You know what, it would probably be better for everyone if you just forgot that I dropped that reference. Sports (I'm just hoping that bringing up that word makes you forget.) If you don't know the change that occurs, there's a good chance you haven't gone through it...or are going through it...or need to just grow up. Seriously.
Anyway, I can't really think of anything else to write right now. Call it writer's block, if you want. Call it a ham sandwich if you really want. I really need to stop writing, so that's what I'm going to do.
There is a commonly held belief that after high school, age doesn't matter that much. And I would, to an extent agree. At the age of 18, it doesn't really matter, and perhaps the reason is because there is no legal ramification for a 18-year-old girl to be hit on by a man of age 27. Note: I made the distinction of LEGAL ramification, as that given scenario would probably have some social consequences...like....disgustingness (if anyone reading this is married to someone who is either 9 years older or younger, note that I'm speaking my personal opinion, and if it works for you...good on ya.)
The thing that brings this up is an experience I had the other weekend. I was hanging with friends, and I invited someone, who invited someone, who invited someone. The third someone happened to be in high school, and at the moment we found out, almost simultaneously, we took a big step backwards...like, physically. Her own words stated "it's no big deal," but I guess that's because she may not have had a grasp on the legal aspect of things. There's something wrong with 24-year-old guys hitting on high school girls. If you disagree, well, I would advise counseling.
Being 18 can be a rough time for a person. So much changes in an individual's life; I like to call it "second puberty." A magical transformation occurs when a person is forced to experience college life for a year or two. It's almost like when a pokemon gains enough experience and evolves. Yeah, I just dropped that reference. You know what, it would probably be better for everyone if you just forgot that I dropped that reference. Sports (I'm just hoping that bringing up that word makes you forget.) If you don't know the change that occurs, there's a good chance you haven't gone through it...or are going through it...or need to just grow up. Seriously.
Anyway, I can't really think of anything else to write right now. Call it writer's block, if you want. Call it a ham sandwich if you really want. I really need to stop writing, so that's what I'm going to do.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
I yu cn re thi yu ne a lf
Alright, here's the deal. There are certain things in life which I enjoy, there are things I can tolerate, there are things that I stand, and there are things which I despise. Today, I'm going to take advantage of this...blog...thing...and explain about something that I despise. Hopefully I will also give a reason why I despise it, but I can never be too sure what's going to be written here.
I'm not exactly known for being someone who is "with it," in reference to pop culture. I get into social settings, and people throw around celebrities names like they're dirty rags (come to think of it, I'm pretty sure that some people are basically the same as dirty rags, but that's another discussion for another day), and all I can think to say is "So there's this new theory..." which will be followed by some excessively nerdy, most likely socially frowned upon theory (like the one where some people are beginning to believe that our universe is actually contained within a black hole that lies in another universe. Talk about WHOA.) Now, I don't mean to say that those who are more in touch with pop culture aggravate me. I don't mean that by any means. In fact, I don't mean that. What I DO mean is that there are certain things that have become popular, mostly with the younger people (by definition, those who graduated 2008 or later). Maybe someone can explain it to me, but why on earth do some people feel the need to abbreviate everything? I'll let you think on that for a minute.
Seeing as how I cannot govern the time that it'll take you to finish that sentence and start this one, I'll just trust that you took a moment to think of an answer to that question. Personally, I don't have an answer. It just boggles my mind. I mean, seriously. The other day I saw someone (on Facebook, but still) abbreviate the word "scooter." I tend to think of myself as one who can be particularly lazy when it comes to certain aspects of life. I don't like talking if I don't need to talk, partially because I'm afraid I'll say something stupid, but also partly because I'm lazy. But seriously, you can't say "er"? Is that one going to strain you to the point where you may question if you can go on? I mean, it's barely even a syllable. In fact, I daresay it's half a syllable (yes, English majors, I know you can't TECHNICALLY have half a syllable. It's for effect. You should know about that.)
There are any number of examples I could use...unfortunately I've been so scarred by them that I have subconsciously blocked those memories and cannot recall them at the present time. If you have any other examples of awful and unnecessarily abbreviated words, share. Seriously.
I'm calling out to those of you who cherish language. Call those who abbreviate out. Also, throw in some derogatory words. That's okay too (Caution: there may be some backlash when it comes to that. Hopefully you know that by know, but I'm just covering my bases.......All your base...)
It's entirely possible that this post is going to get amended as I am made aware of abbreviations. So feel free to check back. If you haven't noticed, I'm someone passionate about this topic. Let me finish by saying this: if you're abbreviating to be funny, or should I say "funny," go ahead and continue, but if you are abbreviating to try and sound cool, I just have one thing to tell you (on top of everything else I've written here), It's NOT working. Seriously.
That's my rant. I'm done....for now (duhn duhn duhn) that was supposed to be intense music or whatever. STOP LOOKING AT ME!!!
I'm not exactly known for being someone who is "with it," in reference to pop culture. I get into social settings, and people throw around celebrities names like they're dirty rags (come to think of it, I'm pretty sure that some people are basically the same as dirty rags, but that's another discussion for another day), and all I can think to say is "So there's this new theory..." which will be followed by some excessively nerdy, most likely socially frowned upon theory (like the one where some people are beginning to believe that our universe is actually contained within a black hole that lies in another universe. Talk about WHOA.) Now, I don't mean to say that those who are more in touch with pop culture aggravate me. I don't mean that by any means. In fact, I don't mean that. What I DO mean is that there are certain things that have become popular, mostly with the younger people (by definition, those who graduated 2008 or later). Maybe someone can explain it to me, but why on earth do some people feel the need to abbreviate everything? I'll let you think on that for a minute.
Seeing as how I cannot govern the time that it'll take you to finish that sentence and start this one, I'll just trust that you took a moment to think of an answer to that question. Personally, I don't have an answer. It just boggles my mind. I mean, seriously. The other day I saw someone (on Facebook, but still) abbreviate the word "scooter." I tend to think of myself as one who can be particularly lazy when it comes to certain aspects of life. I don't like talking if I don't need to talk, partially because I'm afraid I'll say something stupid, but also partly because I'm lazy. But seriously, you can't say "er"? Is that one going to strain you to the point where you may question if you can go on? I mean, it's barely even a syllable. In fact, I daresay it's half a syllable (yes, English majors, I know you can't TECHNICALLY have half a syllable. It's for effect. You should know about that.)
There are any number of examples I could use...unfortunately I've been so scarred by them that I have subconsciously blocked those memories and cannot recall them at the present time. If you have any other examples of awful and unnecessarily abbreviated words, share. Seriously.
I'm calling out to those of you who cherish language. Call those who abbreviate out. Also, throw in some derogatory words. That's okay too (Caution: there may be some backlash when it comes to that. Hopefully you know that by know, but I'm just covering my bases.......All your base...)
It's entirely possible that this post is going to get amended as I am made aware of abbreviations. So feel free to check back. If you haven't noticed, I'm someone passionate about this topic. Let me finish by saying this: if you're abbreviating to be funny, or should I say "funny," go ahead and continue, but if you are abbreviating to try and sound cool, I just have one thing to tell you (on top of everything else I've written here), It's NOT working. Seriously.
That's my rant. I'm done....for now (duhn duhn duhn) that was supposed to be intense music or whatever. STOP LOOKING AT ME!!!
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Wait...what?
Today I wanted to discuss something that has come up for me on quite the regular basis. It is a trait I possess which, in my opinion, can often come off in a way that is not intended. Those who know me well know about it, but it's often the people who I don't know with whom I get in trouble for it. This is the trait of memory. I'm going to be discussing how this trait affects me in both a social and an academic level.
I have some friends who said that they can, in the future, see me working as the guy who stands by a high-ranking politician, telling them the name of the individual who they are about to speak. You know, the guy that stands next to (insert politician's name), and when some weird looking lady walks up to him, just before he whispers "this is Lady Henrity von Hamstead, son of the famous Duke von Hamstead of northern Belgium. He invented the waffle iron." And then the politician can then address the person specifically, and the lady feels good because the politician "remembered" her. Now, I have to say, if I were to ever do that, I probably wouldn't be able to keep the job long, and this is why: the lady would walk up, and I'd say "This is Lady (blah blah blah), she's the daughter of (blah blah blah) and she's currently having intimate relations with your son." And then the politician would be all mad and start blowin' stuff up...like in the movies, and then I'd get blamed for some sort of international incident. At least it would give me another item to throw on my resume. "Causes international incidents." I hear a lot of employers are looking for that these days.
Anyway, let's get back to my original intentions. Here's how this affects me on a social level. I overhear someone talking about someone else. I quickly put some pieces of a puzzle together in my head and am able to associate a name with a face. I see this person at a social event, say something to her (yes, let's be honest, 90% of the time it'll be a her. I don't see a ton of value, in my current setting, in remembering a bunch of dudes' names), and then she'll be like "what's your name?" I'll respond, and I'll say "You're ______, right?" And she'll get all creeped out and file a restraining order. All because I remember things and make connections quickly. Is there justice in the world? No. Well, sometimes. I think you'd be surprised how often this happens, except I've learned. If I know the person's name in any other way than from direct, personal contact, dont' tell the person I know the name. The situation above would be more like this: "what's your name?" "Ben, what's yours? Because...I....totally...don't know it...already." And then an awkward silence follows, and I ride off into the sunset. Don't believe me? Well, it's science.
Moving on to academics: I'm fairly confident that most academics are not necessarily designed to gauge someone's pure intellect, but they're more specifically designed to test the memory. Some might argue that they're directly connected. To that, I would respond "You're a witch!" and then burn you at the stake. Let that be a lesson to you. Don't connect unconnected scientific principles.
I'm firmly convinced that the only reason I do remotely well in my classes is because of my memory. I don't read text books. Period. Sure, I look at them, but that's about it. I gain as much information doing that as a bank teller would from cashing a check. Don't worry, the analogy didn't make sense to me either, but the meaning is still the same (Ben, you numskull, how can you relate something to an analogy that you don't even know the meaning of and say it means the same thing as something else? -- See what I did there? I took away your argument and made it myself. That's just good poetry. No, that's not poetry at all. Get a job.) But seriously, people, memory - good.
In closing, I just want to say a few things. First off, I'm crazy tired, so I'll probably read this entry another day and be firmly convinced I was on some sort of...drug. But I'm not, other than the drug of too much sun exposure, which isn't a drug (I hope.) Secondly, here's my advice: if you want to improve your memory, get a brain implant. I hear they're doing those these days. If that doesn't work, literally stare at any box of food and start memorizing nutrition facts. Sure, it may not be directly applicable to anything you'll ever need to recall, but then again, it might. That's all I'm trying to say.
If you're still reading this, well, I just don't know what to say to you...
I have some friends who said that they can, in the future, see me working as the guy who stands by a high-ranking politician, telling them the name of the individual who they are about to speak. You know, the guy that stands next to (insert politician's name), and when some weird looking lady walks up to him, just before he whispers "this is Lady Henrity von Hamstead, son of the famous Duke von Hamstead of northern Belgium. He invented the waffle iron." And then the politician can then address the person specifically, and the lady feels good because the politician "remembered" her. Now, I have to say, if I were to ever do that, I probably wouldn't be able to keep the job long, and this is why: the lady would walk up, and I'd say "This is Lady (blah blah blah), she's the daughter of (blah blah blah) and she's currently having intimate relations with your son." And then the politician would be all mad and start blowin' stuff up...like in the movies, and then I'd get blamed for some sort of international incident. At least it would give me another item to throw on my resume. "Causes international incidents." I hear a lot of employers are looking for that these days.
Anyway, let's get back to my original intentions. Here's how this affects me on a social level. I overhear someone talking about someone else. I quickly put some pieces of a puzzle together in my head and am able to associate a name with a face. I see this person at a social event, say something to her (yes, let's be honest, 90% of the time it'll be a her. I don't see a ton of value, in my current setting, in remembering a bunch of dudes' names), and then she'll be like "what's your name?" I'll respond, and I'll say "You're ______, right?" And she'll get all creeped out and file a restraining order. All because I remember things and make connections quickly. Is there justice in the world? No. Well, sometimes. I think you'd be surprised how often this happens, except I've learned. If I know the person's name in any other way than from direct, personal contact, dont' tell the person I know the name. The situation above would be more like this: "what's your name?" "Ben, what's yours? Because...I....totally...don't know it...already." And then an awkward silence follows, and I ride off into the sunset. Don't believe me? Well, it's science.
Moving on to academics: I'm fairly confident that most academics are not necessarily designed to gauge someone's pure intellect, but they're more specifically designed to test the memory. Some might argue that they're directly connected. To that, I would respond "You're a witch!" and then burn you at the stake. Let that be a lesson to you. Don't connect unconnected scientific principles.
I'm firmly convinced that the only reason I do remotely well in my classes is because of my memory. I don't read text books. Period. Sure, I look at them, but that's about it. I gain as much information doing that as a bank teller would from cashing a check. Don't worry, the analogy didn't make sense to me either, but the meaning is still the same (Ben, you numskull, how can you relate something to an analogy that you don't even know the meaning of and say it means the same thing as something else? -- See what I did there? I took away your argument and made it myself. That's just good poetry. No, that's not poetry at all. Get a job.) But seriously, people, memory - good.
In closing, I just want to say a few things. First off, I'm crazy tired, so I'll probably read this entry another day and be firmly convinced I was on some sort of...drug. But I'm not, other than the drug of too much sun exposure, which isn't a drug (I hope.) Secondly, here's my advice: if you want to improve your memory, get a brain implant. I hear they're doing those these days. If that doesn't work, literally stare at any box of food and start memorizing nutrition facts. Sure, it may not be directly applicable to anything you'll ever need to recall, but then again, it might. That's all I'm trying to say.
If you're still reading this, well, I just don't know what to say to you...
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Dancing the night away...literally.
With the coming of a new school year, there also comes a few additional, unavoidable activities. We have Utah Football (probably one of the greatest things ever), an influx in fraternity oriented activities, and so on. There is something ominously looming in the future...if you're careful, you can smell it in the wind. It's something in which I have participated at least twice the last 3 years (and before the mission). It's something that will absolutely happen at least once per year. At the risk of many ramifications, I'm going to admit what this is: the series of Lambda Delta Sigma barn dances. Now, I'm not going to spend an entire blog post relating my experiences with these, but there's something of and relating to these barn dances that I wish to discuss; it's something contained in the name, and that is dancing.
Over my few years in existence, I have received much many flak for my inability and/or unwillingness to participate in dance related activities. I'm going to take the opportunity to explain why.
Some of the comments I've heard are along the lines of "you don't need to know how to do it! You just go in and start moving with the music!" Well, my friends, I can guarantee that I am moving in a different direction than the crowd, i.e. towards the door, but my motivation might not be what you think. As far as dancing goes, I place people in four categories:
1) Those who know how to dance (either because of formal lessons or just a state of being at one with the music)
2) Those who don't really know how to dance but can fake it.
3) Those who can't dance.
4) Those who can't dance but do any way.
I have noticed that a lot of people who would willingly put themselves in the fourth category, but, in reality, they belong in the second. In fact, experience has taught me that the majority of people fall in this category. Personally, I fall in the third category (unless it's car dancing, in which case all preconceived notions go out the window.) What I don't want to happen is the following: if people were to somehow force me to dance, I would suddenly find myself slipping from the third to the fourth category. If you notice, I've carefully structured the list to form a sort of hierarchy on dancing. Obviously, the higher you are, the better you are. However, no one is born in the fourth category. Through a series of their personal decisions, the place themselves in it.
I understand that some might argue that the people who fall into the fourth category just don't care what others think. To that I would respond: Well, how about I just stop showering. In fact, I will daily bathe myself in things like vinegar, lemon juice, and other strange-odored substances, and then I just "won't care" what people think. You say they're difference circumstances? Oh yeah? Well, YOU'RE a difference circumstance. Put that on your hand-crafted sandwich and eat it.
As far as my personal circumstances go, I choose not to dance for several reasons. I've discussed one of them (the fact that I can't do it, and I've accepted that fact, and I'm okay with it). Another reason why I don't dance is because I thrive off of structure. In dancing, especially dancing at stomps, there is no set structure. To me, it's like throwing me in the middle of a group of girls and yelling "Okay, now talk!" It's not something I do. In fact, I would probably just start making a series of unintelligible mumblings and periodic shouting, and then I would run out with my arms waving above me in the air. Now, on the other hand, if you put me in the same situation and said, "Okay, now talk....about (insert topic here)" I would be fine. In a similar vein, if you wrote down a bunch of numbers and said, "Okay, now math!" First off, I would say "What the crap are you talking about?" but after a brief period of confusion related to..strange...commands, I would probably start laughing because what ARE THOSE THINGS!? Whereas, if you throw a differential equation on a sheet of paper and tell me the same thing, I would be somewhat okay. (I think I'm going to start telling people to math a little more. And then while they're looking at me all confused-like, I'll run away with my arms flailing in the air and yelling.) So when there's music a-blaring, and people a-dancing, I stand there awkwardly, mumble stuff under my breath and then run out with my arms waving in the air. In certain situations, I may move a little, but I have been told that every time I dance, an orphan in Eastern Europe dies. Now, you wouldn't want to have that on your conscience, would you? Don't believe that that actually happens? Well, i just pray you will never have to experience it. It's not a pretty sight, especially for children (you know, since adults aren't really considered orphans). In the event that there is some structure to the dance, I am okay with it (unless it's the chicken dance. I will FREAK out any time I hear that.)
So this brings me back to the barn dance. I have discovered there are two types of barn dance. There's the square dance style, and the there's the country swing dance style. A word of advice: if you want to have fun at a country swing dance style event, don't invite me. I can make stupid comments and all that, as I usually do, but I refuse to dance. Bad things will happen. Like....bad...things.
In closing, let me just say this: if you are a fourth category dancer (you know who you are), please keep the arm flailing and leg kicking to a minimum. I'm sure you could figure out why. That is all.
Over my few years in existence, I have received much many flak for my inability and/or unwillingness to participate in dance related activities. I'm going to take the opportunity to explain why.
Some of the comments I've heard are along the lines of "you don't need to know how to do it! You just go in and start moving with the music!" Well, my friends, I can guarantee that I am moving in a different direction than the crowd, i.e. towards the door, but my motivation might not be what you think. As far as dancing goes, I place people in four categories:
1) Those who know how to dance (either because of formal lessons or just a state of being at one with the music)
2) Those who don't really know how to dance but can fake it.
3) Those who can't dance.
4) Those who can't dance but do any way.
I have noticed that a lot of people who would willingly put themselves in the fourth category, but, in reality, they belong in the second. In fact, experience has taught me that the majority of people fall in this category. Personally, I fall in the third category (unless it's car dancing, in which case all preconceived notions go out the window.) What I don't want to happen is the following: if people were to somehow force me to dance, I would suddenly find myself slipping from the third to the fourth category. If you notice, I've carefully structured the list to form a sort of hierarchy on dancing. Obviously, the higher you are, the better you are. However, no one is born in the fourth category. Through a series of their personal decisions, the place themselves in it.
I understand that some might argue that the people who fall into the fourth category just don't care what others think. To that I would respond: Well, how about I just stop showering. In fact, I will daily bathe myself in things like vinegar, lemon juice, and other strange-odored substances, and then I just "won't care" what people think. You say they're difference circumstances? Oh yeah? Well, YOU'RE a difference circumstance. Put that on your hand-crafted sandwich and eat it.
As far as my personal circumstances go, I choose not to dance for several reasons. I've discussed one of them (the fact that I can't do it, and I've accepted that fact, and I'm okay with it). Another reason why I don't dance is because I thrive off of structure. In dancing, especially dancing at stomps, there is no set structure. To me, it's like throwing me in the middle of a group of girls and yelling "Okay, now talk!" It's not something I do. In fact, I would probably just start making a series of unintelligible mumblings and periodic shouting, and then I would run out with my arms waving above me in the air. Now, on the other hand, if you put me in the same situation and said, "Okay, now talk....about (insert topic here)" I would be fine. In a similar vein, if you wrote down a bunch of numbers and said, "Okay, now math!" First off, I would say "What the crap are you talking about?" but after a brief period of confusion related to..strange...commands, I would probably start laughing because what ARE THOSE THINGS!? Whereas, if you throw a differential equation on a sheet of paper and tell me the same thing, I would be somewhat okay. (I think I'm going to start telling people to math a little more. And then while they're looking at me all confused-like, I'll run away with my arms flailing in the air and yelling.) So when there's music a-blaring, and people a-dancing, I stand there awkwardly, mumble stuff under my breath and then run out with my arms waving in the air. In certain situations, I may move a little, but I have been told that every time I dance, an orphan in Eastern Europe dies. Now, you wouldn't want to have that on your conscience, would you? Don't believe that that actually happens? Well, i just pray you will never have to experience it. It's not a pretty sight, especially for children (you know, since adults aren't really considered orphans). In the event that there is some structure to the dance, I am okay with it (unless it's the chicken dance. I will FREAK out any time I hear that.)
So this brings me back to the barn dance. I have discovered there are two types of barn dance. There's the square dance style, and the there's the country swing dance style. A word of advice: if you want to have fun at a country swing dance style event, don't invite me. I can make stupid comments and all that, as I usually do, but I refuse to dance. Bad things will happen. Like....bad...things.
In closing, let me just say this: if you are a fourth category dancer (you know who you are), please keep the arm flailing and leg kicking to a minimum. I'm sure you could figure out why. That is all.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Babies and Such
This post is going to seem a little scatter-brained, and so let me apologize in advance for that. I'm going to be covering two topics, one of which bothers me VERY much. Like, when I found out about this thing, I almost threw up in my mouth. I wish I were exaggerating when I say that, but I'm not. Yes, most of you may be thinking that this blog is generally devoted to less serious matters (well, I mean, if you can consider being held captive by cyborgs less serious), but I do say that I must spend some time discussing this..because...ew.
REALLY?! Bella is pregnant? I mean, consider my ignorant, but that's just...wow. I mean, it's beyond words, but considering that mockery is above regular words, I suppose it will have to suffice in my attempt to convey my thoughts on the matter. Yes, I must admit that I just discovered this faux pas in the plot yesterday. I don't think that makes me a bad person. I'm firmly convinced that what's her bucket writer of the Twilight Series didn't even intentionally have it happen. I know that in writing, there tends to be word vomit. You write something just real fast-like, and you don't even know what you read, but it just happens. I think that's what happened there. I sincerely hope that's what happened there. I mean, if you really think about it, the whole concept is severely disturbing. I'm not ignorant. I know how babies are made. They're delivered on a ray of sunshine that penetrates the home at first light, and suddenly a baby is lying on the floor, or some other equally capable baby carrying device. Sometimes it happens when it's planned, sometimes by mistake. There's no real way to tell.
But seriously, if what's her bucket bad acting, twitch lady (the one you call "Bella") and bad actor glitter boy, were...you know...I think we have a term for that. Yes, it's called necrophilia. Sure, some may say that he's "undead," and I just say "tomatoes, tomatoes" (if you could hear me saying that, it would be pronounced significantly differently. Undead = dead, in the same way that inflammable = flammable. She may as well exhume a corpse from the local cemetery, revive it, and have at it. Gross. Yeah. I'm not the one who initially wrote it. GROSS.
Okay, on a lighter topic, someone requested that I write my theory on where zombies came from. Trust me, the origins of zombies is a far lighter topic than doing the nasty dance with an undead (= dead) body. One of my good friends recently posted the following on Facebook:
REALLY?! Bella is pregnant? I mean, consider my ignorant, but that's just...wow. I mean, it's beyond words, but considering that mockery is above regular words, I suppose it will have to suffice in my attempt to convey my thoughts on the matter. Yes, I must admit that I just discovered this faux pas in the plot yesterday. I don't think that makes me a bad person. I'm firmly convinced that what's her bucket writer of the Twilight Series didn't even intentionally have it happen. I know that in writing, there tends to be word vomit. You write something just real fast-like, and you don't even know what you read, but it just happens. I think that's what happened there. I sincerely hope that's what happened there. I mean, if you really think about it, the whole concept is severely disturbing. I'm not ignorant. I know how babies are made. They're delivered on a ray of sunshine that penetrates the home at first light, and suddenly a baby is lying on the floor, or some other equally capable baby carrying device. Sometimes it happens when it's planned, sometimes by mistake. There's no real way to tell.
But seriously, if what's her bucket bad acting, twitch lady (the one you call "Bella") and bad actor glitter boy, were...you know...I think we have a term for that. Yes, it's called necrophilia. Sure, some may say that he's "undead," and I just say "tomatoes, tomatoes" (if you could hear me saying that, it would be pronounced significantly differently. Undead = dead, in the same way that inflammable = flammable. She may as well exhume a corpse from the local cemetery, revive it, and have at it. Gross. Yeah. I'm not the one who initially wrote it. GROSS.
Okay, on a lighter topic, someone requested that I write my theory on where zombies came from. Trust me, the origins of zombies is a far lighter topic than doing the nasty dance with an undead (= dead) body. One of my good friends recently posted the following on Facebook:
Thanks to Wikipedia, I now know that Pope Formosus was exhumed and tried by Pope Stephen VI within a year of his death.
In response to that, I wrote the following:
It was at that exact moment that the Zombies vowed their revenge on all humankind, except they can't really talk intelligibly, so it just sounded like a series of grumbles, and no one understood the threat
I suppose it would be more appropriate if I corrected myself and said that I will be talking about the feud between zombies and humans. So I'll elaborate a little. As my friend stated, Pope Forsomus was exhumed. Now, there are few things that zombies like less than having one of their friends brought back into the world of the living. Trust me, I asked. They like it even less when you bring one of their own back to the land of the living to be put on trial (it doesn't matter the form the trial takes.) They like it EVEN LESS if you bring one of their own back to the land of the living, try him, and it just so happens that while he was alive he was a major religious figure! Even the dead respect religion (which doesn't speak a lot about the people alive nowadays who have no tolerance for religion in general. You heard it here first folks, they're worse than zombies.) So, once the zombie nation (not the Rob Zombie nation. The real zombies look at Rob as a bit of a poser) heard of this treachery, they vowed revenge. It was only after that that they discovered their insatiable love for brains.
I mean, I don't mean to point fingers or anything, but we all know who to blame for the zombie epidemics of '78 and '93 (it's been proposed that the one in '93 was linked directly to the popularity of Nirvana, but we can't be too sure). So next time you have a brain thirsty zombie chasing after you, think back to this post. Just take a minute, reflect, and then get eaten, because we know it'll happen eventually. May as well get it over with, right? Right.
Well, there you have it (I've kind of noticed that I tend to finish most of my posts with that phrase.) Zombies. Mutant vampire babies. None of it really makes sense anyway.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Psychology at its Finest
In the universe, there are forces at work which exceed the understanding of mankind. There are the forces that compel the tectonic plates in their motion. There are the forces which make women avoid men who stare nightly into their windows, and there are even the forces that persuaded Martin Cohan and Blake Hunter to create "Who's the Boss?" Like I said. Some things just don't make sense, but I'm going to be discussing something I've recently spent time considering regarding forces in the world of psychology (that probably has nothing to do with what I'll write about, but the shoe fits...)
In the fear of having to forfeit a man card, I recently purchased a salad for the first time. And I'm not talking about a side-salad at Tony Roma's. I mean a full on salad. First time (I didn't actually purchase it. It was gifted to me, but the intent is the same.) Now, what is it about a salad that women are naturally drawn to? Sure, it's healthy and all that jazz, but I think there's something that's naturally ingrained within a woman's mind that subconsciously attracts them to the color green. I know that there are types of spinach or cabbage or whatever that aren't green, but I consider those non-green leaf based vegetables as enemies of the state (the state of being awesome, to be more specific.)
This got me thinking a little more. I know there is a force that drives two particles of matter together...or draws them together, not drives, because if it were to drive them together that would change the location of the force vector, which would be misleading at best . Why can't there be a force that drives women to salad? I mean, I don't know! And you don't know, so don't go off dismissing the claim just because I have no empirical evidence. If you do that, I'm going to adopt the standpoint that YOU don't exist. Yeah. Take that.
Along those similar lines, I had to start wondering if it were just green salads that women are drawn to, so I started wearing green shirts more often to try my luck...and much to my surprise, it WORKED! Or I thought it did...until I realized my friend had been telling people I like dudes (you know, because girls sometimes feel safer around guys who like other guys. You should have seen their faces when I started coming on to them.) (As a side note, those who know me can know the truth of that last statement....or lack of truth.)
One of the keys to a good theory is experimentation, so I'm going to need your help. If you happen to be female, I want you to get a piece of green construction paper, tape it to the wall, sit on a computer chair (or any other chair that has wheels) and make sure you're on like a wood or tile floor too, and then lift up your legs while staring intently at the piece of paper. Sit there for like 3 hours and check if you've moved any closer to the paper. It's for science, people. Take a hit. In fact, if you do this, I will personally reward you (I may or may not show up with a green shirt on.)
There you have it, folks. My latest scientific hypothesis. Prove me wrong, I dare you.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Onomatpoeiaeiuouieaopum
In life, there are many things that separate men from women. Many hours have been spent in the process of discovering them, and, in some cases, neutralizing them. I'm of the opinion that it's the differences in the roles of men and women that make the whole system work. Sure, this opinion is largely influenced by religion, but I can't help but apply some of the most logical resources and examples to influence that as well (I'm not going to go into any detail about which resources and examples I'm refering to, partly because that would be a waste of words, and secondly because if I don't cite sources it's a lot easi...harder to prove it wrong.) Now, I'm not intending to offend any, as I understand that certain aspects of the men v. women argument have been known to get a wee bit heated. My purpose in writing this is to simply raise awareness of a lesser known, although not any less important, difference between the two: the ability to make sound effects.
One of the my favorite party games, I have found, goes a little something like this:
Me: Hey, (girl's name), do your best impression of an explosion.
Girl: No, I'm nervous. (After some pushing). Ok. pkhhhhhh. (or boom). (Now, if you've never done this, you won't know how it sounds, so I advise you go out and perform this little experiment. In the rare occurrence that a girl does make a legitmate explosion sound, either marry her on the spot or begin running far, far away. Your choice.)
Naturally, the woman will want to make the guy do the same sound effect, in which he'll say something like this: pchhhewehhehheheeh. Something like that. Just start making the 'kh' sound and include a lot of back-throated phlegm and you should be good.
Now, I don't know if there's any sure-fire scientific explanation as to why males can typically make sound effects better than women. Perhaps it stems largely from the upbringing, given that males tend to gravitate towards a certain type of video game (or video games at all), while the girls are developing social skills or some other useless personality trait. I don't know if it has anything to do with a level of imagination which a young'un develops. I don't know if it has anything to do with how influenced a child is by "the streets." Perhaps it's just one of the anomalies in life (like how they get those BUBBLES INTO SODA!)
Personally, I'm inclined to believe it's simply a matter of exposure and mimicry. It's fairly obvious that if you know what a gun shot sounds like, your chances of recreating it increase dramatically. So, if you have been somewhere where gun shots abound, you could recreate them. Now, I'm not saying that if you're around a lot of gunfire, you, too, should fire guns...especially not at other people. Murder is bad. I just need to get that out of my system.
So if you, or anyone you know, has a desire to expand their ability to recreate certain noises, exposure is the best option. Put gun shot noises on your iPod and listen to them while at work. Heck, even practice a little. Sure, people might think you're going crazy, but it's entirely possible that they thought that anyway. Science says that the most fundamental sound effect for one to learn is the gun shot. Everything else stems from there. Just remember me in thirty years when you're doing it for a living...because I'll probably still be sitting...right here...writing about sound effects again.
One of the my favorite party games, I have found, goes a little something like this:
Me: Hey, (girl's name), do your best impression of an explosion.
Girl: No, I'm nervous. (After some pushing). Ok. pkhhhhhh. (or boom). (Now, if you've never done this, you won't know how it sounds, so I advise you go out and perform this little experiment. In the rare occurrence that a girl does make a legitmate explosion sound, either marry her on the spot or begin running far, far away. Your choice.)
Naturally, the woman will want to make the guy do the same sound effect, in which he'll say something like this: pchhhewehhehheheeh. Something like that. Just start making the 'kh' sound and include a lot of back-throated phlegm and you should be good.
Now, I don't know if there's any sure-fire scientific explanation as to why males can typically make sound effects better than women. Perhaps it stems largely from the upbringing, given that males tend to gravitate towards a certain type of video game (or video games at all), while the girls are developing social skills or some other useless personality trait. I don't know if it has anything to do with a level of imagination which a young'un develops. I don't know if it has anything to do with how influenced a child is by "the streets." Perhaps it's just one of the anomalies in life (like how they get those BUBBLES INTO SODA!)
Personally, I'm inclined to believe it's simply a matter of exposure and mimicry. It's fairly obvious that if you know what a gun shot sounds like, your chances of recreating it increase dramatically. So, if you have been somewhere where gun shots abound, you could recreate them. Now, I'm not saying that if you're around a lot of gunfire, you, too, should fire guns...especially not at other people. Murder is bad. I just need to get that out of my system.
So if you, or anyone you know, has a desire to expand their ability to recreate certain noises, exposure is the best option. Put gun shot noises on your iPod and listen to them while at work. Heck, even practice a little. Sure, people might think you're going crazy, but it's entirely possible that they thought that anyway. Science says that the most fundamental sound effect for one to learn is the gun shot. Everything else stems from there. Just remember me in thirty years when you're doing it for a living...because I'll probably still be sitting...right here...writing about sound effects again.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Some Peoples' Kids...
So I spend a fair amount of time perusing only forums, whether they be technical, gadget related, and so on. Sometimes I'm just astounded by peoples' comments, and I sincerely fear for humanity. I'm going to be taking those posts that I find and copying them here for all to enjoy and mock. I'm not going to put them in context either because I believe that a statement should be self-explanatory. Anyway, here we go!
"like really its the fools who do 2 much in their rooms and dont know how to take care of %&$#.... i leave my 360 on idling all the time shti hasnt been turned off in like 3 days.... nothing had it over a year its an elite nothing never.... i go over my friends house his does that alot.... learn how to take care of it let it get some vent"
Uhhh......what?
"like really its the fools who do 2 much in their rooms and dont know how to take care of %&$#.... i leave my 360 on idling all the time shti hasnt been turned off in like 3 days.... nothing had it over a year its an elite nothing never.... i go over my friends house his does that alot.... learn how to take care of it let it get some vent"
Uhhh......what?
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
The Fall of Rome
Yeah, right. Like I would actually write about a real topic.
I've spent a lot of time thinking about "coolness," or what would more aptly be termed "perceived coolness." Maybe it started with my 11th grade physics lecture on the Theory or Relativity, and how in most cases there isn't an absolute (at first, that may seem like an incomplete sentence, but I assure you that it was intentional.) Now, I understand that there are people out there who are firmly committed to the supposed fact that they're "cool," or "the bee's knees" (a saying that has always confused me. I mean, think about it. Knees? Do bees have knees? If so, why are they so cool? Maybe only a certain group of bees have knees, which is why they're so desirable, but I digress.) I'm going to spend this post discussing the factors that seem to determine "coolness," and how I think they should change.
For the most part, I think coolness is determined by the factor that is the fact that a smaller group of the mass has something, some possession, that is not had by the masses, which causes envy amongst the general public. For example, think of the first guy to have a toothbrush. I don't know about you, but if I was having to somehow engineer a way to maintain oral hygiene, and I saw some guy with a toothbrush, I would basically kill for it. In fact, I would probably kill him with the toothbrush he was waving in my face. "Not so cool now, is it, jerk!?" But who knows what kind of blood feuds that could start. I imagine that the downfall of the Incan empire was actually caused that way. It's just science. That's all I'm saying.
There's one aspect of the defintion I've stated above that I don't really understand, however, and that revolves around what people call "smarts." Obviously, not everyone has them. Heh. Yeah, definitely not everyone has them. If you don't believe me (for some really, really strange reason), just...go talk to someone. Chances are they're dumb, but that also runs the risk of you being dumb (not saying you are), and you, then, wouldn't pick up on it. STUPID! (What's in the box?) I'm not trying to say that I don't understand why everyone isn't smart. Between drugs, MTV, and Twilight, I can see how some people are just dumbed down by these influences(I couldn't resist, but seriously, people, I don't care how attractive they are claimed to be, they're bad actors. BOVERED!) What I don't get is how being smart became uncool. Now, I've dwelled on this subject for a while before, and I imagine it went a little something like this: A guy marries a girl, the guy gets a good job which requires him to spend a fair amount of time researching and studying and what not, so the girl gets a little neglected. In turn, the girl finds another guy who doesn't read, or research, or...think, to fill the void. The first guy and girl get a divorce, the second guy and girl get married. The first guy gets depressed, drinks himself to death, and at the funeral the old wife says, "Drinking yourself to death? Not cool." The girl was Mrs. Butterworth, the second man was Mr. Freeze, and the first man was Mr. Freeze's nerdy older brother Phil (Obviously Mrs. Butterworth kept her maiden name after the marriage for marketing reasons). And there you have it. From that point on, smartness was associated with being uncool. You may have a hard time picking up the connection, but it's there. Just dig deeper. I speak in parables.
It's also entirely possible that those who are prone to excessive social interaction were labeled with the title of "cool," simply because they were around people TO label them. I mean, I can spend as much time around my computer, but it's not going to just randomly say, "Hey, man, you're really cool!" Sure, I could program it to do that, but then it would just seem forced, you know? It's kind of like if you tell someone that you enjoy they're company, and then they immediately say that they like your company as well. It just seems forced.
So, in turn, I propose we abandon these supposed stereotypes of what coolness is. I mean, dude from Bountiful, your popped collar and gelled hair may make you think you're cool, but you're actually just a tool. I don't care how much time you spend tanning and how much your sun glasses cost, you're still a tool. Oh yeah? You have an iPhone? I hate to break it to you, but your iPhone won't stand a chance against my Android (this time I'm referring to the robot.) Hey, is there a defibrillator app? Oh, that sucks. Your heart stopped, and I rule the world. Who's cool now?
I've spent a lot of time thinking about "coolness," or what would more aptly be termed "perceived coolness." Maybe it started with my 11th grade physics lecture on the Theory or Relativity, and how in most cases there isn't an absolute (at first, that may seem like an incomplete sentence, but I assure you that it was intentional.) Now, I understand that there are people out there who are firmly committed to the supposed fact that they're "cool," or "the bee's knees" (a saying that has always confused me. I mean, think about it. Knees? Do bees have knees? If so, why are they so cool? Maybe only a certain group of bees have knees, which is why they're so desirable, but I digress.) I'm going to spend this post discussing the factors that seem to determine "coolness," and how I think they should change.
For the most part, I think coolness is determined by the factor that is the fact that a smaller group of the mass has something, some possession, that is not had by the masses, which causes envy amongst the general public. For example, think of the first guy to have a toothbrush. I don't know about you, but if I was having to somehow engineer a way to maintain oral hygiene, and I saw some guy with a toothbrush, I would basically kill for it. In fact, I would probably kill him with the toothbrush he was waving in my face. "Not so cool now, is it, jerk!?" But who knows what kind of blood feuds that could start. I imagine that the downfall of the Incan empire was actually caused that way. It's just science. That's all I'm saying.
There's one aspect of the defintion I've stated above that I don't really understand, however, and that revolves around what people call "smarts." Obviously, not everyone has them. Heh. Yeah, definitely not everyone has them. If you don't believe me (for some really, really strange reason), just...go talk to someone. Chances are they're dumb, but that also runs the risk of you being dumb (not saying you are), and you, then, wouldn't pick up on it. STUPID! (What's in the box?) I'm not trying to say that I don't understand why everyone isn't smart. Between drugs, MTV, and Twilight, I can see how some people are just dumbed down by these influences(I couldn't resist, but seriously, people, I don't care how attractive they are claimed to be, they're bad actors. BOVERED!) What I don't get is how being smart became uncool. Now, I've dwelled on this subject for a while before, and I imagine it went a little something like this: A guy marries a girl, the guy gets a good job which requires him to spend a fair amount of time researching and studying and what not, so the girl gets a little neglected. In turn, the girl finds another guy who doesn't read, or research, or...think, to fill the void. The first guy and girl get a divorce, the second guy and girl get married. The first guy gets depressed, drinks himself to death, and at the funeral the old wife says, "Drinking yourself to death? Not cool." The girl was Mrs. Butterworth, the second man was Mr. Freeze, and the first man was Mr. Freeze's nerdy older brother Phil (Obviously Mrs. Butterworth kept her maiden name after the marriage for marketing reasons). And there you have it. From that point on, smartness was associated with being uncool. You may have a hard time picking up the connection, but it's there. Just dig deeper. I speak in parables.
It's also entirely possible that those who are prone to excessive social interaction were labeled with the title of "cool," simply because they were around people TO label them. I mean, I can spend as much time around my computer, but it's not going to just randomly say, "Hey, man, you're really cool!" Sure, I could program it to do that, but then it would just seem forced, you know? It's kind of like if you tell someone that you enjoy they're company, and then they immediately say that they like your company as well. It just seems forced.
So, in turn, I propose we abandon these supposed stereotypes of what coolness is. I mean, dude from Bountiful, your popped collar and gelled hair may make you think you're cool, but you're actually just a tool. I don't care how much time you spend tanning and how much your sun glasses cost, you're still a tool. Oh yeah? You have an iPhone? I hate to break it to you, but your iPhone won't stand a chance against my Android (this time I'm referring to the robot.) Hey, is there a defibrillator app? Oh, that sucks. Your heart stopped, and I rule the world. Who's cool now?
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Attack of the Six Strings
Throughout my many days of observing things (Turns out I've been doing it basically since birth, or so I'm told), there's one thing whose frequency and intensity seems to undulate in varying degrees as the years pass. I don't know if these frequencies are intensified by cosmic rays, interstellar motion, or even just in proportion to Oprah's weight (OH SNAP!), but I cannot deny its existence. In fact, anyone who has any grasp on reality should be fully aware of this phenomenon. To explain what it is, first let me outline a situation:
A group of individuals are hanging out at a house. Typically, every group of friends has what seem to be the stereotypical personality types. There's the shy one, the loud one, the sarcastic one (often termed the mean one, although I don't see what math has to do with this), the ugly one (yeah, we all know who you are), the nerdy one (in my friends, we all fit that type), the flirt, and then there's the last guy, the one about whom I'm going to spend the rest of my time speaking. We all know one. I like to label him as the "Guitar Guy."
I don't mean for anyone to misunderstand. I have nothing against the instrument, and I'm sure that the majority of people who learn to play the guitar learn to do it simply because they love the instrument. Also, girls are exempt from this stereotype, but I'll explain why later. I'm talking about the guy who goes out of his way to play the guitar, and we all know he's not doing it for "love of the instrument." Some may argue, "You're just bitter because you can't do it." No. You're wrong. I could do it if I wanted to. Sure, it would take a while to learn, but I don't have any desire to learn it. I'm perfectly content just mediocre...ly singing along with awesome songs from the 80's like "Rio" and "Total Eclipse of the Heart," and making stupid jokes, and...being labeled as "awkward."
As further clarification to whom I'm referring when I talk about these types of people, I'm going to go through a fairly common social scenario. I'm going to show how most people would act, and then I'll contrast it with how this person acts. Here goes.
Friend 1: Hey, what should we do tonight?
Friend 2: I don't know. It's really cold outside, so I don't really want to...go...outside.
Friend 1: We could go sledding or something. Is there snow anywhere?
Friend 2: Yeah, but that's outside. Find me an indoor hill, and I'm all over it. Heck, if you can find an indoor hill, I will personally grind up ice for us to sled on.
Friend 1: You're a dork. I don't know. Are there any good movies out?
Friend 3: Hey, where's your guitar?
Friend 1: I...don't...have one...
Friend 3: Oh, good thing I always carry mine with me in my car, you know, because I don't have anything to put into a conversation.
Friend 1: Yeah, ok. So any good movies?
Friend 2: I heard that one with (insert famous actor here) is pr....
Friend 3: Strum. I'm your...Strum. Hold on guys, I got it. Strum. Strum. Wait, no, no, this is it. Strum.
Girl 1: Oh I love that song!
Friend 1 to Friend 2: How the crap can this chick even know what the heck he's playing?
Okay, I admit that this is a bit of an exaggeration. And, to be frank, if situations occurred like this, I think I would be okay with it. But I think it highlights several important aspects of how it occurs. Recently I had a conversation with a friend about this subject. I would like to quote him here.
"What bugs me most about the guitar scene. Is everyone is about at the same level. That level being the "crap" level. Like I can play a couple chords and know some struming techniques. But rare is the really good guitarist. And I always feel that one should be asked to play. We don't want volunteers. I mean I'm average at the Kazoo, but you don't see me whipping that out at camp fires. At least not untill I'm asked. And i know, FOR A FACT, that (name deleted) isn't half bad at the rythm block, but you wouldn't know it from him."
Well said, my friend. I can, however, seeing several arguments stemming from this topic. Some may say that it would be wrong for them not to play. Granted, we aren't supposed to "hide our talents," but at the same time, we're not supposed to drop our talents in front of the homeless people just to show them that we have some. It's a delicate balance. Also, some might argue that they just love playing the guitar. Here's my counter argument: how about you develop a personality. I mean, sure, you may get the girls at first. But eventually you'll run out of songs to sing and actually have to talk to her. What are you going to do then? Hmmm? I would say that there's a time and a season for everything. Hanging out in a big group is the time for honing your social skills, developing relationships with those who you're around by interacting, and not for becoming some distorted, new-age pied piper, trying to lure away unsuspecting 18 or 19 year old women.
As I promised, here's why women are immune to this classification of social injustice (yes, I know there's nothing unjust...injust (ingest?) about this.) Women don't rely on guitars to impress guys. In fact, women know that it's not the way to go, unless you're really going for someone who's "in touch with his feelings." If that's your kind of man, just go down to the library and look for the kid with eyeliner and who's writing in his journal. I'm pretty sure he's "in touch" with everything...but reality. Anyway, women know that the way to go about impressing a guy is by talking about sports, or being good at video games, or making them food (sure, it may be stereotypical, but I'm fairly confident it would work with 98% of the guys I know), and not by playing guitar (although, in some cases, it may just work out for you. But if you decide to go that route, you may as well throw in some steak to be safe.)
I understand that this post probably sounds a bit bitter. I guess it depends on the day (you know...manic-depressive). But seriously, if you're one of the guitar players, I have nothing against you playing the guitar. Heck, develop your own fan club for all I care, complete with groupies and...snacks...and meetings, but, please, for all the rest of our sanities' sake (I've never had to pluralize sanity before), just go into a different room (or jump off a bridge). As much as I like having slightly less-than-good background music in all my conversations, I don't think it would take away from the experience as a whole if it were to simply...vanish.
A group of individuals are hanging out at a house. Typically, every group of friends has what seem to be the stereotypical personality types. There's the shy one, the loud one, the sarcastic one (often termed the mean one, although I don't see what math has to do with this), the ugly one (yeah, we all know who you are), the nerdy one (in my friends, we all fit that type), the flirt, and then there's the last guy, the one about whom I'm going to spend the rest of my time speaking. We all know one. I like to label him as the "Guitar Guy."
I don't mean for anyone to misunderstand. I have nothing against the instrument, and I'm sure that the majority of people who learn to play the guitar learn to do it simply because they love the instrument. Also, girls are exempt from this stereotype, but I'll explain why later. I'm talking about the guy who goes out of his way to play the guitar, and we all know he's not doing it for "love of the instrument." Some may argue, "You're just bitter because you can't do it." No. You're wrong. I could do it if I wanted to. Sure, it would take a while to learn, but I don't have any desire to learn it. I'm perfectly content just mediocre...ly singing along with awesome songs from the 80's like "Rio" and "Total Eclipse of the Heart," and making stupid jokes, and...being labeled as "awkward."
As further clarification to whom I'm referring when I talk about these types of people, I'm going to go through a fairly common social scenario. I'm going to show how most people would act, and then I'll contrast it with how this person acts. Here goes.
Friend 1: Hey, what should we do tonight?
Friend 2: I don't know. It's really cold outside, so I don't really want to...go...outside.
Friend 1: We could go sledding or something. Is there snow anywhere?
Friend 2: Yeah, but that's outside. Find me an indoor hill, and I'm all over it. Heck, if you can find an indoor hill, I will personally grind up ice for us to sled on.
Friend 1: You're a dork. I don't know. Are there any good movies out?
Friend 3: Hey, where's your guitar?
Friend 1: I...don't...have one...
Friend 3: Oh, good thing I always carry mine with me in my car, you know, because I don't have anything to put into a conversation.
Friend 1: Yeah, ok. So any good movies?
Friend 2: I heard that one with (insert famous actor here) is pr....
Friend 3: Strum. I'm your...Strum. Hold on guys, I got it. Strum. Strum. Wait, no, no, this is it. Strum.
Girl 1: Oh I love that song!
Friend 1 to Friend 2: How the crap can this chick even know what the heck he's playing?
Okay, I admit that this is a bit of an exaggeration. And, to be frank, if situations occurred like this, I think I would be okay with it. But I think it highlights several important aspects of how it occurs. Recently I had a conversation with a friend about this subject. I would like to quote him here.
"What bugs me most about the guitar scene. Is everyone is about at the same level. That level being the "crap" level. Like I can play a couple chords and know some struming techniques. But rare is the really good guitarist. And I always feel that one should be asked to play. We don't want volunteers. I mean I'm average at the Kazoo, but you don't see me whipping that out at camp fires. At least not untill I'm asked. And i know, FOR A FACT, that (name deleted) isn't half bad at the rythm block, but you wouldn't know it from him."
Well said, my friend. I can, however, seeing several arguments stemming from this topic. Some may say that it would be wrong for them not to play. Granted, we aren't supposed to "hide our talents," but at the same time, we're not supposed to drop our talents in front of the homeless people just to show them that we have some. It's a delicate balance. Also, some might argue that they just love playing the guitar. Here's my counter argument: how about you develop a personality. I mean, sure, you may get the girls at first. But eventually you'll run out of songs to sing and actually have to talk to her. What are you going to do then? Hmmm? I would say that there's a time and a season for everything. Hanging out in a big group is the time for honing your social skills, developing relationships with those who you're around by interacting, and not for becoming some distorted, new-age pied piper, trying to lure away unsuspecting 18 or 19 year old women.
As I promised, here's why women are immune to this classification of social injustice (yes, I know there's nothing unjust...injust (ingest?) about this.) Women don't rely on guitars to impress guys. In fact, women know that it's not the way to go, unless you're really going for someone who's "in touch with his feelings." If that's your kind of man, just go down to the library and look for the kid with eyeliner and who's writing in his journal. I'm pretty sure he's "in touch" with everything...but reality. Anyway, women know that the way to go about impressing a guy is by talking about sports, or being good at video games, or making them food (sure, it may be stereotypical, but I'm fairly confident it would work with 98% of the guys I know), and not by playing guitar (although, in some cases, it may just work out for you. But if you decide to go that route, you may as well throw in some steak to be safe.)
I understand that this post probably sounds a bit bitter. I guess it depends on the day (you know...manic-depressive). But seriously, if you're one of the guitar players, I have nothing against you playing the guitar. Heck, develop your own fan club for all I care, complete with groupies and...snacks...and meetings, but, please, for all the rest of our sanities' sake (I've never had to pluralize sanity before), just go into a different room (or jump off a bridge). As much as I like having slightly less-than-good background music in all my conversations, I don't think it would take away from the experience as a whole if it were to simply...vanish.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
What I learned from "Tron"
Anyway, that introduction to the actual meat of this post was WAY too drawn out. I know it, you know it, and I'm okay with it. Suck it up.
I would like to spend the rest of the time (in this post) discussing some things that I learned from the movie "Tron."
#1) Even the handsome are subject to theft and copyright infringement.
#2) Holes in a firewall are actually literal and tangible breaches.
#3) Coded programs die the way everyone else does.
#4) Where new programs come from.
First, the main character in Tron is played by Jeff Bridges. Handsome? Yes. Very yes, and I'm okay admitting it. In the movie he is very nerdy, but he's probably one of the best liked nerds (at least by women, tacos and all). In the movie, he has several programs that he created stolen by someone else at the company. Now, while the act is morally reproachable, I think it gives hope to people like me. It's an opportunity to prove to the world that not everyone who sits on a computer for hours every day lacks hygiene (I will reference again, as a counterpoint, the tacos) and has severe difficulty in getting the girl. Yes, there is light at the end of the table...unless you're an avid player of W.o.W., in which case, just give up now.
Second, I've been in school learning about electrical components, circuits, and many varying computer parts for a few years now. This entire time, they have led me to believe that all aspects of a digital system are comprised of a few hardware components and then a bunch of 0's and 1's. As far as software goes, there's nothing tangible about it...or so I thought. I learned that it is possible to send a digitized motorcycle careening into a wall and create a physical hole in it, in which case other motorcycles (and I assume any object, at that) would be able to pass through it. This is quite a relief to me, because I've been wondering what happens to all the saved games I create in Final Fantasy 7 after I decide to delete the file. Now I know that somewhere in the digital world there are a bunch of free-range Clouds roaming around, probably casting Knights of the Round on unsuspecting bison that have escaped from Oregon Trail. Dinner much?
Third, I've never put any thought into deleting files (well, other than if I need it or not). I mean, I wouldn't shoot a guy in the real world..or stab...or poison...or anything else that's "death inducing," as they say (nobody says that.) But here I am deleting files and programs willy-nilly. What I learned however, is that these programs, when being deleted, or "killed" as we might say (I guess "killing" a program doesn't have the same significance as killing a person, per seiTunes has created for me. I mean, it actually might be a little piece of Little Richard that's dying...oh wait....(I don't listen to Little Richard.)
Finally, lots of time is spent educating the youth on the importance of safe...relations...if you catch my meaning. I think every parent kind of fears the inevitable question of "where do babies come from?" I guess, much to my chagrin, I'm going to have to start explaining where baby programs come from, and here's why. The people in the movie Tron represent programs. At one point of the movie, one of these programs kisses another one. The notion, although foreign to the male program at first, was immediately adopted and enjoyed (Probably in the same way it happened in our world.) This is the biggest lesson to me, because I'm now deeply terrified that there could be programs running around in the background of my computers RAM making out and doing all types of unseemly things. Somehow I wish I could implement a new aspect of my anti-virus program. It's called abstinence, people.
There you have it, folks. I've learned plenty about the digital world today, and I hope I've been able to pass on some useful information to you. If not, go watch Tron. You can find out something on your own. And who says that movies rot our brains?
As an afterthought, I was just informed that the movie Tron isn't actually a documentary, as I may have previously believed it was. With that in mind, be careful which aspects of this post you take as doctrine. Heck, just believe it all. See if I care.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Summer...thyme?
Yes, I along with everyone in the techno-frenzied world, am dedicating a post to the coming of Summer (sometimes I wish that phrase took on a more feminine meaning. And just so we're clear, I didn't mean that the world is crazy about digital beats and high pitched screetching noises, coupled digitally modified one-liners--you know, techno music--but about technology. I guess it would have been a lot easier for me to say that straight up, but where's the fun in that? Also, I like pie.) A lot of people are probably spending their time writing about the sun and warmth and the beach. Sure, those things are nice and all, but they're not the reason for which I'm writing this post. I am intendning to dedicate this post specifically to one of the lesser known wonders of summer. I call it: Kool-Aid. I have also just been informed that that's what everyone else calls it too, but I don't think that detracts from the unheralded wonders contained therein.
Before I begin, I recognize that Kool-Aid isn't a Summer drink, per se. It's equally as delicious during the winter times, but I don't think I would be too far off when I assume that the majority of people in this techno-frenzied world (that time I did mean the music) would generally associate it with Summer time.
What is it that makes this liquid refreshment so...refreshmenting? It's possible that it's the extremely artificial flavoring. It's possible that it's the fact that I can always justify drinking it because, hey, all it is flavored sugar water, or possibly because it has like 10^5 ppm of sugar in it (yes, I know that's basically impossible. It's called 'hyperbole,' you uncultured swine.) Sure, it could be any of those, but there's a greater reason behind it all. I like to call it "the unifying power of Kool-Aid" (I've never called it that before.) Let me explain.
The world that we live in is ridden with differences. Things that always have the vast potential of tearing everyone apart. Many have been seeking a way to bring us all together. Some people think the solution is music. Sure, types of music transcend race or demographic differences (Not Rap. I know a lot of white folk like rap, but I like to think of rap more as a subtle recruitment technique employed by a series of organizations who want us to think they're dumb and uneducated, but in fact they're some of the trickiest individuals present on earth. How's THAT for a conspiracy theory?!) I think the solution is much more simple. Yes, my friends, Kool-Aid.
Having served a mission in Detroit, I know it's very popular amongst certain peoples. I also know that wealthy tend to stray from it in an effort to find a more...organic...solution, or some other garbage. Let me say this: there are very few things more organic than sugar and water....and hundreds of artificially produced flavoring agents. Well, at least the first two things were organic. I think that's a pretty good ratio considering that 10 years in the future humans are only going to be 2/3 organic anyway (this is referring to the FACT (scientifically proven) that 10 years in the future, we are going to be taken over by a group of super-intelligent cyborgs who have both a knack for the arts AND the destruction of any living thing stubborn enough to oppose their higher plane of thinking.)
Back to Kool-Aid.
I dare you to find me someone who doesn't like it. If you do find someone, drug them up a little and THEN see if they don't like it. That's really all I'm trying to get across. You won't find anyone who fits that mold. Yes, I'm saying that you can not and will not find anyone who, if they don't already like Kool-Aid, also wouldn't like if they were drugged to the point of hallucination and/or lack of self-will. Now that's power.
So, the next time you have a steaming pot of ice-cold Kool-Aid in front of you, don't just pour and drink. Sit back a moment and think about how you very well could be looking at the future. At the same time, don't go so far as to think you're looking into some mystical pensieve that possesses the capabilities of telling the future. Because, as we know, and unlike 2/3 organic cyborg lifeforms, there is no such thing as a future-telling pensieve...just the kind that can show us our memories.
Just remember, in 15 years when we're all hailing our new cyborg cheiftains (as we know, they will seek to adopt the most premier form of government, which is that of Tribal Law), remember what I told you: Kool-Aid made it happen.
Ah, Summer.
Fin.
As an afterthought, I realize that a fair number of people who may read this will not understand that I'm suggesting that Kool-Aid will somehow be transformed into a sort of fuel, which will power these cyborg lifeforms.
As an afterthought to my afterthought, and just in case in fifteen years our cyborg leaders read this, I am in no way suggesting that the way to destroy any possibility of cyborg dominance is to rid the world of its supply of Kool-Aid.
Before I begin, I recognize that Kool-Aid isn't a Summer drink, per se. It's equally as delicious during the winter times, but I don't think I would be too far off when I assume that the majority of people in this techno-frenzied world (that time I did mean the music) would generally associate it with Summer time.
What is it that makes this liquid refreshment so...refreshmenting? It's possible that it's the extremely artificial flavoring. It's possible that it's the fact that I can always justify drinking it because, hey, all it is flavored sugar water, or possibly because it has like 10^5 ppm of sugar in it (yes, I know that's basically impossible. It's called 'hyperbole,' you uncultured swine.) Sure, it could be any of those, but there's a greater reason behind it all. I like to call it "the unifying power of Kool-Aid" (I've never called it that before.) Let me explain.
The world that we live in is ridden with differences. Things that always have the vast potential of tearing everyone apart. Many have been seeking a way to bring us all together. Some people think the solution is music. Sure, types of music transcend race or demographic differences (Not Rap. I know a lot of white folk like rap, but I like to think of rap more as a subtle recruitment technique employed by a series of organizations who want us to think they're dumb and uneducated, but in fact they're some of the trickiest individuals present on earth. How's THAT for a conspiracy theory?!) I think the solution is much more simple. Yes, my friends, Kool-Aid.
Having served a mission in Detroit, I know it's very popular amongst certain peoples. I also know that wealthy tend to stray from it in an effort to find a more...organic...solution, or some other garbage. Let me say this: there are very few things more organic than sugar and water....and hundreds of artificially produced flavoring agents. Well, at least the first two things were organic. I think that's a pretty good ratio considering that 10 years in the future humans are only going to be 2/3 organic anyway (this is referring to the FACT (scientifically proven) that 10 years in the future, we are going to be taken over by a group of super-intelligent cyborgs who have both a knack for the arts AND the destruction of any living thing stubborn enough to oppose their higher plane of thinking.)
Back to Kool-Aid.
I dare you to find me someone who doesn't like it. If you do find someone, drug them up a little and THEN see if they don't like it. That's really all I'm trying to get across. You won't find anyone who fits that mold. Yes, I'm saying that you can not and will not find anyone who, if they don't already like Kool-Aid, also wouldn't like if they were drugged to the point of hallucination and/or lack of self-will. Now that's power.
So, the next time you have a steaming pot of ice-cold Kool-Aid in front of you, don't just pour and drink. Sit back a moment and think about how you very well could be looking at the future. At the same time, don't go so far as to think you're looking into some mystical pensieve that possesses the capabilities of telling the future. Because, as we know, and unlike 2/3 organic cyborg lifeforms, there is no such thing as a future-telling pensieve...just the kind that can show us our memories.
Just remember, in 15 years when we're all hailing our new cyborg cheiftains (as we know, they will seek to adopt the most premier form of government, which is that of Tribal Law), remember what I told you: Kool-Aid made it happen.
Ah, Summer.
Fin.
As an afterthought, I realize that a fair number of people who may read this will not understand that I'm suggesting that Kool-Aid will somehow be transformed into a sort of fuel, which will power these cyborg lifeforms.
As an afterthought to my afterthought, and just in case in fifteen years our cyborg leaders read this, I am in no way suggesting that the way to destroy any possibility of cyborg dominance is to rid the world of its supply of Kool-Aid.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Elementary Goodness
Recent adventures in dodgeball have got me thinking...about things...of a simpler nature. I don't know if anyone else ever does this, but I have made a habit on thinking back on how great life was in elementary school. Sure, I know no where near what I know now, and I'd like to think I'm considerably more sociable now than I was (Although I'm sure there are people out there who would disagree), there were certain elements of life that were just...awesome, for lack of a better word. This post will be dedicated to exploring some of the aspects of life that have simply disappeared.
One word: tether-ball. Two words: is awesome. Yeah, I said it. I don't bring up tether-ball specifically to bring up tether-ball. I'm using it as a symbol of all those awesome games we used to play in elementary school. Like...hanging from the monkey bars...motionless...for hours. That wasn't a regular habit of mine, but I'm sure SOMEONE did it. Remember when hopscotch used to be fun? Remember when your feet could fit into those tiny squares? I sure do, and I miss it. What I would give for the size of feet I had then...but strangely paired with the 6 foot tall body I have now. That would be awesome. Sure, it may look like something out of some stupid horror film ("AHH! HE HAS.....small feet...?" That's how it would go.) Remember sliding down a 4 foot metal slide while standing up? I do, although I shouldn't. Let me put it this way: I found out then that metal gets excessively slippery when it's wet.
Recess. Yeah...not the TV show, although that still is fantastic. Have you ever thought back on recess? Did you think about the fact that it was 15 minutes long? Yeah. 15 Minutes. That's like....one and a half games of Modern Warfare. That's nothing now. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the days when 15 minutes was an eternity. Not to mention the fact that by the time we got to the playground and organized soccer teams there was only 10 minutes left. But it was awesome! Why was it awesome!? I don't know that answer yet, but I'm trying to figure it out.
I'm just going to say: work load. Nuff said.
Lastly, I loved how simple the inter-person interaction was. Boys were afraid of girls, and this, for some reason, empowered girls. They must have known that we, at that young age, had yet to develop our immunity to cooties (some of us are still working on that immunity.) I'm still convinced that cooties are real. At that age, they repulsed us, but somewhere between then and now, there occurred an re-polarization of our cooties receptors, and cooties happen to be the thing that draw men to women. Some call them "hormones." I'm convinced that's just a fancy name for cooties. Yes. If you're not careful, they could still infect you. The thing I've never figured out regarding that is: how come only boys were sensitive to them? Could this be because guys don't have them? We all know, as learned from The Simpsons, that cooties come from the girl's butt. That's just science. I don't know....just something to think about.
Oh yeah, and the clearly racially insensitive Power Rangers. Think about it.
Anyway, elementary school was awesome. I want part of it back...but not all of it. I think I'll survive without the 8:30 bedtime.
One word: tether-ball. Two words: is awesome. Yeah, I said it. I don't bring up tether-ball specifically to bring up tether-ball. I'm using it as a symbol of all those awesome games we used to play in elementary school. Like...hanging from the monkey bars...motionless...for hours. That wasn't a regular habit of mine, but I'm sure SOMEONE did it. Remember when hopscotch used to be fun? Remember when your feet could fit into those tiny squares? I sure do, and I miss it. What I would give for the size of feet I had then...but strangely paired with the 6 foot tall body I have now. That would be awesome. Sure, it may look like something out of some stupid horror film ("AHH! HE HAS.....small feet...?" That's how it would go.) Remember sliding down a 4 foot metal slide while standing up? I do, although I shouldn't. Let me put it this way: I found out then that metal gets excessively slippery when it's wet.
Recess. Yeah...not the TV show, although that still is fantastic. Have you ever thought back on recess? Did you think about the fact that it was 15 minutes long? Yeah. 15 Minutes. That's like....one and a half games of Modern Warfare. That's nothing now. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the days when 15 minutes was an eternity. Not to mention the fact that by the time we got to the playground and organized soccer teams there was only 10 minutes left. But it was awesome! Why was it awesome!? I don't know that answer yet, but I'm trying to figure it out.
I'm just going to say: work load. Nuff said.
Lastly, I loved how simple the inter-person interaction was. Boys were afraid of girls, and this, for some reason, empowered girls. They must have known that we, at that young age, had yet to develop our immunity to cooties (some of us are still working on that immunity.) I'm still convinced that cooties are real. At that age, they repulsed us, but somewhere between then and now, there occurred an re-polarization of our cooties receptors, and cooties happen to be the thing that draw men to women. Some call them "hormones." I'm convinced that's just a fancy name for cooties. Yes. If you're not careful, they could still infect you. The thing I've never figured out regarding that is: how come only boys were sensitive to them? Could this be because guys don't have them? We all know, as learned from The Simpsons, that cooties come from the girl's butt. That's just science. I don't know....just something to think about.Oh yeah, and the clearly racially insensitive Power Rangers. Think about it.
Anyway, elementary school was awesome. I want part of it back...but not all of it. I think I'll survive without the 8:30 bedtime.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Everybody Gloats
Alright people, I've reached one of my personal marks of excellence. Sure, this will never come into play in my profession, but I think it helps my resume for nerdiness. What am I talking about? Well, let me show you rather than tell you. Here it is:
I don't know if you can read it, but this is the score I got on my typing test today. Sure, I tried like 30 times, but I got it to 100. It's like a real world video game. Yes, I recognize this is nothing to be proud of, but half of the things I excel at aren't exactly things that most people would be proud of, so dont' judge me. Hey, you in the red, stop judging me.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
This Semester In Review
It's official, folks. Another semester done and finished. The purpose of this post will to go back and recount some of the important life lessons that I have learned. Now, these lessons can each be applied in their own respective circles, and these are by no means a generalized statement on what everyone should spend time learning. In other words, I'm not going to be talking about things that I have sought after but the little lessons in life that we all just happen to come upon. For example, in the movie Remember the Titans, Gary Bertier happened to learn not to get hit by a truck. That's the kind of lesson I'm talking about.
Lesson #1
Longboarders, although a menace to campus, do serve their own comedic purposes.
Lesson #2
When someone else asks "How long do this project take you?" always use hyperbole.
Lesson #3
If being encountered by a final project that is stressing you out, just play video games. You may fail the class, but you may have failed anyway (Adapted from a Deep Thought by Jack Handy).
Lesson #4
Just because I'm an engineer doesn't mean I have to be an engineer.
--------Explanations----------
Lesson #1 - Anyone who knows me knows how I feel about longboarders on campus. There's something about not having a native braking system that just irks me. One of my dreams in life is to tackle an unsuspecting longboarder for no other reason than I believe it would be hilarious. Although I think they're the bane of college students (well, one of the many banes...others including keggers and homework), I do recognize that they do serve a purpose: so I can laugh at them when they fall. No, I don't think I'm being insensitive. I think it's an inferred contract that every longboarder agrees to when they step on that board the first time: if you fall, people will laugh at you. Cause and effect, people. The only thing funnier than a longboarder eating it on campus is a longboarder eating it on campus because he was trying to impress a girl. When that happens, I know life is good.
Lesson #2 - I think the fear of homework is often more debilitating than homework itself. I'll make a quick note that lessons 2 and 3 are very related, so I'll try not to repeat myself. I tend to be the guy that goes into a project way later than everyone else, and as a result, I'm the guy that asks the question, "So how long have you been working on this?" More often than not, the response is something like "Four hours yesterday, three hours today, and I still think I'm two hours from finished." And then I wet myself. 3 hours later I finish my project, and I realize the interesting strategem by which I had been played (it's entirely possible that the person actually did spend that much time on it, but I'm just saying that it would be a clever tactic to deter competition.)
Lesson #3 - Final projects...gotta love 'em. I had a final project that was worth 15% of my final grade, and although I intended to start it two weeks before it was due...I didn't. Turns out I didn't start it until the day it was due. Smart? No. Not even close. So, two days before it was due, I was freaking out...much. So, what did I do? Played video games. Some may think that I'm ridiculous, and I am. I'll give you that, but it worked out. No, I will not have failed the class. It was actually pretty awesome how it turned out and gave me a nice boost in self-esteem, but I wouldn't recommend this tactic for the average person. If it takes you longer than an hour to write a 1 page paper, don't do this. That's my disclaimer.
Lesson #4 - At first glace, this may one of the more confusing sentences I've written in this blog, but let me explain. There is a definite sterotype that hovers around engineers. Every time I tell someone I'm an electrical engineering major, the first sentence out of their mouth is: you must be smart. When people think of the smart kids, another phrase usually follows: socially awkward. Personally, I would like to think I fall in the first category but not genuinely in the second (some may argue, but it's true). I wrote an entire post about socially akward smart kids I've come across in my classes, so I'll sum it up in a sentence: I don't get excited about the prospect of approaching an attractive woman, saying "you're pretty," and walking away. Nuff said.
That's just a brief glimpse at the lessons I've learned. I could go on, but maybe I'll save some of the others for a later post. Feel free to comment.
Lesson #1
Longboarders, although a menace to campus, do serve their own comedic purposes.
Lesson #2
When someone else asks "How long do this project take you?" always use hyperbole.
Lesson #3
If being encountered by a final project that is stressing you out, just play video games. You may fail the class, but you may have failed anyway (Adapted from a Deep Thought by Jack Handy).
Lesson #4
Just because I'm an engineer doesn't mean I have to be an engineer.
--------Explanations----------
Lesson #1 - Anyone who knows me knows how I feel about longboarders on campus. There's something about not having a native braking system that just irks me. One of my dreams in life is to tackle an unsuspecting longboarder for no other reason than I believe it would be hilarious. Although I think they're the bane of college students (well, one of the many banes...others including keggers and homework), I do recognize that they do serve a purpose: so I can laugh at them when they fall. No, I don't think I'm being insensitive. I think it's an inferred contract that every longboarder agrees to when they step on that board the first time: if you fall, people will laugh at you. Cause and effect, people. The only thing funnier than a longboarder eating it on campus is a longboarder eating it on campus because he was trying to impress a girl. When that happens, I know life is good.
Lesson #2 - I think the fear of homework is often more debilitating than homework itself. I'll make a quick note that lessons 2 and 3 are very related, so I'll try not to repeat myself. I tend to be the guy that goes into a project way later than everyone else, and as a result, I'm the guy that asks the question, "So how long have you been working on this?" More often than not, the response is something like "Four hours yesterday, three hours today, and I still think I'm two hours from finished." And then I wet myself. 3 hours later I finish my project, and I realize the interesting strategem by which I had been played (it's entirely possible that the person actually did spend that much time on it, but I'm just saying that it would be a clever tactic to deter competition.)
Lesson #3 - Final projects...gotta love 'em. I had a final project that was worth 15% of my final grade, and although I intended to start it two weeks before it was due...I didn't. Turns out I didn't start it until the day it was due. Smart? No. Not even close. So, two days before it was due, I was freaking out...much. So, what did I do? Played video games. Some may think that I'm ridiculous, and I am. I'll give you that, but it worked out. No, I will not have failed the class. It was actually pretty awesome how it turned out and gave me a nice boost in self-esteem, but I wouldn't recommend this tactic for the average person. If it takes you longer than an hour to write a 1 page paper, don't do this. That's my disclaimer.
Lesson #4 - At first glace, this may one of the more confusing sentences I've written in this blog, but let me explain. There is a definite sterotype that hovers around engineers. Every time I tell someone I'm an electrical engineering major, the first sentence out of their mouth is: you must be smart. When people think of the smart kids, another phrase usually follows: socially awkward. Personally, I would like to think I fall in the first category but not genuinely in the second (some may argue, but it's true). I wrote an entire post about socially akward smart kids I've come across in my classes, so I'll sum it up in a sentence: I don't get excited about the prospect of approaching an attractive woman, saying "you're pretty," and walking away. Nuff said.
That's just a brief glimpse at the lessons I've learned. I could go on, but maybe I'll save some of the others for a later post. Feel free to comment.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Stubborn? Hardly.
Recently I've been receiving a large number in questions regarding my stance on a certain subject. For those of you who have been living in a cave, the movie "Avatar" broke the record for being the highest grossing movie of all time, but I refuse to get caught up in the hype. People are always coming up to me and saying "but it's SOOOO good. Why don't you want to watch it?" Well, for those who may have asked that question, this post is for you.
First off, I think ONE of the major reasons it was so vastly popular and ground-breaking in the theaters was due to it's innovative 3D effects and viewing experience. In response to this, let me tell you a story. When I was a bit younger, probably 16 or 17, I purchased a game for the Xbox called "Medal of Honor: Rising Sun". I had previously played games like Halo and such, but this game was a vastly new experience for me. Why? Well, let me tell you: because of something I call "getting the throw-ups." This can be induced by several things, namely viruses, blows to the...you know...man area, and severe motion sickness. I have always had a weak stomach, but this game broke new ground in my life because it made me motion sick without ever moving. I have dubbed this as one of the 3 phenomena in life that separate us from the animals (the other two our ability to amplify sound and the fact that we can use firearms.) If a video game made me motion sick, I have severe consternation (not constipation...I know you all were thinking it) about 3D movies for that reason. I'm not a huge fan of blowing chunks in a movie theater, but I would rather do that than go through the experience of watching Twilight again.
Yes, I know there is the non-3D route for watching Avatar, but there is more than one reason as to why I have no desire to watch it. There are few things that make me more angry than remakes....but it only happens if I know it's a remake (Just to clarify, this doesn't make me "wanting to punch something" angry. It's more of the "quietly fester and mutter stuff under my breath until I eventually go crazy and drive a car off a cliff" crazy. Most of you should know what that feels like). For example, last weekend I found out that someone redid the classic song called "Africa" by Toto (Dang you, Karl Wolf), and...well, let's just say there was more festering done than at a Jimmy Eat World concert (you know, when the fans realize that the SUCK live.) That being said, I know the plot of Avatar. I've done my research, and it turns out that it's no more than "An Inconvenient Dances With Fernahontas In Space" (Thanks to Havasupai25 for that one. you know who you are). When I use that statement people usually respond with something like "But the special effects are so cool!" To that I say, the last time I watched a movie for the sake of special effects was when I watched "2012." 'Nuff said.
So, here's my plan. I'm going to watch Avatar without ever watching Avatar. Think I'm crazy? Well, yeah, but have a listen (or read.) I'm going to set up 5 different TV's in the same room. Each one will be playing a different movie: Dances with Wolves, Pocahontas, Fern Gully, An Inconvenient Truth, and The Day After Tomorrow will each be playing on their own TV, and when the last movie ends...BOOM! I've watched Avatar. It's got the eco-friendly story lines of An Inconvenient Truth, the lovable characters of Fern Gully, the anti-white man sentiments of Dances with Wolves, the genocide of Pocahontas (maybe I watched a different version of the show than you...?), and the special effects of The Day After Tomorrow..I may throw in a performance by the Blue Man Group just to get the colors right (also playing the Force Unleashed and walked around the world of Felucia would suffice). Bada-bing, bada-boom. Some of you may argue that that's WAY more work than watching Avatar, but I figure that between setting up all the screens and videos and watching the movies, I figure it should still take less time than watching Avatar would.
As a bit of an afterthought, yes, I admit I will probably eventually watch the movie. It'll probably come during one of those times when I have time to waste, so instead of wasting my time watching the latest installment of "the Fast and the Furious" series, I'll plop in Avatar and...fall asleep. There's a good chance I'll enjoy it, but in the mean time, I'll continue to adhere to my obstinate position. After all, it is one of the things that separates us from the animals (It falls in the category of amplifying sound.....
....
....
....
....
Don't think about it too hard. I realize that it doesn't make sense.)
First off, I think ONE of the major reasons it was so vastly popular and ground-breaking in the theaters was due to it's innovative 3D effects and viewing experience. In response to this, let me tell you a story. When I was a bit younger, probably 16 or 17, I purchased a game for the Xbox called "Medal of Honor: Rising Sun". I had previously played games like Halo and such, but this game was a vastly new experience for me. Why? Well, let me tell you: because of something I call "getting the throw-ups." This can be induced by several things, namely viruses, blows to the...you know...man area, and severe motion sickness. I have always had a weak stomach, but this game broke new ground in my life because it made me motion sick without ever moving. I have dubbed this as one of the 3 phenomena in life that separate us from the animals (the other two our ability to amplify sound and the fact that we can use firearms.) If a video game made me motion sick, I have severe consternation (not constipation...I know you all were thinking it) about 3D movies for that reason. I'm not a huge fan of blowing chunks in a movie theater, but I would rather do that than go through the experience of watching Twilight again.
So, here's my plan. I'm going to watch Avatar without ever watching Avatar. Think I'm crazy? Well, yeah, but have a listen (or read.) I'm going to set up 5 different TV's in the same room. Each one will be playing a different movie: Dances with Wolves, Pocahontas, Fern Gully, An Inconvenient Truth, and The Day After Tomorrow will each be playing on their own TV, and when the last movie ends...BOOM! I've watched Avatar. It's got the eco-friendly story lines of An Inconvenient Truth, the lovable characters of Fern Gully, the anti-white man sentiments of Dances with Wolves, the genocide of Pocahontas (maybe I watched a different version of the show than you...?), and the special effects of The Day After Tomorrow..I may throw in a performance by the Blue Man Group just to get the colors right (also playing the Force Unleashed and walked around the world of Felucia would suffice). Bada-bing, bada-boom. Some of you may argue that that's WAY more work than watching Avatar, but I figure that between setting up all the screens and videos and watching the movies, I figure it should still take less time than watching Avatar would.
As a bit of an afterthought, yes, I admit I will probably eventually watch the movie. It'll probably come during one of those times when I have time to waste, so instead of wasting my time watching the latest installment of "the Fast and the Furious" series, I'll plop in Avatar and...fall asleep. There's a good chance I'll enjoy it, but in the mean time, I'll continue to adhere to my obstinate position. After all, it is one of the things that separates us from the animals (It falls in the category of amplifying sound.....
....
....
....
....
Don't think about it too hard. I realize that it doesn't make sense.)
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Ever talked to yourself? Well, you should.
I've never really understood why some people ostracize those who talk to themselves. Yeah. I said it. I don't get it. Why don't I get it? It's not just because I do it. No, I don't think that makes me crazy. Honestly, I think if someone has the ability to switch personalities so fast and so frequently as to have a legitimate conversation with themselves, their efforts should be applauded. Now, keep in mind, this is assuming that none of the personalities are violent. If the personality is violent, stay away from my family because I don't want to have to introduce you to my friends: knuckles and...other fist. So, remember that, don't come around my family if you have violent personalitieS (emphasis on the plural. I can deal with one. I'm an expert peace maker, and i'm not talking about the gun. I'm not a gun. Nor do I have guns. that shouldn't come as a surprise. This parenthetical phrase is ended now).
I've talked a little about some of the nutty or zany people that I've encountered in my time spent downtown. For some STRANGE reason, it just makes my day when I see a man yelling at...something...while standing on a street corner. I just have to wonder what is happening in that person's mind. I bet they're having a party, unless they deal with paranoia, in which case they definitely are not having a party. But that's a much heavier topic and has no place in this blog. If you wish to deal with the heavier topics, consult your physician. Why? I don't know. It just felt right to say.
The moral of this story is that we shouldn't look at people funny when they talk to themselves. In fact, if we see someone talking to their self (or a form of their self), don't giggle. Don't look at them funny. Just think about what they could be thinking. I bet it could be fun (generally, I haven't come across people who are having a jolly old time when they're talking to themselve (?) (That word is hard from a grammatical standpoint. I can never be sure which form of it to use in which context. Come to think of it, I've never had to think of it until now. Let's hope it doesn't come up in one of my engineering classes or I am in BIG trouble) As a general rule, they're yelling. I don't know why they're so mad. Maybe one of their personalities moved their favorite shirt and isn't telling them where it is. I don't know...just an idea.) You know, now that I think about it, if I saw someone on a street corner just giggling to themselves (?), I think I might be a little more...weirded out...than if they were yelling. There's just something creepy about giggling. yeah, that's right. I admitted it. Teenage girls are creepy.
There you have it folks. I just wrote a defense against self-conversation. I don't think it would hold up in a court of law (maybe in Missouri it would), but it's just my standpoint. Don't hate what you don't understand. Put yourself in their shoes (not literally because it could very well be the only pair they own. Yes, I just put a stereotype of people who talk to themselves. Get over it.) Everyone needs company...even when you don't have anyone to keep you company. Just beware the gigglers....
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Best...Movie...Ever
I don't know if anyone else has noticed, but there seems to be a great influx of disaster based movies permeating society these days. It could be a result of many-a-thing. Perhaps it's due to the fact that we're quickly bearing down on the predicted Mayan Apocalypse (I need to put a disclaimer regarding that phrase. I know it's far from an adequate way to describe what that whole Dec. 21, 2012 thing is, because had they really been smart, they would have been able to predict the end of their civilization. Just saying.). Maybe it's the day somebody will finally eat an entire cow by himself (Some of you politically correct fiends may be upset with how I genderized that term, but let's be honest, it'll be a dude). With that in mind, I had a GREAT idea for a movie. Once again, I'm being honest: it's gonna be HUGE.
So, let me set the stage: Manhattan (every good disaster movie happens in Manhattan....and I say "good" disaster movie, but I mean...well, they're never that good, but moving on...). The year is 2011. Without going into a whole lot of detail, some bad things happen. Meteors, tidal waves (a term I've never understood. If it's a wave related to tides, you'd think they'd be more common), Velociraptors eating everyone's dinner, Carl Marx returning from the grave. You get the picture: stuff's gonna 'splode. Anyway, people are dying left and right. Humanity's numbers are quickly dwindling, kind of like at the end of the Book of Ether. Bad. Ultimately, there are only a handful of people left and they are trapped in a building that's...I don't know....being consumed by molten lava, and then it fades to black. Yep, everyone died. At the end of the movie, the title of the movie will be replayed (as seems to be a common theme these days). Big, bold letters say: Everyone Dies. It fades to black. Wait for it.....wait for it.....wait for it....and then it comes back. There it says it: Everyone dies....and then a subtitle comes in and says: ...but one. And it shows a flash of a man who inexplicably survived the molten lava attack (attack?).
The reason why I think this is perfect is because it'll give everyone the destruction they want, and it also gives people the killing they want. On the opposite side, it gives people hope because someone survived, and it sets it up for a great sequel. It'll be called "The Last Man on Earth", kind of like I Am Legend. Except at the end of that movie, the subtitle will read "Died Too". So really everyone dies...it just takes two movies of nonsense to get it done.
Anyway, I think it'll work. I've also been given other ideas for movies by a dear friend of mine called "Explosion" where it just shows a guy running and explosions going off around him for two hours. Another idea (from the same friend) is called "in the dark," where a team of explorers find a very deep cave. Ten minutes into their journey into their cave, their lamps fail, and the rest of the movie is audio only. Yeah. Good ideas, I know.
<---Yep. Imagine staring at that for an hour and a half while only hearing a bunch of rustling and someone occasionally saying "What's that?" or "Did you hear that?" Winner.
Anywho, there's just another glimpse of the things I spend my time thinking about. Yeah, I think I need to get out more.
So, let me set the stage: Manhattan (every good disaster movie happens in Manhattan....and I say "good" disaster movie, but I mean...well, they're never that good, but moving on...). The year is 2011. Without going into a whole lot of detail, some bad things happen. Meteors, tidal waves (a term I've never understood. If it's a wave related to tides, you'd think they'd be more common), Velociraptors eating everyone's dinner, Carl Marx returning from the grave. You get the picture: stuff's gonna 'splode. Anyway, people are dying left and right. Humanity's numbers are quickly dwindling, kind of like at the end of the Book of Ether. Bad. Ultimately, there are only a handful of people left and they are trapped in a building that's...I don't know....being consumed by molten lava, and then it fades to black. Yep, everyone died. At the end of the movie, the title of the movie will be replayed (as seems to be a common theme these days). Big, bold letters say: Everyone Dies. It fades to black. Wait for it.....wait for it.....wait for it....and then it comes back. There it says it: Everyone dies....and then a subtitle comes in and says: ...but one. And it shows a flash of a man who inexplicably survived the molten lava attack (attack?).
The reason why I think this is perfect is because it'll give everyone the destruction they want, and it also gives people the killing they want. On the opposite side, it gives people hope because someone survived, and it sets it up for a great sequel. It'll be called "The Last Man on Earth", kind of like I Am Legend. Except at the end of that movie, the subtitle will read "Died Too". So really everyone dies...it just takes two movies of nonsense to get it done.
Anyway, I think it'll work. I've also been given other ideas for movies by a dear friend of mine called "Explosion" where it just shows a guy running and explosions going off around him for two hours. Another idea (from the same friend) is called "in the dark," where a team of explorers find a very deep cave. Ten minutes into their journey into their cave, their lamps fail, and the rest of the movie is audio only. Yeah. Good ideas, I know.
<---Yep. Imagine staring at that for an hour and a half while only hearing a bunch of rustling and someone occasionally saying "What's that?" or "Did you hear that?" Winner.Anywho, there's just another glimpse of the things I spend my time thinking about. Yeah, I think I need to get out more.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
But Wait! There's More!
Over the years, I've been barraged with various ideas from people who are looking to market the next big gadget. One of my biggest goals is to make my own infomercial, even though that goal, in and of itself, is highly unrealistic. This entry of my blog will be divided into two sections. First, I'm going to talk about what my infomercial would be like, and second, I'm going to discuss a few potential products that some of my friends and I have come up with over the years.
One of my favorite things about an infomercial is when they're starting the intro, and it usually goes something like this: Have you ever been frustrated at how much you have to change your cat's litter? And then they procure some miracle cat litter sifting product that does everything but make the cat breakfast (for now. I hear some companies in Taiwan are currently working on having a machine do that, although some skeptics have begun questioning where the machine gets the material from which it makes the breakfast. I'll leave it at that). In those infomercials, that portion just comprises a small segment of the introduction. In MY infomercial, it's going to be the majority of what we talk about. It'll go more something like this (imagine i'm marketing one of those forearm strengthening thingys): have you ever looked down ashamedly at the size of your forearms (keep in mind these scenarios will all be acted out by REALLY awesome actors)? Have you ever been passed by on the street by the girl of your dreams just because you could gather the courage to look her in the face because you knew you wouldn't be able to help her open her pickle jars? Do you ever sit for hours at a time wondering how you could even have friends because you can barely give a good handshake? Seriously, do you ever sit for similar reasons and wonder why you were even born? And then the product is introduced. Those who know me know that I like to take the stance of an extremist in some arguments. Not that I actually believe those things, but everyone needs a little extreme in your life, whether it's sports, religious radicalism, or even signing up to do one of those old Surge commercials. The scenarios in the infomercial would then get worse and worse and worse. I don't know at what point it would stop, but I think I've got a good thing going there.
Now, I will just briefly explain some of the ideas that I (I use the term 'I' to reference my friends and myself simply to make it simpler...for me. I don't intend to take all the credit for these awesome products because they're most definitely not all my ideas.)
First off, the Spatchet. The catch phrase would be something like "Got a problem? SPATCHET!" What it is is essentially the mixture of a spatula and a hatchet. Now, some may be wondering why we would ever need a spatula AND a hatchet. No, it wouldn't be for those times you're looking to flip a burning log in the fire and cut it at the same time. It would be used for much more practical...uses. For example, you know when you're making pancakes and the batter seeps into the batter of another pancake so it looks like one large, disfigured pancake, when in reality it's two pancakes? You know what I'm talking about? How annoying is that! I mean, you try to cut it with your spatula, but you can never seem to get it all the way through, and before you know it the pancake is burned and you have, through chaos theory, caused the fall of 30 different government systems all around the world. I mean, this could all have been avoided had you had a more practical tool to cut that dang pancake. This is where Spatchet comes into play. You take the spatula, lift the portion where the two pancakes are connected, push a button and a hatchet connected to some pneumatic lever comes flying down to cut the pancake. Sure, I know that this product really is ridiculous, but Spatchet sure is fun to say!
Secondly, i don't know if any of you have ever sat for hours wondering about how weird the word nonsensical is. I know I have...seriously. Maybe during that time you've wondered why it sounds so much like the word Popsicle. I'm going out on a limb here, but perhaps you've even gone so far as to wonder what that word would taste like. Well, this is where THE Nonsensical comes into play. It's a Popsicle in form. It looks like one, it smells like one. It could come in a green or orange variety...you know what a Popsicle looks like. So you go into the experience expecting grape or lime or whatever, and you take a lick...and...this flavor doesn't make any sense! It tastes like bologna, or burnt toast, or...wood. I think it would be great for parties. "Hey! Thanks for coming to my party!" "Yeah, thanks for inviting me. It sure is hot out here!" "Yeah, do you want a Popsicle?" "Oh yeah, sure!" this would be followed by some subtle snickers (not the candy...come to think of it, I don't know how a candy bar could be subtle. I don't think I would want to meet a subtle candy bar. It would probably reach for my wallet, and I would bat it away, look at my friend and be like "What's the deal with your candy bar?" "It's one of those subtle snickers." "Ohhh...."). The person would put the Popsicle in his mouth, take a quick taste and spit it out. He'd say something like, "What the...fried ham?" "Yeah, it's one of them Nonsensicals." "Ohhh..." and everyone would have a good time. I think I could literally solve some disputes with this. That's just my thinking though and I tend to be pretty oblivious about reality.
This is probably what your friend would look like when he tastes The Nonsensical (and if he were a baby).
So there you have it folks. These things are going to be big; I can see it. If you have any other awesome ideas for a product, feel free to comment it! Maybe that way I won't feel like I think of such weird things.
One of my favorite things about an infomercial is when they're starting the intro, and it usually goes something like this: Have you ever been frustrated at how much you have to change your cat's litter? And then they procure some miracle cat litter sifting product that does everything but make the cat breakfast (for now. I hear some companies in Taiwan are currently working on having a machine do that, although some skeptics have begun questioning where the machine gets the material from which it makes the breakfast. I'll leave it at that). In those infomercials, that portion just comprises a small segment of the introduction. In MY infomercial, it's going to be the majority of what we talk about. It'll go more something like this (imagine i'm marketing one of those forearm strengthening thingys): have you ever looked down ashamedly at the size of your forearms (keep in mind these scenarios will all be acted out by REALLY awesome actors)? Have you ever been passed by on the street by the girl of your dreams just because you could gather the courage to look her in the face because you knew you wouldn't be able to help her open her pickle jars? Do you ever sit for hours at a time wondering how you could even have friends because you can barely give a good handshake? Seriously, do you ever sit for similar reasons and wonder why you were even born? And then the product is introduced. Those who know me know that I like to take the stance of an extremist in some arguments. Not that I actually believe those things, but everyone needs a little extreme in your life, whether it's sports, religious radicalism, or even signing up to do one of those old Surge commercials. The scenarios in the infomercial would then get worse and worse and worse. I don't know at what point it would stop, but I think I've got a good thing going there.
Now, I will just briefly explain some of the ideas that I (I use the term 'I' to reference my friends and myself simply to make it simpler...for me. I don't intend to take all the credit for these awesome products because they're most definitely not all my ideas.)
First off, the Spatchet. The catch phrase would be something like "Got a problem? SPATCHET!" What it is is essentially the mixture of a spatula and a hatchet. Now, some may be wondering why we would ever need a spatula AND a hatchet. No, it wouldn't be for those times you're looking to flip a burning log in the fire and cut it at the same time. It would be used for much more practical...uses. For example, you know when you're making pancakes and the batter seeps into the batter of another pancake so it looks like one large, disfigured pancake, when in reality it's two pancakes? You know what I'm talking about? How annoying is that! I mean, you try to cut it with your spatula, but you can never seem to get it all the way through, and before you know it the pancake is burned and you have, through chaos theory, caused the fall of 30 different government systems all around the world. I mean, this could all have been avoided had you had a more practical tool to cut that dang pancake. This is where Spatchet comes into play. You take the spatula, lift the portion where the two pancakes are connected, push a button and a hatchet connected to some pneumatic lever comes flying down to cut the pancake. Sure, I know that this product really is ridiculous, but Spatchet sure is fun to say!Secondly, i don't know if any of you have ever sat for hours wondering about how weird the word nonsensical is. I know I have...seriously. Maybe during that time you've wondered why it sounds so much like the word Popsicle. I'm going out on a limb here, but perhaps you've even gone so far as to wonder what that word would taste like. Well, this is where THE Nonsensical comes into play. It's a Popsicle in form. It looks like one, it smells like one. It could come in a green or orange variety...you know what a Popsicle looks like. So you go into the experience expecting grape or lime or whatever, and you take a lick...and...this flavor doesn't make any sense! It tastes like bologna, or burnt toast, or...wood. I think it would be great for parties. "Hey! Thanks for coming to my party!" "Yeah, thanks for inviting me. It sure is hot out here!" "Yeah, do you want a Popsicle?" "Oh yeah, sure!" this would be followed by some subtle snickers (not the candy...come to think of it, I don't know how a candy bar could be subtle. I don't think I would want to meet a subtle candy bar. It would probably reach for my wallet, and I would bat it away, look at my friend and be like "What's the deal with your candy bar?" "It's one of those subtle snickers." "Ohhh...."). The person would put the Popsicle in his mouth, take a quick taste and spit it out. He'd say something like, "What the...fried ham?" "Yeah, it's one of them Nonsensicals." "Ohhh..." and everyone would have a good time. I think I could literally solve some disputes with this. That's just my thinking though and I tend to be pretty oblivious about reality.
This is probably what your friend would look like when he tastes The Nonsensical (and if he were a baby).
So there you have it folks. These things are going to be big; I can see it. If you have any other awesome ideas for a product, feel free to comment it! Maybe that way I won't feel like I think of such weird things.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Socially Awesome
I tend to think that I'm fairly normal...okay, I don't, but that's beside the point. One of the great privileges I encounter fairly regularly in my station (now, I'm just going to point out that this isn't a radio station for all you that may have been thinking that I sideline as a disc jockey. Some of you may be wondering what "sidelining" as a disc jockey means, and to that I say...I haven't yet decided. I just kind of wrote something that sounded like it could mean something. Come up with your own definition, i DARE you.) ANYWAY, in my station (reminder: not a radio station) I encounter a select group of people who tend to be ostracized from the majority of society. It's not because of hygiene issues (although this select group of people do tend to be less....how do you say...groomed...as mainstream society), nor is it because of their involvement in what we would call a different "class" of individuals. In fact, as a general rule, this group of people tends to be fairly well off, although there is a stereotype that they may or may not still live in their mothers' basements at the age of 35. Guess who I'm talking about yet? No? Okay. Well, let me just tell you. The people to which I'm referring can be labeled as nothing other than "socially awkward." What makes them socially awkward? There could be a number of reasons. Maybe they spent too much time in their dad's Wizard store as a youth. Perhaps they had dreams of growing up to be a Pokemon Master...a dream which never died. Maybe they even refused sociality with the other youth of the neighborhood and opted to converse with their custom made Dungeons and Dragons figurines. Whether it's one of those or something else, there's just a switch in their brain that either didn't exist or just never got flipped. It's the switch that most of us know as...no, not puberty...I will call it "Hello, reality. I'm here to meet you."
I understand that liking any of the above listed activities is not inherently bad. There are a lot of fun...activities...that children can engage themselves in. All things in moderation, as they say. I'm talking primarily about the people who became so immersed as to skew reality. I know in a previous post I spent some time talking about video games and Twilight and the like, but that's not what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about the special group of people that sometimes make us laugh just by watching them interact with life. Whether that's good or bad is something that you need to decide.
Let me tell you a couple stories of experiences I have had. I will also pose some conjectures as to why the people behaved in the way they did.
Story #1) Last fall (Fall of 2009) I was looking to fill in some extra credit hours with a class that I might actually enjoy. I went to a class with a couple friends called "the Universe," as I have had a fascination with the stars and theoretical astrophysics. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, I didn't actually end up taking the class because I decided that taking a class about stars wasn't worth $400 dollars. Call me cheap if you want. I only attended 3 class periods, and I sat on the back row or second to back row as a general rule. One day the professor posed a question (I don't remember what it was), and a guy behind me raised his hand to answer. Now, I want you all to put yourselves in the place of this young man. You raise your hand in class to answer a question; what do you do afterward? Mind you, this is a large class (probably over 100 people in it), and it's in the physics auditorium. Of course, you'd raise your voice a little and just answer. But no, not this guy. He stood up, put his hands behind his back, stuck out his chest and gave the answer. I'll give him credit; he knew his stuff. However, the manner in which he opted to answer caught me off guard and I couldn't help but look at a friend and chuckle a little.
Analysis of Story #1) This gave me cause to wonder: why did that become the norm for this particular individual? Here are some possibilities of what could have led to this behavior. The first thought I had was that maybe he came from a military family. They tend to be excessively strict and proper at all times...then again, a lot of the time the kids rebel and steal hand grenades and flush them down toilets (Yes, I know a hand grenade is probably to big to be flushed down a toilet, but I like to think that at an army base they have some industrial strength toilet...you know...for emergencies, in which this could be possible.), so that may not be it. My second thought was, maybe he was home schooled. I have nothing against home schooling, and I recognize that it may be the best option in some circumstances, but, at the same time, I think that if not done properly, the kids can turn out a little...off. I knew families on my mission that fit this description (although, now that I think of it, the parents were a little strange too...so maybe the home schooling isn't to blame). I finally settled on this notion, however. I am convinced that he, as a youth, suffered some sort of trauma in which he ruined his back and they had to replace it with a metal representation of his spine. That would account for the superhuman rigidness of his back (now THAT would be a terrible super power. "So, he can shoot lasers, he can fly, what can you do?" "I have a really straight spine..."). As for his weird behavior, maybe he had been hypnotized and he didn't even know he was standing when he answered the question. I think it's plausible.
Story #2) Just the other day, I was preparing to take a test in my Digital Logic class (I know what some of you are thinking. "Digital lawjick...?" Believe it or not, but the name of the class actually fits.), and I heard a guy talking to some other guys in the class about video games. This is not an unfamiliar topic of conversation considering it's an engineering class, but the level to which he conversed is what surprised me. He went on to list all the Zelda games in the order that they came out. I love those games, but I've never taken the time to go through and memorize when they came out. He went on to say some other things about video games and so on. I like video games, but I don't LIKE video games, if you catch my meaning. If my xbox were to be stolen, I'd probably read more. 'Nuff said. It's not something around which my life revolves. Yes, I play them frequently, but it's because it's something to do. I wouldn't dream of walking into a class full of computer engineers, list some facts about video games and scream, "I am your god! Worship me!" I'm not going to analyze this any further because I want to spend some time on an event which took place almost immediately afterward.
Story #3) Immediately after story #2, I happened to overhear a phrase which...let's be honest...was awesome. A young man said the following: I just wanted to walk up to her, say "you're pretty" and walk off. I'm not what we would call "smooth" with the lady folk, probably because the people who think they're smooth are the ones I make fun of. I embrace the fact that people feel awkward when I'm around, and a lot of the time I use that to my advantage (not in a bad way. I just exploit the awkwardness because I think it's funny). But, walking up to a girl, telling her she's pretty, and walking off...strange much? Now, ladies, would that be creepy if that happened to you? If the answer is yes, maybe I should consider doing it.
Analysis of Story #3) I have to wonder...why? I highly doubt that this guy was depraved of female contact sufficiently to create a desire and longing for any interaction with a woman that simply saying "you're pretty" would fill the void. I'm going to give him the benefit of that doubt (because I'm a good person). Perhaps doing that was grounds for receiving some sort of accolade or recognition of some sort. I don't know that it's not. Here is my guess as to what happened. Engineers tend to have a habit of getting wrapped up in school work. There's more than enough to go around. I know this isn't a problem that is exclusive to engineers, but there is one major difference. There is no gender balance in the engineering world, especially if you're dealing with Electrical and Computer engineers, as well as computer scientists. Fact: there is no more than 1 girl in any of my engineering classes this semester. That being said, hormones tend to flare up a little when a girl is seen, let alone what we perceive as a "pretty" girl. I would compare it to the feeling you get when you get a fairly large tax refund. All this money and no idea how to use it. That's how it is with engineers and girls on our turf (the engineering buildings.) This fellow had become so immersed in his school work, that when he saw a girl, he reverted back to his elementary school self and thought it would be a good idea to call her pretty and run off giggling to brag to his friends about he ACTUALLY spoke to a woman. Nothing against him, but I'm going to rank that tactic JUST above yelling "HEY" at a girl as you drive by in your car.
I'm going to make my intentions clear. I do not write this for some crude source of self-aggrandizement. I'm simply giving you a window into my life. These are the types of situations I encounter regularly. There are certain perks to being an engineer. Finding a wife in the engineering classes, however, is not one of them.
There you have it, folks. My rambliest (that's the state of being the most rambly) post yet. If you made it to the end, you deserve a treat.
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