Naive thought: Graduation is a time when a student can look back upon his own academic career and smile. The student proud and ready (though possibly reluctant), graduation is that seemingly panultimate accomplishment before we are able to "grow up," to transition from a student to a professional.
Subtitle 1: Naivety unwoven
Seemingly, I should be very excited right now. This entire semester, though, has just pushed and pushed me, put me down, worn my spirits...and this past week especially. Fuck.
This semester has been one long, creaky, churning meat grinder. I don't know what I want, all I know is I want it over.
Subtitle 2: Relish
My mom and I have a tradition that we've had since I was a kid. It's not Christmas-themed, but it'll have to do. Every year we make my mom's cranberry relish. We use one of those old-fashioned metal grinders with the giant crank on the side. You shove the cranberries and the oranges down into the metal shits inside, and you crank the handle and it's pushed up against a grate, thereby creating the relish that is ever-so-enjoyed by our family.
Isn't this our lives? Aren't we just shoved down by unmoveable fingers, prodded along, grinded into something useful not even for ourselves, but someone else or society? Before we reach that inevitable, unavoidable stage of our lives, our old selves have to die. It's a kind of circle of life thing.
I've never felt more used and so powerless as I have as of late.
Subtitle 3: The broken bond
Senior sendoff is a time when the seniors kind of get paid a modest homage for serving the chapter. It is the last time the seniors get to see some members of the chapter, and as such, it's kind of a special time. It's not luxurious or fancy, and it's not a big deal; senior sendoff doesn't usually go longer than an hour, and it's incredibly informal.
This semester, up until last week, I had heard no mention of senior sendoff. Being as how I'm a graduating senior, this worried me a little. I got on the phone to the pres and the social chair and everyone I could to try and get this going.
It shouldn't be my responsibility, but I worried it wouldn't happen without my prodding.
So a date and time was set which was kinda gonna interfere with an interview, but hey; I'd get there in time. Interview got bumped anyways and I was real excited that i'd be able to be on time. I gathered all my shit, happy to be passing it down to the younguns and others.
And senior sendoff didn't happen. Everyone was working or visiting friends at other schools. I've received apologies and the promise that "we've gotta do something to make it up to him" but it's all just words. It doesn't make any difference over what happened.
And I'm not gonna elaborate or QQ or go emo about how I expect this little thing out of a fraternity that I've contributed to and the friends I've made, but it's just disappointing. Greek organizations purport a lifelong bond, but I feel moreso like a rug was just pulled out from under me, that my inner feeling of brotherhood died an untimely death.
It's just sad, is all.
Subtitle 4: The long road to disappointment
So today I had an interview in Delaware. An hour and a half away. I was nervous, but excited.
When I got there to meet with the principal, the secretary seemed surprised, having heard nothing about our interview. The principal, I found out, had gone home sick, and not called me to let me know he couldn't make our interview. So I drove that long way home, for nothing.
Subtitle : The "why" factor
Why look forward to graduation? Why look forward to Christmas and teaching and all that shit? I just feel raw and down and shitty.
I just felt this whole semester like I'm being hazed. nothing is ever good enough, stressed all the time. Miserable. Life is shit.
Gay.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Inglourious Basterds Review
Sent off to the Snapper today, this is my soon-to-be published review to Tarentino's WW2 epic
Inglourious Basterds is not like every other war movie. Infamous director and nut Quentin Tarentino has seemingly done it again, paying tribute to another genre in a fresh way. As a matter of fact, Tarentino utilizes this movie to display a completely new way of looking at war films, and really, all films.
But first, a brief synopsis. There’s this whole Nazi takeover thing in
As with any Tarentino film, essays could be written about the maybes and possible intentions of their near-psychotic director. Basterds is no different.
In every WW2 movie, and in fact every war movie, there is the good (American) side and the bad (any other country) side. This formula, when discussed, almost seems hackneyed and utterly boring. Basterds changes everything. There is no good guy in Basterds. Every single party and organization in the movie is dirtied, cunning and ruthless. The Basterds, the Nazis, even the Jew hiding in Vichy Paris are all villains; there is not one single hero in this movie. Tarentino conjectures in this film that it is impossible to be a decent man in indecent times.
And thus the title. My compatriot, after seeing the movie with me, was curious why it was titled after the Jewish American squad, whereas their storyline only takes up perhaps 1/3 of the movie. Clearly the title is a catchall—the Americans, the Nazis, and this darkhearted Jew—all believe incorrectly their actions are for glory and good. But they’re not. They’re only bastards.
I’ll take this moment to talk to Tarentino fans. Rest assured, this movie has every single stylistic Tarentino effect exaggerated to the nth degree. Long, casual, at-first-glance insignificant conversations inhabit the movie. A David Bowie song plays at a very inappropriate time. Aldo Raine’s Nazi carving seems to pay a small tribute to the “ear scene” in Reservoir Dogs. There are intentionally cheesy effects, such as a Real World style arrow system to point out the “Big Four” of Nazi Germany in a crowd. The film takes a break for five minutes halfway through to explain how combustible old film reels were. There is a “Mexican standoff,” and even a conversation about what constitutes a Mexican standoff. There’s a lot of color symbolism, especially towards the end in the cinema. The sick bastard even finds a way to fit in voice-overs of Sam Jackson and (unbeknownst to only me, who has seen too many Tarentino films too many times already) Harvey Keitel. And rest assured, there is a Sam Jackson in Pulp Fiction-style chorus spoken by Aldo Raine.
If you’re planning to see this movie, I’ve constructed a few pointers so you know what to expect, in case you’ve never seen a Tarentino film.
1) Basterds is not historically accurate. Obviously I can’t give away anything major, but the Basterds never existed and their contributions to the war as seen in the movie are too major to be anywhere close to historically accurate.
2) Don’t take the movie too seriously. Along with the historical issues just stated, Tarentino has this way through cheesy 80s effects and music, as well as long, casual conversations at seemingly tense and pivotal moments, to offer up some humor to keep viewers from even considering this is a drama.
3) Prepare to read a lot of subtitles. If this isn’t your thing, beware. The subtitle thing goes a little deeper though. Sometimes while characters are speaking foreign languages, there are no subtitles at all. Also, at some points words like Monsieur will be translated to Mister, but other times will be implanted as Monsieur. I caught this a few times, and whether it’s an intended or not, it’s hard to say.
I have a hard time recommending or not recommending this movie, because it’s very dense. I know when I walked out of the theatre, I thought it was more Jackie Brown and less Reservoir Dogs; it seemed like a bit of a misnomer. However, after thinking about it and having conversations with people who loved it and other people who hated it, I think I’ve come to my conclusion. I did, in fact, really enjoy this movie, and it’s dripping with the style that I do so love in Tarentino films. The acting was superb, the characters were great, the direction was excellent, and the effects were tip-top, making this one more of Tarentino’s monolithic contributions to American cinema. Bravo.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
I'm carryin the wheel - the search for validation
It's the mid-day and I've managed to drag myself from my house into the humid, sticky day. Clouds cascading the sky, warm air peters into my window and blowing in my face. It's a nice day, and while most people would disregard this as a "shitty weather" type of day, I'm fine with it. I like the clouds and I like when it rains, and I like this humid but generally cooler weather that is associated with this type of climate at this time of year.
Then, all of a sudden, while passing by the old Exxon station, I see something that wipes the joy out of the moment. On the car in front of me, a sticker reads:
2 TEACH is
2 TOUCH a life
4 EVER
So, boys and girls, I pose a question. Why is it that teachers need to add this level of importance, this prestige to their title?
And I'm not, for fear of the over-cynicism of my future career, denigrating the importance of a teacher in a student's life. Teachers can teach many things, on and off the books. And yes, they can recognize that potential in students and give them an opportunity they couldn't have afforded in any other way. And this has happened.
However.
Why is it so necessary to strive to gain this kind of attention-seeking recognition? Teachers who do this seem to be the adult version of a girl who, say, creates drama or says she's pregnant to capture attention or to trap a guy in a relationship.
Teachers do good work. They educate, and education is important because the acquisition of it can lead to pursuing future careers, realizing the self, and affording opportunities. Furthermore, a teacher should theoretically care about their students (nevermind the experience I've had in the teacher's lounge, where teachers poke fun at their students for mistakes or personality or disabilities or whatever).
But ya know what? A lot of other professions do good things too. Policemen, when not being tools and ticketing for retarded bullshit, sometimes may or may not help people and preserve safety within a community. Plumbers may rotorooter your toilet so it's not blocked up with shit anymore. The librarian stocks books and shit. Et cetera. Most careers fill some sort of niche in society that is useful for one thing or another.
Yeah, there's that occasional situation where a teacher takes interest in a student and through their support the student, say, doesn't kill themselves or something. But really, this isn't a teacher saving a life. This is a person. Anyone could be this person.
Here I'm going to do what you're supposed to do with blogs, and refer to a different blog, which is to be found here. Here's an actual teacher talking about the trials and tribulations of her profession, but how it's so worth it because of the job she is able to do. Bullshit, I say. Everyone has hardships at their job and any person could act as a role model for a child.
A few translations:
"2 teach is 2 touch a life 4ever" = I have no other purpose in my life but my job which happens to be an indispensable service...therefore I'm important.
apple sticker on a car = A teacher feels it necessary to point out the fact of their self-worth
"a good teacher is long remembered" = a teacher may be remembered in passing for remembering something or having sweet projects or a cool personality.
Then, all of a sudden, while passing by the old Exxon station, I see something that wipes the joy out of the moment. On the car in front of me, a sticker reads:
2 TEACH is
2 TOUCH a life
4 EVER
So, boys and girls, I pose a question. Why is it that teachers need to add this level of importance, this prestige to their title?
And I'm not, for fear of the over-cynicism of my future career, denigrating the importance of a teacher in a student's life. Teachers can teach many things, on and off the books. And yes, they can recognize that potential in students and give them an opportunity they couldn't have afforded in any other way. And this has happened.
However.
Why is it so necessary to strive to gain this kind of attention-seeking recognition? Teachers who do this seem to be the adult version of a girl who, say, creates drama or says she's pregnant to capture attention or to trap a guy in a relationship.
Teachers do good work. They educate, and education is important because the acquisition of it can lead to pursuing future careers, realizing the self, and affording opportunities. Furthermore, a teacher should theoretically care about their students (nevermind the experience I've had in the teacher's lounge, where teachers poke fun at their students for mistakes or personality or disabilities or whatever).
But ya know what? A lot of other professions do good things too. Policemen, when not being tools and ticketing for retarded bullshit, sometimes may or may not help people and preserve safety within a community. Plumbers may rotorooter your toilet so it's not blocked up with shit anymore. The librarian stocks books and shit. Et cetera. Most careers fill some sort of niche in society that is useful for one thing or another.
Yeah, there's that occasional situation where a teacher takes interest in a student and through their support the student, say, doesn't kill themselves or something. But really, this isn't a teacher saving a life. This is a person. Anyone could be this person.
Here I'm going to do what you're supposed to do with blogs, and refer to a different blog, which is to be found here. Here's an actual teacher talking about the trials and tribulations of her profession, but how it's so worth it because of the job she is able to do. Bullshit, I say. Everyone has hardships at their job and any person could act as a role model for a child.
A few translations:
"2 teach is 2 touch a life 4ever" = I have no other purpose in my life but my job which happens to be an indispensable service...therefore I'm important.
apple sticker on a car = A teacher feels it necessary to point out the fact of their self-worth
"a good teacher is long remembered" = a teacher may be remembered in passing for remembering something or having sweet projects or a cool personality.
Monday, July 20, 2009
From the desk of Yeshua - male personalities through piss
There are three types of guys.
1) The guy who pisses on the seat and doesn't clean it up
2) The guy who will only clean up the piss he has left.
3) The guy who will piss on the seat, and clean up others' piss also.
Sure, this is kind of silly, but I think it works as a metaphor.
1. These are the selfish guys, who piss all over the world, so to speak. Napoleonic and warmongery, these men take and take, and have a brash, egocentric philosophy on the world.
2. These guys are individualists, and while they are at least responsible for their own actions, there's an implied weakness in them. Because of this weakness, they inherently bear a grudge to the world for which problems arise, and are bothered by the other two categories. Egocentric in their own way, they only take responsibility for themselves.
3. Perceived as the most pathetic guys, these Gandhi-loving (and often-quoting) individuals take the world upon their shoulders.
What is clear is that all these are flawed, and obviously there's no such thing as a good man without any time of inherent.
And I'm tired of writing this
1) The guy who pisses on the seat and doesn't clean it up
2) The guy who will only clean up the piss he has left.
3) The guy who will piss on the seat, and clean up others' piss also.
Sure, this is kind of silly, but I think it works as a metaphor.
1. These are the selfish guys, who piss all over the world, so to speak. Napoleonic and warmongery, these men take and take, and have a brash, egocentric philosophy on the world.
2. These guys are individualists, and while they are at least responsible for their own actions, there's an implied weakness in them. Because of this weakness, they inherently bear a grudge to the world for which problems arise, and are bothered by the other two categories. Egocentric in their own way, they only take responsibility for themselves.
3. Perceived as the most pathetic guys, these Gandhi-loving (and often-quoting) individuals take the world upon their shoulders.
What is clear is that all these are flawed, and obviously there's no such thing as a good man without any time of inherent.
And I'm tired of writing this
Thursday, July 2, 2009
The undeniable apathy
So as summer passes by and fail to meet my personal deadlines in pretty much any aspect, I find myself wondering, "Why?"
I realize apathy itself as a word is something that makes people groan. It makes me groan when I hear it. I think it's just attached itself to that emo or that lazy person who uses it to transfer responsibility away from themselves.
Right now I find myself in an on-campus computer lab. I was basically just a TA for a class as part of my work for our writing center. It was great, but I still have a sorta reticence to interfere and to check on students when they're working. The prof was pretty encouraging.
I find myself very often fretting about student teaching. Day by day, what will I do? My coop has given me these resources but I still have yet to really get into what I'm going to do day by day. And what's more mystifying is I seem to just be blowing off my responsibilities in it.
There's some kind of illogical duality here...why would I not work on something I'm worried about? It seems more complicated than laziness; it feels like some sort of defense mechanism. I'm really just...afraid, I guess. I kinda fucked up on my junior bloc experience, and I'm real worried this shit isn't gonna go well, and my coop is just very laissez-faire, and it makes me nervous to experiment.
I dunno.
Other than that, Summer has been the same. I don't know why people always think during the school year that summer will be so awesome. It never is. Summer is boring because instead of the 20-30 friends you normally have around that can bullshit around school schedules, there's 3-5 friends that are usually working heavily or doing nothing and bored. I have my own ways of coping, and they're pretty successful. I wow, and I wow hard. It's been good, despite my account being hacked recently; instead, I've been playing an an alternate character. I got my own back recently, and am planning my three day work week in that regard.
I'm tutoring and kinda (?) working at Average Joe's. I haven't calle dthem this week for availability, but it's not like I have any repurcussions for shitting all over them. My job is awful and great at the same time.
Writing-wise, I've done my normal in-class exposition. Right now I've been on-and-off excited about a series. I wrote sort of a prologue to what could be a large collection of stories (and really seems like more the opening to a television series) about four guys who move far away. Call them expatriates; these guys for whatever reason felt held down in their former places of residence, and now the world is open to them after moving. Of course, this is based upon my often preoccupation with the idea that this area is shit, and I can go pretty much anywhere else and it would be monumentally better in every regard. It's not so much in a blind idealism way as it sounds. This area just has nothing spectacular about it, and there are so many better place I could be than here. I've wasted this part of my life in Millersville at a mediocre university. And it would just sadden me endlessly if I didn't believe in some sort of religious repeat system (call it reincarnation if you will). However, I don't need to continue living in this place that I don't like at all. I need to get out of here, and my characters felt the same way.
Why do people want to stay here? What is so great about it? Why do people go away to college to open up endless possibilities for themselves just to move back to their hometown. Ugh. I'll probably write the prologue here when I have time, but now I have class. Later.
"The truth is is I just hate when people are who others expect them to be"
I realize apathy itself as a word is something that makes people groan. It makes me groan when I hear it. I think it's just attached itself to that emo or that lazy person who uses it to transfer responsibility away from themselves.
Right now I find myself in an on-campus computer lab. I was basically just a TA for a class as part of my work for our writing center. It was great, but I still have a sorta reticence to interfere and to check on students when they're working. The prof was pretty encouraging.
I find myself very often fretting about student teaching. Day by day, what will I do? My coop has given me these resources but I still have yet to really get into what I'm going to do day by day. And what's more mystifying is I seem to just be blowing off my responsibilities in it.
There's some kind of illogical duality here...why would I not work on something I'm worried about? It seems more complicated than laziness; it feels like some sort of defense mechanism. I'm really just...afraid, I guess. I kinda fucked up on my junior bloc experience, and I'm real worried this shit isn't gonna go well, and my coop is just very laissez-faire, and it makes me nervous to experiment.
I dunno.
Other than that, Summer has been the same. I don't know why people always think during the school year that summer will be so awesome. It never is. Summer is boring because instead of the 20-30 friends you normally have around that can bullshit around school schedules, there's 3-5 friends that are usually working heavily or doing nothing and bored. I have my own ways of coping, and they're pretty successful. I wow, and I wow hard. It's been good, despite my account being hacked recently; instead, I've been playing an an alternate character. I got my own back recently, and am planning my three day work week in that regard.
I'm tutoring and kinda (?) working at Average Joe's. I haven't calle dthem this week for availability, but it's not like I have any repurcussions for shitting all over them. My job is awful and great at the same time.
Writing-wise, I've done my normal in-class exposition. Right now I've been on-and-off excited about a series. I wrote sort of a prologue to what could be a large collection of stories (and really seems like more the opening to a television series) about four guys who move far away. Call them expatriates; these guys for whatever reason felt held down in their former places of residence, and now the world is open to them after moving. Of course, this is based upon my often preoccupation with the idea that this area is shit, and I can go pretty much anywhere else and it would be monumentally better in every regard. It's not so much in a blind idealism way as it sounds. This area just has nothing spectacular about it, and there are so many better place I could be than here. I've wasted this part of my life in Millersville at a mediocre university. And it would just sadden me endlessly if I didn't believe in some sort of religious repeat system (call it reincarnation if you will). However, I don't need to continue living in this place that I don't like at all. I need to get out of here, and my characters felt the same way.
Why do people want to stay here? What is so great about it? Why do people go away to college to open up endless possibilities for themselves just to move back to their hometown. Ugh. I'll probably write the prologue here when I have time, but now I have class. Later.
"The truth is is I just hate when people are who others expect them to be"
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Consummation
Here I am, once again, expatriated to another blog. It seems every time I do something new with these I feel as though I have something important to say (clearly a delusion of the mind). So, I'm going to start this one out a little differently. Maybe it would be appropriate to reflect on my previous experiences with blogging.
1. The first was Xanga. Why, why, why, why did I do this? Xanga was like Myspace, but instead of the constant hitting on of girls by many, many creepy men, Xanga was more of a self-indulgance. Xanga was a lot of immature people quoting songs they liked, adding scripts for italics or bold at certain parts to make them seem particularly important. Xanga was about why people hated their life or themselves, or admired this or that cliche. I'd say it was emo, but taht's just a reflection. It was the mouthpiece for every young teen, emo class or not. And mine still exists. Ew. I won't link it, but I'll quote a few choice passages.
From September 1, 2003
and this gem...
From August 24, 2003
"Lot's goin on, I spose...most notably the starting of school in, yeah...three days. Probably should go out and buy some pencils or something. (shrugs) This year's gonna suck. Didn't get my damned AP English and I didn't get Spanish III. Bastards. I don't wanna take PE2 or World of Foods. Fucking stupid. Oh well. Borrowed X-Wing Alliance from Travis, felt the need to play it. Oh, man..forgot what a great engine this game is on. Anyways, 21 and 7 on my best Warcraft account. Mann...I'm not gonna have time to play this year...sucks. And my friends, you've made this summer great. If you need help, as always, I'm here. Someone to listen to, for a shoulder to cry on, whatever. Yeah... "
Yech. I sucked. There's more embarassing things I would rather not show on here. If nothing else, Xanga still exists to remind us how fucking retarded we were in middle/high school. Oftentimes, my girlfriend and I will discuss various aspects of our earlier teenage experiences, usually stories that end with "...god, I was so lame." Most of those things are pretty prevalant on my Xanga.
2. Myspace was a later foray. It dominated much of my high school and early college blogging experience. Myspace, known to some as a place for friends, is moreso a network where attention-seeking girls can post scandalous pictures of themselves, then complain about trashy guys hitting on them. I went through a few myspace phases, I guess you could call them. I'd say early on, my myspace was no better than my xanga, only a haven of complaining, bullshit philosophy, and lyrics. Then I decided to nurse my writing talent into it, and use its blogging function to write stories. They were mostly small stories about this or that fucked up situation. My writing style really started developing from these, as well as my mentor texts of vonnegut and palahniuk as I got older.
I still have my myspace. I don't use it, except for an occasional drunk blog.
3. Vox was almost a misnomer. Great customization options and a seemingly artistic community, but ultimately unsuccessful. My only two vox posts were imported to Myspace.
So, anyways. That's the lame history of my blogging. And I have now consummated blogspot with my first blog. Yep.
1. The first was Xanga. Why, why, why, why did I do this? Xanga was like Myspace, but instead of the constant hitting on of girls by many, many creepy men, Xanga was more of a self-indulgance. Xanga was a lot of immature people quoting songs they liked, adding scripts for italics or bold at certain parts to make them seem particularly important. Xanga was about why people hated their life or themselves, or admired this or that cliche. I'd say it was emo, but taht's just a reflection. It was the mouthpiece for every young teen, emo class or not. And mine still exists. Ew. I won't link it, but I'll quote a few choice passages.
From September 1, 2003
| First football game today, and it was also the first time since my surgery two weeks ago that I was allowed to play my trumpet. I..er..sucked. Probably just because I've been out of the game for two weeks, so my usual practice should bring me back up to where I was. I hope. So, yeah, depression lately...that sucks. You know what the problem is...it's basically the same fucking thing going on for the past..oh...3 years, but with a new exciting twist. Fucking shit |
and this gem...
From August 24, 2003
"Lot's goin on, I spose...most notably the starting of school in, yeah...three days. Probably should go out and buy some pencils or something. (shrugs) This year's gonna suck. Didn't get my damned AP English and I didn't get Spanish III. Bastards. I don't wanna take PE2 or World of Foods. Fucking stupid. Oh well. Borrowed X-Wing Alliance from Travis, felt the need to play it. Oh, man..forgot what a great engine this game is on. Anyways, 21 and 7 on my best Warcraft account. Mann...I'm not gonna have time to play this year...sucks. And my friends, you've made this summer great. If you need help, as always, I'm here. Someone to listen to, for a shoulder to cry on, whatever. Yeah... "
Yech. I sucked. There's more embarassing things I would rather not show on here. If nothing else, Xanga still exists to remind us how fucking retarded we were in middle/high school. Oftentimes, my girlfriend and I will discuss various aspects of our earlier teenage experiences, usually stories that end with "...god, I was so lame." Most of those things are pretty prevalant on my Xanga.
2. Myspace was a later foray. It dominated much of my high school and early college blogging experience. Myspace, known to some as a place for friends, is moreso a network where attention-seeking girls can post scandalous pictures of themselves, then complain about trashy guys hitting on them. I went through a few myspace phases, I guess you could call them. I'd say early on, my myspace was no better than my xanga, only a haven of complaining, bullshit philosophy, and lyrics. Then I decided to nurse my writing talent into it, and use its blogging function to write stories. They were mostly small stories about this or that fucked up situation. My writing style really started developing from these, as well as my mentor texts of vonnegut and palahniuk as I got older.
I still have my myspace. I don't use it, except for an occasional drunk blog.
3. Vox was almost a misnomer. Great customization options and a seemingly artistic community, but ultimately unsuccessful. My only two vox posts were imported to Myspace.
So, anyways. That's the lame history of my blogging. And I have now consummated blogspot with my first blog. Yep.
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