So as a potential cure for my seasonal depression, I thought that maybe I should go back to writing- finally.
Wow, I don't even remember the last time that I posted! It all seems to be a vague memory simply floating around in my mind. It actually reminds me of something I just received in the mail: my letter to myself. Now I had written this long, fairly vague, and in all actuality, quite useless letter to myself last year in Sociology. Ms. Syme had told us that she would be mailing our letters to us this Christmas as she collected our hastily-written and much procrastinated scribbles as well as that of our bestest friends. Now back that of our bestest friends... So, Alison and Nate both wrote me letters. Now, I'm not quite sure if this is a proverb or not, but there really should be something about "You can judge a character by the style and content of their writing," or something to that effect. Simply from reading those letters I could see that other than perhaps the latest situation at hand, or the juicy gossip of the now, nothing had changed, and for that matter, nothing will. It gives me immense confidence to realize that in 4 years as I am awaiting my graduation from college (probably with not nearly as much pleasure as I have awaiting my departure from Athens High School), that Nate will still be complaining that I "heavily persuaded" him into doing something last minute that he very well absolutely did not want to do.
There is so much more to write, so so much more. But as I feel my eyelids droop, I sense that deep within me, that writer's block that had situated itself so comfortably during my attempts to write college essays, may have nudged. Albiet slightly, but who knows? Maybe all those pent-up thoughts, mirroring the forthcoming wind and ice, will simply not deign to be contained in my head anymore and release in a torrent of words.
Perhaps?
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Summerness
Finally. Summer.
Actually, that's a lie. It has technically been 17 days since it has been summer, but I don't know if I can even really count the end of June as summer. I mean, who does? It always seems like the end of June is kinda, I don't know, the "lost days". You know what I'm talking about, the days where you basically laze around and do nothing but scheme for what you are going to accomplish, and eat. Oh yeah, I forgot, the days where you eat whatever is in from of you, not caring the nutritional value and how incredibly fat it is going to make you (okay, you care, but honestly, not nearly enough to actually do something about it) and then wondering why the hell are you still starving after eating an entire bar of chocolate and a bag of tostitos with salsa.
But I digress.
At the moment I am faced with a momentous time in the history of me- past, present and future.
College.
I know that I have fretted about it before, but that was before it was imminent. It is imminent now but surprisingly, it still has yet to feel real. I know this can't be good, but I recognize the "non-goodness" of it and I am preparing myself for the upcoming blow that I am sure will hit me like an 18-wheeler on the freeway. Oh I am GREATLY excited.
So for the past couple days, I have been feverishly checking commonapp.org and the different college websites to see whether or not their "stuff" is up yet. It is. I looked. I'm scared.
After so long, this is it! The big one! *insert whatever other cliche you'd like here*
And it's freaking overwhelming..
So we'll see.
I just going to sit here and try to be inspired. Unfortunately, I cannot command inspiration so I'll be sitting here for who knows how long. I'll update soon, and hopefully with a more eloquent post than this..
(this was sort of word vomit don't you think?)
btw, Nate, see! I did update! I'm just a couple months late...
w00t!
Actually, that's a lie. It has technically been 17 days since it has been summer, but I don't know if I can even really count the end of June as summer. I mean, who does? It always seems like the end of June is kinda, I don't know, the "lost days". You know what I'm talking about, the days where you basically laze around and do nothing but scheme for what you are going to accomplish, and eat. Oh yeah, I forgot, the days where you eat whatever is in from of you, not caring the nutritional value and how incredibly fat it is going to make you (okay, you care, but honestly, not nearly enough to actually do something about it) and then wondering why the hell are you still starving after eating an entire bar of chocolate and a bag of tostitos with salsa.
But I digress.
At the moment I am faced with a momentous time in the history of me- past, present and future.
College.
I know that I have fretted about it before, but that was before it was imminent. It is imminent now but surprisingly, it still has yet to feel real. I know this can't be good, but I recognize the "non-goodness" of it and I am preparing myself for the upcoming blow that I am sure will hit me like an 18-wheeler on the freeway. Oh I am GREATLY excited.
So for the past couple days, I have been feverishly checking commonapp.org and the different college websites to see whether or not their "stuff" is up yet. It is. I looked. I'm scared.
After so long, this is it! The big one! *insert whatever other cliche you'd like here*
And it's freaking overwhelming..
So we'll see.
I just going to sit here and try to be inspired. Unfortunately, I cannot command inspiration so I'll be sitting here for who knows how long. I'll update soon, and hopefully with a more eloquent post than this..
(this was sort of word vomit don't you think?)
btw, Nate, see! I did update! I'm just a couple months late...
w00t!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
For Nate..
So my dear friend Nate became very angry at me because I have not updated my Blog in long time.
Well, a really REALLY long time..
Like over a month.
What can I say, I've been busy!
But that excuse never works when you are trying to get out of homework, so I guess it really shouldn't work here either.
So what HAS been going on?
There has been the ACT, SAT, failing at life, winning at life, nervous breakdowns, spontaneous dance parties, forensics, drumline, Tandav, the Charity dance, AMag, boys, one particular boy, fights, hugs, econ, obama, adventures... the list goes on an on.
How can one document life and give it justice?
Is it possible to record the outbusrts of joy, sudden sensations of sorrow, the smell of the fresh world right after the rain?
I will leave you, my dear dedicated readers to ponder this quandry.
Until later!
And Nate, I promise, I will write a longer post.
:)
Well, a really REALLY long time..
Like over a month.
What can I say, I've been busy!
But that excuse never works when you are trying to get out of homework, so I guess it really shouldn't work here either.
So what HAS been going on?
There has been the ACT, SAT, failing at life, winning at life, nervous breakdowns, spontaneous dance parties, forensics, drumline, Tandav, the Charity dance, AMag, boys, one particular boy, fights, hugs, econ, obama, adventures... the list goes on an on.
How can one document life and give it justice?
Is it possible to record the outbusrts of joy, sudden sensations of sorrow, the smell of the fresh world right after the rain?
I will leave you, my dear dedicated readers to ponder this quandry.
Until later!
And Nate, I promise, I will write a longer post.
:)
Monday, February 9, 2009
Everyone likes to think that they are a good person.
I'm sure that no one out there really TRULY wants to be know as "that nasty person" or whatever. People want to believe that they are doing good to the world, not screwing it over. I mean, there are those few sadistic psychopaths who want to screw everyone over, but even if you look into their psyche, they believe they are doing what is "right". Hell, I bet even Hitler, though completely warped, thought he was doing what was best for the world.
I have always thought that I was a pretty good person. I felt that I was more understanding, more accepting and more intelligent than everyone else. Looking back, that just proves how un-understanding/accepting/intelligent I really was. In fact, my vanity is my biggest flaw and causes most of my problems.
So I'm sure you all can guess that it came as kind of a shock to me when I realized that I was NOT the person I thought I was. In fact, it was kind of like in those cartoons when you see the frying pan smashing into the toon's skull and there are birds twittering in a circle. Well, the frying pan was smashing and the birds were twittering.
The person whom I had thought that I was only existed in my mind. I knew that I was that person but no one else did because that was not the person I portrayed. I spoke out against gossip, judging people, being silly and most of all hypocrisy, but that is exactly what I was becoming.
It was awful.
When I realized that people saw me as this empty-headed bimbo I was to say, at the least, disturbed. Everything that I stood against was now my image? How the hell did I get myself into this situation?
Well, I guess you could say I live a double life. Other than my family (my immediate family at that), I think there is a grand total of 2, maybe 3 people who actually know me. Both sides of me are very much mine but just different aspects of the same being. There is the one side of me who is the social butterfly, talks to people, loves attention, and is loud confident and melodramatic. But then there is the part of me that does not like people at all, who sits and watches rather than talks and someone who would rather curl up with a good book than anything else. Finding a happy medium is.. difficult.
People see what they want to see but they can only only see what you show. I think that by acknowledging my faults, I'm getting somewhere, right? I've decided that I'm going to try and just be. That's right, just be; not be better or be myself, because honestly, I don't even know who myself is.
Hopefully, one of these days I will find who I really am, but for now, I'll just hope that I get close.
I'm sure that no one out there really TRULY wants to be know as "that nasty person" or whatever. People want to believe that they are doing good to the world, not screwing it over. I mean, there are those few sadistic psychopaths who want to screw everyone over, but even if you look into their psyche, they believe they are doing what is "right". Hell, I bet even Hitler, though completely warped, thought he was doing what was best for the world.
I have always thought that I was a pretty good person. I felt that I was more understanding, more accepting and more intelligent than everyone else. Looking back, that just proves how un-understanding/accepting/intelligent I really was. In fact, my vanity is my biggest flaw and causes most of my problems.
So I'm sure you all can guess that it came as kind of a shock to me when I realized that I was NOT the person I thought I was. In fact, it was kind of like in those cartoons when you see the frying pan smashing into the toon's skull and there are birds twittering in a circle. Well, the frying pan was smashing and the birds were twittering.
The person whom I had thought that I was only existed in my mind. I knew that I was that person but no one else did because that was not the person I portrayed. I spoke out against gossip, judging people, being silly and most of all hypocrisy, but that is exactly what I was becoming.
It was awful.
When I realized that people saw me as this empty-headed bimbo I was to say, at the least, disturbed. Everything that I stood against was now my image? How the hell did I get myself into this situation?
Well, I guess you could say I live a double life. Other than my family (my immediate family at that), I think there is a grand total of 2, maybe 3 people who actually know me. Both sides of me are very much mine but just different aspects of the same being. There is the one side of me who is the social butterfly, talks to people, loves attention, and is loud confident and melodramatic. But then there is the part of me that does not like people at all, who sits and watches rather than talks and someone who would rather curl up with a good book than anything else. Finding a happy medium is.. difficult.
People see what they want to see but they can only only see what you show. I think that by acknowledging my faults, I'm getting somewhere, right? I've decided that I'm going to try and just be. That's right, just be; not be better or be myself, because honestly, I don't even know who myself is.
Hopefully, one of these days I will find who I really am, but for now, I'll just hope that I get close.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Why yes, we are Textually Involved.
I admit it. I am a textually active teen. But then again, aren't we all?
When you are walking down the streets, shopping at the mall or even just chilling at home, you are bound to see fingers flying over a miniature keyboard: texting, of course.
Apparently the record for the is 160 letters in 45 seconds. I say apparently because I gleaned this information from wikipedia, and we all know how incredibly accurate wikipedia is. Everyone may not text as fast as 3.5 letters per minute but I can guarantee that the majority of the American Youth texts, not even mentioning the adults who do as well. But yet, I am reprimanded many times for the amount of texts that I send and how constantly. But maybe my parents do have a point, maybe texting really isn't healthy.
Does texting ruin a relationship or does it help?
Many of the people that I consider my closest friends have gotten close to me only through texting. For example, my best friend Nate. (I know you are probably reading this and I doubt that you care so I'm using you as an example) I can guarantee that there is absolutely no way that we would have nearly as good friends as we are now if it wasn't for the fact that we both had the Verizon Unlimited Texting plan. I mean sure, we were both in Drumline and had like one class together, but if you really look at it, that's about it. To be honest, I don't even remember when I got his number or when I started texting him, but that's not the point. The point is that I did. And we became best buddies through these past three years. When I first met him, I actually thought that he had no friends and I was doing him a favor by making him my project to be my best friend by January of that year. Looking back, I was probably the one who had no friends and needed the favor.. Anyways, imagine the same situation but no texting. I for one could never gotten him to talk to me if I didn't text him constantly. And I wouldn't be able to bother him constantly if I had to rely on just seeing him every once in a while at school. But unlike a lot of textual relationships that are super close on the phone but then incredibly awkward off, I think it turned out rather nicely.
But Mitch on the other hand...
When you are on opposite sides of a phone, with no voice to betray you or no awkward silences to fill, you are suddenly a whole different person. You're braver, bolder, sassier than you have ever been. You have the time to be witty and make sure things make sense.
I abhor talking on the phone. If I wanted to talk to someone, in preference order, I would want to either see them in person or text. I'm big about body language and signals, that kinda stuff is obsolete when talking on the phone. When talking in person, physical affection is permissible which makes awkward silences well, less awkward.
But when you are texting, there is always the presence of that person with you. You're always connected. And that is another ambiguous situation. Do you really want your best friend's bf constantly connected to you? You can always pretend you didn't get the text, but then you risk being rude.
The major problem with texting is probably its best attribute, you're not WITH the person.
How do you possibly know what their tone is, what is there voice inflection, does the exclamation points mean they're excited or furious (there are those who also don't use any punctuation which is 10 times more aggravating *cough cough*)? The whole thing is a quandary. Sarcasm is completely lost, as are tears. Is constant conversation worth the loss of emotion?
With conversation devoid of emotion what does love mean? What does hate mean? What does I want you mean? "I Love You" is thrown around like an old sock. Does it even have a meaning?
I guess all I can say is that relationships are built and and ended through texting and sometimes they are real, but sometimes it seems like they just fade into your memory like a figment of your imagination.
Yes, I am textually active and probably will always be, along with the rest of my generation. I just hope that we don't all lose a bit of our humanity transposing warm feelings into digital messages.
After all, I love you all, but can you tell?
When you are walking down the streets, shopping at the mall or even just chilling at home, you are bound to see fingers flying over a miniature keyboard: texting, of course.
Apparently the record for the is 160 letters in 45 seconds. I say apparently because I gleaned this information from wikipedia, and we all know how incredibly accurate wikipedia is. Everyone may not text as fast as 3.5 letters per minute but I can guarantee that the majority of the American Youth texts, not even mentioning the adults who do as well. But yet, I am reprimanded many times for the amount of texts that I send and how constantly. But maybe my parents do have a point, maybe texting really isn't healthy.
Does texting ruin a relationship or does it help?
Many of the people that I consider my closest friends have gotten close to me only through texting. For example, my best friend Nate. (I know you are probably reading this and I doubt that you care so I'm using you as an example) I can guarantee that there is absolutely no way that we would have nearly as good friends as we are now if it wasn't for the fact that we both had the Verizon Unlimited Texting plan. I mean sure, we were both in Drumline and had like one class together, but if you really look at it, that's about it. To be honest, I don't even remember when I got his number or when I started texting him, but that's not the point. The point is that I did. And we became best buddies through these past three years. When I first met him, I actually thought that he had no friends and I was doing him a favor by making him my project to be my best friend by January of that year. Looking back, I was probably the one who had no friends and needed the favor.. Anyways, imagine the same situation but no texting. I for one could never gotten him to talk to me if I didn't text him constantly. And I wouldn't be able to bother him constantly if I had to rely on just seeing him every once in a while at school. But unlike a lot of textual relationships that are super close on the phone but then incredibly awkward off, I think it turned out rather nicely.
But Mitch on the other hand...
When you are on opposite sides of a phone, with no voice to betray you or no awkward silences to fill, you are suddenly a whole different person. You're braver, bolder, sassier than you have ever been. You have the time to be witty and make sure things make sense.
I abhor talking on the phone. If I wanted to talk to someone, in preference order, I would want to either see them in person or text. I'm big about body language and signals, that kinda stuff is obsolete when talking on the phone. When talking in person, physical affection is permissible which makes awkward silences well, less awkward.
But when you are texting, there is always the presence of that person with you. You're always connected. And that is another ambiguous situation. Do you really want your best friend's bf constantly connected to you? You can always pretend you didn't get the text, but then you risk being rude.
The major problem with texting is probably its best attribute, you're not WITH the person.
How do you possibly know what their tone is, what is there voice inflection, does the exclamation points mean they're excited or furious (there are those who also don't use any punctuation which is 10 times more aggravating *cough cough*)? The whole thing is a quandary. Sarcasm is completely lost, as are tears. Is constant conversation worth the loss of emotion?
With conversation devoid of emotion what does love mean? What does hate mean? What does I want you mean? "I Love You" is thrown around like an old sock. Does it even have a meaning?
I guess all I can say is that relationships are built and and ended through texting and sometimes they are real, but sometimes it seems like they just fade into your memory like a figment of your imagination.
Yes, I am textually active and probably will always be, along with the rest of my generation. I just hope that we don't all lose a bit of our humanity transposing warm feelings into digital messages.
After all, I love you all, but can you tell?
Friday, January 16, 2009
What REALLY makes me sick.. ugh.
I feel slightly bad that I haven't written in a couple days, but I honestly did not know what to write about. Sure, many things have happened since Wednesday: an unpleasant surprise, a bunch of laughs, ridiculous math problems, 100%'s, awkward moments, broken hearts, a couple of books, just to name a few. But I really didn't know whether I wanted to write about it or not. So I decided I will write about my biggest issue yet. In fact, as I think about it right now, I'm getting the shakes and my stomach feels very very sick. What else could I be talking about?
College.
Duh!
It's my most dreaded and anticipated subject. It's on my mind 24/7 whether I like it or not and I do believe the stress that is stemmed from it is the number one cause of my breakouts. Will I get into college or not? If I do get in, will I fit in? Will I be able to pay for it? And most importantly, how will I know if I made the right choice?
So first things first. Will I actually get in?
My dream school is University of Chicago. It seems like my perfect school and I want to get in so SO very much. The only problem is that actual getting in. It's a very tough school, and though it has a higher acceptance rate than Yale (which has a whopping 8%) it is still very hard to get in. I don't have a 4.0. I lost that coming in as a freshman. In fact, I have a 3.7. Not good, not good at all. My test scores are OK. I have around a 2010-2100 on the SAT as of now and when I took the ACT I got a 29 (in awful circumstances though, I mean really, who makes Velociraptor noises in the middle of the ACT? Are they stupid?? Wait, they are. Never mind.). Many people think that that's great and that they would be happy with that. But what people tend to forget is that I am close friends with the smartest kids in the school. I am willing to bet money that Alison is the smartest kid of our class, and she's my best friend!
There's a LOT of pressure on me.
I'm not an academical genius (far from it in fact), or incredibly talented at anything. But I dream big, and when I say big, I mean BIG. I want to go somewhere in my life. I want my name to be written down in history books and I'm willing to work my ass off to make sure that happens. I want my name to be such a legacy that people will still know my name a 100,000 years from now. But if I want to go somewhere in life, I need to start off on the right foot and that means going to only the best colleges. Right?
My GPA is pretty low at a 3.7/3.6 and my test scores are all right. What are things I have working for me? Well, I can write a good essay, I do a ridiculous amount of extracurricular activities, and I really care. If I really love something, I will put my whole heart into it and never look back. True, it's very hard to find something I care that strongly about, but if I do feel strongly about it, it will happen.
But is that good enough to get me in?
I know that I can easily get into schools like Central or State, but I don't want to go there. I really want to go to a place where I am challenged to my breaking point. I have realized that I am the strongest in the face of adversity and I need to be somewhere that will help me bloom to my fullest. I just need to get in, and I can figure out the rest.
I really don't know which college I'll fit in to. I know a couple things: no medical or engineering colleges, preferably as little Greek/athletic life as possible, most likely a small liberal arts college with a Core program, easy access to professors, and most importantly, an intelligent student body. As snobby as it sounds, I want nothing more than to surround myself with intelligent people and distance myself from stupid people as much as I possibly can. I abhor ignorance and stupidity. I may not be all that smart, but I'd rather be the dumbest of the bunch and learn as much as I possibly can than be the smartest person in a group but have to dumb down to everyone else's level.
Paying for college will be difficult. I'm happy that my parents are completely honest with me so I'm not living in some fantasy. They don't have the money. They can't afford to put me through college without completely screwing over Sree, my baby brother. And I understand, I will probably have to work my way through school as well as applying to various scholarships, grants, and most likely end up taking a loan. It sucks. There really is no other word for it. But I have to do it. In the wise words of Keoleian, No amount is too much for an education. And there really isn't. True with the current economy, it would be nice to be not completely in debt, but if you are uneducated how could you ever be financially successful? I'm a firm believer in the self-made man and though there are awful situations people can be thrown into, people can always make the best out of it and education is probably one of the clearest paths to success.
I'll be taking a practice SAT tomorrow morning, going to dance class, choreographing a dance, writing a couple essays and then studying my butt off for midterms.
Not much fun but necessary.
I hope that one day, I will look back, and laugh. But until then, here I'll be, working towards greatness.
College.
Duh!
It's my most dreaded and anticipated subject. It's on my mind 24/7 whether I like it or not and I do believe the stress that is stemmed from it is the number one cause of my breakouts. Will I get into college or not? If I do get in, will I fit in? Will I be able to pay for it? And most importantly, how will I know if I made the right choice?
So first things first. Will I actually get in?
My dream school is University of Chicago. It seems like my perfect school and I want to get in so SO very much. The only problem is that actual getting in. It's a very tough school, and though it has a higher acceptance rate than Yale (which has a whopping 8%) it is still very hard to get in. I don't have a 4.0. I lost that coming in as a freshman. In fact, I have a 3.7. Not good, not good at all. My test scores are OK. I have around a 2010-2100 on the SAT as of now and when I took the ACT I got a 29 (in awful circumstances though, I mean really, who makes Velociraptor noises in the middle of the ACT? Are they stupid?? Wait, they are. Never mind.). Many people think that that's great and that they would be happy with that. But what people tend to forget is that I am close friends with the smartest kids in the school. I am willing to bet money that Alison is the smartest kid of our class, and she's my best friend!
There's a LOT of pressure on me.
I'm not an academical genius (far from it in fact), or incredibly talented at anything. But I dream big, and when I say big, I mean BIG. I want to go somewhere in my life. I want my name to be written down in history books and I'm willing to work my ass off to make sure that happens. I want my name to be such a legacy that people will still know my name a 100,000 years from now. But if I want to go somewhere in life, I need to start off on the right foot and that means going to only the best colleges. Right?
My GPA is pretty low at a 3.7/3.6 and my test scores are all right. What are things I have working for me? Well, I can write a good essay, I do a ridiculous amount of extracurricular activities, and I really care. If I really love something, I will put my whole heart into it and never look back. True, it's very hard to find something I care that strongly about, but if I do feel strongly about it, it will happen.
But is that good enough to get me in?
I know that I can easily get into schools like Central or State, but I don't want to go there. I really want to go to a place where I am challenged to my breaking point. I have realized that I am the strongest in the face of adversity and I need to be somewhere that will help me bloom to my fullest. I just need to get in, and I can figure out the rest.
I really don't know which college I'll fit in to. I know a couple things: no medical or engineering colleges, preferably as little Greek/athletic life as possible, most likely a small liberal arts college with a Core program, easy access to professors, and most importantly, an intelligent student body. As snobby as it sounds, I want nothing more than to surround myself with intelligent people and distance myself from stupid people as much as I possibly can. I abhor ignorance and stupidity. I may not be all that smart, but I'd rather be the dumbest of the bunch and learn as much as I possibly can than be the smartest person in a group but have to dumb down to everyone else's level.
Paying for college will be difficult. I'm happy that my parents are completely honest with me so I'm not living in some fantasy. They don't have the money. They can't afford to put me through college without completely screwing over Sree, my baby brother. And I understand, I will probably have to work my way through school as well as applying to various scholarships, grants, and most likely end up taking a loan. It sucks. There really is no other word for it. But I have to do it. In the wise words of Keoleian, No amount is too much for an education. And there really isn't. True with the current economy, it would be nice to be not completely in debt, but if you are uneducated how could you ever be financially successful? I'm a firm believer in the self-made man and though there are awful situations people can be thrown into, people can always make the best out of it and education is probably one of the clearest paths to success.
I'll be taking a practice SAT tomorrow morning, going to dance class, choreographing a dance, writing a couple essays and then studying my butt off for midterms.
Not much fun but necessary.
I hope that one day, I will look back, and laugh. But until then, here I'll be, working towards greatness.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
I came home last night with a swollen/burned tongue, bleeding cheek, sprained neck, bruised arms, legs, and I'm pretty sure ribs, smelling like a foul mixture of smoke, beer, sweat and pot and lacking one shoe. But I can honestly say, last night was one of the best nights of my life.
Until yesterday, I was a virgin to concerts at all, let alone a SKA/Rock Concert. But seeing that Alison's birthday is on Wednesday, we had to do SOMETHING to celebrate it, and it just all worked out really well that Streetlight Manifesto and Reel Big Fish (our mutual favorite existing bands) just HAPPENED to be coming to Royal Oak Theatre on Tuesday! It all turned out very nice.
Of course, there was the whole convincing the parents to let me go part. (My dad didn't want me going to a concert unless I happened to be under his supervision... yeah, that kinda destroys the point of a concert doesn't it?) Somehow I worked it out, wheedling, pleading, promising the works. But I must say, it was all worth it. I'm an active member of popular culture now! It's exciting!! The whole deal would take FOREVER to write so here it is- The Ska Concert: Abridged.
The party consisted of Alison, Marie and I and we were ready to conquer. Marie was the only one with any experience. Actually, I think we can say she's the rocker pro among us. Alison's been to one other concert: Shania Twain. Not really rocker.. And then there's me, who has never really gone to a concert save Justo Llamas, the sexy Spaniard (actually he's from Argentina, I think) with the locks of blonde (totally dyed..) who sings Spanish vocab songs. Yeah, that doesn't really count.
We arrive at the Royal Oak Theatre giddy. Well, I was giddy with excitement, Alison I think a bit with trepidation. Marie was just pumped. The atmosphere as remarkable. At school, I've never truly fit in. Though I am incredibly social, I'm an outcast in my own social-ness. I guess you could say I'm eccentric? I'm the girl rocking mismatched knee-socks with a band hoodie and sneakers. But I fit right in. It never has really happened before to me, either I'm too Indian, or too American, or too punk, or too intellectual, but it was different this time. I fit in with everyone around me, and it was a nice feeling.
Marie told us there was no way we were moshing or crowd surfing. We were under her watch and knowing our luck, we'd end up in the hospital or getting arrested.
But that didn't last long.
The first band that came up was called Monkey Jacket. (Anyone reading this blog, let me just say, they are awesome! They're a local band so you wouldn't think but as soon as they were done with their set, I went outside and bought their CD. All three of them are incredibly talented and I can promise, they are going to be going places. When they they were playing, all I could do was stare and occasionally turn to Alison to say "omg.. they're really good!" Buy their CD. I did.) We were kinda just getting into the groove for that, just standing there and bouncing our knees keeping tempo. We got closer to the crowd for the next band, Tip the Van. (They all had matching haircuts which I thought was really cool).
Then it was Streetlight.
Looking back, I don't even remember much of what happened. I was in a daze, a stupor of complete bliss. I was in the center of the mosh pit and I got shoved and pushed and squished more times than I can remember. (Many times I'd be plastered to an incredibly hott guy which would be very very nice.) But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Standing there, you are one with the crowd. Everyone is just one massive body moving together in the passion for mutual delight. People were jumping, screaming, berserk-ing (that is what I call the dancing they do), anything! There was movement in everyone and it flowed to everyone around them. The crowd was a contradiction. They would push you around till you fell. But when you're down, they all help to get you back up just to push you down again. But no matter how many times or how hard you fell, there would always be someone willing to pick you up again. I guess that could be a metaphor of life.
I crowd-surfed 4 times in total between Streetlight Manifesto and Reel Big Fish. I'd just find 2 hefty-looking guys and tap them on the shoulder and point up. Up I would go! I would be thrown across the crowd to the front into the welcoming arms of security pulling me back upright. The last time no enough people held me so I fell. But two guys saw me coming and cushioned my fall (if I ever see them again, I need to thank them, they saved me from possible paralyzing). I thanked them profusely and they just shrugged it off and gave me hugs (one was very good-looking so I enjoyed it immensely) and continued to dance. I asked if they could throw me back up and I did. When I got to the front, my shoe ended up flying off and well, I never got it back.
Some lucky person gets to carry my shoe around as a trophy for the rest of their lives.
Congratulations.
I thought I would die, several times in fact. Dehydration; suffocation-that was a big one; pot/tobacco OD (it was all second-hand, I promise!); trampling; the works. But I didn't. I came out with several bruised body parts but more alive than ever.
I sit here, attempting to type though I hurt in every place imaginable, with nothing but good memories. I could barely talk due to all the injuries I took to the mouth and neck (burned my tongue, bit it, bit my cheek which started bleeding, sprained my neck, etc.). And, Drumline was a bitch seeing that I could barely move my arms but I proved that I'm more Man than half the guys there.
It's a nice feeling, I can tell you that.
Teen culture, accept me into your ranks, I am now one of you!
...
This morning, I awoke with 5 hours of sleep, sore and stiff limbs, a song in my heart, and a smile on my face.
Until yesterday, I was a virgin to concerts at all, let alone a SKA/Rock Concert. But seeing that Alison's birthday is on Wednesday, we had to do SOMETHING to celebrate it, and it just all worked out really well that Streetlight Manifesto and Reel Big Fish (our mutual favorite existing bands) just HAPPENED to be coming to Royal Oak Theatre on Tuesday! It all turned out very nice.
Of course, there was the whole convincing the parents to let me go part. (My dad didn't want me going to a concert unless I happened to be under his supervision... yeah, that kinda destroys the point of a concert doesn't it?) Somehow I worked it out, wheedling, pleading, promising the works. But I must say, it was all worth it. I'm an active member of popular culture now! It's exciting!! The whole deal would take FOREVER to write so here it is- The Ska Concert: Abridged.
The party consisted of Alison, Marie and I and we were ready to conquer. Marie was the only one with any experience. Actually, I think we can say she's the rocker pro among us. Alison's been to one other concert: Shania Twain. Not really rocker.. And then there's me, who has never really gone to a concert save Justo Llamas, the sexy Spaniard (actually he's from Argentina, I think) with the locks of blonde (totally dyed..) who sings Spanish vocab songs. Yeah, that doesn't really count.
We arrive at the Royal Oak Theatre giddy. Well, I was giddy with excitement, Alison I think a bit with trepidation. Marie was just pumped. The atmosphere as remarkable. At school, I've never truly fit in. Though I am incredibly social, I'm an outcast in my own social-ness. I guess you could say I'm eccentric? I'm the girl rocking mismatched knee-socks with a band hoodie and sneakers. But I fit right in. It never has really happened before to me, either I'm too Indian, or too American, or too punk, or too intellectual, but it was different this time. I fit in with everyone around me, and it was a nice feeling.
Marie told us there was no way we were moshing or crowd surfing. We were under her watch and knowing our luck, we'd end up in the hospital or getting arrested.
But that didn't last long.
The first band that came up was called Monkey Jacket. (Anyone reading this blog, let me just say, they are awesome! They're a local band so you wouldn't think but as soon as they were done with their set, I went outside and bought their CD. All three of them are incredibly talented and I can promise, they are going to be going places. When they they were playing, all I could do was stare and occasionally turn to Alison to say "omg.. they're really good!" Buy their CD. I did.) We were kinda just getting into the groove for that, just standing there and bouncing our knees keeping tempo. We got closer to the crowd for the next band, Tip the Van. (They all had matching haircuts which I thought was really cool).
Then it was Streetlight.
Looking back, I don't even remember much of what happened. I was in a daze, a stupor of complete bliss. I was in the center of the mosh pit and I got shoved and pushed and squished more times than I can remember. (Many times I'd be plastered to an incredibly hott guy which would be very very nice.) But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Standing there, you are one with the crowd. Everyone is just one massive body moving together in the passion for mutual delight. People were jumping, screaming, berserk-ing (that is what I call the dancing they do), anything! There was movement in everyone and it flowed to everyone around them. The crowd was a contradiction. They would push you around till you fell. But when you're down, they all help to get you back up just to push you down again. But no matter how many times or how hard you fell, there would always be someone willing to pick you up again. I guess that could be a metaphor of life.
I crowd-surfed 4 times in total between Streetlight Manifesto and Reel Big Fish. I'd just find 2 hefty-looking guys and tap them on the shoulder and point up. Up I would go! I would be thrown across the crowd to the front into the welcoming arms of security pulling me back upright. The last time no enough people held me so I fell. But two guys saw me coming and cushioned my fall (if I ever see them again, I need to thank them, they saved me from possible paralyzing). I thanked them profusely and they just shrugged it off and gave me hugs (one was very good-looking so I enjoyed it immensely) and continued to dance. I asked if they could throw me back up and I did. When I got to the front, my shoe ended up flying off and well, I never got it back.
Some lucky person gets to carry my shoe around as a trophy for the rest of their lives.
Congratulations.
I thought I would die, several times in fact. Dehydration; suffocation-that was a big one; pot/tobacco OD (it was all second-hand, I promise!); trampling; the works. But I didn't. I came out with several bruised body parts but more alive than ever.
I sit here, attempting to type though I hurt in every place imaginable, with nothing but good memories. I could barely talk due to all the injuries I took to the mouth and neck (burned my tongue, bit it, bit my cheek which started bleeding, sprained my neck, etc.). And, Drumline was a bitch seeing that I could barely move my arms but I proved that I'm more Man than half the guys there.
It's a nice feeling, I can tell you that.
Teen culture, accept me into your ranks, I am now one of you!
...
This morning, I awoke with 5 hours of sleep, sore and stiff limbs, a song in my heart, and a smile on my face.
Monday, January 12, 2009
"Loser!!" really?
SO, I am desperately trying to stay awake long enough to finish all my reviews for my amazing midterms! Hooray!! *note sarcasm* (my grandma says that sarcasm is the worst possible thing, but I can't help but use it.) It's a pain in the ass. but I really need to do well so I'm gonna do them anyways.
So today's question: What Does It Take to Be a Loser?
Is it to feel like a loser inside? Or maybe it is to be unethical and corrupt? Or maybe it is to just lose.. I don't know to be honest.
I have dealt with many people I believe to be losers in my life, and at times I feel like I'm the Biggest Loser, (no pun intended) but it seems now that the line between being a loser or not is blurred.
I have always thought that smokers are losers, but my grandpa's a smoker, and he is most definitly NOT a loser. Also, apparently, Sharukh Khan is a smoker. He can't POSSIBLY be a loser, can he?
There are people who act awful. There really is no other word for it, just awful. I tell myself that the reason why they act like complete jerks is because deep inside they are losers. But then, I examine their point of view and I see that though it may not be the good thing to do, it's understandable. Is that what justifies what is wrong or right? If it's understandable or not? As in the words of "They Both Reached For the Gun" from Chicago.
Understandable, understandable
Yes, it's perfectly understandable
Comprehensible, comprehensible
Not a bit reprehensible
It's so defensible!
But is it? At the moment, I'm dealing with a lot of people where I can't exactly place what I feel about them. It's like I want to like them, but at the same time, I don't know if I do. I see the decisions they make and how they affect the people around them and I feel sorry. There is no other word for it really. I feel sad that they do things that are gonna come around and take a nice big bite out of their ass. For the most part, I feel like I need to make sure that they don't do it, but I've realized thats not my job. That's God's job. And as much as I wish, I'm not God. (sorry if thats blasphemous..)
Then there are the people who make YOU feel like a loser. They way they treat you, the things they say, the looks they give you, whatever, it makes you want to crawl up into a tight ball and hide in the closet with a big tub of Ben and Jerrys. I don't even know if they do it intentionally, but there are people who do and I think that they are the worst people. The reason they are the worst is because they are usually the people you love and care about the most. They turn around and shoot down all your dreams or tell you that you are in truth a failure or that they don't trust you and suddenly everything that you ever believed comes crashing down.
And I can say, in truth, it is the most horrible feeling ever.
And suddenly, regardless of any previous notions of self-confidence, you are a loser.
As Nate told me, Just Walk Away. There is nothing else you can really do, you have to be able to look beyond and move on. I know, it sounds like a bunch of philosophy garbabge, but it's true. It will hurt, regardless, there is nothing to stop the hurt. But you fight with love. By surrounding yourself with people who will love you unconditionally (a special thank you to my cat Chalupa, no matter how many times I push him away, he will always love me just the same) you heal the hurt with love. As cheesy as this sounds, with love, you are never a loser.
My final words on the loser-phenomena is that everyone will have a little loser in them. But everyone has a winner in them too, everyone so the loser part never has to win. No one has to act "cool" to be accepted by his friends because he is scared he won't be accepted, no one has to be cruel to one person so no one will be cruel to them. Contrary to popular belief, it's just NOT necessary.
On a lighter note, I'll be going to my first concert tomorrow with Alison and Marie. (Well my first concert was actually Justo Llamas with my Spanish class, but I don't really count that..) It will be Streetlight Manifesto and Reel Big Fish who are definitly a couple of my favorite bands!! Marie promised we'd go crowd surfing, I must say that I am very very excited.
:)
Now, I should probably start my Math review which is sitting lonely in the corner just begging for my company... sad I know.
I leave you all and with the hope that this will be the Last Loser day ever!
So today's question: What Does It Take to Be a Loser?
Is it to feel like a loser inside? Or maybe it is to be unethical and corrupt? Or maybe it is to just lose.. I don't know to be honest.
I have dealt with many people I believe to be losers in my life, and at times I feel like I'm the Biggest Loser, (no pun intended) but it seems now that the line between being a loser or not is blurred.
I have always thought that smokers are losers, but my grandpa's a smoker, and he is most definitly NOT a loser. Also, apparently, Sharukh Khan is a smoker. He can't POSSIBLY be a loser, can he?
There are people who act awful. There really is no other word for it, just awful. I tell myself that the reason why they act like complete jerks is because deep inside they are losers. But then, I examine their point of view and I see that though it may not be the good thing to do, it's understandable. Is that what justifies what is wrong or right? If it's understandable or not? As in the words of "They Both Reached For the Gun" from Chicago.
Understandable, understandable
Yes, it's perfectly understandable
Comprehensible, comprehensible
Not a bit reprehensible
It's so defensible!
But is it? At the moment, I'm dealing with a lot of people where I can't exactly place what I feel about them. It's like I want to like them, but at the same time, I don't know if I do. I see the decisions they make and how they affect the people around them and I feel sorry. There is no other word for it really. I feel sad that they do things that are gonna come around and take a nice big bite out of their ass. For the most part, I feel like I need to make sure that they don't do it, but I've realized thats not my job. That's God's job. And as much as I wish, I'm not God. (sorry if thats blasphemous..)
Then there are the people who make YOU feel like a loser. They way they treat you, the things they say, the looks they give you, whatever, it makes you want to crawl up into a tight ball and hide in the closet with a big tub of Ben and Jerrys. I don't even know if they do it intentionally, but there are people who do and I think that they are the worst people. The reason they are the worst is because they are usually the people you love and care about the most. They turn around and shoot down all your dreams or tell you that you are in truth a failure or that they don't trust you and suddenly everything that you ever believed comes crashing down.
And I can say, in truth, it is the most horrible feeling ever.
And suddenly, regardless of any previous notions of self-confidence, you are a loser.
As Nate told me, Just Walk Away. There is nothing else you can really do, you have to be able to look beyond and move on. I know, it sounds like a bunch of philosophy garbabge, but it's true. It will hurt, regardless, there is nothing to stop the hurt. But you fight with love. By surrounding yourself with people who will love you unconditionally (a special thank you to my cat Chalupa, no matter how many times I push him away, he will always love me just the same) you heal the hurt with love. As cheesy as this sounds, with love, you are never a loser.
My final words on the loser-phenomena is that everyone will have a little loser in them. But everyone has a winner in them too, everyone so the loser part never has to win. No one has to act "cool" to be accepted by his friends because he is scared he won't be accepted, no one has to be cruel to one person so no one will be cruel to them. Contrary to popular belief, it's just NOT necessary.
On a lighter note, I'll be going to my first concert tomorrow with Alison and Marie. (Well my first concert was actually Justo Llamas with my Spanish class, but I don't really count that..) It will be Streetlight Manifesto and Reel Big Fish who are definitly a couple of my favorite bands!! Marie promised we'd go crowd surfing, I must say that I am very very excited.
:)
Now, I should probably start my Math review which is sitting lonely in the corner just begging for my company... sad I know.
I leave you all and with the hope that this will be the Last Loser day ever!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
A Few of my Favorite Things
So at the moment I'm doing Aplia, (only the most amazingest online economic course ever!! w00t! ...note sarcasm) or more accurately trying to avoid doing it. Probably not the best idea, but at least I won't die of boredom. And to think, I want to major in Econ..
So I wondered if I would actually write this post. I had thought that after I had made one post, the novelty of having "my very own blog!!!" would wear off. But it didn't! I'm impressed I must say. According to my hand writing, since I don't cross my t's, I tend to not finish things, which is true. It's taken me some 3 or 4 years to knit half a scarf, pathetic I know. I just get bored, fast (as mentioned in the previous post). So my friends, we will have to wait and see. Will I pass the 3-week mark?
So, my promised explanations, here they come.
First, the Name of the Blog: Jumping in Puddles.
I had a bunch of names in mind but when I finally sat down to it, it just didn't seem right. I was thinking Singing in the Rain, probably my favorite musical of all-time. (I want Gene Kelly, yes I understand that he is dead, but regardless. When I get to heaven, that man is ALL mine..) But the more I thought of Singing in the Rain, the more I felt like a complete poser. And that's lame. So then I was like, hmm what about Dancing in the Rain? but that just sounded cliche and ill-fitting. I was gonna have what is now my URL name but I figured, the name of my blog probably SHOULD make sense, just so people don't think that I'm completely off my rocker.. And then, suddenly, unbidden from my mind, Jumping in Puddles just appeared to me. I decided to go with that stroke of inspiration and that is now the title of my blog!
Next, the URl: What a to do to die today
This is probably my favorite tounge twister of all time. I learned it back in YAG (young actors guild) ages ago but it still remains to be my calming mantra. When I'm particularly stressed out I rhyme outloud and say tounge twisters. It works rather well actually. I just found out that this tounge-twister was written by Lewis Carroll. I find that kinda ironic seeing that Alice in Wonderland is one of my least favorite books. (probably because I cannot STAND Alice. She needs a good slap, that girl is obnoxious.. But then again, I read that book ages ago so mybe I'll give it another chance.) Anyway, the actualy twister:
What a to-do to die today at a minute or two to two,
A thing distinctly hard to say but harder still to do.
For they'll beat a tattoo at a quarter to two:
A rat-ta tat-tat ta tat-tat ta to-to.
And the dragon will come when he hears the drum
At a minute or two to two today, at a minute or two to two.
(Lewis Carroll)
It's quite amazing isn't it? I think so.
So, moving on.
Pen Name: Contessa
So this was actually kinda hard for me. I was between quite a lot of names for this and I was very much conflicted. But between my parents, Alison, Nate and Ryan (who btw, is my favorite freshman buddy! and also Nates little brother..) I finally came up with Contessa. As many know, The Count of Monte Cristo is one of my all-time favorite books, and Edmund Dumas (aka the Count) is right up there in my favorite fictional characters. So why not be the Countess? Except Countess reminds me of that Count on Sesame Street or like Count Olaf or something. So I just changed the language to Italian (for I truly love Italy, someday I'd like to have a villa somewhere near Rome) and I have my pen name!
I can't think of much else that needs explanation, there is the Subtitle: The Adventure Begins, but I don't think you can see it in the actual blog, which is unfortunate.
Before I sign off for today, I promised my dear friend Andrew that I would advertise for him for AHSMB's new drum major. So this ones for you Passman,
VOTE ANDREW PASSMAN FOR DRUM MAJOR!!!!
For anyone who wonders, I seriously believe that he will do wonders and we will have an awesome season next year with him and Lauren on the podium. I must say, they are both pretty much amazing!
And with that I am signing off. And if anyone possibly knows how to come up with $3,680 dollars to publish AMag, that would be lovely if they could just let me know.
Monday, here I come..
So I wondered if I would actually write this post. I had thought that after I had made one post, the novelty of having "my very own blog!!!" would wear off. But it didn't! I'm impressed I must say. According to my hand writing, since I don't cross my t's, I tend to not finish things, which is true. It's taken me some 3 or 4 years to knit half a scarf, pathetic I know. I just get bored, fast (as mentioned in the previous post). So my friends, we will have to wait and see. Will I pass the 3-week mark?
So, my promised explanations, here they come.
First, the Name of the Blog: Jumping in Puddles.
I had a bunch of names in mind but when I finally sat down to it, it just didn't seem right. I was thinking Singing in the Rain, probably my favorite musical of all-time. (I want Gene Kelly, yes I understand that he is dead, but regardless. When I get to heaven, that man is ALL mine..) But the more I thought of Singing in the Rain, the more I felt like a complete poser. And that's lame. So then I was like, hmm what about Dancing in the Rain? but that just sounded cliche and ill-fitting. I was gonna have what is now my URL name but I figured, the name of my blog probably SHOULD make sense, just so people don't think that I'm completely off my rocker.. And then, suddenly, unbidden from my mind, Jumping in Puddles just appeared to me. I decided to go with that stroke of inspiration and that is now the title of my blog!
Next, the URl: What a to do to die today
This is probably my favorite tounge twister of all time. I learned it back in YAG (young actors guild) ages ago but it still remains to be my calming mantra. When I'm particularly stressed out I rhyme outloud and say tounge twisters. It works rather well actually. I just found out that this tounge-twister was written by Lewis Carroll. I find that kinda ironic seeing that Alice in Wonderland is one of my least favorite books. (probably because I cannot STAND Alice. She needs a good slap, that girl is obnoxious.. But then again, I read that book ages ago so mybe I'll give it another chance.) Anyway, the actualy twister:
What a to-do to die today at a minute or two to two,
A thing distinctly hard to say but harder still to do.
For they'll beat a tattoo at a quarter to two:
A rat-ta tat-tat ta tat-tat ta to-to.
And the dragon will come when he hears the drum
At a minute or two to two today, at a minute or two to two.
(Lewis Carroll)
It's quite amazing isn't it? I think so.
So, moving on.
Pen Name: Contessa
So this was actually kinda hard for me. I was between quite a lot of names for this and I was very much conflicted. But between my parents, Alison, Nate and Ryan (who btw, is my favorite freshman buddy! and also Nates little brother..) I finally came up with Contessa. As many know, The Count of Monte Cristo is one of my all-time favorite books, and Edmund Dumas (aka the Count) is right up there in my favorite fictional characters. So why not be the Countess? Except Countess reminds me of that Count on Sesame Street or like Count Olaf or something. So I just changed the language to Italian (for I truly love Italy, someday I'd like to have a villa somewhere near Rome) and I have my pen name!
I can't think of much else that needs explanation, there is the Subtitle: The Adventure Begins, but I don't think you can see it in the actual blog, which is unfortunate.
Before I sign off for today, I promised my dear friend Andrew that I would advertise for him for AHSMB's new drum major. So this ones for you Passman,
VOTE ANDREW PASSMAN FOR DRUM MAJOR!!!!
For anyone who wonders, I seriously believe that he will do wonders and we will have an awesome season next year with him and Lauren on the podium. I must say, they are both pretty much amazing!
And with that I am signing off. And if anyone possibly knows how to come up with $3,680 dollars to publish AMag, that would be lovely if they could just let me know.
Monday, here I come..
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Let's start at the very Beginning, a very good place to start
So yes, I now have a blog. My dear mother and aunt have been bugging me to get one for quite some time now. It's been hard trying to find time betwen all my lovely junior-ness and Band and Forensics and AMag and such but I feel that if I don't get my thoughts down SOMEWHERE I will probably explode. I tried writing in a diary, but I found that I write too slow for my brain and it gets really irritating. I'll have a spectacular sentence laying dormant in my head waiting to be written down, but by the time I actually get to the writing it down part, I'm on to the next thought. And so I get mad. And frustrated. And overall, exceedingly bored.
Bad things happen when I'm bored.
So I have kinda given up on the whole diary deal (it gives you a nasty hand cramp too, and how can I drum if my hand is constantly cramping from scribbling 8 pages in my diary every night? - and yes, that is an exaggeration, maybe not 8 but 3-5) I was talking with my best friend Nate and we decided I should probably get a tape recorder to record all my ideas. That actually is a brilliant idea, except I have to get a working recorder and come up with stuff to say.
What can I say? I'm a lazy bum. Looks like my mom's right.
But aren't they always?
This is especially for you Alison. (For those who don't know, she's my other best friend. We're the three musketeers! Though I'm not quite sure they know that...) Maybe if I have everything written down here, I can make more sense when I talk to you. Right?
Sure, it all makes sense in my head. :)
I'm sitting right now with a bowl of half-eaten bhel puri and trying to figure out how to use this stupid website. Not complaining, Blogspot is great but to my dad's chagrin, I'm most definitly not technologically savvy. Thats what Nate's for.
Probably in my next post I'll explain the philosophical and metaphorical symbolism of my pen name/Title/URL etc.
At the moment, I really should figure out how to work this thing..
Bad things happen when I'm bored.
So I have kinda given up on the whole diary deal (it gives you a nasty hand cramp too, and how can I drum if my hand is constantly cramping from scribbling 8 pages in my diary every night? - and yes, that is an exaggeration, maybe not 8 but 3-5) I was talking with my best friend Nate and we decided I should probably get a tape recorder to record all my ideas. That actually is a brilliant idea, except I have to get a working recorder and come up with stuff to say.
What can I say? I'm a lazy bum. Looks like my mom's right.
But aren't they always?
This is especially for you Alison. (For those who don't know, she's my other best friend. We're the three musketeers! Though I'm not quite sure they know that...) Maybe if I have everything written down here, I can make more sense when I talk to you. Right?
Sure, it all makes sense in my head. :)
I'm sitting right now with a bowl of half-eaten bhel puri and trying to figure out how to use this stupid website. Not complaining, Blogspot is great but to my dad's chagrin, I'm most definitly not technologically savvy. Thats what Nate's for.
Probably in my next post I'll explain the philosophical and metaphorical symbolism of my pen name/Title/URL etc.
At the moment, I really should figure out how to work this thing..
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