Most of you are aware of my homeland's fiscal difficulties, but for those of you who don't follow world news (and let's face it--most of us don't), I'll summarize. Ireland is in trouble. I'm not referring to the latest bombing in Northern Ireland or the football losses that enraged the nation; no, I am talking about well and truly bankrupt.
Ireland has faced many depressions and economic disasters in the past, but I have to admit that I naively thought that the late 90s prosperity, only heightened by joining the EU in 2001, would ensure that Ireland would be safe. The economy was soaring. Foreign companies were setting up shop, investing in the country and its success. Ireland was recovering in a way it had never been able to enjoy. People weren't worried about starvation or civil war or invading forces or plague or any number of things that had been ever constant in the past. Forgive me for being so Irish, but of course it was too good to last. Ireland is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy.
It's not entirely their fault. True, they haven't have to support a booming economy before, but they managed well until they started losing so much foreign investing. On top of this were issues they had never had to deal with before, such as immigration, EU regulations, booming tourism, etc. They were handling it well . . . until they weren't. It's taken 3 years of steady downward spiraling for them to be a position where people are lining up to bail them out. Britian has offered the bailout, which Ireland will not take. I actually don't blame them for that. There is 700 years of festering mistrust and racism between Ireland and the UK. That aside, there is the delicate state of Northern Ireland, and by accepting British aid, Ireland would be forfeiting power over those issues. This fight has been too long, too bloody, and too painful to give it up now. The EU handout, though, is more of a possibility. True, Ireland would lose a lot of respect, possibly earning Germany's everlasting resentment (seriously, Germany has been relegated to the sugar daddy of the EU), but this is why they joined. They contributed, and now they need help. The EU is offering, but Ireland has to ask.
Ah, therein lies the rub. They have to ask for help. Many of you may have noticed through your interactions with me and other Irish that we do not like asking for help. Our pride and stubbornness is often relentless, and I'm becoming more convinced that it is a chronic condition, possibly with no cure, but even I can see that in this case, the country NEEDS to swallow its pride and ask for help. They are part of the EU. They have a responsibility to the other countries, and Spain and Portugal will also implode if the EU loses any more footing. Greece was bad enough, and I'm not even going to touch Romania and Malta (I'll leave that to Mary).
It's time to remember our roots. Our ancestors were warriors. Our forefathers struggled and survived under hellish oppression and abuse. We fought wars for independence. We lost the best of our men, women, and children to starvation, execution, slavery, famine, emigration, and alcohol, but we survived nonetheless to flourish into a member of a successful global community and a respectable country in our own right. Yes, we need help. Yes, we will have to again earn our friends' trust. Yes, we will still need to work and sacrifice. But I have no doubt we can do it, and neither did our ancestors.
Soldier's Song (Ireland's National Anthem)
We'll sing a song, a soldier's song,
With cheering rousing chorus,
As round our blazing fires we throng,
The starry heavens o'er us;
Impatient for the coming fight,
And as we wait the morning's light,
Here in the silence of the night,
We'll chant a soldier's song.
Chorus:
Soldiers are we , whose lives are pledged to Ireland;
Some have come from a land beyond the wave.
Sworn to be free, No more our ancient sire land
Shall shelter the despot or the slave.
Tonight we man the gap of danger
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal
'Mid cannons' roar and rifles peal,
We'll chant a soldier's song.
In valley green, on towering crag,
Our fathers fought before us,
And conquered 'neath the same old flag
That's proudly floating o'er us.
We're children of a fighting race,
That never yet has known disgrace,
And as we march, the foe to face,
We'll chant a soldier's song.
Chorus
Sons of the Gael! Men of the Pale!
The long watched day is breaking;
The serried ranks of Inisfail
Shall set the Tyrant quaking.
Our camp fires now are burning low;
See in the east a silv'ry glow,
Out yonder waits the Saxon foe,
So chant a soldier's song.
11.17.2010
11.09.2010
No School For Me
I have a legion of teachers and students trying to convince me to teach, so I thought I'd share the reasons why I can't be a teacher.
1. Grading: It sucks. It sucks so bad. Most kids write the same essays or answers and after a while you begin to forget what words mean and why you're there and what the sun looks like . . .
2. Excuses: I swear, if I have to listen to one more excuse about how it took a kid an hour to talk to their teacher during lunch (which is of course why they showed up with a drink from Del Taco), I might just scream. Plus, they all have an excuse as to why their homework is not done or why they didn't do the journal entry that they were working on for 20 minutes. And what good to they think showing up 10 minutes before the end of school on the last day of the term will do? When you tell them too bad, they whine to the administration, who then tell you to pass the little beasts because our football team just can't loose the only player that can run in a straight line!
3. Crushes: It's creepy weird when high schoolers ask you to Homecoming or bring you an apple or sit and try to impress you with their sports prowess during lunch. #1: It's a felony, #2: they really aren't as cool as they think they are, and #3: ew.
4. Patience: I have none, and supposedly you're not allowed to yell at students. Or punch them in the face.
5. Bureaucratic BS: Administrators micromanage with no respect for the challenges of the classroom. I hate hoop-jumping.
6. Repetition: I hate repeating myself, but if I don't repeat something 6 or 7 times, no one remembers it let alone does it, but it's my fault because I didn't repeat it 8 times.
7. Angry Parents: Remember those kids who lie about stuff? They tell their parents all kinds of crap about why their failing (the truth being they don't turn stuff in) and then have their parents email the teacher about how the teacher is being unfair and has too high expectations. How to correct them without accusing their kid of being a weasel . . .
8. Co-workers: Other teachers are petty and mean and try to steal your batteries and printer paper.
9. Food: You can't buy freakin' caffeine in the vending machines and food is scarce and mediocre at best.
10. I don't wanna.
1. Grading: It sucks. It sucks so bad. Most kids write the same essays or answers and after a while you begin to forget what words mean and why you're there and what the sun looks like . . .
2. Excuses: I swear, if I have to listen to one more excuse about how it took a kid an hour to talk to their teacher during lunch (which is of course why they showed up with a drink from Del Taco), I might just scream. Plus, they all have an excuse as to why their homework is not done or why they didn't do the journal entry that they were working on for 20 minutes. And what good to they think showing up 10 minutes before the end of school on the last day of the term will do? When you tell them too bad, they whine to the administration, who then tell you to pass the little beasts because our football team just can't loose the only player that can run in a straight line!
3. Crushes: It's creepy weird when high schoolers ask you to Homecoming or bring you an apple or sit and try to impress you with their sports prowess during lunch. #1: It's a felony, #2: they really aren't as cool as they think they are, and #3: ew.
4. Patience: I have none, and supposedly you're not allowed to yell at students. Or punch them in the face.
5. Bureaucratic BS: Administrators micromanage with no respect for the challenges of the classroom. I hate hoop-jumping.
6. Repetition: I hate repeating myself, but if I don't repeat something 6 or 7 times, no one remembers it let alone does it, but it's my fault because I didn't repeat it 8 times.
7. Angry Parents: Remember those kids who lie about stuff? They tell their parents all kinds of crap about why their failing (the truth being they don't turn stuff in) and then have their parents email the teacher about how the teacher is being unfair and has too high expectations. How to correct them without accusing their kid of being a weasel . . .
8. Co-workers: Other teachers are petty and mean and try to steal your batteries and printer paper.
9. Food: You can't buy freakin' caffeine in the vending machines and food is scarce and mediocre at best.
10. I don't wanna.
10.07.2010
Summat Ironical
Did you know that "ironical" is accepted usage? That hurts me a little.
Rutter's Creative Writing class recently discovered irony. Every day since has been a delightful forum for the airing of ironic stories, such as the creator of the Segway dying in a Segway accident. As is natural, there have been many discussions about what is and is not ironic. I got onto a rant at one point about Alanis Morissette's song "Ironic" and how nothing actually labelled as ironic in the song could truly be construed as irony. An upstart student, however, pointed out that if this were true, then the title "Ironic" was indeed irony. Clever little thing . . .
Anyway, this week has been dominated with my internal criticism and identification of irony. I was sorting computer files and stumbled across this poem (one of my favorites) that I use to introduce the concept of poetry and figurative language to my reading kids. It struck me that using a poem to introduce poetry was indeed ironic.
Ah, life: it's so ironic.
I'm going to post the poem because it's just a damn good poem.
Introduction to Poetry
By: Billy Collins
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
Rutter's Creative Writing class recently discovered irony. Every day since has been a delightful forum for the airing of ironic stories, such as the creator of the Segway dying in a Segway accident. As is natural, there have been many discussions about what is and is not ironic. I got onto a rant at one point about Alanis Morissette's song "Ironic" and how nothing actually labelled as ironic in the song could truly be construed as irony. An upstart student, however, pointed out that if this were true, then the title "Ironic" was indeed irony. Clever little thing . . .
Anyway, this week has been dominated with my internal criticism and identification of irony. I was sorting computer files and stumbled across this poem (one of my favorites) that I use to introduce the concept of poetry and figurative language to my reading kids. It struck me that using a poem to introduce poetry was indeed ironic.
Ah, life: it's so ironic.
I'm going to post the poem because it's just a damn good poem.
Introduction to Poetry
By: Billy Collins
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
9.29.2010
Deciphering My Dress
I don't have much diversity in my wardrobe. In fact, my fairly orthodox outfits are almost studious in their dullness. True, I have a few novelty tees and nicer shirts, but in general my presentation never varies far from the 90s tried and true jeans and t-shirt motif.
However, if you study closely, you can tell what kind of day it is by my outfit. (I'm guessing this is true of most people, especially girls, and thus any "Did you read that in Cosmo" comments are hereby addressed with a simple: Back off, this is MY blog!)
For example, today I woke up, tired, cold, and groggy. I knew the day would be warm, so I nixed the XXXL Provo High hoodie, despite the sore temptation to suffer through the heat stroke. I didn't want anything too fitted because I was feeling sloppy and fat, and didn't want to have to think about such taxing activities as posture. So, jeans (duh) and a one-size, unflattering, black t-shirt was the final verdict. If Rosemary-land, this also entitles me to eat like a 6-year-old.
Now, if I had elected to go with something colored or fitted or remotely cute, it would have been selective snacking and water all day. Seeing as I already looked like grunge-stricken teenager, it was soda, chocolate, crackers, chocolate frosted flakes, and 1/3 loaf of sourdough bread with jam. Mmmmmmmm. It really didn't help my roll-in-each-hand image that my hair was lankly hanging down either side of my face. Hey, at least I put make up on today. (For those of you who haven't seen me regularly, that's becoming an increasingly rare event.)
And so, as I sit here munching on the heel of a sourdough loaf, I think of a surprised Michael Cera exclaiming, "Bread makes you fat?!" and wonder if tomorrow, it will be cold enough for an over sized sweater.
Here's to hoping!
However, if you study closely, you can tell what kind of day it is by my outfit. (I'm guessing this is true of most people, especially girls, and thus any "Did you read that in Cosmo" comments are hereby addressed with a simple: Back off, this is MY blog!)
For example, today I woke up, tired, cold, and groggy. I knew the day would be warm, so I nixed the XXXL Provo High hoodie, despite the sore temptation to suffer through the heat stroke. I didn't want anything too fitted because I was feeling sloppy and fat, and didn't want to have to think about such taxing activities as posture. So, jeans (duh) and a one-size, unflattering, black t-shirt was the final verdict. If Rosemary-land, this also entitles me to eat like a 6-year-old.
Now, if I had elected to go with something colored or fitted or remotely cute, it would have been selective snacking and water all day. Seeing as I already looked like grunge-stricken teenager, it was soda, chocolate, crackers, chocolate frosted flakes, and 1/3 loaf of sourdough bread with jam. Mmmmmmmm. It really didn't help my roll-in-each-hand image that my hair was lankly hanging down either side of my face. Hey, at least I put make up on today. (For those of you who haven't seen me regularly, that's becoming an increasingly rare event.)
And so, as I sit here munching on the heel of a sourdough loaf, I think of a surprised Michael Cera exclaiming, "Bread makes you fat?!" and wonder if tomorrow, it will be cold enough for an over sized sweater.
Here's to hoping!
9.21.2010
My Day of Teaching Snot-Nosed High Schoolers and the Psychological Repercussions
I stole this idea from Mary's sister Kristen's friend because it amused me so much that telling the events of the day in bullet points can real be more revealing about just what kind of day you've had than if you actually explained it all in detail.
So.
My Day of Teaching Snot-Nosed High Schoolers and the Psychological Repercussions
(in bullets)
-Got to work 20 minutes late and was on receiving end of the nastiest crusty from the office secretary when I went to pick up the key.
-Tripped on the stairs heading to the classroom.
-It's about 40 degrees in here.
-Got locked out when I went for a drink.
-Duct taped the office open.
-Spilled a palm-full of hand sanitizer on my pants.
-Noticed a gaggle of students watching me try to soak the blob of hand sanitizer up with a spare piece of printer paper.
-Took attendance in 3rd period (Creative Writing) on the nifty laminated seating chart with a wet-erase marker.
-Got wet-erase marker on my face.
-Opened my Diet Coke.
-Got Diet Coke on my face.
-Sent the Seniors to SEOPS. Juniors started on their in class essay. Juniors tried to convince me that they were Seniors.
-Explained for the nth time what a thesis sentence is. One student turned it in at the end of class.
-17-year-old flirted with me for 45 minutes while I was ignoring him and working on my own homework. Yes, I totally cared about how you flipped a guy over your shoulder in front of his totally hot girlfriend and then got her number.
-Helped a little baby junior with her essay during the stupid 1/2 hour of wasted time (thank you, Mrs. Briggs) called Enrichment/Intervention. Go me.
-Sent Seniors from 5th period to SEOPS.
-In-class essay. They actually did it. AP: 1, Creative Writing: I hate you.
-Ran to meet my mom.
-Drove my mom to class.
-Drove back to PHS, late.
-Ran into 7th period (Technical Writing).
-Panicked and yelled, "Seniors, to the Presentation room."
-Ran after them and gave them their homework.
-Ran back to class. Gave juniors their work.
-Ran into my reading class. Turned on a movie. (Oh, hush. It's kinda teaching.)
-Ran back to Tech Writing. Went over handout. Started computers up.
-Computers wouldn't work.
-Restarted computers.
-Told them to do it anyway.
-Wrote this blog.
-Cried a little inside.
-Bell rang.
So.
My Day of Teaching Snot-Nosed High Schoolers and the Psychological Repercussions
(in bullets)
-Got to work 20 minutes late and was on receiving end of the nastiest crusty from the office secretary when I went to pick up the key.
-Tripped on the stairs heading to the classroom.
-It's about 40 degrees in here.
-Got locked out when I went for a drink.
-Duct taped the office open.
-Spilled a palm-full of hand sanitizer on my pants.
-Noticed a gaggle of students watching me try to soak the blob of hand sanitizer up with a spare piece of printer paper.
-Took attendance in 3rd period (Creative Writing) on the nifty laminated seating chart with a wet-erase marker.
-Got wet-erase marker on my face.
-Opened my Diet Coke.
-Got Diet Coke on my face.
-Sent the Seniors to SEOPS. Juniors started on their in class essay. Juniors tried to convince me that they were Seniors.
-Explained for the nth time what a thesis sentence is. One student turned it in at the end of class.
-17-year-old flirted with me for 45 minutes while I was ignoring him and working on my own homework. Yes, I totally cared about how you flipped a guy over your shoulder in front of his totally hot girlfriend and then got her number.
-Helped a little baby junior with her essay during the stupid 1/2 hour of wasted time (thank you, Mrs. Briggs) called Enrichment/Intervention. Go me.
-Sent Seniors from 5th period to SEOPS.
-In-class essay. They actually did it. AP: 1, Creative Writing: I hate you.
-Ran to meet my mom.
-Drove my mom to class.
-Drove back to PHS, late.
-Ran into 7th period (Technical Writing).
-Panicked and yelled, "Seniors, to the Presentation room."
-Ran after them and gave them their homework.
-Ran back to class. Gave juniors their work.
-Ran into my reading class. Turned on a movie. (Oh, hush. It's kinda teaching.)
-Ran back to Tech Writing. Went over handout. Started computers up.
-Computers wouldn't work.
-Restarted computers.
-Told them to do it anyway.
-Wrote this blog.
-Cried a little inside.
-Bell rang.
9.13.2010
Literature Abuse: America's Hidden Affliction
Are You a Literature Abuser?
by Michael McGrorty
LITERATURE ABUSE: AMERICA'S HIDDEN AFFLICTION
Once a relatively rare disorder, Literature Abuse (or "readaholism") has risen to crisis levels due to the accessibility of higher education and increased college enrollment since the end of the Second World War. The number of literature abusers is currently at record levels.
CAUSES of PROBLEM READING:
Excessive reading during pregnancy is the major cause of prenatal Literature Abuse (LA) among the children of heavy readers. Known as Fetal Fiction Syndrome, it leaves its tiny victims prone to a lifetime of nearsightedness, daydreaming, and emotional instability.
Most abusers have at least one parent who abused literature, often beginning at an early age and progressing into adulthood. Siblings of abusers are also likely to become literature abusers. Spouses of an abuser may themselves become problem readers.
Other predisposing factors: parents who are English teachers, professors, or heavy
fiction readers; parents who do not encourage children to play games, participate in
healthy sports, or watch television.
SOCIAL COSTS of LITERARY ABUSE:
Abusers become withdrawn and uninterested in society or normal relationships. They
fantasize, daydreaming about "castles in the air," while neglecting work, friends, and family. In severe cases "problem readers" develop bad posture from reading in awkward positions or from carrying heavy book bags.
SELF-TEST FOR LITERATURE ABUSE
How many of these apply to you?
I have read fiction when I was depressed, or to cheer myself up.
I have gone on reading "binges."
I read rapidly, often "gulping" chapters.
I sometimes read early in the morning, or before work.
Sometimes I avoid friends or family obligations in order to read novels.
I often read alone.
I have pretended to watch television while secretly reading.
I keep books or magazines in the bathroom for a "quick nip."
I have denied or "laughed off" criticism of my reading habit.
Heavy reading has caused conflicts with my family or spouse.
I am unable to enjoy myself with others unless there is a book nearby.
I seldom leave my house without a book or magazine.
When traveling, I pack a large bag full of books.
At a party, I will often slip off unnoticed to read.
Reading has made me seek haunts and companions which I would otherwise avoid.
I have neglected personal hygiene or household chores until I finished a novel.
I become nervous, disoriented or fearful when I must spend more than 15 minutes
without reading matter.
I have spent money meant for necessities on books instead.
I have sold books to support my reading "habit."
I have daydreamed about becoming a rich & famous writer, or "word- pusher."
I have attempted to check out more library books than is permitted.
Most of my friends are heavy fiction readers.
I have sometimes woken groggy or "hung-over" after a night of heavy reading.
I have wept, become angry or irrational because of something I read.
I have sometimes wished I did not read so much.
Sometimes I think my fiction reading is out of control.
If you answered "yes" to five or more of these questions, you may be a literature abuser--know the risks. Affirmative responses to ten or more indicates a serious reading problem --seek help now! Fifteen or more "yes" responses indicates a severe or chronic "readaholic" personality; intervention is seldom effective at this stage.
WARNING: "Reading Addiction" has been classified as "behavior with a significant voluntary component," as defined in the Beatty-Eisner Amendment. If you are declared a "known literature abuser," you will become INELIGIBLE for SSA disability payments and/or ADA protections. Your fate is likely to be a life of poverty and despair, drifting from one dead-end job to another, as you wallow shamelessly in and escape into the causes of your addiction.
Source: http://home.tiac.net/~cri/1999/abuse.html
by Michael McGrorty
LITERATURE ABUSE: AMERICA'S HIDDEN AFFLICTION
Once a relatively rare disorder, Literature Abuse (or "readaholism") has risen to crisis levels due to the accessibility of higher education and increased college enrollment since the end of the Second World War. The number of literature abusers is currently at record levels.
CAUSES of PROBLEM READING:
Excessive reading during pregnancy is the major cause of prenatal Literature Abuse (LA) among the children of heavy readers. Known as Fetal Fiction Syndrome, it leaves its tiny victims prone to a lifetime of nearsightedness, daydreaming, and emotional instability.
Most abusers have at least one parent who abused literature, often beginning at an early age and progressing into adulthood. Siblings of abusers are also likely to become literature abusers. Spouses of an abuser may themselves become problem readers.
Other predisposing factors: parents who are English teachers, professors, or heavy
fiction readers; parents who do not encourage children to play games, participate in
healthy sports, or watch television.
SOCIAL COSTS of LITERARY ABUSE:
Abusers become withdrawn and uninterested in society or normal relationships. They
fantasize, daydreaming about "castles in the air," while neglecting work, friends, and family. In severe cases "problem readers" develop bad posture from reading in awkward positions or from carrying heavy book bags.
SELF-TEST FOR LITERATURE ABUSE
How many of these apply to you?
I have read fiction when I was depressed, or to cheer myself up.
I have gone on reading "binges."
I read rapidly, often "gulping" chapters.
I sometimes read early in the morning, or before work.
Sometimes I avoid friends or family obligations in order to read novels.
I often read alone.
I have pretended to watch television while secretly reading.
I keep books or magazines in the bathroom for a "quick nip."
I have denied or "laughed off" criticism of my reading habit.
Heavy reading has caused conflicts with my family or spouse.
I am unable to enjoy myself with others unless there is a book nearby.
I seldom leave my house without a book or magazine.
When traveling, I pack a large bag full of books.
At a party, I will often slip off unnoticed to read.
Reading has made me seek haunts and companions which I would otherwise avoid.
I have neglected personal hygiene or household chores until I finished a novel.
I become nervous, disoriented or fearful when I must spend more than 15 minutes
without reading matter.
I have spent money meant for necessities on books instead.
I have sold books to support my reading "habit."
I have daydreamed about becoming a rich & famous writer, or "word- pusher."
I have attempted to check out more library books than is permitted.
Most of my friends are heavy fiction readers.
I have sometimes woken groggy or "hung-over" after a night of heavy reading.
I have wept, become angry or irrational because of something I read.
I have sometimes wished I did not read so much.
Sometimes I think my fiction reading is out of control.
If you answered "yes" to five or more of these questions, you may be a literature abuser--know the risks. Affirmative responses to ten or more indicates a serious reading problem --seek help now! Fifteen or more "yes" responses indicates a severe or chronic "readaholic" personality; intervention is seldom effective at this stage.
WARNING: "Reading Addiction" has been classified as "behavior with a significant voluntary component," as defined in the Beatty-Eisner Amendment. If you are declared a "known literature abuser," you will become INELIGIBLE for SSA disability payments and/or ADA protections. Your fate is likely to be a life of poverty and despair, drifting from one dead-end job to another, as you wallow shamelessly in and escape into the causes of your addiction.
Source: http://home.tiac.net/~cri/1999/abuse.html
9.09.2010
I always knew . . .
http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/the_carriage.png
Emily Dickinson is such a rock star.
Emily Dickinson is such a rock star.
8.30.2010
Running
I was thinking of songs with "run" or "run"-ish words in the titles, and I came up with a surprising number. Check this out.
"Run Run Run" - Phoenix
"Run for Your Life" - The Beatles
"Born to Run" - Bruce Springsteen
"Run" - Snow Patrol
"Run" - Collective Soul
"Run" - Vampire Weekend
"Run On" - Moby
"Man on the Run" - Dash Berlin
"Runaway" - Bon Jovi
"Run Around" - Blues Travlers
"Running Down a Dream" - Tom Petty
"We Run Things Another Way" - Jamie Cullum
"Run, Joey, Run" - David Geddes
"Running Away" - Hoobastank
"Easier to Run" - Linkin Park
"Run" - Leona Lewis
"We Run This" - Missy Elliot
"Running Away" - Linkin Park
"Run to You" - Bryan Adams
"Run Rabbit Run" - Eminem
"Run" - George Straight
"Run to the Hills" - Iron Maiden
"Keep the Car Running" - Arcade Fire
"Roadrunner" - Joan Jett
"Time Is Running Out" - Papa Roach
"Time Is Running Out" - Muse
"Run Like Hell" - Pink Floyd
"Band on the Run" - The Wings
"Runaround Sue" - Dion
"Run Through the Jungle" - Creedence Clearwater Revival
"Still Running" - Chevelle
"Running to Stand Still" - U2
"Run Away With You"- Jack Ingram
"Run Run Run" - The Velvet Underground
"Run It" - The Replacements
"Run Away" - Staind
"Run So Far" - Eric Clapton
"Run" - Nada Surf
"Running on Ice" – Billy Joel
"Run This Town" - Jay-Z, Kanye West, Rihanna
These are the ones I know. Can you think of any?
8.27.2010
To the Future
When was I young, a wee little Irish lass running wild in the fields (although let's be honest--I rarely ran wild. There were bugs and stuff out in the grass), my mother took me in hand and forced culture on me. Forced it on me so strongly that I have carried the burning passion for it strongly for my 23 years, it's flame only growing (probably since I can't stop feeding it). Have you guessed yet? Yep. Star Trek.
You all know of my deep and abiding love for Star Trek. I've seen it all (except for the last two seasons of Enterprise, but really? That one sucked) more than once. I love it. Now, I've recently discovered that some of my friends think that Star Trek is the exception and that I mostly shun Sci-Fi. To these friends, I say just because you have a post-it-thin imagination doesn't mean the rest of us do. Who can resist imagining the future? Or, I should say, The Future.
The future! Awesome! I love it. I love it all. I love the robot-ruled futures, the alien-invaded futures, the once-upon-a-time futures, the clone-riddled futures, the genetically enhanced futures, the Dystopian depression futures, the Utopian Star Trek futures and any other future you can imagine in the mix. I cannot get enough of it all.
Correction: I can't get enough of it all in theory. The Dystopian futures get a little depressing. Sometimes I feel like standing up in the theater and yelling, "Give me a future without human enslavement just this once!" But I can't get enough of the cynicism, so my rants quickly melt to fascination and I watch, read, and find more. (As I write this, I'm eying my phone down. It's a little TOO smart, if you know what I mean.)
But again, that is why I love Star Trek so much because Star Trek hopes. It hopes that we can overcome the petty aspects of our natures and love unequivocally. It hopes that our technological developments expand and make our lives better. It hopes that we can find in ourselves the thirst for excellence. It hopes that we can perfect democracy and be an example to whatever cultures we encounter, be they hostile or benign. It hopes it can make us hope--and they have succeeded with me.
And don't bother posting that I'm a nerd, geek, or awesome. I already know.
To infinity . . . and beyond!
You all know of my deep and abiding love for Star Trek. I've seen it all (except for the last two seasons of Enterprise, but really? That one sucked) more than once. I love it. Now, I've recently discovered that some of my friends think that Star Trek is the exception and that I mostly shun Sci-Fi. To these friends, I say just because you have a post-it-thin imagination doesn't mean the rest of us do. Who can resist imagining the future? Or, I should say, The Future.
The future! Awesome! I love it. I love it all. I love the robot-ruled futures, the alien-invaded futures, the once-upon-a-time futures, the clone-riddled futures, the genetically enhanced futures, the Dystopian depression futures, the Utopian Star Trek futures and any other future you can imagine in the mix. I cannot get enough of it all.
Correction: I can't get enough of it all in theory. The Dystopian futures get a little depressing. Sometimes I feel like standing up in the theater and yelling, "Give me a future without human enslavement just this once!" But I can't get enough of the cynicism, so my rants quickly melt to fascination and I watch, read, and find more. (As I write this, I'm eying my phone down. It's a little TOO smart, if you know what I mean.)
But again, that is why I love Star Trek so much because Star Trek hopes. It hopes that we can overcome the petty aspects of our natures and love unequivocally. It hopes that our technological developments expand and make our lives better. It hopes that we can find in ourselves the thirst for excellence. It hopes that we can perfect democracy and be an example to whatever cultures we encounter, be they hostile or benign. It hopes it can make us hope--and they have succeeded with me.
And don't bother posting that I'm a nerd, geek, or awesome. I already know.
To infinity . . . and beyond!
6.22.2010
And the Night Shall Rise Up
This post is about vampires. Before you begin to a) freak out with barely disguised heart palpitations, b) roll your eyes and sneer derisively at the screen, or c) expect my usual Twilight smack down, I want to pause and remind you and the rest of the web world that vampires are cool. Vampires rock. They are the sweetest depiction of demons ever because they are human, but all of the base, horrifying, evil bits of everyday humanity. They are symbols that reminds us that we have to balance and fight our own evil natures. Plus, they just make good stories. Blood sucking fiends? Who wouldn't enjoy that?
But before I go on, I do want to clear something up just in case you had any doubts: Twilight sucks. I'm not changing my opinion of that at all. Boo Twilight, but yay vampires.
Moving on. At the urging of a few of my close friends, I watched a couple of episodes of The Vampire Diaries. Yeah, yeah, judge me with those judgey eyes, but listen to what I have to say. I'm not converted to it. I don't think it's super awesome, but I have to be honest. It's not bad. It's certainly not Twilight even though the rest of the show is a true teen drama (sometimes you just need fluff). It's a lot more like Buffy and Angel (two shows that I do adore with my whole heart). And the best part? Vampire are vicious, nasty ugly killers! They tear people apart, and manipulate and use them to satiate their appetites, be them hunger or more physical. The vampires on the show are evil.
And they don't freakin' sparkle in the sunlight.
Along the vampire theme, I also read the book The Historian, which was also not what I expected. It's like an in-depth historical analysis of Dracula myths, thinly veiled as a novel. It's a little dry and tough to read, but the stories are really good. It's a hefty book, though, so be careful because one wrong blow and it could easily take out a roommate.
Seriously, vampires are cool, but I wish they could be used as more awesome than just teen heartthrobs. What I wouldn't do for a vampire show about a vampire who feeds on criminals and tackles the issues of capital punishment and moral grey areas.
A girl can dream.
But before I go on, I do want to clear something up just in case you had any doubts: Twilight sucks. I'm not changing my opinion of that at all. Boo Twilight, but yay vampires.
Moving on. At the urging of a few of my close friends, I watched a couple of episodes of The Vampire Diaries. Yeah, yeah, judge me with those judgey eyes, but listen to what I have to say. I'm not converted to it. I don't think it's super awesome, but I have to be honest. It's not bad. It's certainly not Twilight even though the rest of the show is a true teen drama (sometimes you just need fluff). It's a lot more like Buffy and Angel (two shows that I do adore with my whole heart). And the best part? Vampire are vicious, nasty ugly killers! They tear people apart, and manipulate and use them to satiate their appetites, be them hunger or more physical. The vampires on the show are evil.
And they don't freakin' sparkle in the sunlight.
Along the vampire theme, I also read the book The Historian, which was also not what I expected. It's like an in-depth historical analysis of Dracula myths, thinly veiled as a novel. It's a little dry and tough to read, but the stories are really good. It's a hefty book, though, so be careful because one wrong blow and it could easily take out a roommate.
Seriously, vampires are cool, but I wish they could be used as more awesome than just teen heartthrobs. What I wouldn't do for a vampire show about a vampire who feeds on criminals and tackles the issues of capital punishment and moral grey areas.
A girl can dream.
5.12.2010
True Love
I got a book of poetry by Philip Larkin from the library. He is an Irish poet who hasn't achieved much international fame and has only received critical acclaim since his death. The bulk of his work tends to dwell on rural Irish life and the discouraging futility of it all, but he does have a secret love of love. I found one such indulgence that may be my new favorite love poem of all time (suck it, Barrett-Browning).
Love
The difficult part of love
Is being selfish enough,
Is having the blind persistence
To upset an existence
Just for your own sake.
What cheek it must take.
And then the unselfish side--
How can you be satisfied,
Putting someone else first
So that you come off worst?
My life is for me.
As well ignore gravity.
Still, vicious or virtuous,
Love suits most of us.
Only the bleeder found
Selfish this wrong way round
Is ever wholly rebuffed,
And he can get stuffed.
-Philip Larkin
Isn't that sweet?
Love
The difficult part of love
Is being selfish enough,
Is having the blind persistence
To upset an existence
Just for your own sake.
What cheek it must take.
And then the unselfish side--
How can you be satisfied,
Putting someone else first
So that you come off worst?
My life is for me.
As well ignore gravity.
Still, vicious or virtuous,
Love suits most of us.
Only the bleeder found
Selfish this wrong way round
Is ever wholly rebuffed,
And he can get stuffed.
-Philip Larkin
Isn't that sweet?
4.23.2010
Define me
Definitions worry me. So many complicated words and definitions should not be minimized to black and white print. Some words are seriously misrepresented in the dictionary. Introvert, for example. Regarding psychological inversion, Google defines an introvert as "one who focuses primarily on their own mind, feelings, or affairs." That just makes me sound selfish. In fact, Google goes on to define selfish as "concerned chiefly or only with yourself." Hmmmmmm . . . I get what you're saying, Google, and I just have to ask: where do you get off? Let us not forget that Google is very similar to ogle, which means (as we well know) "to stare at impertinently, flirtatiously, or amorously." You cyber slut.
It might be ridiculous to get so worked up over such a definition, but I believe in accuracy, and the Google definition for "introvert" is far from accurate. Let's consult a real dictionary. "Introvert: one whose personality is characterized by introversion." I hate when dictionaries do this! Using another form of the word in the definition is not a definition; it's a pansy-ass cop out. Still, I'm committed enough to this blog post to also look up introversion and get a complete definition. "Introversion: the state of or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one's own mental life." Merriam-Webster just made my list.
Is this seriously an accepted definition? The introverts are just selfish, caustic individuals who cannot see beyond their own experience even if they wished to? Because I am going to follow in Luke's example and throw the flag up on that one. Bullshit.
That's a prime note to end on, but I'm going to ruin it because I have more to say. Google, Merriam-Webster, and all others who buy into this official definition crap, I just want to clear a few things up. Being an introvert does not make a person asocial. In fact, introverts can be quite adept in social situations. Introversion is not synonymous with shyness or awkwardness. Simply put, introverts are drained by being with people and energized by being alone. It's a different mentality, but in no way does it ill-equip someone for life, and introverts can enjoy the company of others just as much as an extrovert can sometimes enjoy spending time alone.
There. I've said my piece. And, just to punctuate my point, I'm going to throw the flag on Google and Merriam-Webster again. Bullshit.
It might be ridiculous to get so worked up over such a definition, but I believe in accuracy, and the Google definition for "introvert" is far from accurate. Let's consult a real dictionary. "Introvert: one whose personality is characterized by introversion." I hate when dictionaries do this! Using another form of the word in the definition is not a definition; it's a pansy-ass cop out. Still, I'm committed enough to this blog post to also look up introversion and get a complete definition. "Introversion: the state of or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one's own mental life." Merriam-Webster just made my list.
Is this seriously an accepted definition? The introverts are just selfish, caustic individuals who cannot see beyond their own experience even if they wished to? Because I am going to follow in Luke's example and throw the flag up on that one. Bullshit.
That's a prime note to end on, but I'm going to ruin it because I have more to say. Google, Merriam-Webster, and all others who buy into this official definition crap, I just want to clear a few things up. Being an introvert does not make a person asocial. In fact, introverts can be quite adept in social situations. Introversion is not synonymous with shyness or awkwardness. Simply put, introverts are drained by being with people and energized by being alone. It's a different mentality, but in no way does it ill-equip someone for life, and introverts can enjoy the company of others just as much as an extrovert can sometimes enjoy spending time alone.
There. I've said my piece. And, just to punctuate my point, I'm going to throw the flag on Google and Merriam-Webster again. Bullshit.
4.16.2010
More Book Reviews
More of my condescending reviews. Got some good 'uns today.
Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell
Elizabeth Gaskell has style, wit, and grace in the face of charged social issues, both in the delightfully repressive 1800s as well as now. Cranford is no different even though it has a different ring to it. Unlike North & South, Wives and Daughters, and Mary Barton, Gaskell focuses on a different crowd and practically removes romance from the equation. Her focus is on elderly, single women who rule the small town of Cranford with an iron fist. The humor is satirical and winsome, and the plot unfolds naturally with surprising grace. So long as 19th century vocabulary and elderly British women don't annoy you, I recommend this one. 4/5 stars.
Desert Solitude by Edward Abbey
Ever been to Arches National Park? If not, you should go. Now. Drop whatever mind-addling exercise you are doing and go. It's only a few hours away, and you deserve a break every once in a while. Just don't bring Edward Abbey's Desert Solitude (inspired by Arches) with you. He manages to make it try and a little laborious to read. I quite like Abbey in general. He's an interesting man, and The Brave Cowboy is my favorite Western novel. In fact, that one is worth dropping everything to read. This one? Not so much. 2/5 stars. (Don't tell Rutter.)
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
This book was a surprise. I started reading it, expecting your basic WWII fall out story with a wonderful literary twist, but this book is different. For starters, it's told from the perspective of DEATH, who is fascinated by this girl he sees when he collects her brother. She displaces her sense of lost by stealing books. It's a little difficult to get into Death's head, though, so I'm deducting points for presentation. 4/5 stars.
The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare
We all have our guilty indulgences. Mine, as many know, are fluff books which I read only for entertaining dialogue and ridiculous characters. Even I had to be a little convinced to read these books. The series is a trilogy (City of Bones, City of Ashes, City of Gold) exploring a fantastical world that plays with demons, angels, family, werewolves, vampires, etc. Yes, I was skeptical. The Stephanie Meyer endorsement on the color dramatically injured the case. However, despite all of this, I read these. Voraciously read them. These are fun, fun books, and if you enjoy a good plot, interesting characters, thwarted teen love, and near death experiences, read them. If you don't . . . yeah, really don't. You'll hate them, but I give it 3/5 stars in the normal world, and 5/5 stars in the fantasy world.
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime by Mark Haddon
This book follows an autistic boy who is trying to unravel the mystery of his neighbor's dog's death. As the mystery deeps, it starts to raise questions about his mother's death years before. The hook in this is how the boy, Paul, tries to figure out his world and compute his discoveries. I loved it. It was clever and fresh and endearing. Read this. It's wonderful. 5/5 stars.
Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell
Elizabeth Gaskell has style, wit, and grace in the face of charged social issues, both in the delightfully repressive 1800s as well as now. Cranford is no different even though it has a different ring to it. Unlike North & South, Wives and Daughters, and Mary Barton, Gaskell focuses on a different crowd and practically removes romance from the equation. Her focus is on elderly, single women who rule the small town of Cranford with an iron fist. The humor is satirical and winsome, and the plot unfolds naturally with surprising grace. So long as 19th century vocabulary and elderly British women don't annoy you, I recommend this one. 4/5 stars.
Desert Solitude by Edward Abbey
Ever been to Arches National Park? If not, you should go. Now. Drop whatever mind-addling exercise you are doing and go. It's only a few hours away, and you deserve a break every once in a while. Just don't bring Edward Abbey's Desert Solitude (inspired by Arches) with you. He manages to make it try and a little laborious to read. I quite like Abbey in general. He's an interesting man, and The Brave Cowboy is my favorite Western novel. In fact, that one is worth dropping everything to read. This one? Not so much. 2/5 stars. (Don't tell Rutter.)
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
This book was a surprise. I started reading it, expecting your basic WWII fall out story with a wonderful literary twist, but this book is different. For starters, it's told from the perspective of DEATH, who is fascinated by this girl he sees when he collects her brother. She displaces her sense of lost by stealing books. It's a little difficult to get into Death's head, though, so I'm deducting points for presentation. 4/5 stars.
The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare
We all have our guilty indulgences. Mine, as many know, are fluff books which I read only for entertaining dialogue and ridiculous characters. Even I had to be a little convinced to read these books. The series is a trilogy (City of Bones, City of Ashes, City of Gold) exploring a fantastical world that plays with demons, angels, family, werewolves, vampires, etc. Yes, I was skeptical. The Stephanie Meyer endorsement on the color dramatically injured the case. However, despite all of this, I read these. Voraciously read them. These are fun, fun books, and if you enjoy a good plot, interesting characters, thwarted teen love, and near death experiences, read them. If you don't . . . yeah, really don't. You'll hate them, but I give it 3/5 stars in the normal world, and 5/5 stars in the fantasy world.
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime by Mark Haddon
This book follows an autistic boy who is trying to unravel the mystery of his neighbor's dog's death. As the mystery deeps, it starts to raise questions about his mother's death years before. The hook in this is how the boy, Paul, tries to figure out his world and compute his discoveries. I loved it. It was clever and fresh and endearing. Read this. It's wonderful. 5/5 stars.
3.10.2010
It's Much Easier to be Critical . . .
. . . than to be correct. -Benjamin Disraeli
Since I rarely get the motivation to share pure thoughts on my blog, I'm going to expand my entries to include book and movie reviews. Starting now.
I had a stressful week last, and to relieve my stress, I reactivated my library card and went nuts. I'm going to report back on a few of these reading adventures. Lucky you.
Travels in the Scriptorium by Paul Auster
I love this author. I think he has a unique perspective even though it is highly plausible that he takes himself far too seriously. His usual themes of fate and subjective identity provide mind-blowing plot twists and revelations. Scriptorium, however, not only lacked the usual hook and plot development, but it lacked a compelling parallel storyline. The book follows the day of a man who wakes up in a sterile room with no memory. He ties to piece together what has happened to land him here as various acquaintances flit in and out of the room, some wanting to help him, the majority wanting to kill him. He finds a manuscript that tells a story of a man similar to him but living in a 1800-ish sci-fi world. Auster may have expected us to draw parallels from it, but I failed to see anything other than both men didn't know much about their own lives. The premise of the book is solid; it is the execution that lacked Auster's usual sparkle. His images, usually so rich, were incomplete, and his characters were pretty flat, although I was told that they had very interesting and rich lives. I don't think this book would be worth reading, but the author is definitely worth investigating. Try Man in the Dark. It is one of his best.
How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff
This author has a gift. Her style is quick and her humor is biting. Her characters are memorable and distinct. However, her plot is idiotic. It meant well, truly it did. Children trapped in the countryside as war breaks out world wide. The internet is not working, cell phones are dead, and adults are stranded in Norway. So, we have 5 kids trying to survive. The basics are good. Now insert a creepy love affair with a cousin (ew) and sacrificing the good of the plot for the sake of teen angst, and I was thoroughly annoyed. However, if sexual awakening with 15-year-old cousins is right up your alley, you'll love this book on all of its levels.
When We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris
At first glance, this book is The Office, Office Space, and Michael Clayton rolled into one book. Now take away everything you like about those movies. You have just hit page 25. The initial scenes of the book contain caricatures of classic office minutiae and passive aggressive cubicle drama. It toys with the mob mentality, layoffs, and coffee mugs. It's great. It's entertaining. It's short-lived. Once the plot kicks into high gear, I was left with the memory and occasional reminder of the once witty characters who are becoming increasingly annoying and pathetic. The bright yellow cover is quickly tainted by dark rain clouds that refuse to drop their comforting waters. If it was good old-fashioned misery, I can get on board. But it is just the possibility of misery and the perpetual limbo of waiting for the plot. I guess it really is a book about office life.
If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things by John McGregor
Awesome. This book juggles terse narration with sweeping lyricism and expert stream of consciousness. The book follows the events of a single day on a normal street in London, as reflected by a tenant three years later, ending with a devastating car accident that won't quite fade from memory. The images are beautiful, the prose is delightful, and the humor is unexpected. I would read this one again. And again. I do adore.
That's all for now. Up next week is America (the Book) by Jon Stewart, Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon, and Desert Solitude by Edward Abbey. Stay tuned.
Since I rarely get the motivation to share pure thoughts on my blog, I'm going to expand my entries to include book and movie reviews. Starting now.
I had a stressful week last, and to relieve my stress, I reactivated my library card and went nuts. I'm going to report back on a few of these reading adventures. Lucky you.
Travels in the Scriptorium by Paul Auster
I love this author. I think he has a unique perspective even though it is highly plausible that he takes himself far too seriously. His usual themes of fate and subjective identity provide mind-blowing plot twists and revelations. Scriptorium, however, not only lacked the usual hook and plot development, but it lacked a compelling parallel storyline. The book follows the day of a man who wakes up in a sterile room with no memory. He ties to piece together what has happened to land him here as various acquaintances flit in and out of the room, some wanting to help him, the majority wanting to kill him. He finds a manuscript that tells a story of a man similar to him but living in a 1800-ish sci-fi world. Auster may have expected us to draw parallels from it, but I failed to see anything other than both men didn't know much about their own lives. The premise of the book is solid; it is the execution that lacked Auster's usual sparkle. His images, usually so rich, were incomplete, and his characters were pretty flat, although I was told that they had very interesting and rich lives. I don't think this book would be worth reading, but the author is definitely worth investigating. Try Man in the Dark. It is one of his best.
How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff
This author has a gift. Her style is quick and her humor is biting. Her characters are memorable and distinct. However, her plot is idiotic. It meant well, truly it did. Children trapped in the countryside as war breaks out world wide. The internet is not working, cell phones are dead, and adults are stranded in Norway. So, we have 5 kids trying to survive. The basics are good. Now insert a creepy love affair with a cousin (ew) and sacrificing the good of the plot for the sake of teen angst, and I was thoroughly annoyed. However, if sexual awakening with 15-year-old cousins is right up your alley, you'll love this book on all of its levels.
When We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris
At first glance, this book is The Office, Office Space, and Michael Clayton rolled into one book. Now take away everything you like about those movies. You have just hit page 25. The initial scenes of the book contain caricatures of classic office minutiae and passive aggressive cubicle drama. It toys with the mob mentality, layoffs, and coffee mugs. It's great. It's entertaining. It's short-lived. Once the plot kicks into high gear, I was left with the memory and occasional reminder of the once witty characters who are becoming increasingly annoying and pathetic. The bright yellow cover is quickly tainted by dark rain clouds that refuse to drop their comforting waters. If it was good old-fashioned misery, I can get on board. But it is just the possibility of misery and the perpetual limbo of waiting for the plot. I guess it really is a book about office life.
If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things by John McGregor
Awesome. This book juggles terse narration with sweeping lyricism and expert stream of consciousness. The book follows the events of a single day on a normal street in London, as reflected by a tenant three years later, ending with a devastating car accident that won't quite fade from memory. The images are beautiful, the prose is delightful, and the humor is unexpected. I would read this one again. And again. I do adore.
That's all for now. Up next week is America (the Book) by Jon Stewart, Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon, and Desert Solitude by Edward Abbey. Stay tuned.
2.02.2010
A Thirst of Irish
I am a woman of many secrets. Secrets piled on secrets like an 7-layer bean dip. Except I don't like bean dip. I am also a woman of many dislikes.
One of my secrets is that I am an aficionado of collective noun phrases.
These little beauties are not used enough in everyday conversation. Then again, that may be a blessing as collective noun phrases should be used with laser-like precision.
The following are a few of my favorites.
abomination of clergy
ambush of widows
ascension of larks
bellowing of bullfinches
blessing of unicorns
bloat of hippopotami
clashing of economists
coalition of cheetahs
congress of baboons
dropping of pigeons
eleven of cricketers
embarrassment of riches
flourish of strumpets
gang of elk
illusion of painters
intrusion of cockroaches
multiply of husbands
pocket of oranges
ponder of philosophers
rhumba of rattlesnakes
scourge of mosquitoes
singular of boars
zeal of zebras
wolfpack of submarines
Twisted minds developed these beauties. Twisted and genius.
One of my secrets is that I am an aficionado of collective noun phrases.
These little beauties are not used enough in everyday conversation. Then again, that may be a blessing as collective noun phrases should be used with laser-like precision.
The following are a few of my favorites.
abomination of clergy
ambush of widows
ascension of larks
bellowing of bullfinches
blessing of unicorns
bloat of hippopotami
clashing of economists
coalition of cheetahs
congress of baboons
dropping of pigeons
eleven of cricketers
embarrassment of riches
flourish of strumpets
gang of elk
illusion of painters
intrusion of cockroaches
multiply of husbands
pocket of oranges
ponder of philosophers
rhumba of rattlesnakes
scourge of mosquitoes
singular of boars
zeal of zebras
wolfpack of submarines
Twisted minds developed these beauties. Twisted and genius.
1.28.2010
Epic Love Affairs (of the One-Sided Variety)
I'm in love. Again.
Don't give me that look! For all your judging eyes and snide comments, I know that you have at least one poster stashed somewhere, embodying a long-time-yet-ultimately-doomed-and-unrequited love. We all know.
I tend to be more vocal about mine. This may surprise you, but I am very occasionally in touch with reality, and I know exactly what chance these love affairs have.
That said, I can't help but still have them, hold them, and cherish them. The love affiars, not the object of them. Naturally.
Many of you know of my little crushes. Most of them are fictional characters, such as Dean from Supernatural, Sam Seaborn from The West Wing, and Mat Cauthon from The Wheel of Time. A very few of them are actors. Matthew Gray Gubler comes to mind, as does Seth Green.
One is a speech writer.
A real one, not of Aaron Sorkin's creation.
Let me fill you in a little.
Jonathan Favreau is President Obama's Director of Speechwriting. He is 28, and has worked on two presidential campaigns, one of which was (obviously) successful. He is also very attractive and is incredible talented.
Take the State of the Union, for example. Holy hell. Did you see that thing?? Hear it?? Read it?? The man is a writing god! Whether you approve of the Obama Administration's policies or not, whether you like Democrats or not, whether you want to kill him or not, there is no denying that the man has genius. Just take a gander at the following snippets from the State of the Union.
"For 220 years, our leaders have fulfilled this duty. They've done so during periods of prosperity and tranquility, and they've done so in the midst of war and depression, at moments of great strife and great struggle."
"For these Americans and so many others, change has not come fast enough. Some are frustrated; some are angry. They don't understand why it seems like bad behavior on Wall Street is rewarded, but hard work on Main Street isn't, or why Washington has been unable or unwilling to solve any of our problems." (Do you SEE that parallelism???)
"And if there's one thing that has unified Democrats and Republicans -- and everybody in between -- it's that we all hated the bank bailout. I hated it. You hated it. It was about as popular as a root canal."
"In the 21st century, the best anti-poverty program around is a world-class education."
"We have to recognize that we face more than a deficit of dollars right now. We face a deficit of trust, deep and corrosive doubts about how Washington works that have been growing for years.
To close that credibility gap, we have to take action on both ends of Pennsylvania Avenue, to end the outsized influence of lobbyists, to do our work openly, to give our people the government they deserve."
Let it be noted that I am not endorsing or refuting any of the policies. I am merely providing examples of rousing and eloquent speech writing.
Literary music like this would sway the heart of anyone.
Don't give me that look! For all your judging eyes and snide comments, I know that you have at least one poster stashed somewhere, embodying a long-time-yet-ultimately-doomed-and-unrequited love. We all know.
I tend to be more vocal about mine. This may surprise you, but I am very occasionally in touch with reality, and I know exactly what chance these love affairs have.
That said, I can't help but still have them, hold them, and cherish them. The love affiars, not the object of them. Naturally.
Many of you know of my little crushes. Most of them are fictional characters, such as Dean from Supernatural, Sam Seaborn from The West Wing, and Mat Cauthon from The Wheel of Time. A very few of them are actors. Matthew Gray Gubler comes to mind, as does Seth Green.
One is a speech writer.
A real one, not of Aaron Sorkin's creation.
Let me fill you in a little.
Jonathan Favreau is President Obama's Director of Speechwriting. He is 28, and has worked on two presidential campaigns, one of which was (obviously) successful. He is also very attractive and is incredible talented.
Take the State of the Union, for example. Holy hell. Did you see that thing?? Hear it?? Read it?? The man is a writing god! Whether you approve of the Obama Administration's policies or not, whether you like Democrats or not, whether you want to kill him or not, there is no denying that the man has genius. Just take a gander at the following snippets from the State of the Union.
"For 220 years, our leaders have fulfilled this duty. They've done so during periods of prosperity and tranquility, and they've done so in the midst of war and depression, at moments of great strife and great struggle."
"For these Americans and so many others, change has not come fast enough. Some are frustrated; some are angry. They don't understand why it seems like bad behavior on Wall Street is rewarded, but hard work on Main Street isn't, or why Washington has been unable or unwilling to solve any of our problems." (Do you SEE that parallelism???)
"And if there's one thing that has unified Democrats and Republicans -- and everybody in between -- it's that we all hated the bank bailout. I hated it. You hated it. It was about as popular as a root canal."
"In the 21st century, the best anti-poverty program around is a world-class education."
"We have to recognize that we face more than a deficit of dollars right now. We face a deficit of trust, deep and corrosive doubts about how Washington works that have been growing for years.
To close that credibility gap, we have to take action on both ends of Pennsylvania Avenue, to end the outsized influence of lobbyists, to do our work openly, to give our people the government they deserve."
Let it be noted that I am not endorsing or refuting any of the policies. I am merely providing examples of rousing and eloquent speech writing.
Literary music like this would sway the heart of anyone.
1.04.2010
Adventures in Nerdom
You all know I'm a nerd. I delight in my nerdiness to an annoying extent. I think about half of my blog posts have been about poetry or literature, and all of the drafts that I've refrained from publishing are. (Everyone should employ a filtering system on their blogs. I'm talking to you, emo kids.)
Yes, I am a Lord of the Rings loving, History Channel watching, video game playing, sci fi viewing, alien believing, flashlight under the blanket reading, art . . . something . . . nerd.
So, naturally, I want to publish something. What self respecting nerd doesn't want to inflict her nerdiness on an unsuspecting world? I bet you have some unfinished manuscript stashed under the bathroom sink. Okay, maybe it's just in some long forgotten computer file you haven't opened since high school, but it's there.
(Random side note: I just displayed my weirdness to my 1st period student by fashioning a screwdriver from a paper clip and tape. She is now staring at me like I may be a robot. On the bright side, my desk doesn't wobble. I am worthy of an 80s action TV show.)
I gave up on the pipe dream of writing a book long ago. I don't have that kind of concentration. I can barely write an email anymore, so to write a novel without previous monetary incentive is a little unfathomable.
Poetry I can do. It's easy and eager like that girl that sits half way back in your Survey of Philosophy class. You know the one. And who would have thought there would be so many? Poetry contests, not easy and eager 18-year-olds.
So here I go. I'm submitting. Yay! It's an adventure in nerdom, and expedition into the world outside of my own head and my own gigs of black text. Tie up the string, drop the bread crumbs, and point the compass north. After all, I do want to make it home safe.
Yes, I am a Lord of the Rings loving, History Channel watching, video game playing, sci fi viewing, alien believing, flashlight under the blanket reading, art . . . something . . . nerd.
So, naturally, I want to publish something. What self respecting nerd doesn't want to inflict her nerdiness on an unsuspecting world? I bet you have some unfinished manuscript stashed under the bathroom sink. Okay, maybe it's just in some long forgotten computer file you haven't opened since high school, but it's there.
(Random side note: I just displayed my weirdness to my 1st period student by fashioning a screwdriver from a paper clip and tape. She is now staring at me like I may be a robot. On the bright side, my desk doesn't wobble. I am worthy of an 80s action TV show.)
I gave up on the pipe dream of writing a book long ago. I don't have that kind of concentration. I can barely write an email anymore, so to write a novel without previous monetary incentive is a little unfathomable.
Poetry I can do. It's easy and eager like that girl that sits half way back in your Survey of Philosophy class. You know the one. And who would have thought there would be so many? Poetry contests, not easy and eager 18-year-olds.
So here I go. I'm submitting. Yay! It's an adventure in nerdom, and expedition into the world outside of my own head and my own gigs of black text. Tie up the string, drop the bread crumbs, and point the compass north. After all, I do want to make it home safe.
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