How did we ever communicate before cell phones? They keep us connected to everyone and get us out of jams, if we don't lose or forget them. Maybe you never forget your phone, but I do. I wonder if the subconsciouses of those of us who forget our phones are trying to tell us that we would be better off without the barnacle in our pocket all the time (although, my subconscious may be trying to get rid of my baby-butt-pink phone permanently). It's not hard to lose your phone. I lose my phone in many different ways on a weekly, sometimes semi-weekly basis. I'm pretty much a pro, so I'm going to give you some pointers.
1. Put it in a pocket you never use. After searching every pocket you normally store your phone in and pretty much given up, you will accidentally stick your hand in the pocket you have never used in your life, and voila! Phone.
2. After your friendly phone wakes you up in the morning, slide it under the covers of your bed as you stumble toward the coffeemaker. If you don't get to stay in the cozy covers, at least somebody (or something) does.
3. Put it in the door of your car, then exit the car.
4. Keep it in an open pocket so that it slips out when you put your bag down.
5. Leave it in the bathroom.
6. Place it on the counter, then put your groceries on top of it.
7. Put it in your bag, then take it out, and leave.
8. Leave it in a room or building that will be locked after you leave it.
9. Put it in your pants pocket, then change your pants.
10. Use it, then put it down.
This way, you'll search every place you normally put your phone and retrace your steps before you finally decide that you've actually lost your mind rather than your phone. About 5 minutes after loss of mind, you'll find your phone. Trust me. I speak from experience.
19 June 2010
Time for an update! As I type this, I am watching a very ominous thundercloud pass outside our wonderfully large living room window. People keep asking how the new apartment is, so, I guess I will tell you.
Pros:
1. I have my own room and bathroom. Big plus.
2. Real kitchen. HUGE plus.
3. Big porch, fairly roomy overall, lots of storage (relatively), and a wood-burning fireplace, which is a bit irrelevant right now.
Cons:
1. Haphazard administration.
2. So many college students it's like an extension of campus - I don't dare try the pool for fear of an unhealthy water/beer ratio.
3. Cable companies are evil monopolies! Don't we have laws against that?
4. Minor things that go wrong, like sticky doorknobs and one broken stove burner, and my toilet, which runs all the time. The water is either too hot or too cold, etc.
The living room has a big tri-window, and there is a spectacular storm going on right now. Birmingham has been especially hot lately, in the 90s with 60-70% humidity, and every few days we have a faint promise of a storm, but so far they've been very isolated.
Pros:
1. I have my own room and bathroom. Big plus.
2. Real kitchen. HUGE plus.
3. Big porch, fairly roomy overall, lots of storage (relatively), and a wood-burning fireplace, which is a bit irrelevant right now.
Cons:
1. Haphazard administration.
2. So many college students it's like an extension of campus - I don't dare try the pool for fear of an unhealthy water/beer ratio.
3. Cable companies are evil monopolies! Don't we have laws against that?
4. Minor things that go wrong, like sticky doorknobs and one broken stove burner, and my toilet, which runs all the time. The water is either too hot or too cold, etc.
The living room has a big tri-window, and there is a spectacular storm going on right now. Birmingham has been especially hot lately, in the 90s with 60-70% humidity, and every few days we have a faint promise of a storm, but so far they've been very isolated.
28 May 2010
The Best Sports Movie Ever
Everybody loves an inspirational sports movie. Remember the Titans. Rudy. Radio. The Blind Side. Glory Road. We Are Marshall. You get the point. They move you to tears in the end, but even if you're a man that's okay because you're crying about sports. Once you've seen a few, however, you start to notice a pattern. If you're interested in becoming a director/screenwriter/producer someday, you'd do well to adhere to the award-winning sports movie formula.
1. True story. Otherwise it's less inspirational and you just look silly if you're crying over it.
2. Situation of adversity that must be overcome. Desegregation and civil rights in Remember the Titans. A small town trapped by a dead-end industry (coal mining, factory, etc). Rudy dreams of impressing his dad by playing for Notre Dame, but he's too small and not smart enough. Radio is mentally challenged and poor. Michael Oher is homeless in The Blind Side. The plane crash in We Are Marshall.
3. Inspirational character overcoming the odds. We must sympathize with this character, root for him, feel his pain. Radio, Rudy, Michael Oher, Herman Boone (Denzel in Titans).
4. Tough but kind-hearted coach. This coach mercilessly whips the team into shape while mentoring them to be young men of integrity. Denzel in Titans, Ed Harris in Radio. Sandra Bullock's character fills this role unconventionally in The Blind Side.
5. Working hard/Things are looking up montage. The team trains and bonds. They become really good and start winning games. Cue cheerleaders, roaring crowds, lots of team colors flying around, and games set to music.
6. Unforeseen tragedy/setback. It seems like there's no chance of triumph now. Back to the dead-end future, back to the loser's circle. The car crash in Titans. The accusations against the Touhys in the Blind Side. Radio's mother dies. Rudy is going to graduate and he won't get to dress for the final game.
7. Personal victory. The team might win the championship, and they might not. What matters is the adversity that has been overcome, the fact that they continued despite tragedy, the odds that they defeated. The characters are forever changed and have changed the opinions of those around them, achieving a victory for humankind. Cue the tears.
You know I'm right. All of our favorite sports movies follow this formula, more or less. But that doesn't mean we can't love them, can't cheer for the underdog or cry at the bittersweet triumph. After all, it's real life, with better-looking people and dramatic background music. Go team!
1. True story. Otherwise it's less inspirational and you just look silly if you're crying over it.
2. Situation of adversity that must be overcome. Desegregation and civil rights in Remember the Titans. A small town trapped by a dead-end industry (coal mining, factory, etc). Rudy dreams of impressing his dad by playing for Notre Dame, but he's too small and not smart enough. Radio is mentally challenged and poor. Michael Oher is homeless in The Blind Side. The plane crash in We Are Marshall.
3. Inspirational character overcoming the odds. We must sympathize with this character, root for him, feel his pain. Radio, Rudy, Michael Oher, Herman Boone (Denzel in Titans).
4. Tough but kind-hearted coach. This coach mercilessly whips the team into shape while mentoring them to be young men of integrity. Denzel in Titans, Ed Harris in Radio. Sandra Bullock's character fills this role unconventionally in The Blind Side.
5. Working hard/Things are looking up montage. The team trains and bonds. They become really good and start winning games. Cue cheerleaders, roaring crowds, lots of team colors flying around, and games set to music.
6. Unforeseen tragedy/setback. It seems like there's no chance of triumph now. Back to the dead-end future, back to the loser's circle. The car crash in Titans. The accusations against the Touhys in the Blind Side. Radio's mother dies. Rudy is going to graduate and he won't get to dress for the final game.
7. Personal victory. The team might win the championship, and they might not. What matters is the adversity that has been overcome, the fact that they continued despite tragedy, the odds that they defeated. The characters are forever changed and have changed the opinions of those around them, achieving a victory for humankind. Cue the tears.
You know I'm right. All of our favorite sports movies follow this formula, more or less. But that doesn't mean we can't love them, can't cheer for the underdog or cry at the bittersweet triumph. After all, it's real life, with better-looking people and dramatic background music. Go team!
24 May 2010
I can read!
I'm relearning how to read. After months of cramming hardcore philosophy and historical dissertations during the week and suffering from serious brain drain on the weekends, I'm slowly rediscovering the delight of tasting the words on the page and not checking the page number to see how much farther to the finish. Last week, I finished The Great Hunt by Robert Jordan, part of his Wheel of Time series. I read half of it the weekend before this past semester started, read about 5 pages during the semester, and finished it in a night last week. Now I'm finishing A History of the World in 6 Glasses, an easy read that I've only had time to chip away at since last summer. If you're at all a fan of drinking beer, wine, spirits, coffee, tea, or coke, you would enjoy it, although I'm fairly convinced that any good historian with a readable persuasive voice and decent research can "prove" that history was definitively shaped by their pet interest; for example, see Salt: A World History or Robbing the Bees: A Biography of Honey or one of the drier dissertations I read recently, The Revolution of the Saints: A Study in the Origins of Radical Politics, which argues that the Puritans created liberal politics and that all subsequent revolutions are descended from their radicalism.
Unfortunately, my recent flurry of pleasure reading and all of the reading and writing I've done in school lately have made me realize that I furrow my brow intensely when reading, which inevitably leads to a headache. When I unfurrow my brow, I somehow have more difficulty focusing on the words. Since I don't think that the placement of my eyebrows on my face has much to do with my cognitive ability, I'm going to the eye doctor tomorrow. It may be that my reign as the Eyesight Wonder Kid of the family (everybody else wears glasses) is finally coming to an end.
This is a minor setback, however, and I will be victorious in tackling my stack of summer books. (I almost re-wrote the previous sentence, placing the "however" at the front, as one of my professors hates it when the "however" is in the middle of the sentence. I once told him that one of my teachers had taught me to put it in the middle and not the front, and he said "Who was it?? What's his name? Was it somebody in the English department? They don't know how to write over there." I'm having a hard time adjusting to writing by my own preferences.) If the problem isn't my eyesight, I'm not sure what I'll do to prevent the furrowing. Maybe duct tape my forehead smooth? This could prove difficult. That's okay - I can fix it. I can also fix dinner, which is what I'm going to go do now.
"I am not a speed reader. I am a speed understander."
- Isaac Asimov
Unfortunately, my recent flurry of pleasure reading and all of the reading and writing I've done in school lately have made me realize that I furrow my brow intensely when reading, which inevitably leads to a headache. When I unfurrow my brow, I somehow have more difficulty focusing on the words. Since I don't think that the placement of my eyebrows on my face has much to do with my cognitive ability, I'm going to the eye doctor tomorrow. It may be that my reign as the Eyesight Wonder Kid of the family (everybody else wears glasses) is finally coming to an end.
This is a minor setback, however, and I will be victorious in tackling my stack of summer books. (I almost re-wrote the previous sentence, placing the "however" at the front, as one of my professors hates it when the "however" is in the middle of the sentence. I once told him that one of my teachers had taught me to put it in the middle and not the front, and he said "Who was it?? What's his name? Was it somebody in the English department? They don't know how to write over there." I'm having a hard time adjusting to writing by my own preferences.) If the problem isn't my eyesight, I'm not sure what I'll do to prevent the furrowing. Maybe duct tape my forehead smooth? This could prove difficult. That's okay - I can fix it. I can also fix dinner, which is what I'm going to go do now.
"I am not a speed reader. I am a speed understander."
- Isaac Asimov
11 May 2010
T Minus 24 hours and counting!
If I could make time pass by the sheer force of wishing - it would be tomorrow afternoon, yesterday. I can taste freedom. I am somewhere around 70% packed and 100% ready to go. When I was a freshman, people told me that 2nd semester junior year was the hardest. They were right. But it's ALMOST OVER! In the spirit of impending senior year and graduation, I've been exploring post-grad opportunities. I'm possessed by a desire to plan my future. Where will I live? What will I do? How will I make money? I want to know!
Sometimes, it's very hard to let go and let God, as my mom would say.
Sometimes, it's very hard to let go and let God, as my mom would say.
19 April 2010
Yesterday, I fixed my roommate's computer:
Pretty sweet, right? It's only a temporary fix, of course, but she was pretty excited to be able to use her own computer for her final papers. I told her I was excited that I had gotten to fix something, because fixing things means A) I get to solve a problem B) I get to experiment with ideas and C) I get to feel good about my abilities when I finish. She laughed at me for saying "feel good about my abilities" instead of "feel good about myself." I explained (although she kind of already knew) that for me, really for NTs in general, abilities = identity.
This is a good motivator for success. NTs include Socrates, Einstein, Nietzsche, Marie Curie, C.S. Lewis, Ayn Rand, and Thomas Jefferson. Successful people, right? I wonder how many of them were plagued with the fear of impending failure. I would bet money on every single one of them, although Lewis knew one thing that I know: my abilities are not my identity.
On my own abilities, I could become very successful, but I would never satisfy myself. I would always be disappointed in myself. I would consider myself a failure if I was not the absolute best. I don't have to live in that fear, though. My abilities and failures don't matter in the light of Christ's victory. In my own life, I have experienced the freedom that comes from surrendering my constant quest for greatness to the Greatest of all. In Him, I have found my identity and my purpose. God even uses my weaknesses and failures in uncomfortable and life-changing ways.
Even though I fixed Mary Beth's computer, tomorrow I may do poorly on a test, or I may look stupid in front of people I respect. The beautiful thing is, that doesn't have to eat me up anymore. I don't have to live and die on my performance, because I have died and live in Christ.
Pretty sweet, right? It's only a temporary fix, of course, but she was pretty excited to be able to use her own computer for her final papers. I told her I was excited that I had gotten to fix something, because fixing things means A) I get to solve a problem B) I get to experiment with ideas and C) I get to feel good about my abilities when I finish. She laughed at me for saying "feel good about my abilities" instead of "feel good about myself." I explained (although she kind of already knew) that for me, really for NTs in general, abilities = identity.
This is a good motivator for success. NTs include Socrates, Einstein, Nietzsche, Marie Curie, C.S. Lewis, Ayn Rand, and Thomas Jefferson. Successful people, right? I wonder how many of them were plagued with the fear of impending failure. I would bet money on every single one of them, although Lewis knew one thing that I know: my abilities are not my identity.
On my own abilities, I could become very successful, but I would never satisfy myself. I would always be disappointed in myself. I would consider myself a failure if I was not the absolute best. I don't have to live in that fear, though. My abilities and failures don't matter in the light of Christ's victory. In my own life, I have experienced the freedom that comes from surrendering my constant quest for greatness to the Greatest of all. In Him, I have found my identity and my purpose. God even uses my weaknesses and failures in uncomfortable and life-changing ways.
Even though I fixed Mary Beth's computer, tomorrow I may do poorly on a test, or I may look stupid in front of people I respect. The beautiful thing is, that doesn't have to eat me up anymore. I don't have to live and die on my performance, because I have died and live in Christ.
03 April 2010
Nothing-Happened Saturday
Happy uneventful Saturday between death and resurrection!
My church has a 5k (called Run to the Cross) and a spring festival (mostly for kids) every Nothing-Happened Saturday. This was my first year, since I usually go home for Easter. There are big inflatable castles and slides, and Easter Egg hunts, hot dogs, one slightly awkward Easter bunny, and live music. This year, a few members of the regular worship band, and me, were asked to be the band - which is why I went, because egg hunts have long lost their luster for me. Apparently for the past three years the band has been Act of Congress, an AMAZING local band that is now making it big, at least too big for our Easter festival. Just go to their page and listen to 5 seconds of a song, and you'll know why this makes us, the worship band, look like lame follow-up wannabes.
It rained and our drummer canceled, so our venue changed from outside to in the gym and we switched from electric to acoustic. When we got to the gym, we had to wait for a children's choir, armed with kazoos, to finish.
Then the saxophone player decided to show up - even though he didn't come to rehearsal, and we no longer had the full electric sound to back up a LOUD and resonant instrument like the sax. The boss man likes the sax, though, so those of us actually playing the acoustic instruments had to grin and bear it as he jazz improv'ed all over our harmonies.
When the children's choir was done, they all left, with their parents (the gym wasn't full to begin with). Then after we played a few songs, we had to stop so that they could hold the Diaper Derby. Once that was over, all the parents with the cute little babies left.
About one-third into our set, it was announced that the inflatables were closed due to their being too wet to be safe, and this was our death-knell. A couple songs later, all that was left was the cleaning crew - the die-hard church volunteers who had probably heard our songs 50 times before. They do know how to appreciate, though! We didn't finish our set and took a couple requests instead, and as the Spring Festival officially withered to a close, the sun came out.
Tomorrow is EASTER, though, which means Resurrection and rejoicing, and 5+ hours of rehearsals and services. But Easter is a very, very, very good day.
My church has a 5k (called Run to the Cross) and a spring festival (mostly for kids) every Nothing-Happened Saturday. This was my first year, since I usually go home for Easter. There are big inflatable castles and slides, and Easter Egg hunts, hot dogs, one slightly awkward Easter bunny, and live music. This year, a few members of the regular worship band, and me, were asked to be the band - which is why I went, because egg hunts have long lost their luster for me. Apparently for the past three years the band has been Act of Congress, an AMAZING local band that is now making it big, at least too big for our Easter festival. Just go to their page and listen to 5 seconds of a song, and you'll know why this makes us, the worship band, look like lame follow-up wannabes.
It rained and our drummer canceled, so our venue changed from outside to in the gym and we switched from electric to acoustic. When we got to the gym, we had to wait for a children's choir, armed with kazoos, to finish.
Then the saxophone player decided to show up - even though he didn't come to rehearsal, and we no longer had the full electric sound to back up a LOUD and resonant instrument like the sax. The boss man likes the sax, though, so those of us actually playing the acoustic instruments had to grin and bear it as he jazz improv'ed all over our harmonies.
When the children's choir was done, they all left, with their parents (the gym wasn't full to begin with). Then after we played a few songs, we had to stop so that they could hold the Diaper Derby. Once that was over, all the parents with the cute little babies left.
About one-third into our set, it was announced that the inflatables were closed due to their being too wet to be safe, and this was our death-knell. A couple songs later, all that was left was the cleaning crew - the die-hard church volunteers who had probably heard our songs 50 times before. They do know how to appreciate, though! We didn't finish our set and took a couple requests instead, and as the Spring Festival officially withered to a close, the sun came out.
Tomorrow is EASTER, though, which means Resurrection and rejoicing, and 5+ hours of rehearsals and services. But Easter is a very, very, very good day.
27 March 2010
Criminal Record
Recently, I received a mysterious e-mail from Stepford Residence Life summoning me to a "hearing" of the "Community Standards Council" to determine if I was responsible for allegedly being "involved in a incident in violation of Stepford's values and honor code." I told my roommates and Amber immediately began channeling all those Law and Order marathons we've wasted good sleeping hours on. We (really, just she) poured over the Student Handbook and discovered that the summons technically violated Values Violations procedure as outlined in the handbook, as it did not inform me of whatever the alleged incident actually was (although it did tell me the date of the incident, from last semester - like I remember what I did last week!).
We didn't have time to get pencil skirt suits and briefcases, so we marched into the hearing wearing jeans and backpacks instead - Amber playing the role of my legal counsel and Mary Beth just there to be amused. It took us a while to find the room, as it was in a part of the University Center we never go in. At first I thought it was the door behind the big statue of a dead white guy that used to be in the room in the Capitol where they have statues from all the states (they replaced him with Helen Keller, she's more PC), but the door was unmarked, and when we stood in front of the statue and said "Lemon Drop," nothing happened. We did find it, though, and we weren't late, although half the council was - the council being comprised of a staff adviser and seven students, only two of whom actually showed up. A handful of other equally confused students were present to get their sentences (more politely called "sanctions"). You parked in the wrong parking lot? Hang them on the Quad! Hang them all on the Quad!
They explained how we would each get a chance to tell our side of the story privately to the council before they discussed our sanctions. They finally presented us with written reports of our "incidents" - thus removing a leg from our defense about "not following procedure."
The incident? We have visitation hours in the dorms, when we are allowed to have members of the opposite sex in the dorms (co-ed dorms are for heathens and sexual vagrants), provided we sign our visitors in at the residence life office and fork over a drivers license and a kidney as collateral. On weekends, visitation is from 2 PM - 12 AM, and usually when we have guys over, it's the weekend. However, on weekdays, visitation ends at 10 PM. The day of the mysterious incident was a weekDAY, not a weekEND, and we were hanging out in the dorm, when at 10:15 PM I received a phone call from Residence Life telling me to come sign out my visitor. We signed out and I apologized to the (apparently pissed) RA on duty, explaining that I had forgotten visitation ended at 10 and not midnight. No harm done, right? Wrong! Stepford has been VIOLATED and someone must be punished! The RA on duty, contrary to the forgiving nature of almost every other RA I know, wrote a report on the heinous and malicious breach of protocol and it was this report that caused me to be summoned to the Community Standards Council on a rainy Thursday afternoon.
I told them my side of the story - what I've told you here, minus my comments on the RA's bad mood. One of the two students on the council said dubiously, "That's it?" and they sent me on my way with their characteristically Stepford smiles, promising an e-mail the following day that would deliver my sanction, if there was any.
My thoughts afterwards? That this was a ridiculous, trivial waste of time, and these reasonable people understood the harmless and thoroughly accidental nature of the incident. Well, I got my sentencing via e-mail today, as promised, and I received two points on my "record," seven of which will send a person to the "Values Advocate" and likely put them on probation.
You know what else I did today? I put down a deposit on an off-campus apartment.
I don't foresee suddenly accumulating 5 more points in the next year, but the absolutely useless nature of the entire process from start to finish has only solidified my firm dislike of the Stepford administration. I have wonderful professors, I've met a few interesting people, and I've gotten a good liberal arts education for what is unfortunately a bargain, but I will have no feelings of nostalgia or affection for the institution when I step off its perfectly landscaped campus for the last time. This one incident is not what has tarnished my view of Stepford, it's only the cherry on top - a battle scar, if you will, and an enjoyable story to tell.
We didn't have time to get pencil skirt suits and briefcases, so we marched into the hearing wearing jeans and backpacks instead - Amber playing the role of my legal counsel and Mary Beth just there to be amused. It took us a while to find the room, as it was in a part of the University Center we never go in. At first I thought it was the door behind the big statue of a dead white guy that used to be in the room in the Capitol where they have statues from all the states (they replaced him with Helen Keller, she's more PC), but the door was unmarked, and when we stood in front of the statue and said "Lemon Drop," nothing happened. We did find it, though, and we weren't late, although half the council was - the council being comprised of a staff adviser and seven students, only two of whom actually showed up. A handful of other equally confused students were present to get their sentences (more politely called "sanctions"). You parked in the wrong parking lot? Hang them on the Quad! Hang them all on the Quad!
They explained how we would each get a chance to tell our side of the story privately to the council before they discussed our sanctions. They finally presented us with written reports of our "incidents" - thus removing a leg from our defense about "not following procedure."
The incident? We have visitation hours in the dorms, when we are allowed to have members of the opposite sex in the dorms (co-ed dorms are for heathens and sexual vagrants), provided we sign our visitors in at the residence life office and fork over a drivers license and a kidney as collateral. On weekends, visitation is from 2 PM - 12 AM, and usually when we have guys over, it's the weekend. However, on weekdays, visitation ends at 10 PM. The day of the mysterious incident was a weekDAY, not a weekEND, and we were hanging out in the dorm, when at 10:15 PM I received a phone call from Residence Life telling me to come sign out my visitor. We signed out and I apologized to the (apparently pissed) RA on duty, explaining that I had forgotten visitation ended at 10 and not midnight. No harm done, right? Wrong! Stepford has been VIOLATED and someone must be punished! The RA on duty, contrary to the forgiving nature of almost every other RA I know, wrote a report on the heinous and malicious breach of protocol and it was this report that caused me to be summoned to the Community Standards Council on a rainy Thursday afternoon.
I told them my side of the story - what I've told you here, minus my comments on the RA's bad mood. One of the two students on the council said dubiously, "That's it?" and they sent me on my way with their characteristically Stepford smiles, promising an e-mail the following day that would deliver my sanction, if there was any.
My thoughts afterwards? That this was a ridiculous, trivial waste of time, and these reasonable people understood the harmless and thoroughly accidental nature of the incident. Well, I got my sentencing via e-mail today, as promised, and I received two points on my "record," seven of which will send a person to the "Values Advocate" and likely put them on probation.
You know what else I did today? I put down a deposit on an off-campus apartment.
I don't foresee suddenly accumulating 5 more points in the next year, but the absolutely useless nature of the entire process from start to finish has only solidified my firm dislike of the Stepford administration. I have wonderful professors, I've met a few interesting people, and I've gotten a good liberal arts education for what is unfortunately a bargain, but I will have no feelings of nostalgia or affection for the institution when I step off its perfectly landscaped campus for the last time. This one incident is not what has tarnished my view of Stepford, it's only the cherry on top - a battle scar, if you will, and an enjoyable story to tell.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)