tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22845868732109942122024-03-13T15:35:00.504-04:00Raz BerriesAn introvert's commentary on life, the universe and everything. Comes with everything you see here. Unicorns and rainbows sold separately. Just kidding. Everyone knows you can't buy rainbows.Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.comBlogger84125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-7501511968487225272013-12-31T23:09:00.000-05:002014-01-01T01:21:27.750-05:00The Lazy Runs Deep<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A weird thing
happened. At the end of the
semester, on the day grades were due, we finally got an email from the data
structures professor letting us know that the grades for the final exam and
project were online, and that we could now view our final grades. This semester was really rough for me
(see the previous post) but I’d really thought I could pull a B out of this
class. But when I checked it, I
saw that the online gradebook had other ideas.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>Now I know what I
expected to happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would
usually handle a disappointment like the C staring back at me with a heavy sigh
and a bitter remark and a dismissive wave of my hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life isn’t fair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I learned that a long time ago when my mother explained to me that I had
to be the older and therefore the more mature one when my sister and I would
get into skirmishes when we were little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But that wasn’t what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It wasn’t what happened at all.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>I became possessed by
some person I haven’t seen since the ninth grade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I became angry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I became motivated. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
ranted for a while, to anyone within reach—my classmates, my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then it hit me that I had less than 24
hours to dispute this grade and I absolutely nothing to lose by trying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was futile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grade was mostly my fault anyway—I
didn’t study well enough for the final exam, and I studied the wrong things,
and my grade reflected that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
there were at least two grade points that I could attribute to the teaching
assistants’ inconsistent and lazy grading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those were the points I needed to squeeze a B out of this
course, and I was clinging to them like the handlebar on an old roller coaster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>Amazingly, given the
height of my emotional distress at this point (as well as a mild identity
crisis I decided to put a pin in), I composed a 450-word email to the professor
that opened:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm sure you're
getting a lot of emails from students who are panicked about their grades here
at the last minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is one of
those emails.</span></blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Then I made my
case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t fighting for truth
or justice, because I probably deserved the grade I’d been given.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was a lawyer on my own case, and I
was not about to take “C” for an answer (there’s a “sí” joke in there
somewhere, but I won’t make it so as to preserve the seriousness of this
story).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p>This professor, in
stark contrast to my other programming professor this semester, had always been
great about responding to student needs, pushing back project deadlines when
they lined up with projects and exams in other classes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I appealed to this tendency now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much to my surprise, he gave me a
shot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had the TA send me the
file they’d used to test our programs, and allowed me to correct the issue that
had cost me the points I needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In a kind of daze, unable to fully believe, first, that I had initiated
this at all, and second, that it was actually happening, I dismissed myself and
left work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I raced home, dug out
my old program, and started coding furiously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In two and a half hours of harried coding and frantically
reading stackoverflow.com posts, I had solved the problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t easy.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oY8rc3QQdjM/UsOTklNJtOI/AAAAAAAAAhI/Sq2TYoapSqY/s1600/PARIS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oY8rc3QQdjM/UsOTklNJtOI/AAAAAAAAAhI/Sq2TYoapSqY/s320/PARIS.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"I can scare the stupid out of you,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">but the lazy runs deep."</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p>My fingers shook as I
hit the button to send the program back to the teacher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know why they were shaking now;
maybe it had only just occurred to me to be freaked out about all of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who was this person who cared deeply
enough and contained enough fire to fight so hard for a couple of points?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p>Oh, me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span>The professor emailed
me and told me he’d adjusted my grade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I looked at the gradebook again, I saw that he’d given me exactly
the number of points I’d needed to reach a B.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My grade is now an 80.01.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d done it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
hadn’t rolled over and taken a C.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had drawn my sword and fought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is no reason I should have been allowed to actually make changes
and resubmit a project from weeks earlier and receive additional credit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’d channeled my inner Paris Geller
(Gilmore Girls?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyone?), I’d
taken a shot and I’d made it.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p>I’m a little scared of
what this means going forward, but I’m more excited about the B.</span><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-59513644820651224432013-11-28T23:16:00.001-05:002013-11-28T23:44:17.077-05:00I'm a Mess<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">You would not believe the <s>week</s> month I’m
having.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />My first year of college was easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s easy to ignore homework.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s easy to avoid studying and pretend
like you’ll do fine on the test anyway because you’re smart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s easy to curl into a ball and/or
crawl into a hole and hide from your problems when you realize that’s not
actually how things work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
easy to stare at your failing grades and pretend that as long as no one knows,
they don’t exist.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />It’s easy to say you’ll do better next time.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Then, sophomore year, I failed a class in my major
because it was harder than I expected it to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was as simple as that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The second time around I passed it with an A because I knew
what I was going into.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’m out
of grade exclusions—I can’t fail any more classes because I disagree with the
workload.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />This semester, I’m trying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m really trying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve spent hours upon hours at various
libraries writing code in two different languages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I met with my advisor and determined that I’m about a whole
semester behind where I need to be, and I don’t know how it happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I wrote a genre fiction story for a literary
fiction class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned the
difference between genre fiction and literary fiction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have two projects due on the Tuesday
after Thanksgiving break, and two presentations to give the next day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m currently in Ohio, stealing away
time from visiting my family to work on said projects (my cousins have faster
internet then we do, so that’s a plus).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
I had two tests last week that I did not study for (because I forgot, or didn't have time, or both) and probably did very poorly on, which is extra irritating because those classes are stupid easy and I should have A's in both of them. <br />
<br />
I went three days with crippling stomach pain which made it difficult to do much of anything let alone finish the programming project I was working on. And because that's not something you talk about to the guy you just met who wants to get this thing done as badly as you do, my partner probably thinks my face just exists in that contortion of pain. Then I did a bad thing and googled my symptoms. WebMD told me I had gastrointestinal bleeding.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">One night last week I left my phone on a university
bus and spent an hour chasing it around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I did manage to recover my phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I survive on coffee and Chipotle’s steak burritos and guacamole (it’s
good guacamole).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes I even sleep.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />But I’m not failing anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m working really hard to pull a C out
of my C (the programming language) class, but I’m not going to fail it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a conversation with my fiction
writing teacher about my passion for writing and she mentioned that perhaps I
was in the wrong major, and for the first time I didn’t feel the urge to
question the course I’ve chosen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I like computer science.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through the downpour of awful C projects and deadlines
sneaking up on me, there are still bright moments of exuberance when an
algorithm I’ve been working on for hours begins to work correctly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’ve accepted that I don’t have to
love it all the time for it to be the right major.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that even if I chose to major in creative writing,
there would be times when it would become laborious and dull and I would long
for the cool logic of computer science.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So it’s not easier now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s much, much harder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s better, I guess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am physically exhausted, and so sleep-deprived that I
actually stepped into the sunlight one chilly afternoon and became genuinely
concerned that my sha<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">dow extended far enough into the street to be hit by a
car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My shadow, you guys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But I no longer carry the debilitating guilt of
knowing that I’m failing classes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am not plagued by the helplessness that comes from feeling like you
can’t ask for help, and the dread that settles it when you know it’s too late.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve traded one form of exhaustion for another, but
at least this way I’ll graduate.</span>Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-84596643446347747552013-10-31T19:53:00.000-04:002013-10-31T19:53:24.284-04:00Williamsburg and Watson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Since I started this blog I've been consistent about posting at least once a month. October sort of snuck away from me, but it had an easy time of it because I was very distracted with <i>two</i> programming classes, a short story I'm working on for my Fiction Writing class, a fledging portrait photography business, and being a bridesmaid. <i>Most</i> of which I love (lookin' at you, programming classes).<br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So I've started a post about creativity and originality, but in the interest of time, I'm going to cheat a little bit, and post a couple of photos I took when my family went to Williamsburg recently, and an excerpt from said short story, in an effort to prove that even though I've been neglecting to write bloggy things, I <i>have been writing</i>.<br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Ok here we go:<br />Pictures!</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WRR_2-UT9t0/UnLi98cjfZI/AAAAAAAAAgU/ggXSwhHusdo/s1600/IMG_8313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WRR_2-UT9t0/UnLi98cjfZI/AAAAAAAAAgU/ggXSwhHusdo/s640/IMG_8313.jpg" width="425" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">It's a little known fact that the early colonists were very into energy conservation</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H1uNCK1vgBA/UnLjGFH5ZsI/AAAAAAAAAgc/N479nmeWJfw/s1600/IMG_8321+-+Version+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H1uNCK1vgBA/UnLjGFH5ZsI/AAAAAAAAAgc/N479nmeWJfw/s400/IMG_8321+-+Version+2.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">It's a cherry. On the ground. Move along.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ELhfFR2RSxU/UnLjKrF5y7I/AAAAAAAAAgk/rL9W77hQrNw/s1600/IMG_8357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ELhfFR2RSxU/UnLjKrF5y7I/AAAAAAAAAgk/rL9W77hQrNw/s400/IMG_8357.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">I chased this dude around for a while.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gm9D3hO2IGM/UnLjP-EdTUI/AAAAAAAAAgs/pfvHDrFbgZU/s1600/IMG_8419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gm9D3hO2IGM/UnLjP-EdTUI/AAAAAAAAAgs/pfvHDrFbgZU/s640/IMG_8419.jpg" width="426" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Parking spot</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hJCvf3RVaoE/UnLmaNGCfJI/AAAAAAAAAg4/nLMXHgyY3u0/s1600/IMG_8306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hJCvf3RVaoE/UnLmaNGCfJI/AAAAAAAAAg4/nLMXHgyY3u0/s400/IMG_8306.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fence and some stuff</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Aaaand story:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />The story is titled "It Doesn't Know How," which I decided on after no small about of deliberation. It's about half-written, and I have the rest of the plot laid out in my head, but the rest needs to get written fast (by me) because I have to turn in a first draft on Wednesday. So, without further ado:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I pressed my shoulder against the heavy
door and leaned into it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It gave a
bit too easily, like it hadn’t gone quite long enough without someone forcing
it to turn on its rusty hinges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beside
me, Watson bobbed up and down anxiously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I looked at him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span class="Watson">Nervous</span>, he said.</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Worry-wart,” I teased.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when I turned around I saw that Watson’s
instincts were dead-on, as usual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
room had been torn apart. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
computers were utterly destroyed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bits and pieces of memory and processors were strewn across the
room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the old towers had
been gutted; red and blue wires stuck morbidly from its corpse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The entrails of the largest monitor had
been strung from the knobs of the kitchen cabinets like party decorations.</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The dirty
refrigerator leaned to one side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Its door hung open, which didn’t actually matter because its contents
had been picked clean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sighed
heavily and shrugged off my bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It hit the floor with a soft thud, sending up a cloud of dust that
caught the light of the old florescent beam outside the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I closed the fridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I methodically removed the wires from
the cabinets, discovering with a modicum of relief that they were mostly
intact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Luddites were a destructive
bunch, but you wouldn’t catch me complaining about their lack of technical know-how.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d reassembled the computers a dozen
times, and I was prepared to do it a dozen more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a labor of love.</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was more upset
about the food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t program
another fresh ham into existence, and the next food shipment wouldn’t come
through here for a week.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Watson pipped
three times, the tone he made when he was digesting new data.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was probably trying to figure out
why I wasn’t more bothered by the mess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I patted him absentmindedly as I crossed the room and dropped the wires
on the shell of the old computer, wincing as I saw the inside. The memory chips were smashed. I’d lost everything. </span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I looked back at the hovering metal sphere with
renewed fondness and amended my observation. I’d lost everything except Watson. </blockquote>
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Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-275875801248758862013-09-30T21:58:00.002-04:002013-09-30T21:58:49.173-04:00Raz vs. The Wedding Shower<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My best friend is
getting married and I’m thrilled to pieces for her. I cried when she asked me to be a bridesmaid. I cried when I saw her in her wedding
dress, and I will probably be a blubbering mess at the wedding. I’m prepared for that.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>When she asked me to
take their engagement pictures, I couldn’t have been more flattered. I bought a new lens. I did all kinds of research on posing
couples. I bought a little
ampersand prop and an old barnwood frame from A.C. Moore, and I grabbed chalk
so we could write their wedding date on the fence just like I saw on
Pinterest. I was prepared for
that.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>At the wedding shower,
most of the tables had little dessert offerings on them. They were all color-coordinated and
interspersed tastefully with decorations.
On one table, however, there was a little rectangle of delicate wire mesh
attached to a frame. Beside it was
a basket of muslin strips for people to write nuggets of wisdom and advice for
married life, then weave them or tie them onto the wire. I was not prepared for that.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>For most of the shindig
I just avoided it. But I’m a <i>bridesmaid</i>. I have <i>responsibilities.</i> So eventually I made my way over to the
cursed thing. By this point in the
evening, several people had come and gone, leaving their handwritten tips in
the mesh. Some were woven
meticulously, others looked like they crash-landed. Still others were knotted securely to one section of wire or
another, as if secured for stormy weather.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>I stared at it for a
long time, thinking that perhaps if I read every single piece of fabric,
something in my head would ignite and I would write something clever but
thoughtful, something distinctly “me” but also a little surprising, then pass
on without a second thought as so many others had. But as the staredown dragged on, I found myself wishing
instead for laser vision so I could blow the thing to bits.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>In lieu of producing
useful advice, my head supplied snarky responses to nearly all of the strips up
there. For example, one read: “There is no ‘I’ in team,” which is
true enough, but there <i>is</i> an “I” in
“marriage” so…</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>Others made me cringe
for different a different reason. “She
is always right!” claimed one.
Another advised, “Compromise… Her way is best.” Both paint the wife as an emotionally
unstable basket case that the husband must constantly tiptoe around if he hopes
to maintain his sanity. That’s a
little unfair. And while the
intended light-heartedness was not lost on me, the nonchalance with which we
throw sayings like this around makes it worse, in a way. A girlfriend sidled up next to me,
baffled that I was having so much trouble with something so simple. “This one’s mine,” she said, and
pointed to a neatly written strip near the top: “A happy wife is a happy life.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>I didn’t say anything.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>Who was I to offer
marriage advice? I’m not
married. I don’t want to be
married. I’ve never even had a
real relationship. I retreated to
the comfort zone of attacking the whole construct of the “advice board,” mentally
enumerating its weaknesses and fallacies, because it meant I didn’t have to
accept that <i>I</i> was the only thing
preventing me from succeeding at this.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>I walked away. Not for good, but for a moment, just to
collect myself. Or, perhaps more
accurately, to get over myself.
This wasn’t about me. I
wasn’t the one getting married; I had no right to this breakdown. When I returned to that table, it was
only for long enough to write my piece and tie it down. I tied it tight, as if securing it for
stormy weather.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>“You’ll do great.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>Because they will.</span><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-56231283443282175642013-08-30T17:17:00.001-04:002013-08-30T17:17:53.696-04:00Why I Said Ke$ha Was My Favorite Artist<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nsuoYVxQHAY/UiELb5gNU9I/AAAAAAAAAgA/Xt-uXO8Hf0M/s1600/19926_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nsuoYVxQHAY/UiELb5gNU9I/AAAAAAAAAgA/Xt-uXO8Hf0M/s400/19926_3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you ever run out of glitter, you know where to find me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In
the kitchen at work there’s a television monitor that scrolls through the
names, faces, and team breakdown of all the employees in the company. It went several months without being
updated, and at the rate we’re growing, that was a big deal. So recently a grand effort was made to
take new pictures of everyone and just make general improvements to the virtual
Rolodex. Someone had the idea to
include along with our names and photos a fun piece of trivia. How about…Favorite Band?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>Now,
pretty much anywhere else, this question would fall in the “Mostly Harmless”
category. It’s easy to have a
casual conversation about music you’re currently into or to “Quick! Name three
bands you’re digging hard right now.”
There will always be people that judge you for the music you admit to
listening to, but the commitment implied by naming a “Favorite Band” is another
beast entirely. And surrounded by
people whose career is based around the indie music scene, the pressure only increases.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>The
Black Keys are usually a easy go-to if you want to convince someone you know
good music, but here, even that wasn’t a safe answer, because they’ve become so
mainstream. At the other end of
the spectrum, if you name someone no one’s ever heard of, you risk looking
presumptuous or altogether weird.
A similar problem arises if you go classic with something like Led
Zeppelin or Van Halen, because it implies that you feel music has yet to be as
good as it was in the [insert decade here]. If you venture farther and say someone like Miles Davis or
Duke Ellington, you could come across as a genuine fan of the genre, or you <i>could</i> wind up looking like you’re
snubbing your nose at everyone else.
If you name someone that hasn’t been around long enough, you risk
looking capricious or irresolute.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>At
about this point in my mental breakdown I realized something about myself: I care what people think of me way more
than I thought I did. When did
being effortless start requiring so much effort?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>All
at once an idea occurred to me. I
would write down Ke$ha. Complete
with currency notation. Part of it
was to protest the question altogether.
No one should ever be forced to come up with a “Favorite Band.” If you’ve got one, more power to you, I
suppose, although I’d posit the idea that maybe you should listen to more
music. It was sort of a way to
say, “Alright, I’ll give you a Favorite Band, but you’re not going to like it.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>But
it goes deeper than that. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>I
like Ke$ha. I honestly,
unabashedly enjoy her music. I like
her be-yourself battle call and her unapologetic straightforwardness. I also think she’s a talented lyricist,
although her chart-topping pop anthems aren’t the best examples. On top of it all, she doesn’t take
herself too seriously, especially compared to some of her contemporaries (cough
cough, Lady Gaga). Most of my
workmates do not share my opinions, but I thought I would take a cue from Ke$ha
and be who I R (u kno?). Because I
wasn’t just being ironic about the Favorite Band question, hoping that others
interpreted it as a joke. By
actually meaning the name I wrote down, I was being ironic about being ironic,
in an attempt to create an explosion of irony powerful enough to teach Alanis
Morissette the meaning of the word.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>Somebody
else said The Black Keys.</span><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-70511106783534928542013-07-31T22:32:00.001-04:002013-07-31T22:32:45.430-04:00Nine True Facts About Venice<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Yesterday my family and I arrived home from an eighteen-day trip in Europe. We spent four of those eighteen days in Venice, and I thought I'd share some of the things I learned about the unique city.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--TGa5DSB2eo/UfnHJIIUUSI/AAAAAAAAAfw/GzP8ji_CZoM/s1600/IMG_6439+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--TGa5DSB2eo/UfnHJIIUUSI/AAAAAAAAAfw/GzP8ji_CZoM/s400/IMG_6439+small.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where's Waldo?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<ol>
<li>It’s sinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Go figure.</li>
<li>Occasionally the scent of fresh pizza wafts through the
street, but be careful about inhaling too deeply because you could just as
easily get a noseful of low tide.</li>
<li>After hours of wandering around you may be inclined to think
that you are holding a particularly poorly designed map.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While this may be the case, Venice is also
a particularly poorly designed city. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All roads do not lead to Rome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Venice, all roads lead to other roads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of them lead to your hotel.</li>
<li>Although most people associate the phrase “leaning tower”
with the one in Pisa, every tower in Venice is leaning one direction or
another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Art is clearly the forte
of the Italians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Civil
engineering, not so much.</li>
<li>Gondola, while romantic, is not an efficient way to travel
around the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because it’s such
an iconic thing to do, the gondoliers can basically charge you whatever they
want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ride one anyway.</li>
<li>You can describe any location in the city with the
directions “That way, over a bridge, in the square.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are some 200 bridges in the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a day or two they all start to
look the same, as do the squares.</li>
<li>Only the elite can afford to really live there anymore,
which means that just because someone has an Italian accent doesn’t mean they
can give you reliable directions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A lot of the Italians in the city are tourists as well.</li>
<li>You will walk past at least six gelaterias (ice cream shops)
before you decide which one had the prettiest display and lowest price, then
you will never be able to find it again.</li>
<li>Finding a place that takes a credit card is a rarity, but it’s
even harder to find an ATM.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Especially since asking for directions to one is usually answered with
“That way, over a bridge, in the square.”</li>
</ol>
<br />
<!--EndFragment-->Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-42773458809948413132013-06-30T23:32:00.000-04:002013-06-30T23:38:36.730-04:00Man of Steel: Movie of... Something Less Substantial<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TxMp8i88BDI/UdD3x4jSHgI/AAAAAAAAAfc/-3CzKL0FN_4/s640/man+of+steel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="166" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TxMp8i88BDI/UdD3x4jSHgI/AAAAAAAAAfc/-3CzKL0FN_4/s400/man+of+steel.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: right;">
<i>image from IMDb</i></div>
Yeah, that's about how I felt too, Clark.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I love midnight movies. I don’t know whether it’s the idea of seeing a movie the
minute it comes out, or the adrenaline that comes from knowing how late I’m
going to be out and that most sane people have been asleep for at least an
hour. Maybe it’s having to get
there an hour early to get seats and watching the theater slowly fill up around
me that makes me feel like it’s a big deal.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Man
of Steel</i> was supposed to be a big deal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get excited for the majority of movie trailers I see, but
I was extra excited for this one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On the scale of movie-trailer-excitement, this one was probably slightly
above <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lone</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ranger</i> and below <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thor 2</i>
(I could do an entire post on how excited I am for Thor 2, but I’ll spare you).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I had meant to be finished with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smallville </i>by the time <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Man of Steel</i> hit theaters, so that I
would be totally caught up on the Superman mythos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smallville</i>, for
all its imperfections and downright grievous errors, provides a mostly-faithful
account of Clark Kent’s journey, and for better or worse, it’s my only exposure
to Superman, since I haven’t seen the Christopher Reeve movies or read any of
the comics. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I persevered
through eight seasons of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smallville</i>
before I couldn’t take it anymore, and I couldn’t help comparing Man of Steel
back to it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It shouldn’t have been a tough
battle.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The movie opened strongly, with the
war ripping through Krypton and Lara and Jor-El fighting to save the life of
their son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zod was well-cast and chillingly
evil, even if his goons were lackluster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Kal-El gets Fed-Exed to Earth in a pod that looks like it belonged in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Avatar</i>, Zod and his goons are locked
away “forever,” and Krypton explodes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is the last good part of the movie.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We are first introduced to Clark
Kent as an adult, blazing in both senses, shirtlessly saving sailors from a
burning rig.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We see his childhood
in a series of awkwardly placed flashbacks, rather than in chronological
order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a bad way to get
someone to invest emotionally in a character, because the importance of each
scene is explained as it happens, rather than building a solid character from
the bottom up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Man of Steel</i>’s Superman is a leaning
Jenga tower of character development.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The death of Jonathan Kent was
supposed to be a hugely distressing event in Clark Kent’s life, and it was completely
passed over in this movie, with only a brooding Superman looking at a
gravestone to tell us that Pa Kent had died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This would be more upsetting if not for the fact that
Jonathan is devoid of any personality the few times we see him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I’m unfairly comparing him to the
Jonathan Kent in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smallville</i>, who was
a strong and upstanding father to Clark, and whose death haunted Clark for a
long time afterward.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Superman enters a ship in a shirt
and pants and meets biological father’s a hologram.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jor-El explains to his son where he came from and why he’s
special.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then Superman walks out
of the ship/cave <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in a spandex suit and
cape</i> without any explanation whatsoever as to where those wardrobe items
came from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe the writers
couldn’t think of a way to have him see the suit for the first time and keep a
straight face so they skipped over its introduction altogether.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The flight scene that follows is almost
as awkward as the suit transition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Did he not know he could fly?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How did he discover any of his other powers?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was excited by the prospect of
Amy Adams playing Lois Lane, because I get hives whenever Erica Durance appears
onscreen in Smallville, and I thought Adams’ portrayal would be far more
tolerable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While not as grating as
Durance, Adams’ performance slides all the way to the other extreme, and we get
another bran muffin of a character in Lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least she matches the rest of the cast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kiss scene at the end of the big
fight was so forced it was comical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everything we see of Superman up to that point tells us he’s an
emotionally distant loner, and certainly not the type of person to take a
minute after a huge battle to smooch a damsel he just met.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The poor character development is
illustrated nicely by the scene where a woman whom we’ve seen perhaps twice
before is trapped beneath rubble and about to die, and two male peripheral
characters are trying desperately to free her, and it’s supposed to be
gut-wrenching because she’s terrified and pretty and crying and the music gets minor and
dissonant, except that I don’t even know her name or if she’s romantically or
otherwise connected to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">either</i> of the
men trying to get her out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">There were parts of this movie that
were cool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For all the screen time
that should probably have been used developing characters, there are lots of
explosions and fight scenes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
gravity weapon that Zod was using to terra-form Earth for the Kryptonians
(wouldn’t that be “krypto-forming”?) was a neat idea. Henry Cavill is one
attractive human being, and spends copious amounts of screen time reminding us
of that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I guess lens flares
are the latest filmmaking fad, because at one point there were so many on the
screen that I was honestly surprised JJ Abrams wasn’t the director (wasn’t
Michael Bay, either).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I walked into the theater totally
prepared for <i>Man of Steel</i> to prove me
wrong about DC’s movies, but the truth is it couldn’t even outshine <i>Smallville</i>, and didn’t hold a candle to <i>Avengers </i>or <i>Iron Man 3</i>.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-57908781437307259122013-05-31T19:35:00.002-04:002013-05-31T19:36:07.422-04:00Paint a Bridge and Get Over ItMy sister graduates in a few days, and we're having a party because surviving high school is a really big deal. I'm painting these king-sized sheet backdrops to go along with the Japanese-garden-generally-Asian-probably-not-politically-correct-but-whatever theme of this shindig. Two of them are fairly simple. One is a silhouetted pagoda against a pink and orange sky, another is a tree and a sunset. The third, however, wound up being far more detailed than the other two. This is what it looks like:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_gLwLnGogI8/UakkpfYcc7I/AAAAAAAAAd8/j_wdErCtev0/s1600/japanese+bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_gLwLnGogI8/UakkpfYcc7I/AAAAAAAAAd8/j_wdErCtev0/s400/japanese+bridge.jpg" width="100%" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I can't in good faith say that I'm not extremely proud of the way it turned out. It took a ton of work, I think it looks great and I'm downright impressed with myself. However, I <i>can</i> in good faith say that it has a ton of problems. And those problems bother me every time I look at it. So I'm going to share them with you guys, here, because I think it's good to be critical of yourself, and also because nobody else wants to hear it.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The problems I have with it are mostly perspective issues to do with the bridge. This comes from the fact that I basically freehanded the bridge rather than basing it off of a specific photograph. I looked at lots of photos to figure out roughly how a japanese bridge should look, but I never pulled out my ruler or anything like that to make sure it was geometrically logical. And if anyone asks (no one will ask), I'm citing MC Escher as my inspiration. The truth is the bridge is a mess. Here's everything that's wrong with it:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Perspective is based on where the viewer is standing. I'm not exactly sure where I put the viewer of my bridge, but I know that you <i>could</i> be, visually, in any of four places based on where the bridge seems to shift. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SFngxr8MliQ/UaknRcKF1wI/AAAAAAAAAes/M5ezS-0966o/s1600/japanese+bridge+crop+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SFngxr8MliQ/UaknRcKF1wI/AAAAAAAAAes/M5ezS-0966o/s400/japanese+bridge+crop+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<ol>
<li>Where the top rails appear to cross.</li>
<li>Where the far post is hidden completely by the near post.</li>
<li>Where the bottom rails appear to cross.</li>
<li>Where the underside of the bridge becomes visible.</li>
</ol>
In real life, all those things should happen along the same vertical line. In Raz's Magical Paint Land, the rules of geometry are more like guidelines. This brings me nicely to my next point: If all of the far posts are to the left of their respective near posts, there should never be a point where the far post is hidden completely by the near one. That just means my bridge is missing a far post:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oqHBBHIpyU8/UaknQMq_DSI/AAAAAAAAAek/dQPIkDpNRJc/s1600/japanese+bridge+crop+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="187" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oqHBBHIpyU8/UaknQMq_DSI/AAAAAAAAAek/dQPIkDpNRJc/s400/japanese+bridge+crop+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See? Right in the middle.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Also, if the far posts are to the left of the near posts, it means that the <i>left </i>edge of the posts should be visible (and therefore shaded), not the<i> </i>right edge, which I have shaded dark. If you <i>could</i> see them, though, they would be dark, based on where I sort of arbitrarily decided my light source was. So I got that right. Yay.<br />
<br />
Now, let's look at the slats that run horizontally along the bottom of the bridge:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y1-Y_9s2F1c/Uakwbjy1YmI/AAAAAAAAAe8/YTRdzlSSVVA/s1600/japanese+bridge+crop+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y1-Y_9s2F1c/Uakwbjy1YmI/AAAAAAAAAe8/YTRdzlSSVVA/s320/japanese+bridge+crop+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The posts are supposedly right across from each other, this means they should line up with the same horizontal slat, like they do at (1) in the above image. But by (2) the posts are quite obviously misaligned, and it gets worse as you proceed along the bridge. This is because I drew the posts where I thought they sort of looked about right, then added the slats so that they, too looked about right, and noticed later that they did not look about right together.</div>
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JYJSPqpHGTk/UakyKZo0yzI/AAAAAAAAAfM/B3Ti6NWqyIA/s1600/japanese+bridge+crop+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JYJSPqpHGTk/UakyKZo0yzI/AAAAAAAAAfM/B3Ti6NWqyIA/s320/japanese+bridge+crop+4.jpg" width="269" /></a>Finally, I have issues with the horizon. Because if there was any geometric planning I <i>did</i> it was to make sure my lines receded toward the horizon. But when I did that, the horizon was about where the bushes meet the water (yellow line).<br />
<br />
But making the water go all the way to the horizon made it look like the little stream opened up into some ocean (probably the Pacific, if we're in Japan), not a cute, intimate little pond in a garden. So I put bushes there, instead. Now, it looks like a pond. When I did that, however, I inadvertently moved the horizon up quite a bit, so that now it's more where the white line is. So it no longer makes sense for the far post to appear shorter than the near post, because it should appear closer to the horizon. Now, my bridge is just crooked.<br />
<br />
I like the moss on the water. I like the reflection of the rocks. I like the way the leaves in the background look where the light comes through from behind. I even like the bushes, despite the fact that they ruined my horizon. But the bridge and I are still not on speaking terms. But hashing all of this out felt really good.</div>
Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-23593300244092696752013-04-30T22:28:00.003-04:002013-05-23T10:42:55.166-04:00Figuring Feminism<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm continually surprised how many people shy away from the term "feminist." Many men think that you have to be a
woman to be a feminist. And an
alarming number of women are hung up on the bewildering notion that femininity
precludes feminism. Others believe
that to be a feminist you must hate men, or at least believe that they are
inferior to women. Still others
find the term to be archaic, and that now that women have the right to vote and
to file for divorce, that the word has no practical application anymore.</span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-310g5jhliLY/UYB7HkrVCnI/AAAAAAAAAdE/opmKxJ8CccI/s1600/Alice+chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-310g5jhliLY/UYB7HkrVCnI/AAAAAAAAAdE/opmKxJ8CccI/s320/Alice+chair.jpg" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: right;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>image from alicepaul.org</i></span></div>
Alice Paul: Feminist</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">After one American History course, I decided I was a
feminist. I’d read the stories of
women at the turn of the century fighting for equal rights and was inspired by
them. I’d immersed myself in the
debate between tradition and equality and which was “better” for women as a
population. I couldn’t have fathomed
how far from complete my knowledge of modern feminism was, but I had been
undeniably inspired by these feminist historical figures, so surely I was a
feminist as well?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When it came time to choose my classes this
semester, I wanted to make sure I had enough hours that I could drop any course
if things started to go downhill.
I needed three more hours.
I needed a humanities course.
Enter Intro to Women’s and Gender Studies, stage left.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As long as I’m holding the honesty stick, I never
considered Women’s Studies a “real” major. I’m a computer science student (as most of you know), following,
despite my valiant efforts, in my mother’s footsteps. And when family and friends would ask me what classes I was
taking, Gender Studies was always accompanied by the rider, “I know, but I
needed an elective.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />It wasn’t that I didn’t expect to enjoy the
course. If that had been the case,
I would have picked something different.
I thought I would just quietly show up every week, enjoy, learn, get a
good grade, and get on with college.
But I soon realized that there was no way to leave the class in the
classroom return to the (metaphorically) quiet existence I’d been leading. This information was not only important
but also urgent. I could no longer
sit idly by while someone said “man up” to someone else, or while the word
“girly” got tossed around like an insult.
These people needed to have their eyes opened! They needed to be made to realize the implications of the
things they were saying! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /> Basically, I’d been bit.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HddsXZXnoLk/UYB5Wjjm5RI/AAAAAAAAAc4/l_Bg3CzfsUw/s1600/Katniss_Everdeen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Katniss" border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HddsXZXnoLk/UYB5Wjjm5RI/AAAAAAAAAc4/l_Bg3CzfsUw/s320/Katniss_Everdeen.jpg" title="" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>image from Wikipedia</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I spend about as much time cavorting with fictional
characters as I do with real people, so the context in which most of this
information really hit home for me was media representations of gender. For example, Katniss Everdeen (from <i>the
Hunger Games</i>) is cited again and again as a strong female protagonist and role
model for young women (especially when contrasted with<i> Twilight</i>’s Bella Swan,
but if any undead horse has been beaten enough, it’s that one). But I was (like others) frustrated by the presence of
a love triangle in the story. I
thought, <i>Couldn’t we have just one story where the heroine stands on her own
without being dragged down by romantic tension? Don’t we see all sorts of stories where the male hero saves
the day without love getting in the way?</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Then I realized that “save the world, get the girl”
was easily just as common a trope for male protagonists. So the question I’d been missing
was: Why does a romantic subplot
weaken a female protagonist, while it doesn’t have the same effect on a male
hero? If the men and women in
fiction were truly equal, there wouldn’t be a difference, but we as a culture
are still having trouble separating women from the dependent or inferior role
in a relationship. So when we see
a strong woman with a strong man, we groan and roll our eyes and say “not again.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />If we change gears dramatically and look at the show
America’s Next Top Model (yes, okay?
I watch it sometimes.
Usually the photo shoots and runway shows outweigh Tyra’s vacuous
monologues), we find a gold mine of media messages relating to body image. And while the show makes an effort to include
women of various races and body types, it takes the liberty of labeling “plus
size” models as “real women” (or “fiercely real” as I recall the exact phrasing
in one season). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Unfortunately, this trend is not limited to inane
avenues as Top Model. “Large” or
“curvy” women being are repeatedly labeled as “real” in an effort to combat the
fad of girls starving themselves in pursuit of beauty. This is taking one step forward and two
steps back. The day we realize
that beauty is subjective and that no body type is more “real” than any other
will be a beautiful day indeed.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />A problem a lot of people have with feminism is that
it flies in the face of chivalry.
I would argue that it is, in fact, chivalry that flies in the face of
feminism. And many who feel that
chivalry is simply courtesy are misrepresenting the two as synonyms. They are not. The World English Dictionary defines “chivalry” in this way: </span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<ol>
<li>the
combination of qualities expected of an ideal knight, esp courage, honour,
justice, and a readiness to help the weak </li>
<li>courteous behaviour, esp towards women</li>
</ol>
</blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This draws a troubling parallel between
women and weakness. Why can’t we
hold the door open for our fellow human beings? Why does it have to be a gendered act at all?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I saw this picture a while ago on Facebook: </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nVVk8HZ1jM4/UYBwEP3gQbI/AAAAAAAAAcY/bFpUd3UjSmA/s1600/mahj.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Again with the "real"!" border="0" height="306" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nVVk8HZ1jM4/UYBwEP3gQbI/AAAAAAAAAcY/bFpUd3UjSmA/s320/mahj.png" title="" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The response looked something like this:</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wdQMtLRPKYo/UYBwt14PSfI/AAAAAAAAAco/xCobGivK22A/s1600/chivalry+response.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="I stole the sandwich picture off the Internet. Sorry if it's yours. Looks tasty." border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wdQMtLRPKYo/UYBwt14PSfI/AAAAAAAAAco/xCobGivK22A/s320/chivalry+response.jpg" title="I stole the sandwich picture off the Internet. Sorry if it's yours. Looks tasty." width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
At first I was outraged. It took a long time, but I eventually realized that this rebuttal is entirely fair. If women are going to hold men to an archaic standard, then those men have the right to remind those women what the equivalent standard is. The bottom line is that we <i>should</i> hold car doors for people and we <i>should </i>make sandwiches for people, but not because we're expected to because of our gender. Just because it's <i>a nice thing to do</i>.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I've learned that trying to define feminism is like<a href="http://www.rnh.com/videos.html?gallery=41&vpg=3" target="_blank"> trying to solve a problem like Maria</a>. You kind of just have to stand back and let it do its thing. Because beyond "gender equality," the goals of feminism are fractured and inconsistent. Because feminism isn't a wave; it's a whirlpool.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Recently, I was again asked about my cou<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">rses this semester. Here it was—the chance to redeem myself. I listed my classes, finished with Gender Studies, and I left off the disclaimer. But my inquisitor scoffed. "Let me help you," he said with an dramatic roll of his eyes. "'Men are bad.' There. Done." The rest of the dinner table looked at him fearfully, knowing that he did not realize what he'd stepped in. I smiled. I smiled because I knew that for a long time there would be people like him that were confused. I smiled and I explained to him how he was mistaken. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The sigh of relief from everyone else at the table was audible. It was about that time that a third person jumped into the conversation with a wildly sexist accusation and things descended into chaos and anarchy. What can I say? I get worked up. But the bottom line is this: if you believe that women are not inferior to men, you are a feminist by definition. Whether or not you decide to take up the banner and solve the rest of the world's ignorance is up to you. But it's one of those things that's difficult to un-know.<i> </i>As corny as it sounds to say that my eyes were opened by my Gender Studies class, there's truth to it. And even as my understanding of feminism continues to grow, perhaps the greatest understanding is that I can never know all of it. It's moving too fast. Growing too quickly. And it's too late to stop it now. It's a like a horrific genetic experiment that's escaped the lab and is mowing down every sexist moron in its wake. But... you know... a <i>good</i> horrific genetic experiment... You get the idea.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"Feminism" continues to be an inflammatory, divisive, controversial word. Curiously, "equality" doesn't have nearly the capacity for starting arguments that "feminism" does. This proves that the issue is largely one of vocabulary, not bigotry. This is our first hurdle as a society. We need not simply to leap over it as individuals, but pick it up and remove it from the track so that no one trips over it behind us.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->
<!--EndFragment-->Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-17886176565361446512013-03-28T22:42:00.001-04:002013-03-29T17:28:13.084-04:00Telephone Phobia<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OgBtQF7IrhU/UVT-o2Ca7rI/AAAAAAAAAcI/0YDxS5fOO3w/s1600/IMG_4165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="234" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OgBtQF7IrhU/UVT-o2Ca7rI/AAAAAAAAAcI/0YDxS5fOO3w/s320/IMG_4165.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">That’s the fear of talking on the telephone. I Googled it just now, and was deeply
disappointed that it does not have a cooler name. <a href="http://Phobialist.com/">Phobialist.com</a> has it indexed as “telephonophobia,” but
that’s not much better and sounds made-up to boot. “Albuminurophobia,”
for example, is the fear of kidney disease. That one sounds cool, but is anyone <i>not </i>afraid
of kidney disease? I feel like
that’s a really reasonable thing to be afraid of. But I digress, as I often do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I
looked up “fear of talking on the phone,” because I’m pretty sure I have
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Among what are probably a
couple other flavors of social anxiety, making phone calls causes me an
inordinate amount of distress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not
when it’s my friends or my family (okay, sometimes when it’s my mom, but that’s
different (just kidding Mom I love you (sorry for all the parentheses (I’m a
computer science major)))), but when a situation requires me to pick up the
phone and make contact with someone I don’t know, an icy dread runs down my
spine and my fingers will literally shake as I’m dialing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My
anxiety was brought into sharp focus today at work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the things we do for musicians is help them put out a
mobile app through Apple, but something went wrong and we got locked out of one
of our iTunes accounts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is
when a normal person picks up the phone and calls Apple and asks the nice
people on the other end of the line to please unlock our account.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I started frantically searching the
Internets for some way—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">any</i> way—to
solve the problem without calling Apple support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It turns out that it’s a fairly common problem and lots of
people were talking about it on various forums.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But all the conversations marked with a friendly green check
mark (for “problem solved” in case my blog is all you’ve seen of the web)
invariably ended with that fateful sentence (not the grammatical kind, the doom
kind): </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Called Apple support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They fixed the problem before I was off
the phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now there’s a beautiful
rainbow spilling through my window on dewdrops of happiness.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I may have paraphrased a
little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My workmate found me in my
cube.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> He was impressed with my efforts to solve the problem, as he had not thought to Google the issue, but ultimately it didn't matter. </span>“We’ve had this problem
before and all we’ve had to do is call up Apple and ask them to fix it," he said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I presented my disappointing search
results.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly he seemed to
notice how wide my eyes were.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“You don’t want to do this,” he
deduced.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I get nervous calling the Nissan
dealership to schedule a service appointment,” I admitted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the truth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">He chuckled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I wish there was a more dramatic
end to this story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish I could
tell you I overcame my fear or grew as a person in some way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could make something up, but the
truth of the matter is simply that my workmate made the call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe the lesson is that human culture <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">isn’t</i> survival of the fittest after
all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes the broken people
make it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t mean to belittle the afflictions
of people with serious mental disorders and social anxieties that make it
difficult for them to manage their lives from day to day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can only tell my own stories, and
assure you guys that if you’re broken in little ways, you’re not alone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Well that was a terrible ending. Um…How
about: Everyone’s crazy and it’s
okay! That’s good. We should make… what day is today? March 28<sup>th</sup>. We should make March 28<sup>th</sup> Everyone’s
Crazy and It’s Okay Day. It will
catch on. I can feel it.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-55058491058140437172013-02-27T15:30:00.000-05:002013-02-27T15:40:23.852-05:00A List of Things I Used to Not Like But Now I Think are Okay<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">If the title of this post doesn’t make sense to you, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEyrfFwf3rI" target="_blank">go listen to this song</a>, then come back.
I won’t go anywhere.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>So if you’ve been following this blog since its inception
(in the actual dictionary-definition sense of the word, rather than the
something-inside-something-else or blanket-term-for-anything-really-confusing
sense that the Internet has slapped onto it since the movie), you may have
noticed that a lot of the cynicism has kind of died away.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>What can I say?
I was an angry teenager.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>I don’t mean to invalidate any of the opinions or views that
I expressed in some of my earlier posts.
I’m also not saying I’ve changed my mind about all of those things. I still think a lot of people are
morons, but since I don’t work directly with the public anymore, I don’t have
to deal with them. Actually, that
last bit might explain a lot about why I’ve mellowed out.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I also started college, which has humbled me a few
notches. I haven’t undergone this
grand reevaluation of life, the universe, and everything that a lot of
adolescents seem to when they sort of set out on their own. (I haven’t set out on my own yet, but
that’s beside the point.) But I
got a little forced perspective.
My university’s student body is ten times the population of the town
where I went to high school.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Big fish, small pond.
You get the idea.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>But I didn’t ask you here today to tell you about my growing
experience as a person. In fact, I didn’t
ask you here at all, and yet here you are. I appreciate that.
I really do.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p><br /></o:p>The problem I now face is this: I have a lot less to write about. It’s tough to sit down and enumerate all the ways in which
life has been fair to me lately.
And it’s boring to read.
But I’m betting I’m not the only one who’s dealt with a little fresh
perspective, and so what I <i>am</i> going
to do is enumerate some of the things that used to annoy me that don’t
anymore.</span><br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Pop music - In high school, I was a band geek, and hung out with the band geeks. Most of us moonlighted as music connoisseurs, or thought we did. (I just spelled the word "connoisseur" right on the first try, and would like you all to know that, because I couldn't believe it.) We scoffed at people who listened to Katy Perry and Lady Gaga. If the only White Stripes song you knew was "Seven Nation Army" that didn't count as "liking the White Stripes." I've since come to appreciate that sometimes the goal of music is not to be intellectually stimulating or to provide social commentary. Sometimes the only claim a tune makes is to be fun to listen to, and that's okay. And it's okay if you listen to it over and over and over.</li>
<li>Action movies - Explosions are cool. Big explosions are very cool. Explosions don't win Oscars, but if you only go watch movies that are going to make you cry, you're going to have a sad life.</li>
<li>Dogs - This explanation is not as deep. I have long considered myself a cat person. I love my cat. But I no longer think you have to choose a side. I think it's okay to like cats <i>and</i> dogs.</li>
<li>Justin Bieber - I know, I said pop music already. But this is more along the lines of the Bieb being a cultural icon. His music is not art. Maybe he doesn't "deserve" to be famous, but he's a talented kid who got a lucky break and I think we should be happy for him, instead of casting him into the same pop-cultural blunder category as, say, the Twilight franchise, which is genuinely horrible.</li>
<li>Onions - Maybe it's an acquired taste. I used to hate onions. I don't anymore. You won't catch me eating them raw, but throw a few on my smoked salmon bagel and we're good.</li>
<li>High school - Whoever said "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" was wise indeed (that was Shakira, right?*). I couldn't wait to get out of that place the entire time I was there. I felt trapped. When I graduated, the feeling of freedom lasted until I started college, where it quickly morphed into abandonment and then apathy. I had almost enough rope to hang myself. Had enough to fail a couple classes, anyway.</li>
<li>Twitter - When I first started hearing about Twitter, I never understood why people would use it, or why anyone would ever follow anyone else. Like, who cares? Now I don't know what I would do without Tom Hiddleston's daily nuggets of insight.</li>
<li>Tom Hiddleston - No, who am I kidding? I had a crush on Loki the minute he appeared in <i>Thor</i>.</li>
</ol>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*I'm joking!! Also, I really like footnotes.</span><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-73109240701119345032013-02-11T20:23:00.000-05:002013-02-20T14:45:30.944-05:00Global Style<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bZkp7q19f0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fMuPC_8xrDw/URmYveEzMdI/AAAAAAAAAa4/mKwf3s4HzY8/s400/gangnam+style.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><i>image from billboard.com</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I was headed to dinner with my Dad and siblings, with one of
the <i>NOW</i> CD’s in the player (what
number are they up to now? 78?),
when the song “Gangnam Style” filled the car. My brother and sister have both memorized patches of lyrics
and sang along wherever they could.
Even I played, doing a seated approximation of the now-ubiquitous
dance.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">If you don’t live on the Internet (and also don’t have cable
or satellite or FM radio), “Gangnam Style” is an electro-pop hit by a Korean
artist who goes by the name of Psy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The song gained international fame when the YouTube video went viral
last year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, the term <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">viral</i> may not sufficiently encompass
what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The music video for
“Gangnam Style” is the first YouTube video ever to reach <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one billion views.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To
put that into perspective (and to throw some cool numbers at you in an effort
to bring some originality to this post instead of just rewriting a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gangnam_style" target="_blank">Wikipedia article</a>), if you played the video, which is four minutes, thirteen seconds in
length, one billion times without pausing, it would take more than eight
thousand years*.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s eight
thousand years human society as a whole has lost to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a single video</i>. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But what have we gained?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It’s not a new sensation for a song that’s popular in one
country to spread across the globe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even the language barrier has been
trampled before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=hTpnqZXW5bE#t=202s" target="_blank">Will Smith told Ellen Degeneres</a> about kids in Japan who’d learned the words to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fresh Prince</i> theme song, even though they couldn't understand them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend” went
international, but was actually translated into several languages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not unheard of for English hits to
become popular with non-English-speaking cultures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this is the first time that the language barrier has
really been crossed in this direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At least, it’s the first time it’s happened on this scale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still remember a time when the Black
Eyed Peas were a decent hip-hop group, and appreciated their international
flavor (their tracks “Bebot” and “the Apl Song” are almost entirely in Filipino).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Now, given that “Gangnam Style” was, in fact,
record-breaking, we could say that this is the first time <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">any </i>song has become so internationally known.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The aforementioned scale may just need
to be recalibrated after a hit like this one.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I think it’s great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s amazing that YouTube, and, by extension, the Internet has
made popular culture into one humming conglomerate consciousness.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Globalization has been going on ever since worldwide trade
became a reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We see
McDonald’s in Hungary (har har) and Audis on Route 66.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s hard to ship an idea overseas
on a barge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For that, you need the
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">speed </i>provided by the Internet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For many pop stars, fame is a flash in
the pan, and if you blink you’ll miss it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now, the only things holding us back are popup ads and buffering spinners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can share concepts and culture
across the world via webcams and wifi.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And when “Gangnam Style” exploded onto the pop scene,
the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rc7Mw1VSe0A" target="_blank">whole</a> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=8C_963ki4eA#t=98s" target="_blank">world</a> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xD9vM6v6JJ8" target="_blank">danced</a> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Od92ghaoa4U" target="_blank">at the</a> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-h0RBjNvVtI" target="_blank">same</a> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gfzCkatPlU0" target="_blank">time</a>.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">*Feel free to check my math. It could totally be wrong. I did it on my computer’s calculator late at night in a
moment of hypnagogic inspiration.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<!--EndFragment--></div>
<!--EndFragment-->
<!--EndFragment-->Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-83386665317106483752013-01-07T23:30:00.000-05:002013-01-07T23:30:00.377-05:00The History of New York City
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nkXSB7Hm-7o/UOtxdjUUOHI/AAAAAAAAAZg/4t-yP-xJva8/s1600/DSCN4125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nkXSB7Hm-7o/UOtxdjUUOHI/AAAAAAAAAZg/4t-yP-xJva8/s320/DSCN4125.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For at least a year and a half now, I’ve been making clear
my intentions to move to New York City after I graduate college. My mother still occasionally refuses to
acknowledge this goal of mine, but her strategy has mostly shifted to
convincing me that the Big Apple is a bad place to live. My grandmother has joined this cause
wholeheartedly. They keep telling
me that I don’t want to move there because it’s dangerous.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">My go-to response has always been to shrug them off as
paranoid and accept that they love me and don’t want me to move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then I took a look at the history
of the city that never sleeps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
I’m starting to think they may be right.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GAGT_bdWV5I/UOtvN8QKI4I/AAAAAAAAAZE/SldwUcqZb28/s1600/statue+of+liberty.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GAGT_bdWV5I/UOtvN8QKI4I/AAAAAAAAAZE/SldwUcqZb28/s400/statue+of+liberty.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doctor Who, where everything's made up and logic doesn't matter.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The 1930’s were a rough decade for New York, New York. In
November of 1930, according to British television series <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Doctor Who</i>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0993186/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1" target="_blank">the Daleks invaded</a>, and the Doctor, along with Martha
Jones and a makeshift army of shantytown residents, had to defend not only the
city, but the human race itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Apparently this is the only time during which New York was interesting
to BBC, because less than a decade later, the living-statue-creatures known as
<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2378951/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1" target="_blank">Weeping Angels</a> set up shop here, and the Doctor had to save the day once again, although this time he couldn’t save his companions.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The 1930’s also saw the first attack by the classic giant
ape, with the original <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0024216/" target="_blank">King Kong</a></i>
released in March of 1933, and its <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0360717/" target="_blank">2005 remake</a>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Because history repeats itself and because giant monkeys
sell movie tickets, King Kong <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074751/" target="_blank">attacked again</a> in 1976.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">If we fast-forward a few decades to more recent history, in
2002 the <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0145487/" target="_blank">Green Goblin</a> descended upon the big screen and upon NYC.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank goodness we have our friendly
neighborhood Spider Man! (Insert eyeroll.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Spider Man got a two-year sabbatical but in 2004 had to <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0316654/" target="_blank">save the city again</a>, this time from the well intentioned but poorly nicknamed “Doc
Ock,” just in time for Manhattan to be buried by the new Ice Age in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0319262/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1" target="_blank">The Day After Tomorrow</a></i>. (I’ve been to
that library, and I can think of worse places to be trapped…)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W0B5QctruGA/UOtvcpTGWJI/AAAAAAAAAZM/tf_8cJPswOw/s1600/johnny+storm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W0B5QctruGA/UOtvcpTGWJI/AAAAAAAAAZM/tf_8cJPswOw/s320/johnny+storm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In 2005 Victor Von Doom threatened the city with his generic
and scary lightning-spewing doomsday device.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My question is this:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Did nobody say, “You know, that guy’s name is ‘Von Doom’… maybe we
should keep an eye on him?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good
thing we have Chris Evans and the rest of the <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120667/" target="_blank">Fantastic Four</a>… What were their
names again?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Two years later a radioactive Peter Petrelli exploded in the
sky over Kirby Plaza in the last <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0988307/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1" target="_blank">episode</a> of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Heroes</i>
that was worth anything, and Peter Parker <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0413300/" target="_blank">defended the city</a> from Sandman, Venom, <i>and</i> Harry Osborne. Then he made the most disgusting <a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m6m4dmpZCv1qmzdvoo1_250.gif" target="_blank">cry-face</a> in movie history.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The world didn’t end last month, but 2012 was still a very
bad year for the Big Apple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> A cure for cancer went horribly wrong, and d</span>iseased zombie/vampire people ate Will Smith (and his little dog too)
in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0480249/" target="_blank">I am Legend</a></i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fAlWoiP_3ck/UOtnRvJvcUI/AAAAAAAAAYU/_v5pk_NTLCs/s1600/captain+america.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fAlWoiP_3ck/UOtnRvJvcUI/AAAAAAAAAYU/_v5pk_NTLCs/s320/captain+america.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He looks familiar...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Loki’s army attacked a zombie-free version of New York in
the same year, but a ridiculously good-looking slew of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0848228/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1" target="_blank">superheroes</a> saved the city
and its people and—hold on, is that Chris Evans again?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The city recovered mysteriously quickly from an attack by
aliens on hover-cycles, but Stan Lee is relentless. A Dr. Conners-turned-evil-mutant-lizard threatened to turn
the whole city into similarly horrible genetic disasters, but a younger,
fresher, and <a href="http://raz-berries.blogspot.com/2012/07/spider-man-new-and-improved.html" target="_blank">more amazing Peter Parker</a> discovered his inner <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0948470/" target="_blank">Spider Man</a> and came
to the rescue. Perhaps this Peter
Parker is a descendent of a certain courageous shantytown resident in the
aforementioned Dalek attack, to whom he bears a striking resemblance.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8ltfhX1n8GM/UOtto6ai2tI/AAAAAAAAAYo/CFNYPnKPKjs/s1600/andrew+doctor+who.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="177" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8ltfhX1n8GM/UOtto6ai2tI/AAAAAAAAAYo/CFNYPnKPKjs/s320/andrew+doctor+who.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrew Garfield in <i>Doctor Who</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">So after thorough examination, it looks like living in New York might be more trouble than it's worth. On the other hand, it wouldn't be so bad to be rescued by Chris Evans or Andrew Garfield once or twice.</span></i></div>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></i>
<i>Disclaimer: The first image is mine, the rest have been stolen from various places on the internet.</i>
<!--EndFragment-->Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-90609553655905316152012-12-18T22:48:00.001-05:002012-12-18T22:48:53.338-05:00Quarantine
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kad7y3m3ko8/UNE4qOhKQnI/AAAAAAAAAYA/7EeTqqr_yXQ/s1600/IMG_4113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kad7y3m3ko8/UNE4qOhKQnI/AAAAAAAAAYA/7EeTqqr_yXQ/s400/IMG_4113.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">If this is my last correspondence with the outside world, I
want everyone to know what happened.
I am currently secured inside the last known uninfected stronghold for
miles. I fear any attempt at
escape is futile. My siblings have both been infected, as have many of the families we’re friends
with. Already there are 17 victims
of the unknown disease confirmed.
As of my writing this, the pathogen has claimed no lives, and I can only
hope that pattern continues, but I cannot count on such an optimistic idea.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This is the part where many of you may roll your eyes in
derision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You may think I’m
overreacting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that's the way it always goes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw
<i>Contagion</i>; I know how this works.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The first few victims get written off or diagnosed with something
normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s when the disease
mutates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not going to be one
of the naysayers that waits too long to take action.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those people never make it to the end of the movie.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">There was a picnic on Sunday evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A gathering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My current research suggests that this is where the
infection took hold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were
huge quantities of children in close contact with one another and lots of
unguarded food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a miracle I
made it out alive, though it is possible that I have already been infected and
the disease is already circling through my system, dormant.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am dosing myself with Vitamin C tablets and still have an
adequate supply of antibacterial soap, but my resources as of today are
insufficient to start a colony of survivors, should that become necessary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have begun to draw up plans for a
city, and all I need now is a suitable site to start building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s currently the best solution I’ve
got, and it worked in <i>I Am Legend</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">If you think you may be infected with this new and dangerous
illness, please seal yourself off from the rest of humanity. I’m sorry but it’s quite probably too
late for you. As for the rest of
you: Good luck.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-21184229810638284042012-11-05T11:00:00.000-05:002012-11-05T12:56:56.228-05:00Outwit, Outplay, Outcare?My favorite class this semester is, hands-down, Intro to Psychology. It's partly because I never have homework in that class and partly because Skiing & Snowboarding simply hasn't started yet. But I'm also genuinely fascinated by everything I'm learning. Today, we started talking about Social Psychology. What do we think of one another? How much do we let others influence the decisions we make? How much do we trust each other? Why do we follow rules and how do we treat those who break them? We branched into morality in cooperative societies versus competitive ones, and I started thinking about <i>Survivor</i>.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ze8-r4q_FHM/UJfhsjXznsI/AAAAAAAAAXs/tQcL-Av3qfw/s1600/2414-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ze8-r4q_FHM/UJfhsjXznsI/AAAAAAAAAXs/tQcL-Av3qfw/s400/2414-10.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">image from cbs.com</span></span><br />
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Behind those midriffs is a lot of serious psychology, I promise.</span></i></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In fact, I would say that it's these questions of trust and morality and influence--and <i>not</i> tropical beaches and girls in bikinis--that are the reason why the reality show is still on the air after more than 20 seasons, and why so many other reality-TV competitions have been patterned after it. It's brilliant, both in concept and implementation.<br />
<br />
The show has grown and morphed over the years (also a key ingredient if you are to survive in entertainment), but the central formula has always been the same: Take about a dozen and a half people out of this mostly-cooperative society we live in, and place them in a highly competitive one, where conventional standards are effectively defenestrated. A society is created in which people aren't punished for behaving dishonestly. In fact, such behavior is encouraged as a means of winning the game. <br />
<br />
Hidden immunity idols, the occasional opportunity to betray your entire "tribe" or team to benefit yourself, and the ultimate truth that there can only be one winner demand that the game is played with an individualist mind. People are reduced to the very bottom rung on Kohlberg's moral ladder: How do I avoid negative consequences, and what's in it for me?<br />
<br />
This is also the reason that people who come into the game sitting on the top rungs of that ladder, thinking in terms of what is truly and universally "right" or "wrong," or, more specifically, "I'm going to prove that the game of <i>Survivor </i>can be played with integrity," have doomed themselves before their feet ever touch the sand. For that level of morality to work, you need a society that's cooperative, one that looks down on those who "play dirty" as it were, simply because it's "wrong." <br />
<br />
But <i>Survivor</i> doesn't offer a sense of moral fulfillment as its grand prize. It offers a million dollar check. And we, as the viewers sitting comfortably in our living rooms, love to watch people deteriorate into animals. Of course, the significant lack of any real clothing certainly doesn't hurt.Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-89483786458551857682012-10-31T11:11:00.001-04:002012-11-01T17:34:25.564-04:00Star Wars: The End of EverythingDisney bought LucasFilm. Everybody freak out. Ready? Go.<br />
<br />
Ok, now that we've gotten that out of our collective system and hopefully everyone is feeling at least a little better about him- or herself, let's take a deep breath. Because you know what I think? I may be way out of bounds saying this, but I dare to suggest that everything just might be ok. I mean, in fairness, <i>could</i> this be the event the Maya predicted all those years ago that will finally cause the end of everything as we know it? Sure. And the timing certainly seems right. But I'm still going to go with "No." Call me crazy.<br />
<br />
As long as I'm being honest, I'm not a devoted Star Wars fan (is there a term for this fandom?). The full scope of my knowledge of Star Wars comes from having seen the first installation (Episode IV, for those even less informed than I), and having been a proud resident of the Internet for a few years. I know what a light saber is, and that Darth Vader is Luke's father, but don't ask me to explain what a Jedi is or how Jabba the Hutt factors into anything (I had to Google "Jabba the Hutt" to make sure I spelled it correctly).<br />
<br />
So maybe I'm not much of a purist. But the LucasFilm and Disney organizations have been buddies for years. One of my favorite shows in Disney World's Hollywood Studios is the Indiana Jones stunt show. So it's not as if Disney doesn't have the footing to step into this new territory. In fact, I'll go ahead and assert that this isn't new territory at all. Nevertheless, the news that Disney will put out a Star Wars: Episode VII has the fans in a panic whirlwind the size of Hurricane Sandy (sorry, too soon?). Though what I don't understand is why they'd bother to start going in numerical order now. Why Episode VII? Why not Episode... I don't know, X? Then come back and make VII - IX in a decade or so.<br />
<br />
Disney has been a filmmaking giant for nearly a century and they know what they're doing. And not to compare Star Wars to Toy Story, but a lot of people (myself included) were very concerned when the trailer for Toy Story 3 started popping up everywhere that it was too late for a sequel and that its very existence would somehow taint the brilliance of the first two. But that Toy Story 3 was tasteful, emotional, and consistent with the established characters. I know, I totally just compared Star Wars to Toy Story. Let's move on. (<b>Edit:</b> When I wrote this, I'd completely forgotten about the homage Toy Story 2 pays to Star Wars by means of the Zurg/Buzz subplot. Obviously, the writers thought of this comparison long before I did.)<br />
<br />
I'd also like to point to the Pirates of the Caribbean series, which are four (yes, four--I liked <i>On Stranger Tides</i>) of my favorite movies. And they're not only Disney movies, but I learned today that they are actually based on the Disney World ride of the same name. Thanks, Wikipedia.<br />
<br />
So while I certainly understand resisting changes to things we're passionate about (looking at you, David Tennant), I've got a more objective point of view of Star Wars (because that's what this "LucasFilm" drama boils down to, in the end) by simple virtue of the fact that I'm <i>not</i> a crazy fan. And personally, I'm intrigued by the notion of a movie that combines the rich Star Wars mythology with all the movie-making technology at our disposal today.<br />
<br />
The best comment I've heard about this particular news item came from the kid that sat behind me in Psychology class this morning:<br />
<br />
"Does that make Leia a Disney Princess?"<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qDSUzdMxjkc/UJE_OYSKnOI/AAAAAAAAAXc/HNWQnMtiI8k/s1600/Disney-Princesses_Leia.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qDSUzdMxjkc/UJE_OYSKnOI/AAAAAAAAAXc/HNWQnMtiI8k/s400/Disney-Princesses_Leia.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hastily photoshopped this with pictures I stole off the internet. Enjoy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-35261845270411048022012-09-09T23:18:00.000-04:002012-09-09T23:18:21.481-04:00Fish Are Friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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Alright, so the gang has been moved in and living comfortably in their new home for a while now. I moved the two goldfish I already owned, I adopted my sister's goldfish, and I bought two new additions to the family. Thankfully, everybody's getting along. These are my kids:</div>
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This is Geisel. He's named after Dr. Seuss, whose real name was Theodore Geisel. He's a calico Ryukin.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-URp3ZrpUvoo/UDfeMAQ1DMI/AAAAAAAAAU8/q3-7zrBKfDU/s1600/IMG_0517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-URp3ZrpUvoo/UDfeMAQ1DMI/AAAAAAAAAU8/q3-7zrBKfDU/s400/IMG_0517.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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As soon as I put everybody in the tank, Geisel swam straight into the volcano. Before he did that, I had not even considered the possibility that any of the fish would do that.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cm1kOoSu2mI/UDfk7jrKi3I/AAAAAAAAAVk/V3X7i7A-liE/s1600/IMG_0577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Cm1kOoSu2mI/UDfk7jrKi3I/AAAAAAAAAVk/V3X7i7A-liE/s400/IMG_0577.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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He didn't come out for a solid ten minutes. I figure he's either the dumbest fish in the tank, or the smartest.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_sigvVIKLjI/UDfjMV9IYqI/AAAAAAAAAVc/ybcHZmsWx_Q/s1600/IMG_0573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_sigvVIKLjI/UDfjMV9IYqI/AAAAAAAAAVc/ybcHZmsWx_Q/s400/IMG_0573.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is Angelo, a Common goldfish. I've had him for more than a year now, and compared to the bowl he was living in, he probably thinks he's in the ocean. He also is probably very confused by the corners of the tank, since corners were never something he had to contend with before.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rl4-qeW7Wdg/UDfhfueEmrI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/cofFMm_cDoY/s1600/IMG_0550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rl4-qeW7Wdg/UDfhfueEmrI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/cofFMm_cDoY/s400/IMG_0550.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is Cc. He's the one that lived on my desk at work over the summer.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lGwbpzMC0JU/UDfmXQp2WcI/AAAAAAAAAVw/kwVRVBM34U0/s1600/IMG_0578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lGwbpzMC0JU/UDfmXQp2WcI/AAAAAAAAAVw/kwVRVBM34U0/s400/IMG_0578.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Cc and Angelo, after staring at one another from each of their bowls for months, finally got to meet. It was heartwarming.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J9f8woAMLS0/UDff4YuzhmI/AAAAAAAAAVI/V4pegWKBT6o/s1600/IMG_0519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J9f8woAMLS0/UDff4YuzhmI/AAAAAAAAAVI/V4pegWKBT6o/s400/IMG_0519.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is Dot. He's another Common, and the smallest of the bunch. He, like Angelo, probably thinks this is the ocean, based on the care my sister provided (or didn't). We're all just glad he's alive.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d1_VQDqSgTo/UDfoEewBMEI/AAAAAAAAAV4/tpCUjKpvvBU/s1600/IMG_0582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d1_VQDqSgTo/UDfoEewBMEI/AAAAAAAAAV4/tpCUjKpvvBU/s400/IMG_0582.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is Calvin (my cat's name is Hobbes). He's a Black Moor. He's the largest of the bunch, and the least efficient swimmer. Watching him try to actually get anywhere is rather amusing, as he wiggles his whole body back and forth, as if he knows he has a tail but he's not sure what it's for. He's the friendliest though, and always the first one to swim to the front of the tank when I walk up.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-611kq9w2pnw/UEt7VY_kzYI/AAAAAAAAAXA/J8K0K5Bd_jQ/s1600/IMG_0567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-611kq9w2pnw/UEt7VY_kzYI/AAAAAAAAAXA/J8K0K5Bd_jQ/s400/IMG_0567.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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The whole gang (yes, there are five fish in this picture).<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mXsGjUz7SrY/UDfp23n3gYI/AAAAAAAAAWE/aaxG6pke6Nw/s1600/IMG_0584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mXsGjUz7SrY/UDfp23n3gYI/AAAAAAAAAWE/aaxG6pke6Nw/s400/IMG_0584.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Aaaannd this is what the whole thing looks like. I'm proud of it; I think it came together really nicely.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jEm2CWOYlzU/UDfr0FwKRCI/AAAAAAAAAWM/2SaGcBySaMs/s1600/IMG_0590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jEm2CWOYlzU/UDfr0FwKRCI/AAAAAAAAAWM/2SaGcBySaMs/s400/IMG_0590.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I really love my fish. Sometimes I catch myself carrying on a (one-sided) conversation with them, and I question my sanity. But whenever I walk into my room, regardless of the mood I'm in or how the day has gone, I smile. Once I even smiled when I woke up in the morning, which was weird.</div>
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P.s.</div>
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All these photos were taken with my new camera, a Canon Rebel T3i!! I love it. More photos from that thing soon. But if you saw my previous fish-photo-fails, then you can appreciate how much better these are.</div>
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<br />Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-64287822470752501972012-08-29T17:34:00.001-04:002012-09-01T16:23:32.788-04:00With the Band<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n1J_7J7kcrU/UD6GtLaPwMI/AAAAAAAAAWs/w7rFGDErQYE/s1600/annuals.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Annuals</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A few years ago at one of those hippie festivals with lots of organic food
and even more bare feet, I wandered onto the grass in front of the stage where
a band called Holy Ghost Tent Revival was playing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I fell in love that day—as much with the band’s unrivaled sound as with the energy level of their live show. I sat on the ground
and watched them, bereft of any desire to see the rest of the macramé and
scented candles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can still
picture the guys leaping up and down as they strummed and banged and honked and
wailed. The lyrics to one of the songs they played (something about a
view from a rooftop, and then “it never felt so good to feel so small”) stuck
in my head for a long time, but the song wasn't on their album, and I couldn't
find it anywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'd
heard that they were going to be in town a couple of times, but each time
discovered with dismay that I could not make it to the show, for one reason or
another. A couple of months ago, I found them on the schedule at a local
venue and decided that this was it—I was finally going to get to see them
again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In
the meantime, I continue to get to know the people I work with, and have
learned that a lot of them are musicians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Two of the guys who work in support are in a band called Annuals, whom I had not heard but decided I liked almost immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to one of their shows a couple
of weeks ago and was blown away (which may have had something to do with having
my favorite tune
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<!--StartFragment-->—“Hardwood Floor”—<!--EndFragment-->
dedicated to me by name, at which point I may or may not have
cried a little bit).</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Needless to
say, they procured one more screaming fan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So
you can imagine my excitement when I casually mentioned my plans to go see Holy
Ghost Tent Revival and one of the guys said, “Oh that’s cool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re playing with them.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I honestly couldn’t have put together a
better lineup if I had tried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
show that I had already been looking forward to for more than a month had now
become the ideal concert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I
had to do was make it a week and a half without peeing myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Last Friday night, the wait was over. I
was not disappointed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">From
walking through the door and being able to say, “I’m on the list” (which I found out
shortly before the show), to getting to hang in the balcony area with the guys
of Annuals after they played, to shaking hands with the members of Holy Ghost
Tent Revival (with what was probably the biggest and most idiotic grin in
history on my face), it was pretty much, to put it eloquently, totally the coolest
night ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Seriously, unprecedented levels of cool were reached. </span></span>Because apart from being musical geniuses, they are some of the friendliest people in the whole world. They even played the song I remembered from the first time I saw them. The name of the track is "Overlooking Brooklyn," and you can listen to it <a href="http://hgtr.bandcamp.com/track/overlooking-brooklyn">here</a>.<br />
<br />
My friends harassed me afterward saying that it was "like I had gotten to meet a celebrity." My response was, "What do you mean, 'like'?"</div>
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Am I biased a little at this point? Possibly. Should you listen to them or go see them if they come to your town anyway because they're genuinely awesome, biased or not? A thousand times 'Yes.'</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Help
me make them (more) famous:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.reverbnation.com/annuals">Annuals</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.holyghosttentrevival.com/">Holy Ghost Tent Revival</a></div>
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Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-51262336686638393002012-08-16T09:12:00.000-04:002012-08-16T09:24:45.531-04:00First Day of School... Or NotAs you may have noticed (but admittedly probably haven't, because you are all busy people with successful careers and families and hobbies and lives), I've been a lazy bum about blogging recently. In an effort to rectify this situation, and no doubt improve all of your busy, successful lives by at least .0037%*, I'm going to do something I don't usually do here on my cozy square foot of Internet: I'm going to tell you about my day.<br />
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Today was supposed to be the first day of classes. I guess I sort of knew, over the course of the summer, that school was looming somewhere in the distance, but I was working 40 hours a week at <a href="http://raz-berries.blogspot.com/2012/05/raz-and-internettes.html" target="_blank">my ridiculously cool summer job</a>, and had forgotten about all of the prep that was necessary. I needed a parking pass, textbooks, and probably notebooks and pencils. I also had to unearth my backpack from the archaeological site my room had become.<br />
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I waited in line for about an hour yesterday with all the other lazy college bums who waited until the day before class to pick up their parking permits. I woke up at six this morning and didn't hit the snooze button. I yanked my backpack out of a mountain of art supplies, then decided all I needed was my laptop. I put on a brand new pair of contacts, left the house on time and with a full tank of gas, remembered my phone and my wallet and my headphones and my car keys. I caught the bus and snagged my favorite seat in the back left corner. I landed on campus a full half-hour before my 8:30 math class. I swung by my favorite coffee shop and bought the first cappuccino of the year, which earned me the tenth and final punch on my "Java Junkies" card. I strutted to class with Holy Ghost Tent Revival wailing through my headphones. I even found my classroom without excessive wandering or hair-pulling.</div>
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At this point, I should have been suspicious. I wasn't. I poked my head into the classroom. Empty. I was fifteen minutes early, so it was plausible that I was the first one there. Then I looked at the board.</div>
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305 canceled</div>
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jury duty</div>
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I was conflicted. Was this the cherry on top of my perfect day? Or the thread that unraveled it all? Am I excited because my first and only class today is canceled or enraged because I woke up at the butt crack of dawn and burned a gallon of gas to get here?</div>
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I'm usually a proponent of the philosophy that no class is better than class. Period. And any frustration toward the professor is speedily erased by imagining how <i>his</i> morning has probably been.</div>
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So I've decided, sitting back in the coffee shop, listening to the classical music they're playing, overhearing snatches of intellectual conversation at the tables around me, that this development is indeed a positive one. And while I'm on campus, I can procure textbooks, which I have yet to do.</div>
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My aquarium stand landed on my porch yesterday, and now I have everything I need to set up my Atlantis/Pompeii-themed <a href="http://raz-berries.blogspot.com/2012/06/fish-person.html" target="_blank">goldfish tank</a>. I suppose I can do that. And I should probably clean my room.</div>
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But I think I'm going to take a nap first.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*percentage based on a clinical study of females ages 18-35 in Siberia</span></div>
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Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-59250007872462393312012-07-21T13:48:00.000-04:002012-07-21T13:52:22.505-04:00The Hal 9000 By Xbox<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pB06CbkyJs0/UAreYke2IaI/AAAAAAAAAUg/YwY-m5GDhr8/s1600/screenlg18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="337" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pB06CbkyJs0/UAreYke2IaI/AAAAAAAAAUg/YwY-m5GDhr8/s1600/screenlg18.jpg" width="600" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Dance Central 2 <i>image from xbox.com</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My family has invested in an Xbox Kinect. If that looks like Klingon to you, the basic description is that it's a video game platform (the Xbox) and another little gadget with a couple of cameras that does a rather impressive job of seeing the players. The idea is that you get off the couch and engage in these games with your whole body. It came with a game called <i>Kinect Adventures</i>. They're straightforward, designed, basically, to help you learn to use the Kinect. Most of them are pretty fun. The avatar on the screen does whatever you do--waves when you wave, dances when you dance, etc.--except, whenever you're actually trying to <i>accomplish</i> something like kicking a ball or grabbing a handle, it's a bit like having some neurological disorder where your limbs just don't respond as precisely as you'd like them too. It's only a little less disturbing than it sounds.<br />
<br />
One of the <i>Adventures </i>games is called "20,000 Leaks," and the premise is that you're standing in a large glass tank under the ocean when all of a sudden blowfish, crabs, sharks, and other adorable but malicious aquatic lifeforms start breaking the glass. Your job is to cover the leaks before the time runs out. It must be hi-tech future glass, though, because once I place my hand over a crack, the glass heals and I don't have to worry about that spot anymore. I'm not sure why I'm on the ocean floor in the first place; I never receive any kind of mission to find lost treasure or obtain samples of the adorable but malicious aquatic lifeforms. Perhaps I need to evaluate my career choices.<br />
<br />
Another game involves standing in a raft and steering it around, over, under, and through various goals and obstacles. If you launch yourself high enough, you can actually raft across the clouds before crashing back down to the rapids below. So I guess my question is, If they've figured out how to make a raft that floats on clouds, why haven't they gotten the leaky glass tank fixed?<br />
<br />
The game with which I'm having the most fun embarrassing myself, however, is <i>Dance Central 2.</i> In this one, I'm a crew dancer with an attitude, and a snappy dresser at that. I usually play as "Miss Aubrey" (pictured). She's a good dancer, but she lets her boyfriend do the trash talking while she stands behind him and blows kisses. Not <i>nice</i> kisses, you know. Sassy, mocking kisses. Kisses of death. Anyway, the way I see it, in a few weeks I'm going to be the best dancer the world has ever laid eyes on. <br />
<br />
The downside to this little toy is that it takes your picture. And it can see you, so I've developed a theory that it waits until you look completely ridiculous before snapping the photo. Contributing to this theory is that after you've completed a level, it shows you the photos it's taken, complete with snarky captions. My sister has begun to combat this by watching for the onscreen camera, and abandoning any gameplay to strike a pose. So her scores suffer, but she's probably the only one who cannot be blackmailed with the countless photos the Kinect (which I think we should affectionately name Hal 9000) has stored in its evil memory.<br />
<br />
The bottom line is, it's a fantastic little toy (and it makes the Wii look like the prehistoric ancestor to modern gaming), but if I get wind of a robot apocalypse, that sucker is getting a sledgehammer to the processor. It is <i>smart</i> and it knows where I live.Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-33797925124229315152012-07-04T20:11:00.003-04:002012-07-04T20:18:00.997-04:00Spider-Man: New and Improved<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oufOw68NuIU/T_TbaHZxOKI/AAAAAAAAAUU/fQ7o3p_oaZE/s1600/spiderman.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oufOw68NuIU/T_TbaHZxOKI/AAAAAAAAAUU/fQ7o3p_oaZE/s400/spiderman.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from IMDb</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Up until about a week ago, I hadn't seen any of the Spider-Man movies. So to prepare for the pending blockbuster, my friends and I had a couple of movie nights and watched the first two, which were directed by Sam Raimi. Then we went to the midnight premiere of <i>The Amazing Spider-Man </i>(directed, believe it or not, by a guy named "Webb"). Even if you ignore the obvious leg up this movie had, special-effects-wise, what with it being ten years since the first, there were a number of things I thought were done better in this film than in those of the last trilogy. I hope you're comfy; this is gonna be a long one. <i> (And it's full of spoilers. You have been warned.)</i><br />
<br />
Let's get this one out of the way first: Andrew Garfield. In addition to being a talented, versatile actor who breathes life into science geek extraordinaire Peter Parker, he's also ridiculously good-looking. And while I appreciated that Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst did not look like supermodels (sorry guys), I definitely enjoyed staring at Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone for two and a half hours.<br />
<br />
I found the spider bite (and subsequent discovery of powers) far more believable in this movie than in the original. And before you start scoffing at my calling a superhero movie "believable," bear with me. In the first movie, a rogue spider happens to land on Parker and bite him. He hadn't done anything to provoke the spider, and there were a lot of people in that building. Why weren't four or five people bitten? Who was supposed to be watching the genetically engineered spider and should be fired for letting it escape? And the one that bothered me the most: <i>Why didn't Parker say anything?</i> A simple "Hey [anyone], a spider landed on me back there and bit me and it's swelling something awful. Think maybe I should get it looked at?" would have been fine. But no, he decides to keep quiet, even when he magically grows muscles the next morning. I cannot thank the writers of this year's version enough for <i>not </i>having Peter Parker magically grow muscles the next morning.<br />
<br />
By contrast, when Webb's Parker winds up in a tour group he was never supposed to be a part of, gets through a locked door (which is where one might expect to find really dangerous arachnids, as opposed to running loose), and then walks into the spider habitat (or whatever that was), it makes sense that he would keep quiet about being bitten, because it would have required that he confess to snooping in a restricted area. And then Parker (and kudos to Garfield for this) looked understandably freaked when he gets home after unintentionally assaulting nearly everyone on a subway car, as any normal person would, had he just learned he could stick to ceilings.<br />
<br />
I could definitely buy both versions of the young hero as the vigilante out to avenge the uncle. But in the original, Parker’s transition from infected freak to superhero felt disjointed. The biggest reason was probably that his iconic suit seems to spontaneously appear. We see him draw it, but his first attempt at a cool outfit was such a miserable failure that I had a hard time believing that he made the second one. At least in the new one we see him decide (albeit grudgingly) on spandex; there’s even a brief clip where he’s holding a needle and thread. I’ve seen enough episodes of <i>Project Runway</i> to know that it’s not quite that easy to make a skintight spandex suit, but it was far better an explanation than was offered by the original.<br />
<br />
Superhero aside, I found it much easier to invest in Garfield’s Parker than in Maguire’s. They’re both nerdy, but Garfield brings charm and personality to the character. Even before he gets bitten, we see him stand up to the school bully. And after he discovers his powers, he is less reluctant to experiment with them in everyday situations. In an <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mj7gyT2Rekw" target="_blank">interview with Matt Patches</a>, Garfield says Parker “finds a confidence when he finds his power… a kind of rebelliousness that he hadn’t been able to access before.” Maguire’s Parker never accesses such rebelliousness, and it makes his mild-mannered alter ego irritatingly frail.<br />
<br />
Parker volunteers the “I’m Spider-Man” factoid <i>awfully fast</i> to a girl he hardly knows, which I found a little concerning. It took Raimi two movies to tell Mary Jane the truth, although she claims she knew all along, so I was surprised when Gwen found out. However, I will admit that her knowing paved the way for a couple of laugh-out-loud moments, and provided Parker with a much-needed ally.<br />
<br />
I think the feel of superhero movies as a genre is changing. A decade old, Raimi’s film is more true to the comic book style, complete with witty banter, a damsel in distress, and plenty of cheese. Webb’s hero never once says the words “friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” for which I was very grateful, and while there was no shortage of comedic content, I found it easier to worry for the characters when the overall tone was more serious.<br />
<br />
Whew! I think that’s everything. Kudos if you made it all the way to the end. What did you think? Did <i>The Amazing Spider-Man</i> fail to impress you? Or did you think it was better than the original? Anybody else crushing Andrew Garfield or Emma Stone? Or is Tobey Maguire the only Spidey for you?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-89749925857440781072012-06-09T13:40:00.001-04:002012-06-09T13:40:57.474-04:00Fish PersonI don't know when it happened, exactly, but I've become a fish person. I don't know if that's along the same lines as being a 'cat person' or a 'dog person,' or whether it's in a different category altogether. Like maybe you can either be a 'hamster person' or a fish person. I think that would be okay, because I definitely like fish better than I like hamsters. When I was in kindergarten, my family volunteered to keep the class hamsters over some break (I forget which one), and it involved a lot of biting and running around chasing hamsters. The hamsters were the ones doing the biting, not us. Although I think my mom was probably ready to do some biting by the time we caught the hamsters. I've had several fish and have never had to chase any of them down. <br />
<br />
Right now, I have two goldfish: Angelo, who is small and white and before he got the job as my pet was doing a gig as a table decoration at a friend's graduation party; and Cc, whom I got from the State Fair (I happily relieved my friend who actually won the game of the fish he did not want). People are generally impressed that he is still alive when the hear where I got him. Cc now sits on my desk at work, and has been received surprisingly well at the office. One of the web designers informed me that he and Cc were "getting to be pretty good friends now" and that he was going to take him for a walk later. I wasn't sure what to make of that. Cc seemed okay with it, though. I caught another (not-so-well-intentioned) workmate terrorizing my poor fish by holding his canned tuna up the bowl and telling Cc, "This is gonna be you. This is your cousin."<br />
<br />
But the best reaction Cc's gotten so far has been the geeky suggestion that I start telling people that there are really two fish in the bowl, Cc and Bcc, but that you can't see Bcc. I've told that story at every opportunity since then.<br />
<br />
A couple of days ago, I took it upon myself to become a better fish owner and read up on goldfish. There are far more varieties than I ever imagined, and I learned that they eat pretty much anything. They're non-aggressive, social, and actually make friends with each other, which I thought was really sweet. I also began to foster this desire to invest in an aquarium.<br />
<br />
I'm serious about this. And unlike my incessant requests for permission to buy a bird, my mother didn't shoot this idea down right away. In <i>fact</i>, she spent her Friday night shopping aquariums with me. I may have been imagining it, but she almost sounded like she was into the idea by the end of the evening. She informed me that she would have to be allowed to help pick out the fish.<br />
<br />
Angelo and Cc (Common Goldfish) will both go in the fancy new glass box, of course, but I also want a Pompom, and I've got my eye on the Ryukin and the Moor as well. See? Look at all of these fancy goldfish words I know!<br />
<br />
My favorite part of setting it all up is going to be decorating it. I get really giddy just looking at all the fish tank decorations in Petsmart and Petco. Shipwrecks, ruins, bridges, even Spongebob's pineapple and Squidward's Easter Island head (or whatever that is). Not to mention all the fake plants in all manner of unnatural colors (because as long as it's fake, who says it has to be green?). I will post pictures when I get it all set up, but it probably won't be for another couple of months. I want to by a nice camera first. So when I do take pictures, they will do the aquarium justice.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZBeIWq5U5Y4/T9OKCWXjbpI/AAAAAAAAAUI/_d6YzztcoTQ/s1600/Angelo.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZBeIWq5U5Y4/T9OKCWXjbpI/AAAAAAAAAUI/_d6YzztcoTQ/s400/Angelo.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He who says, "Nothing is impossible" has never <br />tried to photograph a goldfish.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-82895608838047110832012-05-24T23:20:00.001-04:002012-05-26T19:20:09.692-04:00Raz and the InternettesI don't work at the movie theater anymore. In fact, I quit more than a year ago, in April. I spent that summer seeing the world and watching YouTube videos, in that order. But I went broke rather quickly. That happens when you don't have a steady source of income and you spend three dollars a day on cappuccinos at your local hipster coffee shop. Bottom line, I got another job.<br />
<br />
The process was shockingly simple, and involved calling up a high school friend who said he could get me part time work. Now, I know how that sounds, but this was all very legitimate. I am now working at <a href="http://www.reverbnation.com/" target="_blank">ReverbNation</a>, a website geared toward the independent music industry. I got the job without any experience or real qualifications ("HTML familiarity" and "attention to detail," according to my beautifully formatted resume), and half a semester of college education. <br />
<br />
They hired me without even knowing what they were going to do with me, and for a few weeks I worked with various departments, but that makes the company sound much larger than it is. The difference between working in Operations versus working with the Product team, for example, was a hallway and a flight of stairs from one end of the building to the other. There are around 60 people who work there. Seven of them are named Steve. Not kidding. Seven.<br />
<br />
I must have shown promise as a QA tester, because that's what I've been doing ever since. (QA stands for "Quality Assurance.") Basically, I break things. It's exhilarating. We all remember that burning desire we had as toddlers and young children to knock down lego towers, stop on sand castles, and rip the heads off of Barbie dolls. That's what I do, except with web pages.<br />
<br />
As one of my coworkers put it, I'm the only one in the building that's disappointed when everything works properly. He was right. I take it personally when someone declares something unbreakable, and feel like a failure when I am unable to virtually (har har, get it?) bring something to its knees. Each new assignment is a daunting quest, and I am the last line of defense between these untamed beasts and the unsuspecting public. It is a great and terrible responsibility.<br />
<br />
I started back in October, but when spring rolled around, they asked me what my plans were for the summer, and offered me an internship. I won't be the only summer intern; there are others starting in June, but since I've been there for about six months already, I elected myself captain and decided we should call ourselves "Raz and the Internettes." I didn't realize, until I said it aloud, that "Internettes" sounds like "Internets," and since we're a website, that's just too beautiful a pun to pass up. The reaction was maybe one notch above rotten tomatoes, but I was laughing too hard to care.Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-55072268423926853882012-05-17T00:02:00.000-04:002013-02-27T15:35:29.625-05:00My Creative Process<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9RsQTqZVxcM/T7R380Q-PvI/AAAAAAAAAT8/KoHnHyFRdac/s1600/fish+crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9RsQTqZVxcM/T7R380Q-PvI/AAAAAAAAAT8/KoHnHyFRdac/s320/fish+crop.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This guy's attention span could swim circles around mine.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lately, I haven't been posting as much as I would like to be. I blamed it on finals for a while, and school before that. Those were adequate excuses, but now that finals are over (yay!) they don't work any longer. I am forced to stare my real problem squarely in the face and acknowledge its existence: laziness. It's sneaky. I don't usually wake up in the morning with the intention of spending all day doing nothing (although I can't in good faith say that it's never happened). But whenever I set about doing something, like finishing a painting I started almost a year ago, or writing that blog post I've drafted three times in my head but never actually hammered out on the computer, a similar sequence of events takes place. This is how it generally goes:<br />
<br />
1. Wake up with the whole day ahead of me. Big dreams. Wonderful intentions.<br />
<br />
2. Open Blogger. Finally going to write that Hunger Games review.<br />
<br />
3. Notice I have a new follower. Become filled with happiness. Click to see who this wonderful new person is.<br />
<br />
4. Click to view other stats. Check whether Russia is still the country generating the second-largest number of hits. Wonder why my blog is getting traffic from Russia.<br />
<br />
5. Check to see if more than a quarter of my readers are still using Internet Explorer to read my blog. Feel pity for the population.<br />
<br />
6. Stomach growls. Get breakfast. Make coffee. Check to see if Julian Smith has posted any new videos to YouTube that I can watch while the coffee perks. He hasn't.<br />
<br />
7. Watch Chuck on the Internet. Promise I will go back to the blog post after this episode.<br />
<br />
8. Episode ends in a cliffhanger. Watch three more episodes of Chuck. Cry because I'm in love with Chuck but we can never be together because he's fictional and married. And fictional.<br />
<br />
9. Find videos of Zachary Levi on YouTube to ease the pain. Pain gets worse.<br />
<br />
10. Return to Blogger. Stare at blank text box. Lose patience. Feel worthless.<br />
<br />
11. Check Pinterest. Jane Doe and 34 others have repinned my pin. Feel popular.<br />
<br />
12. Stomach growls. Get lunch. Notice that it's already 3:00 in the afternoon. Wonder how that happened. Remember that I woke up at 11:00. Feel worthless.<br />
<br />
13. Vaguely remember that I was going to write a blog post. Ignore feelings of guilt and worthlessness and bury them in vanilla ice cream with Oreos crumbled on top. Feel fat. Feel worthless.<br />
<br />
14. Remember that I'm awesome and stop feeling worthless. Decide I don't need blogging to convince myself that I'm not worthless. Discard any and all intentions of writing a new post.<br />
<br />
15. Play Tetris. Get bored.<br />
<br />
16. Play Temple Run. Beat high score. Reward self by watching Chuck.<br />
<br />
17. Realize it's midnight and I should go to bed if I want to wake up in time to get anything done tomorrow.Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2284586873210994212.post-25872624538555074302012-05-02T14:06:00.000-04:002012-05-02T14:11:42.081-04:00C(A)PJ: Day 4<br />
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
We just arrived in Cuzco. The hotel is awesome. We have hot water, heat electricity for
more than four hours in the evening, and toilet paper we can actually flush
down the toilet. Don’t get me
wrong; I loved the jungle, but it made me realize how much we take for granted.
Plus, after two nights under a mosquito net, everything from here on out is
going to seem swanky by comparison.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Right now, we’re supposed to be
resting for two hours to adjust to the altitude (11,000 feet!), but my brother is
having a lot of trouble working the shower, despite the straightforward
instructions to wait five minutes for the hot water. We drank coca tea a few minutes ago, which is supposed to
help with altitude sickness, too.
That’s tea made from the same plant used to make cocaine. Seems like there are a lot of things that
could fix, if you ask me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JrJTj03zwgk/T6FyxmldQ0I/AAAAAAAAATI/-8-oMLXQbjk/s1600/Day4_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JrJTj03zwgk/T6FyxmldQ0I/AAAAAAAAATI/-8-oMLXQbjk/s320/Day4_1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A surprisingly good picture of the sloth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
This morning, we got to sleep in
for an hour—we woke up at five, instead of four. We packed up and took a three-hour boat ride all the way to
Puerto Maldonado, because last night’s rain made the bus ride too risky. We saw a
sloth, sort of. He was very far
away and—get this—wasn’t moving around too much, but Esteban was borrowing
people’s cameras to take pictures <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">through</i>
his binoculars. Mine, which has been on its last leg for a day or so, died, so
I haven’t seen them yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
At the airport, I bought brasilnuts
because my sister and I had eaten so many of her free samples that I would have
felt guilty just walking away.
They taste pretty good.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
When we landed, the temperature
was pretty surprising. It’s chilly
here! We were met by another sign,
this one with a woman attached to it.
Her English is good, but when I have a question, I ask it in
Spanish. She answers slowly enough
that I can understand her easily.
She quelled our worries that hiking the citadel was perilous and scary,
saying that four hundred people do it a day and that if you’re slow, it takes
and hour and twenty minutes. So
we’ll definitely be doing that.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eIfMlobqzhg/T6F0OjNiPRI/AAAAAAAAATY/XOzIR9hgnvo/s1600/Day4_3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eIfMlobqzhg/T6F0OjNiPRI/AAAAAAAAATY/XOzIR9hgnvo/s320/Day4_3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cuzco</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Cuzco is my favorite city so
far. I mean, okay, so basically my
choices were Lima and Cuzco, but Cuzco is still awesome. We were musing about how European it
felt, and that it was also similar to New Orleans. The common thread hit us like the Golden Corral frying
pan: Spanish influence! I wonder how you say “duh” in Spanish. We ate
dinner at the restaurant suggested by the guy at the front desk and it was awesome. For the rest of the evening we shopped. In fact, before we even made it to the
restaurant, a woman with a lot of hats and belts and a baby on her back
attacked us and managed to sell my sister a hat, which she was glad to have after
sunset when it went from chilly to cold.
We took pictures of the woman and her baby, and I think I’m going to
paint her when I get home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jGQqW9EKHYk/T6F0_FpKIdI/AAAAAAAAATg/QhU1gk2K0ss/s1600/Day4_4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jGQqW9EKHYk/T6F0_FpKIdI/AAAAAAAAATg/QhU1gk2K0ss/s320/Day4_4.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The woman and her baby</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
My mom and I walked into one shop
and I fell instantly in love with a cream-colored alpaca fleece sweater with a
tag that read “135.” It wasn’t
until I was pulling it over my head that I learned it was 135 USD, not
soles. So about two and a half
times more than I’d thought. But it
was too late, I was in love. I
haven’t taken it off. But I owe
my mom $135 because I didn’t have enough with me to pay for it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
After that we had coffee and
dessert at a place across the street.
There were three guys at the table behind us, and I turned around and
asked where they were from. The
answer was a heavily accented “England.”
I immediately lost all ability to think clearly and proceeded to
embarrass myself and totally contribute to the idea that all Americans are
total morons. I’m not going to
record the exact details of that, because I’m really hoping to forget.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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On the way back to the hotel, we passed a whole bunch of young
people dancing in groups. One
group looked like they were dancing more traditional Inca dances, while the
other group, divided into boys and girls, were dancing something more
contemporary-looking that involved a lot of shouting. It was really cool, because, based on the lack of any real
audience, it didn’t seem like they were doing it for the tourists (which are in
abundant supply here), but like they had maybe just gotten together to dance
for fun.</div>
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<br />
Back at the hotel, my brother took
about ten seconds to figure out how to work the TV, and about ten minutes to
figure out that everything’s in Spanish.
Who would have thought? Maybe he’s learning something. Now we’re watching <i>The Lightning Thief</i> in Spanish. It is the single most epic thing I have ever seen.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0IpN_rPbot8/T6FzWu4e0sI/AAAAAAAAATQ/TUnHeqqs45s/s1600/Day4_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0IpN_rPbot8/T6FzWu4e0sI/AAAAAAAAATQ/TUnHeqqs45s/s400/Day4_2.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's a staircase, folks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L5B1qUI9gdA/T6F1sR0P_aI/AAAAAAAAATo/uv51_N9Qfp8/s1600/Day4_5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L5B1qUI9gdA/T6F1sR0P_aI/AAAAAAAAATo/uv51_N9Qfp8/s400/Day4_5.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Plaza del Armas in the middle of Cuzco</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Raz Darnellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12467766891767042391noreply@blogger.com0