The Political Media (part 2)

part 1 of 2 part series! oh wow! super exciting man!

---
The KFXA/CBS news crew showed up at John F. Kennedy High School on Wednesday and apparently needed the assistance of the Kennedy speech team. In turns out that they wanted to have the speech team give their opinion on the politician's faux pau... because it was a speech. Not only did this feed the misconception that speech team is an entire team dedicated to giving speeches, but it was also just sort of a stupid news story to begin with. Essentially they were saying "RICK PERRY IS SOOOOO DUMB DAT EVEN KIDZ THINK HE DUMB TOO".

However, once the questions started rolling it just got stupider. Before we watched the video, we were already pretty much informed what "our" stance would be on the subject. Prior to having the video played for us, our on-site reporter (who was very nice by the way, only doing her job) said they'd be looking for reactions to the clip before throwing out buzzwords like "embarrassing", "pathetic", and "sad". Got it? Good. Now roll film. Wait, these guys DON'T like Rick Perry? You don't say.

We watched the clip, which as I touched on before, was indeed a bit of a slip-up. They asked us to film reaction shots to the video being played, where we were all decided to turn around quizzically to our neighbors, feign scorn and shame and laugh painfully at him. We actually did three different takes of this, somehow the shot where I gripped my hair frantically and cried in agony before bellowing "HOW COULD HE!?!" didn't make the final cut. It was kind of sad the way we didn't have to say anything, we all just had a mutual understanding that the news needs money shots, so we all picked up in the same place and plugged in canned emotion in places there really was none.

And then came the interviews. Again, only doing their job, we were prodded with totally objective questions laced with completely unbiased suggestions, like "How did this make you feel? Just a little sorry for him? Did it make you sort of cringe?" Everyone did a great job of answering these questions as the news station intended (my best friend laughed about his totally bullpoop answers afterwards, confessing that he really didn't mind that Rick Perry made an error at all, before also confessing that he liked being on the news), except good old maverick me.

I ignored their prompts and political mad-libs and instead answered truthfully: It didn't change my opinion of Rick Perry at all. If anything, it made him more human. I went on in this manner for a good 10-15 seconds before they continued the onslaught of questions. True American hero? I mean, I wouldn't dispute it if you said it...

final note: I have no problem with CBS2/KFXA28 and I recognize that they were doing their jobs. It's not just them, it's literally every news outlet in the nation, they were just the only group I had personal experience with. They aired this segment last thursday, and they actually ended up using a brief excerpt where I said my opinion of Rick Perry did not change as a result of his screw-up. Go society!

The Political Media - The One I Cut Into Two Posts Only For The Sake of Inflating Entries (Part 1 of 2)

I'm aware that I'm not broaching any new territory here with this blog post; anyone with an opinion will probably tell you that at large the media bias is out of control. It's a bit sad that something as pure and essential as news has been needlessly tainted by prejudice and careful skewing by the big wings, left, right, and unfortunately in this case, NOT everything in between. For me personally, this is no longer a big deal. Anyone who only gets their news from one source is either waiting to be mislead or making sure they only hear what pleases them. However, deep down, it's still bothersome that this is the way news media is, and is likely the way it will stay throughout history, despite the fact that it really doesn't need to be that way.

Everything and anything is subject to media spin. It seems as if Sarah Palin's daughter is pregnant before marriage!

  This, of course, makes her more identifiable with the common family, 

everybody has some dark family issues! 

Wait, no, if she can't manage her own family,

how could she manage the country's highest political office?!

This just in, there has been a massive oil spill into the gulf!

Once again, big business has found a way to carelessly

destroy the environment we love so much.

Louisiana congress has still yet to take a stand in

the restoration of their gulf!

Breaking news! An elderly man died peacefully of natural causes!

Is Obama doing enough to protect our senior population!?

Does he hate old people!?!

Once again, hard-headed Republicans cost our nation

another life by refusing to fund stem-cell research.

Recently, a controversy of this sort was started when presidential hopeful Rick Perry sputtered during a nationally televised debate. He was answering a question regarding which departments of government he'd like to overhaul, first specifying that there was to be three, and soon himself unable to remember the final department he intended to list (he gathered himself later in the debate and recalled that it was ). It was embarrassing. Sure, maybe it made him look a little bit stupid. And perhaps it's even warranting of national attention; I know I at least found it entertaining. But it was a mistake, a natural error! Really, it was an innocent one at that, to assume suddenly because you're running for president you are less prone to losing your train of thought than anyone else is ridiculously absurd.When did it become inexcusable to be human?!

Clearly it did at some point, because I was soon conducting on interview on the matter with FOX-KFXA 28/CBS 2 News...

It's just pooping; hop off the throne bro. (not literally, though.. or at least wipe first, if you do)

Lately, as I've paraded my blog around the internets seeking effusive praise and ego massages, I've been upset to hear that some find my humor to be a bit pretentious. Clearly my abstract analogies and abstract...er word play (not a good example) drives some people off, so in this blog I've decided to expand my audience, in order to tickle the funny bone of those whose funny bones are not as taken with uproarious, clever wit and charm as I'd prefer. I googled some Adam Sandler movie trailers to find out what the kids are into these days, and I came to the conclusion that there was only one way to go with this entry: potty humor.

Yep, that entire paragraph was just an incredibly
long set up to a real crappy punchline.
Oh, someone stop me.

On the matter of toilets: why are people so concerned about them? It's all too often that I'll hear a classmate mention in passing a trip home they took in order to use the facilities there, insinuating a total refusal to use the perfectly good toilets our wonderful faculty have worked so hard to provide for us! Perhaps school bathrooms aren't the most pleasant of environments, sure, but when did pooping become such a sacred event that it was to be catered to like a Bat Mitzvah or first date? Pooping is inherently gross, it's freaking poop! What do you expect? There should be no qualms about gross things happening in gross places; people put their trash in garbage bags, not elaborately wrapped gift packages.

If you seriously have an issue with doing your business in the confines of a public restroom, perhaps consider for a second that the actual action you are performing has been popularly dubbed "taking a dump". Taking a dump. A dump. Does you think that word suggests the sound of clinking champagne glasses drowned out by the giggling of lapdance expert super models while you ruffle carelessly through a stack of one hundred dollar bills, only to realize you lost count? Please let me leave that question rhetorical.

When something bad happens, often you may utter the phrase "crap", or "shit", or perhaps "poopy" if you're of sophisticated tongue. Fecal matter is not a good thing! It's human nature to hate our dumps. They smell awful, they waste our time, and they just make us hungry again. Is there any place more appropriate to do rid of them than a questionably sanitized room that sort of smells like a mix between urine and ammonia?

p.s. - if you actually do think my humor is pretentious, you can shove it. i will never conform to you bastards

I Hope They're Not Getting Paid for This One

Ever watch an episode of a TV show where they've clearly just mailed it in for the season? The writers have already written, say, 26 episodes, and they're really running dry on content. So they shoot a cute little introduction scene that makes everything seem just as usually scheduled, and then all of a sudden you notice something is horribly, horribly wrong. It's a clip show. The second the characters begin to even audibly contemplate reminiscing of old times, you totally give up hope. You are about to be in store for a compilation of already published material, I mean, already aired television, repackaged with a pretty bow and pushed as a new episode. Oh, the nerve.

Say, do you guys remember my very first blog?



Caring Too Much: An Affliction

It's interesting to see how far I've come since then. First, it's abundantly clear to me now that the ideas I established in jest there were far more dangerous than I'd ever understand. That gorgeous little blog entry was actually the only entry I wrote the entire first half of the term. I somehow thought that by cutely observing my lack of work ethic, and successfully diagnosing the underlying issue, I would somehow alleviate all possible issues pertaining to my workload. I later discovered that telling someone they have a fatal, imminent disease does NOT cure them of its horrible symptoms.



Haha, yeah, but you remember that time he did a serious blog?!
Upon My Death - Not a Satire Piece

I really liked writing this one. I got to flesh out some mature ideas without the aid of stupid analogies or hilarious jokes for once, and really flex my writing chops unadulterated for the first time. I know that it probably wasn't as entertaining for most as the rest of my blog entries, and because I intend for my blog to be a constant source of entertainment for my wonderful friends, family, and according to my pageviews list, fans in Germany, it's probably not something I'll come back to right away. That, and it's actually a lot more difficult without my awesome wit and wonderful charm to lean on as a crutch. However, it IS a 3 parter, and I promise there are still at LEAST two blog entries full of thoughts on the matter yet to be expressed.



That all reminds me of the time Marty took on the Illuminati!
Illuminati - Congratulations, Scientology, you're no longer the stupidest train of thought practiced!

I like to be cutting-edge when it suits me. Although there is certainly a lot of satisfaction in taking a microscope to massive concepts like, say for instance, pooping, and writing extensive essays on those, there is something lovely about running at that current, super relevant piece of pop culture phenomena with a broad-ax. Plus, the embedded soundtrack was a beautiful touch.




Roll credits.

Everyday Effects of my iPod

My birthday came and went on November 7th. For the first time in my life, there really were no flairs or figurative fireworks. I was given a credit card and told to buy whatever clothes I wanted, and I told my parents to buy me an iPod. They did, which put me on my 5th so far (lost, broken, stolen, broken). I've made it clear before on this blog that I love music, a lot, and a constant stream of it in my ears regardless of location is something that keeps me in good spirits. However, after about 4 months of not having one after it broke this summer, I began to get used to it. Eventually I almost forgot how freaking awesome iPods were. Then I remembered.

thanks mom and dad :)

My iPod enhances my day in every possible way. Every part of boring, mundane life is suddenly pumped full of vibrant, animated life when I turn the music on.

Making the long trek from the Lovely Lane parking lot to Kennedy High School in the cold fall morning. God this is boring and/or miserable.

Add some good alternative rock, and all of sudden I'm in the intro to an indie movie. The streets might as well be animated like in the intro to Juno. I'm no longer thinking about how freaking cold I am. Nature is beautiful. Is it just my imagination, or are my steps beautifully rhythmic?

Taking a dump. God it smells awful in here. I'm uncomfortable. This toilet seat is weirdly warm. Oh, oh... yep, there we go. Here comes a little more. Oh, would you look at that, there's no toilet paper...

Add some hard rap, and all of a sudden I'm pooping like a true gangster. I'm bumping my head to the beat, and I don't even care how bad it smells in there. I'm definitely weighing out the benefits of getting into some hardcore drug dealing. Plop. I made that poop my female dog. No toilet paper? No problem. No one likes me anyway, nothing a little bold scent will change.

In math class. Good lord this is boring. Should I take a restroom break and exchange filthy banter on the walls of the bathroom stalls again? No, I did that yesterday. I guess I'll just stare blankly into space for 30 minutes.

Add some good music, and all of a sudden I'm actually occupied for the first time all hour. I'm still in math class, but, it's an iPod, not a holy grail.

Things That Bother Me and I Hope Also Bother You So We Can All Relate - The Space-filling Blog

As you can probably tell by reading this blog, I hate a lot of things. Unfortunately, not ALL of these things have quite enough substance to break down into a 500 word blog entry, or at least not comfortably. Don't think for a second, however, that these ideas are not brilliant in their own right! In fact, in sort of a "Island of Misfit Toys"-esque blog entry, I will share with you some of the annoyances that just didn't quite make the much vaunted cut of Diaries of an Indifferent White Man. Until now!

• When you're eating a hot dog, and a disproportionate blog of ketchup drips off of the end portion and gets on your shirt.
• The way you can scald your tongue for one second on a hot beverage, and it will still painfully inhibit your taste senses days later.
• People who constantly say "facebook is lame now! follow me on twitter!!! @terriblegenerictwittername" somehow not recognizing that Facebook and Twitter serve completely different purposes and can coexist peacefully.
• Jeff Dunham, and the way his terrible jokes and mediocre impressions are somehow masked to the public eye by puppets. Didn't we get over that whole phenomena at the age of 6?
• How as much you hate to admit it, you really don't like that restaurant/book/tv show/song/band/ as much now that everybody else knows about / loves it too.
• The fact that for some reason mediocre rappers, guys who are not capable of sounding decent reading words rhythmically over a pre-produced instrumental, are given unlimited opportunities to act. 
• Facebook's constant desire to change everytime we get used to it. We get it, you are very talented programmers. Stop mucking with my newsfeed.
• People who think making racist/offensive/morbid jokes are funny because they're being edgy. Yes, I know you saw the four funny cartoon boys on the telebishon do it, but you clearly don't have the tact of Eric Cartman. 
• Much is made of "nerds", or intellectuals, being discriminated against, but in this day and age I almost feel as if there's a much larger negative stigma associated with athletes. They were never really all charmless, awkward pencil pushers, and we're not really all near-retarded, blow-up doll banging alcoholics. Yes, I'm speaking for athletes. Shut up.
• I have got a lot more blogs to write.

Why the Packers Will Repeat (pt. 2) - The Blog With Its Tail Between Its Legs

I posted a blog entry a while back in which I excitedly professed my belief that the Green Bay Packers will once again bring home the Lombardi. That opinion has not changed. However, after watching the Packers squeak out a win against the San Diego Chargers today, I felt today would be as appropriate a day as any to complete the blog that a bright-eyed, idealistic boy began with such innocence.

Perhaps this post doesn't really belong on this blog, but I it needs to go somewhere, so... If you don't enjoy the sport of football, or unpleasant, disjointed rants, for that matter, I wouldn't read anymore of this. 

Excerpt from "Why The Packers Will Repeat (pt. 1)"

poor, naive soul.

I would no longer love to talk about defense.

Green Bay Packers, reigning Super Bowl Champions. Ended last year with the #2 defense in the league in terms of points given up. Only significant change from last year? Loss of oft-injured defensive end Cullen Jenkins, who never really played much last year anyway, down the stretch. So. What the expletive happened?

Let's look at the key performers.

Clay Matthews-

2010:

Fought through constant triple-team blocking assignments on his way to a 14-sack season, while finishing runner-up for prestigious Defensive Player of the Year award.

2011:

Washed out of games by mediocre blockers, registered 3 sacks on the year.

Charles Woodson-

2010:

Outstanding "jack-knife" defender, blitzing from slot, wreaking havoc on the backfield and jumping hella routes for interceptions.

2011:

Still getting hella interceptions, at least.

Nick Collins-

2010:

1st-team All-Pro at Free Safety. Made game changing interception in the Super Bowl.

2011:

Career ending neck injury. Stay strong Collins. :(

BJ Raji-

2010:

Constant disruption in the backfield. Fighting through double teams to make a play on a consistent basis. Had a interception for a touchdown in the NFC Championship, too.

2011: 

Just sort of taking up space. No sacks, yet. Didn't really expect another pick-six, though.

Tramon Williams-

2010:

Shut down every wide receiver lined up across from him. Arguably best season of any cornerback in 2010.

2011:

Constantly confused in coverage, not assignment sure. Beat often by strong, physical receivers. Far cry from previous year.

whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhy.

Okay, seriously.. who hid the HGH?

I See No Text Between Those Lines

Analysis of literature is an important part of education, I well realize it's pointless to try and argue against that. Please do not be offended by anything you read here, especially if you happen to teach the very concepts I'm about to critique and determine my final grade at the end of the term; this is simply one man trying to find things to complain about on his blog.  That being said, there are times I can't but help consider to myself that a good lot of that language breakdown is a lot of bullpoop.


Oh, there it is.

When we read essays or excerpts, we're urged to identify literary devices, deduce motivation and find subtext; as if the actual text wasn't sufficient. I recognize the value of these practices as an educational tool: they help build a better understanding of language, help note patterns evident in effective writing, and encourage thinking outside of the conventional literary box. That about pushes their value for me.

I don't represent the pinnacle of writing, obviously, but when I write, it flows naturally in order to best paint the picture I desire and to entertainingly convey the ideas I wish to create. Some literary devices may wind up in there as a result of this, and perhaps I may unconciously slide in a parallel between my subject matter and oppression in Sudan, but at the end of the day I'm just writing. Of course there are going to be some underlying messages/meaning in some writing, and it'd be stupid to try and say there is NEVER an appropriate role for the illusive subtext in analysis. Today, subtext especially, has been stretched out, exhausted and misapplied more than a fat girl's spandex shorts. (seriously, stop.)

Because of that, the thing that really gets at me is that we're almost losing the true value of subtext when we misapply it so often. Elaborate, artfully construed writing full of purposeful metaphor and intelligent parallel is lost in the shuffle with non-existent, baseless "subtext". A student reading To Kill a Mockingbird for a literature class may blindly suggest that Atticus Finch is actually government intervention in the Chinese Opium crisis during the 1800s, while Boo Radley represents overcoming substance addiction and  Bob Ewell is British antagonization. Sure, you made it work, and that's a very interesting take on the matter, but it's clearly not pertinent to the actual story, or the author's actual intent, in any way! Now, a teacher who has taught the same curriculum on the same book for 25 years is slightly intrigued with a perspective outside the norm and praises their student for intuitiveness and thinking outside the box; all the while actual masterful, effective subtext lays unexplored in novels like H.G. Wells' The Time Machine. 

It's not all on the analyzers, either though. Subtext is abused by the aspiring writer just as often! A bland,  unoriginal  (nonexistent) short story about, let's say, an accountant named Jerry Crane eventually getting shot is met with universal "meh"s, until the author explains to his critics that Jerry Crane is really just one big standing metaphor for Jesus Christ! Nevermind that no other parts of the story actually lines up with the life of Jesus Christ in any way; the protagonist's initials are J.C.! Suddenly his awful tale is met with "ooo"s and "ahhh"s from the uninformed. Way to ruin it for everyone, douche.

As a final note, let me say that I hope one day when I'm rich and famous, as well as a world-renowned everything, English classes across America are forced to break this piece down, just for the lovely irony.

Adventureland (and other not-so-great things obscured by nostalgia)

We look back on our distant childhood memories so fondly. God, Goldeneye 64 will always be the greatest videogame of all time. Man, that drop slide at Cherry Hill was so freaking tall! Wow, could I EVER run out of things to do at Adventureland?!? Even while acknowledging our age at the time, a lot of times these memories remain proportionally impressive as our time on this earth accumulates. As far as I know, Goldeneye is still the best game ever! I'd still probably piss my pants standing in line for that drop slide! Seriously, you CAN'T run out of things to do at Adventureland!

Until you go back.

Apparently, Adventureland isn't even capable of supplying
high resolution action shots. This isn't how I remember it...

There's something not just shocking, but actually scary about nostalgia-shock (coining that phrase right now). When following years of reminiscing, after you actually dust off the old Nintendo 64 and blow incessantly into that Goldeneye game cartridge, your heart actually sinks a little bit once you realize: holy shoot, this game really is pretty awful by today's standards! This slide was not even worth the line I just waited in! Adventureland is boring as hell!

Yes, it's disappointing to think one thing and find quite another, but more than that it feels wrong. Morally, you almost feel robbed. As you realize whimsical nostalgia of your innocence distorted your memory, you might begin to wonder what else has been conveniently "lost" in the rose-tinted fog of yesteryear. Was your toy chest really that big!? Could you really run THAT fast?!? Did your mom mean it when she said she loved you!?!?!

So add "memories" to that wonderful list right next to fine cheeses and expensive wine. As the years go by, you might slowly lose the bad and retain more of the good. Suddenly, you remember that Goldeneye was impossible towards the middle and you never finished it because you couldn't beat that mission in the bunker. Quickly you recollect that the drop slide ALWAYS took forever to stand in line. How did you forget that you can't spend a day at Adventureland without walking at least 5 miles? I already hate the present time enough, when thinking back, I might as well embrace my delusions of grandeur. Besides, the Silly Silo will never stop being fun.

Tempering Expectations - A Venture in Self-Justification, Quality Control and Big Words

As this term has gone on, this blog has been like a child to me. Sure, I didn't really want it at first, but once I realized I was stuck with it, I learned to love it for what it is. Ha. However, as it currently stands I am raising a potential future sociopathic, serial-killer of a blog. It seems that I'll neglect it for days, even weeks at a time; perhaps stopping by a few times to contemplate writing, but ultimately leaving it in that dark, cold, secret attic of my internet browser. Then, when the mood finally strikes me, I'll literally spend hours upon hours, meticulately crafting the perfect blog entry, only realizing after I have spent immeasurable time lavishing my blog with an entry full of niceties that perhaps all along my blog would have preferred to be attended to regularly rather than be starved in the attic for a week, then sporadically begin awarded a luxorious steak dinner. I mean, child. Is it still a child? There was some dinner in there too. It's apparent after 13 blog entries I've exhausted every brilliant analogy in my arsenal. I knew I should have saved the ecstasy and sex for it's own separate entry (bet you want to read the rest of my blogs now, right bro?).

I'm running out of personal photos to manipulate.

With my traditional bar-setting (thank god, in this case) intro paragraph out of the way, I'll cut to the chase. 

Ha.

But really, as impressive as my 13 blog entries thus far clearly are... they represent roughly 13/30ths of the entries I need to have completed by finals. Well, actually, in actual actuality, there is no rough estimate. That's exactly how many I have done, and I need seventeen more. Neither of those previously stated numbers are good numbers. So while I love to put together the expansive essays that I have for you guys in the past, eventually I was going to have to hunker down and write some dumbass entries about tempering expectations to go along with the ones about sex & ecstasy if I plan on passing this course.

Music - It's Great.

I was texting a girl (*cue 80s sitcom studio audience "ooooOOOOohhh!"*) and she asked me a question I really loved. She asked me what my favorite thing was. I didn't quite know what to make of that question. You could ask me my ideal room temperature at any given time and I'll immediately respond 72 degrees Fahrenheit. You might inquiry as to what year in history I would most prefer to occupy, and I will not hesitate to let you know that it'd be 80,085, because that's in the future and it looks like "boobs" on a calculator. But a question as simple as "What's your favorite thing?" somehow stopped me in my tracks.

You wouldn't understand the music I listen to.

I argued with myself for a bit on the matter. I like hanging out with people, but I also hate most people most times. I like the computer, but that's kind of anti-social, not to mention broad. I like football, but I'm pretty sure I can go days without it. What's the one thing I don't go a day without doing? Pissing! But that'd make a terrible blog post! So instead, I chose listening to music, which I also do every day! Awesome! Exclamation mark!

I love music. It's wonderful. It's seriously fantastic. There are many other superlatives I'd like to use in brief three word sentences but I feel that'd become tedious. But music is the best. This isn't my best writing. Moving on. It's difficult to explain the way music makes me feel. I hear some people say music makes them sad, others say it makes them happy, a phonophobiac told me music always threw him into a violent rage. For me, music doesn't really elicit any emotion from me. More than anything, music fills a void for me; just sort of settles me into a contentment. I'm not sure what I gain from listening to music, but at any given moment I'd rather be listening to it than not.

I've found through experience that music says a lot about a person. Initially, I'd just notice someone listening to the same kind of music I liked and I'd start a conversation with them because, hey, that's the kind of music I liked. However, when I'd initiate these conversations, I'd notice that they were some of the better conversations I'd had; legitimately involving, interesting, relatable conversations, often with people I only vaguely knew! This happened for years, at least consciously unbeknownst to me, before I started to connect the dots. I've come to the conclusion that the music one listens to has a strong bearing on their character, and I've equipped this theory like a sword and shield in my social life as of late. Not to say that any music preference is superior to any other, as much as I feel those who both enjoy the grungy thrashings of "Tool", or both enjoy the nonsensical moan-yelling of "The Strokes" (this guy!) will most likely be far more partial to each other than a "Metallica" enthusiast and a "Dixie Chicks" roadie might be. I bet they'll do studies. Either way, music is great! Three cheers for my most poorly written entry thus far! Hip, hip!

hooray.

Politics - Not Just For the Informed Anymore

I'm not a political guy. I'm not. I have no dedicated affiliation with either the Democratic or Republican party, and I do not follow those things as closely as I probably should. But as a consequence of my lack of knowledge, I feel it is important that I don't run my mouth off like an idiot. If someone is discussing the latest decision regarding the war in Afghanistan, I don't feel the urge to run in waving my arms and foaming at the mouth to interject “I hate war!”. Obviously I am alone in this trait, however, because it seems all intelligent conversations regarding politics either end with “Screw Sarah Palin!” or “Obama hates America!”, or very likely both. Politics is always going to be a touchy subject simply because politics covers such a wide spectrum of things that it's impossible not be affected by it at some point in some way. People like their money, people like their guns, people like their freedoms, people like their comfort, and people like their drugs. So naturally, people hate the one thing that has supreme rule over all of that: politics.

Robinson 2032

Pre-2008 election, I heard a girl say she wanted to vote for Obama. Obama had obviously captivated the young (18-30) demographics in America at a startling rate, so I asked for her reasoning, which I was well aware would most likely be ridiculous because she was wearing a Blink182 shirt. Her response was that Obama was black, which was surprisingly stupider than I had expected. She was not especially attractive so I didn't feel it necessary to flatter her idiocy, and instead launched into an insulting tirade full of unnecessarily large words and dripping with patronizing tone. I shot off about how people like her are the ones that elected Bush Jr. into office TWICE and then called him the worst president ever immediately after placing their ballots...twice. However, she took this rant in stride and came back with a knockout blow, simply stating she didn't care to talk to ignorant racists such as myself before excusing herself. Somehow I didn't see it coming.

A lack of knowledge is obviously something that currently and always will afflict subjects of all sorts, be it the inability to construct a nuclear power reactor or the incapability to differentiate how to “Dougie” from how to “Jerk”. However, when I am unable to construct a nuclear power reactor, I do not walk into a nuclear power plant and start banging a wrench on things and hope to put together some semblance of a functioning reactor. Traditionally, this is how the majority of society operates in regards to most things. If something is not your area of expertise, you stray away from it and withhold your likely useless opinion. However, something in politics seems to sap that common sense away from people, and just about everyone has something to say.

The worst part of this political idiocy is that everyone has a strong opinion about something, regardless of if they have any knowledge pertaining to that subject. If I were to ask a political novice like myself how they felt about Obama, they would likely respond with either “He's the best! Healthcare!” or “He's a communist! Healthcare!”, but seldom would someone respond “I don't follow politics very closely. Although my father/mother are staunch Republicans/Democrats, I have chosen to inform myself politically before passionately advocating one side or the other instead of adopting their opinions loudly and blindly. Additionally, I feel that I am not well versed enough in such issues to take a strong position either in favor or against them. Perhaps I can better equip myself for this conversation in the meantime, and we can resume this discussion at a later point.”

But that's just me.

Why the Packers Will Repeat (pt. 1) - The Blog No One Will Read

I've done my best since the birth of this humble blog to not write about the Packers. It just seems tacky, for whatever reason. Where as I like to think my blogs are articulate, witty, reflective, intellectual, perceptive and totally devoid of unnecessary vocab words and ego petting, sports (namely NFL football [more aptly the Green Bay Packers] ) seems to essentially make me revert to a dumb, simpleton one-track mindset who screams at inanimate objects. Namely TVs, although I've yelled at a few poorly placed stools, or ceilings, while celebrating. However, I can not repress this part of myself any longer. The Packers are going to win the freaking Super Bowl and I will tell you why. No cute wordplay, no wacky twist ending and no thesaurus. Just a guy in a Rodgers jersey with a lot to say and no one that will listen (thanks internet!).

Champions.

It all starts at quarterback. The NFL is a quarterback driven league, now, more so than some teams may like to believe. In fact, I firmly believe regardless of how talented a team is as a whole, there is no way to win it all without an elite quarterback. It's impossible. You have to all the way back to the 2002 Ravens, who surrounded mediocre quarterback Trent Dilfer with one of the greatest defenses of ALL time, as well as outstanding offensive weapons; and they just barely pulled that one. No team from that point forward has been lead by a quarterback who at very least had not been graced with a Pro-Bowl berth. Adrian Peterson is the highest paid runningback in the league right now, making a quarterback-sized contract of seven years for ~$100 million dollars. Larry Fitzgerald,  the best wideout in the league, is signed to a similarily ridiculous 8-year $120 million deal. Combined record of their teams?  2 wins, 12 losses. Case in point.

If it all starts at quarterback, the Packers should be just fine. Aaron Rodgers will be a Hall of Fame quarterback, and will have his shot at being the best of all time. Mark it down. Rodgers is the all-time qualified NFL leader in the categories of career QB rating, career yards per pass attempt, career touchdown to interception ratio, and lots of other lovely things like that. The kicker? He's still peaking. This season, Rodgers has topped his previous season high of five 300+ yard passing games... in seven games. Boom. 

And weapons? We got lots of em. Aaron Rodgers has an extremely talented receiving group, compromised of Greg Jennings, an All-Pro, Jordy Nelson, league leader in touchdown catches over 80 yards this year, Donald Driver, savvy veteran who churns out tough yards, James Jones, an athletic deep threat who excels at making guys miss, and rookie Randall Cobb who shows explosion and elite speed. Also, we sort of have this 6'5 Jermichael Finley guy at tight end, and he's as fast as a wide receiver and can jump as high as Randy Moss. We treat our quarterbacks good hurr in Wisky.

Talk about defense? I'd love to, but this is already way over 300 words. Some day.

A Blog Post About Nothing (couldn't think of a Seinfeld pun)

This blog has been aggravating as a whole. When I can think of something to write, it seems to flow effortlessly from my mind to the keyboard. Once I get going I'll rarely pause to ponder an idea or weigh options in my head. I just sort of record an organized stream of consciousness. There's something very satisfying about writing this way, it feels so natural and I'm so pleased with the results that it makes it hard to force an unnatural post when I really need to start getting some more down towards my count. I had a few different analogies of varying greatness and political correctness that I drew to mind here and I couldn't choose one, so let me break here briefly...

• ...i liken this experience to this thing about sex and ecstasy i've heard a few times. in this case, sex = writing and free will = ecstasy; reasonable enough, right? so everyone seems to like intercourse pretty good and dandy, but after having executed said activity while under the influence of a very illegal, very unhealthy entactogenic such as ecstacy, it has been suggested that it is so sensational that people are no longer able to comfortably engage in such behavior without the aid of the drug. (maybe not this one.)
• ...it's almost as if writing is akin to taking a dump. when you're about to go on a long car ride and your parents urge, "you better use the restroom before we go! we're not stopping!", there is nothing pleasant about the  experience. it feels feigned and often takes painful exertion to achieve any results at all. the truly memorable poops take place when you are swept over by a sudden wave of inspiration, drop everything you're doing and rush to the nearest bathroom... and it just flows. clean, expressive, relieving and just as nature intended.
• ...i draw parallels here with the rocky relationship between South Korea and North Korea, which...

Actually, I'm just going to go with the pooping one.

Another point: I consitently write blog entries in the neighborhood of 800 words, while I'm only required a minimum of 300. I have the equivalent of ~20 blogs typed up, yet I only have 9 in the gradebook. In fact, now, I think whenever I get to 300 words I'm just going to

Upon My Death... - Not A Satire Piece (pt. 1 of 3)

Perhaps there is no more sensitive a subject than death. Yes, it is taboo to bring up religion at the dinner table, and you likely shouldn't broach politics over a casual cup of coffee. These are controversial ideas that inspire heated debate, no doubt. Insatiable argument, furious anger, even. And those are surely not comfortable things. But death is another kind of sensitive. While religious debate make us jump out of our seat and politics inspires us to hurl shoes at international figures, the idea of death makes us shift uncomfortably in our seat. Death elicits tears from those whom you thought were incapable of showing emotion. Death makes us stop what we're doing.

It should be obvious why our mortality is held in such an uneasy reverence. As you go about your daily life, it's not often that you consider how fragile life is; and as you shouldn't, life isn't worth grieving over if you can't marvel the little things and sometimes dance in frivolity. This, however, makes it all the more shocking when suddenly that impenetrable mental wall of invincibility is torn violently down. Sometimes it's a loved one, and obviously that hits hard emotionally. But sometimes it's just a vague acquaintance, perhaps someone you didn't even know. Something is perhaps even more grounding about passing a certain person in the hallway everyday at a certain time, and then suddenly... you don't. It happened to them, and it can happen to anyone at anytime. Your life is not inherently less susceptible than any one else, although the deeply rooted egocentricity of all self-conscious beings usually hides that. All it takes is one moment to remind you that death is very real, and no one is Superman.

It's strange yet remarkable how we as a species have adapted to our inevitable mortality. Let me get abstract here. While primal animal instinct urges us to fight at all times to fulfill our own needs, to place ourselves above all others and above all, survive as long as we possibly can, it's not black and white. Not even close, really. As technology and general workings of the world have advanced, organized society, comforts and luxuries continue to separate us from this straight-forward live-or-die mindset. Combine this with the understanding that science has advanced, and that there is clearly abundant information regarding our liveliness. Although ways in which to maintain an optimum well-being will likely continue fluctuate throughout time as it has, I think it's probably apparent to everyone at this point that they WILL die eventually.

And this knowledge, and the conscious effect it has on us, is largely what sets us apart.  This is a world where one is no longer forced to fend for himself, instead you live with in the confines of society and ideally live a comfortable, fulfilling life; all this while understanding you will eventually pass on, and the world will continue to exist. For different people, this means different things. Restrained by the seeming meaninglessness of his existence, a person brings a loaded gun onto his college campus, striving to be recognized, remembered... to leave an impact on a massive, indifferent world. Or... maybe, a person recognizes his definite lifespan and yearns to live vicariously through mankind, eventually contributing to a massive breakthrough in the treatment of HIV/AIDS.

Death is a scary thing. I don't think anyone doubts this. But I like to think that understanding it for what it is helps you find what you want from it.

to be continued.

Retrospect, Foresight, and Generally Thinking of Everything But Now

As you stomp away angrily from a heated debate, you silently and figuratively kick yourself for not ending on a more clever retort. Now that it's already too late, countless possibilities for the ultimate one-liner that would shut them up forever flood your mind. If only you could go back...

Dosing off in class, you imagine that one perfect confrontation. Finally, you and that figure of hostility are alone in a room where you can air all of your grievances. They would at last see the error of their ways and understand that THEY had been the one at fault all along, perhaps ultimately sniveling at your feet and begging for your forgiveness. You would do it tomorrow. Or, at least some time next week. Actually, it'd probably just be more convenient for everyone if you waited to graduate from high school and then did it. But then you'd do it. For sure.

People as a whole spend far too much time worrying about things that don't pertain to now. On average, how much of your day is spent either dwelling on things of the past, or stressing about things that are yet to happen? TIJMU Stat Lab* reports that the average human mind spends only 1.3% of the day thinking about the task currently at hand! Clearly, with the unmatched depth of the human mind, it is expected that we care so much more than we should, but is it the right way to live life?

It's more often than I'd like I see a tweet or facebook status update musing "if i could only go back..." or "if i had a time machine...", abusing the ellipses like a hamburger belonging to David Hasselhoff (an oldie, but a goody). First, let me point out that these ideas are so useless that they actually have the audacity to simultaneously yearn for the past while also speculating on the future! Although the denotation (AP LANG VOCAB!!!!!1!1!) of such a status update would be that such a person had an innate desire to somehow in the future acquire a time machine for whatever reason they left ambiguous, the connotation of such a statement is they would like to go back to the past so they could fix some stupid problem that doesn't matter to anyone and is likely only important to them. 

Dear, if you had a time machine, you wouldn't be trying to go back and fix a high school relationship. How small-scale is your thinking? Where are your priorities!? Have you SEEN Back to the Future?!? Because if you somehow got a hold of ridiculously advanced time travel equipment necessary to traverse history's timeline, I hope to god you're not going back to retread on some dumb thing you said when you could bring home SELF LACING SHOES.

technology.

As a closing thought, I decided it would be hypocritical to engage in such foresight, retrospective tomfoolery that I just tore apart, so from this sentence henceforth I shall disassociate with all active thought not relating to what is currently happening. Not like my grades can suffer any more. I have to pee. Going to toilet.


*Things I Just Made Up Stat Lab

Mediocre-Tasting Wisdom

Fortune cookies... such a beloved snack. A revolutionary step in the establishment of terrible snack items combined with pieces of paper; an innovative niche that just somehow hasn't expanded into a billion dollar industry quite yet. Where would we be without them? Probably still the same place as you are right now, unless you're perhaps reading this blog during your lunch break at Wonton Food, Noodle and Fortune Cookie Inc. However, their contribution to global society cannot be understated.

Advice to live by.

The year is 1918, let us take a trip to Hong Kong, China. Now let us leave Hong Kong, China and go back to the United States, because no one in China knows what a fortune cookie is. David Yung decided that it would be a good idea to put quotes by philosopher Confucius in tea cakes at his Los Angeles Chinese restaurant; apparently not under the influence of any mind altering substance at the time. Then lots of people copied him and did similar things at their Chinese restaurants. Now they are at most Chinese restaurants. It's not the most gripping story.

Regardless of their illustrious history, I have spent many a sleepless late night pondering about fortune cookies. No doubt channeling my inner Confucius through a mix of starchy cookie and voodoo magic, I have found they are a breeding ground for deep intellectual thought unprecedented in my life. 

Why is that America is so fond of taking random, very local ideas and labeling them as foreign culture? I can assure you that everyday authentic Chinese cuisine does not consist of deep-fried breaded chicken dipped in sugary sauce and sesame seeds. Perhaps a more apt name for Chinese food would be "Really Unhealthy Fried Food Slathered in Equally Unhealthy Condiment", but something about that just doesn't do it for people. Instead, people eat this disgustingly delicious, greasy food in ridiculous proportions and justify it with a "when in Rome!" mentality; I mean if the Chinese eat this way, why can't I? Right? I mean, we've seen the people over there!

Why is that fortune cookies are getting more and more vague over the years? When I was younger I recall getting interesting, vivid predictions in my after dinner reward. I would be informed of interesting and hopeful things that were to happen in my future, being assured of magnificent improbabilities like "You will have an uncomfortable emotional encounter with the investigator in your dentist's ongoing audit, oh, and also, don't wear open-toed shoes to that concert tonight, you'll thank me later". Now, I don't even bother to open the things anymore. The only thing you get today is a statement so impossibly vague and applicable to any situation that they're probably better off just putting Bazooka Comics in there instead. (look it up kids)

Why are the cookies of such awfully poor quality? I don't know anyone who enjoys the taste of fortune cookies. In fact, most everyone I know throws away their actual cookie and just reads their fortune, if they even do that. Perhaps Chinese restaurants should leave a little plastic tub next to all of their tables and allow patrons to discard their unwanted cardboard sugar starch treat, which would undoubtedly gather en masse, and could be handled by the restaurant as they please. Did I just solve world hunger? It's likely. This raises another question, however! If there is such a massive market for these things, the transitive property would lead me to believe that if take other things of terrible quality and bundle them with paper slips of unclear wisdom, I should be able to suddenly push wagon fulls of the previously undesirable product. World hunger and Ringo Starr's solo career in one day? I do what I can.

Improv: Subtitle

Impro. Spontaneous Theater. Improvisation. Improv. Improvisational comedy. Those are different ways to say the same thing and create more words for my blog entry.

If you don't know what improvisational comedy is, you should, it's kind of a big deal here at John F. Kennedy High School. Essentially, a group of actors and actresses, usually ranging from 1-5 at a time, perform funny little scenes spontaneously to the delight of everyone in the audience, always, because we're hilarious. Usually, to help ensure the audience that we are truly coming up with these scenes on the spot, we will incorporate certain elements suggested by them into the show. Sometimes different characters are suggested, sometimes a setting, or oftentimes, just a general plot or scenario for the actors to follow.

Corporate watermarks. The man is trying to bring me down, man.

I'm sure now there's a question eating at the very fabric of your being... Why did I get started with improv? Well, my friends, that is a very, very interesting story. So interesting, in fact, that it may just take around 300 words to tell. Why yes, I remember it like it was only a couple of years ago...

A couple of years ago, my friend Andrew Hanzelka and I stumbled into this school as awkward, bumbling freshmen; no doubt mere shells of the powerful, influential men we have developed into over the years. As I celebrated my first term of vaguely free-reign education by enrolling in a 5th hour study hall where I played Madden on my iPod all class, my naive friend chose instead to enroll in an acting class, adorably under the impression that he had some semblance of natural dramatic talent (buy your tickets to see Andrew star in Suessical this week!). Teacher of the class at the time, Mr. Yuska, took rather a liking to Andrew and recommended decided that Andrew's energy would make a wonderful addition to a "Group Mime" being organized as part of the "Speech Program", which was decidedly less about standing up and giving speeches than either of us were aware.

Andrew and I, being the wonderfully close friends that we were, often spent time together. As such, he was once at my house before announcing that he had to be at group mime practice in 10 minutes. He also recommend I came and watch, because it was really fun and stuff. We got dropped off, and I pulled up a chair as practice began. Only, practice didn't begin, because one of the members of the mime (who will remain unnamed) did not choose to come to this rehearsal. So they waited, and waited, and eventually Andrew suggested that I step in and take the absent person's role. Just for one night, so the practice could go on. It was a trap.

One unanimous All-State mime later and we had left quite an impression on the speech team staff. Although we were decent mimes, it was clear by our lack of focus and penchant for... not miming in practice that we would have a different role in years upcoming. Last year, we made the improv team. Through the valiant effort of me and my two group mates, we advanced to the State level and received a "1" ranking. That's the good one. Also, Andrew's group won the All-State banner for best improv group in the state of Iowa, or something like that.

Didn't want an origin story? Sucks.

Dr. NoGloves or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Not Catch the Ball

Everybody has flaws. Some people are hopelessly self-involved. Some have embarrassingly poor work ethic. Others are irrepressibly obnoxious. I am all of those things. Also, I'm incapable of catching a football.

Yep. Right up there with inexplicable issues like the origin of the universe and how Joe Buck still has a job as an NFL commentator (OH NO HE DIDN'T), an issue equally pertinent to society resides: how can it seriously be THAT hard for Alosha to catch?

Since I was a young lad, I'd like to think I've at least been of average athletic ability. I could always run pretty fast, and in elementary school that is usually the best possible indicator of athleticism, and just general greatness. Unfortunately, as we matured, and athletics began to require more diverse sets of skills from us burgeoning stars than running in a straight line at an acceptable pace, it became clear I could not keep up with my peers. Yes, unfortunately for me, catching things tends to be the most prominent next step in our competitive evolution.

It was another fine day at Pierce Elementary School. The sun was probably shining, and I likely looked absolutely dapper in whatever awful sweater-khaki pant combo my mother had worked me into that morning. It was a "Gym Day", so eventually gym class came. As weather permitted, we were playing kickball that day. I wasn't terrible at kickball, I could kick it about as well as most guys and I could still run in a line pretty fast; as long as you kept me out of the outfield. Even then, I knew all too well that I was not able to catch any round objects being propelled at me at absolutely any velocity, but that day I had been playing well and got caught up in the moment. I flew too close to the sun. As I made hilarious banter in the backfield, awaiting one more out so I could kick the ball far again, said ball shot high into the air in my direction. 

Either this kid really got under the ball when he hit it or the trauma of the incident somehow enhanced the memory, because that ball was REALLY high. As it came plummeting towards the ground, I calculated its trajectory with lightning quick precision and put myself directly underneath its landing zone. My hands outstretched, it came down right into my artfully placed arms, sat there for a fraction of a second, then spilled onto the ground. My gym teacher caught her tongue as she retracted the "3 OUTS!" she had begun to proclaim. I just sort of looked at my feet, until my friend Jared came over laughing and said "HAHAH THAT WAS HILARIOUS! YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE, RIGHT!?". Right.

I don't think that I lack the hand-eye coordination. My prowess in typing fast and being super good at Xbox would clearly confirm this. No, I think I just lack that "it" factor. Football coaches have tried to help it for years, but eventually all have came to the same conclusion: I was a lost cause. I put my hands in the right place, create a perfectly shaped triangle between my outstretched index fingers and conjoining thumbs... It just doesn't work. It just bounces off. Perhaps my hands have a different structural make up than others that somehow limits me. Finally, I came to terms with myself. I was a runningback for a reason. God didn't want me to catch the ball. He had smaller, more mediocre plans in store for me.

***

In 2009, Martin Robinson lost his Cutters catching gloves. He did not purchase another pair. In 2011, Robinson caught the ball on a swing route for -1 yards in practice. He continues to drop perfectly aimed throws, tosses and passes of all kinds to this day.

Pushing the Limits

The line between masculinity and stupidity is a permanently undefined one. As men. it is our natural-born manly duty to assert our primal alpha male dominance over all of those around us. However, we like to think that we've further progressed than our animal kingdom counterparts. As such, we often must resort to methods alternative to just beating the hell out of our peers in order to showcase this power. Usually.

So for the sake of the civilized world, the human race has found ways to create competition from most anything. Be it the match-up of hand-eye coordination in the game of ping pong, or the battle of poor eating habits in the annual Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest, we will find just about any way possible to impose our superiority.

While the obvious examples of mankinds' unbridled competitive spirit lie in the organized tournaments and sport, perhaps more common, and arguably more ridiculous displays can be found similarly in everyday male behavior. We find a way to consistently push our natural, instinctual boundaries for poops and giggles (censorship highfive!)...for example:

An ensemble of dear friends have gathered in a quaint eating establishment to share a lovely, good-natured evening together. As they share a few prodding laughs at the expense of their peers, their mildly attractive waitress sashays into view with an impossibly large tray balanced artfully upon her dainty, upturned palm. As she distributes the variously seasoned chicken wings between the patrons, she arches her eyebrow sniffing "..who ordered the mild?". Eyes scan the group expectantly, and eventually a man's reluctant hand pokes up, barely held beyond the height of his quivering chin. 
"I did." he stammers.
"You did what?"
"I ordered the mild."
The waitress drops the carton of wings in front of the emasculated man with deliberate malice before spitting in his face, then digging a stilted heel into his outstretched foot. As the waitress slips away, a single, shameful tear dilutes the sauce covering his wings. As if it needed anymore diluting.

Eating spicy food for anything but taste-bud satisfaction is ludicrous and idiotic. If you like the numbing taste of spicy foods, then by all means you can eat what you're inclined to eat. However, the idea of making yourself horribly uncomfortable, red-faced and generally in pain, just to show that you can tolerate more of being horribly uncomfortable, red-faced and generally in pain than your other alpha-male companions is really stupid.

Seriously. Our body gave us these self-imposed limits with our welfare in mind. Yeah man, you're really tough because you didn't flinch when someone stopped their fist a few inches from your face! That'll especially come in handy next time you want to fully absorb a blow to the face! You go ahead and walk on those coals, champ! Who knows when you might need these skills in a post global warming world!

Current State of Television

TV today sucks. Like, it's seriously awful. I realize that I'm not breaking any new ground here with this revelation, but after I watched a brief excerpt of Hot in Cleveland today, it became apparent that NOT writing an entry about this would be criminal.

When ISN'T Betty White topical?

 In this current state of television we find ourselves in, I've split TV into two categories for my own viewing pleasure. "Pretty good" and "Good god, this is really, REALLY bad! Do people honestly watch this, no less are entertained by this? Like seriously. What the hell." Want to guess which list is longer? I'd tell you, but I really don't want to type that again.

Okay, simple enough, right? Watch the good ones and just ignore the rest. That's what most good-natured, civil folks would do, just ignore the negative things that don't really effect you and carry on with your life. But alas, I'm a blogger.

First off, I'd love to touch on reality television; I absolutely cannot stand the genre: American Idol (which has for the 6th year in a row topped Nielsen ratings), Teen Mom, that show about the douchebags who tan a lot... But what's the fun in shooting at the crap covered barn already riddled with bullet holes when I can snipe the Emmy off the picket fence a mile away? I mean sitcoms. Great analogy, right? Just call me Clever Sniper Blogger Marty. Please don't call me that.

Sitcoms, I have you figured out. Sure, I'll sit down and enjoy you every Thursday night on NBC instead of writing my blogs for AP Lang, and we might have a few laughs along the way, but don't think for a second I don't know how you work. After careful research (read: I watch a lot of TV), I have carefully broke down what I believe to have deduced as three tried and true elements to a successful sitcom.




1. Stupid, Unattractive Husband - Hot, Charming Wife
Why is this apparently essential to the average sitcom? Much like Newton's Laws of Motion, I really have no sure explanation; just indisputable evidence. My theory? Stupid, unattractive men make up a large portion of America's sitcom watching populace, and look towards their more successful, more fictional bretheren for inspiration.

Waiting for the apple to hit you in the head?

The Simpsons

Still Standing

According To Jim

King of Queens

Family Guy

2. The Contradiction Joke
Maybe you've never realized this, most haven't, but quite possible over half of all sitcom jokes follow one basic formula. I have dubbed it "The Contradiction Joke", and after I point this out I promise you will never find a sitcom as funny as you did before you read this. Probably not, but it's nice to assert my self-proclaimed influence.
This joke usually involves one character saying something, and then either another character says something to contradict him, or something happens that contradicts what was just said. Sounds hilarious, right?

Lame example to illustrate my point:


Person 1: Are you sure you're smart enough to __________? This is a lot of responsibility!
Person 2: Oh yeah, of course! You have nothing to worry about!
Person 3: Person 2, why is there a fork in the electric socket again!?
*laugh track*

Seriously. Watch a sitcom and keep this in mind. You'll be amazed.







3. Cutting Corners
Sitcom writers are notoriously lazy, perhaps most infamously for leaving massive plot holes unfilled, or rushing extremely brief conclusions to elaborately developed stories.




----


FOX, I'll be sending in my resume.

Caring Too Much: An Affliction

As I begin this post, I currently have 0 blog entries completed. Zero. I have not even completed a fraction of the posts I'm to complete by midterm, instead my blog is home to a methodically constructed layout, complete with over-thought title and artsy notebook backdrop to perhaps suggest "I don't really care, writing is more of a hobby..more a passion than a grade".

The first assumption would be that I'm lazy. That would be a safe choice. I am pretty lazy; very lazy, even. Well versed in procrastination, the last minute and I are well acquainted. It seems most all of my day after coming home from football is spent doing absolutely nothing. There's nothing on TV, there's nothing in the fridge, there's nothing in my text inbox... yet I'm perfectly content basking in this mediocrity for the majority of my day. Maybe it's more appropriate to say, all of my day, because it's not usually until the most inane hour of night that I actually open up my backpack and let the obligation and responsibility spill out.

The second assumption would be that I'm stupid. The odds on that one probably aren't too bad either. Anyone who has watched me tend to my day-to-days know that I am as prone as any to looking like a dumbass at times. Today I fell down the stairs when I woke up because my dress socks were too slippery. Maybe I'm just not intelligent enough to do finish my work. (post-publication note: the error in the last sentence was pointed out to me but I felt retaining it was appropriate in context)

Nope. Clearly only a brilliant mind like me could find a way to attribute a total lack of productivity to a set of unrealistic standards I set for myself, almost narcissistic-level self-involvement, caring too much. I should point out to those who aren't sure, by the time I finish writing this my tongue should have punched a gaping hole in my cheek... but they say every joke has a hidden truth.

Saved in my drafts folder as of now are 4 different blog entries of which I've yet to complete. Not a few sentences here and there, some cutesy ideas I've yet to follow through on, but largely full-fledged essays in which I've invested ridiculous amounts of time. Why have I yet to publish them? Because my delicate ego is so wrapped in my own writing that I can't bring myself to post anything for fear of not being clever, witty or perceptive enough. Clearly this is not a cause that warrants sympathy, but I think acknowledgement is the first step in healing. Also, having typed all of this, I can now point to this self-deprecating laden entry as justification for whatever entries I don't feel support the weight of my fragile, heavy, psyche.

Also, I guess I'm sort of lazy.