Thursday, December 21, 2006

The Young and Naive

It’s decidedly becoming a struggle to find the words for me to explain the importance of blogging; I can’t keep reiterating it enough. Especially when I hear an asinine comment like:

Let me preface this by saying that I won't ever use words like "blogosphere," or pretend that my opinion is in some way fresh, exciting, or relevant to anyone who does not know me personally. I am creating this 'blog' (what a faggy word) in order to actively fuck with my friends who also have 'blogs.' I believe the practice of famous 'bloggers' linking to each other's entries in order to create some false sense of traffic is both pathetic and impotent, in the grand scheme of things. Actually, in the fucking small scheme of things too. (Andy’s Blog)

I don’t have the time nor the energy to keep explaining the importance of this to the “cool” people; however, I will link to my school blog in order for those who think as Andy does to check out an extensive collection of posts (and other blogs) which proves my point. Because everyone’s “opinion is in some way fresh, exciting, [and] relevant to [everyone] who does not know [you] personally” regardless of how faggy a word blog is.

Don’t worry ya’ll will get it eventually—hmmm… maybe you’re witnessing the value of a blog already.

As for the Tucker Max dilemma… Well, first off, I may have misguided my words if people are assuming that I believe that he is making his stories up, or that I consider him a bad storyteller. This is certainly not the case. My previous post only deemed this man a bad writer—which he is. I believe this detail to be self-explanatory.

I knew the TM phenomenon was going to be brought back up again. Here’s how it goes in my eyes. TM is a regular old guy who depicts his life 1,000 times cooler than what it really is. That’s cool, though. One can’t argue with his recent success and fame, right?

The reason I even decided to write on this subject was because of the fact that I was reading through his forum and read statements like:

He’s one of the greatest writers of our time. period. (TM Forum)

Someone actually wrote this. So, on my blog, I decided to torpedo this idea by showing that he is a good exaggerator and storyteller but nothing else. But, I guess I was a little misunderstood.

Ultimately though, I am still surprised at the stories he tells—and I enjoy reading them. I just got his book a couple weeks back; it is very entertaining. I don’t know if I will every label myself a Tucker Max fan, though. I think Andy has WAY better stories. This is one I think he wrote for a creative writing class. He has better and I think they’re coming soon (I want to read the bed-shitting story).

I just want to throw in one more facet going back to the lying posts that Ed and I wrote. Andy hit the nail on the head when he wrote:

However the problem with Ed's approach, and the reason he will be labeled as an asshole, is a lack of tact when telling the truth. When a girl asks if she looks bad in a pair of pants, and she does, saying "Yes you look fucking ugly" would be the truth. And you'd be an asshole for telling her the truth in that way. There is obviously a more tactful way of letting her down- Well, sweetheart, I just don't think it's your style. But I like when you wear ______.

See? You told the truth, but you are also NOT an asshole (Andy’s Blog)

It seems that Andy and I are in complete accordance on this situation, and Andy does a good job of exposing the need for tact. Kudos, Andy.

That’s it for now, folks. Cheers.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Smack That

A brief note on current music: I’ve been hearing a lot of nugatory rants on the uselessness of modern rap music. If you recall my older Blogger blog (which I would link to if it hadn’t been mysteriously deleted) I also mentioned my hatred for the simple and pointless lyrics of new-age hip-hop. But I digress…

Lyrics are made for the simplicity and complexity of one’s mind. I suppose writing lyrics is just like writing in general; the writer must keep his/her audience in mind. Well, for what it’s worth, I believe that rappers have done a good job at this. While I, and some of my other friends, would not necessarily buy into the “pointlessness” of the lines in the new Jay-Z lyrics (as Dave points out) this doesn’t mean that they are going unnoticed or even unloved.

Actually, I was watching the girls varsity basketball game last night at Wallkill High School, and I actually heard one of the college-aged guys in the stands sing this lyric: “smack that… all on the floor” (or whatever the real lyric may be) and follow this outburst with a statement that I found to be irritating and profound; he said, and I quote, “this guy is a fuckin’ genius.”

Pissed. I was irritated—what the hell was this guy talking about!? He just sang one of the most meaningless and unfledged songs that I have ever heard. But, alas, I was wrong—at least too callous.

Just because there is no underlying meaning and juxtaposition doesn’t mean that the song doesn’t fulfill its purpose, right? Music to me is something very sacred; music to most people is very personal. Who am I to judge what good lyrics are or not. Maybe a person would enjoy music without imagery, metaphor, allusions, and substance. I suppose the “smack that” guy is right—maybe that rapper is a genius. He seems to have done something right. Who’s to say what the quota of a true genius is.

Life is filled with opinions, right? Well, I, personally, could never get into this new-age jargon that is hip-hop. But, that doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate and recognize what these entrepreneurs are doing. I could even mention that I used to be a big fan of rap music, and that a current hypothesis of mine combines immaturity with the artlessness of these lyrics (there’s another time and place for that discussion).

There’s only one sentence that I can write to end this post:

I’m with Dave—in my opinion, he’s right—but, I won’t let my outlook fog true verity. Cheers.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Hidden Literacies

Being the die-hard Nets fan that I am, I usually read about ten articles a day that pertain to my favorite NBA basketball team.

As I read through the articles on the Nets Daily website today, one, in particular, stuck out. This article is one that investigates the weird hobby that reserve center Mikki (pronounced: Mikey) Moore has. Mikki has six different snakes which he loves. This is interesting in itself but not what I decided to write about today. No, the most interesting part of this article was in written, in extremely small print, at the bottom of the page.

After reading the article, which was very intertaining (a word that I’ve decided to create, a mix between ‘interesting’ and ‘entertaining’) in itself—how could it not be with all of those Snakes On A Plane jokes—I noticed that there was small print after the article that read:

To find reference information about the words used in this article, hold down the ALT key and click on any word, phrase or name. A new window will open with a dictionary definition or encyclopedia entry.

Why not give it a whirl, right. It was awesome. It’s like every single word on this page was a hyperlink to some New York Times database. I can’t help but think how this new kind of literacy could be intensely handy in a classroom (and out of the classroom for that matter). It’s a new way to learn which would appear (at least in my case) to be very efficient.

Very interesting… more coming later. Cheers.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

A Flat McDonald's

My situation as of right now has been quite disheartening for me. Fortunately for you, I won’t bore you with my life predicaments. Unfortunately for me, these issues will continue to arise until I’m blessed with a full-time job. Anyone want to hire a hard-working, aspiring, writer/teacher?

The despondency of my day started off with waking up at 6:30AM only after going to bed at around 3:00AM. After a grueling, hour-long, drive to the Palisades Center in Rockland County (to drop my girlfriend off with her father), with Brooks, I was in great need of nourishment. Being the high-class American that I am, I decided to make a quick stop at the ever-healthy and attractive McDonald’s.

The flat world strikes again! As I’m walking out of the restaurant, after voraciously devouring a bacon, egg, and cheese on a biscuit, I noticed a small, red, sign that read: McD’s is WiFi. I was quite shocked. Now I can fulfill my greasy-food quota while writing to all of you wonderful folks, sweet.

On the way out, Brooks mentions that this is the worst possible place to have wireless internet available. While I definitely wouldn’t want any grease all over my new computer, I don’t necessarily agree with Sir Christopher. Personally, I would like to have internet access everywhere I go. I would like it in the car; I would like it in the bar; I would like it while I’m eating; I would like it while I’m sleeping. Sorry, I had to do it.

This is where we will be in the years to come, folks. At first I was upset spending $5.71 on a mediocre egg sandwich and a hash brown that will eventually be the death of me, but after finding that McDonald’s is taking the proper steps forward that most businesses should be taking—it was easier to swallow.

Who am I kidding…? McDonald’s breakfast is delicious.

I've investigated this and it's relativity to Cortland, NY on the Cortland Downtown Blog. Check it out. Cheers.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

The Color of My Sin: Please Come Home

I’m not going to prevaricate. I love a lot of diverse music. But, for whatever reason, Thrice has always struck a chord with me. Lyrics are of paramount consequence when I’m choosing a song. I can’t listen to all of the new-age rap music because of the horrendous lyrics (there’s a colossal opinion for ya’ll). I was fortunate enough to get Dustin Kensrue’s (the lead singer of Thrice) new solo CD entitled Please Come Home almost two months before it was released! I know… I’m the man.

If you bought the CD yesterday it also came with three Christmas song covers which he did for the Holidays. It’s like winning a million dollars and then them telling you that there’s a car parked out back and the keys are in it.

I’ve had this album for a total of 12 hours and I’ve already listened to it four times (no, really) all the way through. It is truly incredible; an epic decision in my life. The music is so much different than anything that Thrice would produce, but the lyrics are Thrice-esque—I guess this would have something to do with Dustin writing the lyrics for both…

The track listing is as follows:

Track 1: I Knew You Before
Track 2: Pistol
Track 3: I Believe
Track 4: Please Come Home
Track 5: Blood & Wine
Track 6: Consider the Ravens
Track 7: Weary Saints
Track 8: Blanket of Ghosts

The three special holiday tracks are:

Track 9: Please Come Home for Christmas
Track 10: Go Tell It on the Mountains
Track 11: Silent Night

Thus far, I would have to say that “Pistol” has been my favorite. It’s genius, and I won’t ruin it by attempting to describe it. It’s not just a love song, folks.

This CD has been on my mind for a while and I wanted to publish a blog on this subject so I will be able to reminisce and remember the passion I first had for this album. Go buy it, now—well, when it comes out. Cheers.

The Quest For Feedback

Content appears to be the most tricky facet in writing a weblog. Some bloggers believe that the easiest way to get past this obstacle is to depict his/her day. This premise works wonders if you happen to boast an interesting life, or if you’re talented at the art of exaggerating. I’m prepared to bet that most bloggers won’t get significant feedback (in the form of comments, e-mail, whatever) when writing about their day.

Sally writes: So after I got home from my final I decided to go shopping. Ah, but DAVE called, and he’s such a hunk, so I decided to stay and hang out with him. It was so Romantic.

Even if you were someone who was friends with Sally and Dave—there’s not much you can say to respond to this uncomplicated post. That is unless you’re Dave’s current girlfriend. I appreciate the audacity of bloggin’ anyway, though.

So we’re back to the dilemma of what to write a propos. Well, there’s no real answer to that. A couple of the blogs that I read regularly have been MIA. I understand that finals week has muffled the blogosphere and I use that as an excuse for myself, but the only way to get better at something is to do more of it, right? Well I’m not a fascist dictator and I’m often left with blank spots on this very same category but I do know that I used to write about my day… It didn’t work out for me, as you would probably surmise.

I would recommend, again, this book. And also, I would like to implement a new, and soon to be trendy, phrase which is: when in doubt, blog it out. I’ll let you take what you would like out of that. “Go tell it on the mountain…”

That’s it for now, folks. Cheers.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Billions Of Minds Are Better Than One

I remember a couple of years ago when I created my first blog. It was a LiveJournal blog, and it didn’t go so well. I wasn’t discussing anything of importance (or was I? Read on...). Most of my posts consisted of what I thought to be unsystematic thoughts that made with no sagacity, daily occurrences that I was certain no individual was concerned with, and my personal deliberation of intelligence. Back then (I write that like it was fifty years ago) blogging wasn’t “cool” at all. Now, though, it’s really starting to pick up. Two of my very good friends, Brooks and Eddie, have both stepped into the blogosphere; both of these blogs are quite impressive. On my educational blog, which has been set up didactically, I have been asked as to what the definition of a blogger really is.

Wow. I’ve been exploring this inquiry for a couple of weeks now. I’m actually publishing to this blog instead of the more appropriate blog for a number of reasons. Mainly because I haven’t truly figured out what it means to be a blogger. I guess consistent writing is of utmost importance, but does that make me a blogger? I digress to Wikipedia (my new savior).

This site labels a blogger as “a contributor to a blog or online journal.” I can live with that. Or can I? I would actually like to argue that there are some people who consistently publish ideas as to which I care nothing about. Then again, I’ve found useful information in stranger places.

I continue to stress over the idea that I would like to believe that there is more to a blogger than someone who regularly maintains a web log. After careful consideration, though, I would argue that there isn’t. No, the learning network that blogging in general creates is huge. Everything and anything that anyone has to say can and, most likely does, have informational worth. A blog that deals strictly with movie reviews is valuable for obvious reasons. But, a high school boy who anonymously keeps a blog outside of the classroom only to vent is precious on many different levels.

Psychologists are already studying why people write blogs, and I wouldn’t be surprised that if in upcoming years psychologists are studying blogs to explore individual people. Just as we explore the literature of famous authors as a view into their lives. More and more people continue to jump aboard the blog train; for a blogaholic like me (I maintain three blogs) this is encouraging. I’ve studied and recognized the educational value of blogs and I hope that more and more people become in tune to this revelation.

I know I got off on a sort of tangent there, but, overall, it seems easy for me to label anyone who jots down his/her ideas onto a blog, regularly, is indeed a blogger. This question seems to echo a similar question mark, though: what is a writer? I’ve studied writing on many different levels and I’ve had a blog; I consider myself a writer and a blogger. (I don't believe that a person must "study" blogs in order to become a blogger.) Am I right in making this conjecture? I’m not completely sure, to be honest. All I know is that when I wrote, in the first paragraph of this post, “On my educational blog, which has been set up didactically, I have been asked as to what the definition of a blogger really is” I was actually being redundant. I truly believe, whether intentional or not, that all blogs are created with value for each and every reader. Even my first blog (I would link to it, but it appears that it's been deleted)!

It’s like the common phrase “two minds are better than one”, right? Well, what about millions and millions and millions and millions of minds. Think about it. Cheers.

Liar, Liar, Liar...

Ed’s recent post has really intrigued me. Understandably I would have to agree with the common consensus and allow lying to be categorized as a character flaw. Although I don’t truly believe that it is a bad habit if you use it correctly. I would argue that lying is a skill. The definition of lying would seem to leave little room for debate. “Intentionally trying to deceive someone” is a hard statement to defend.

Is deceiving someone really a bad thing all the time? If you knew a person whom only had three hours to live, would you let them know? I know I’d let him/her live those three hours without the angst of contemplating and rationalizing death. How about those Full House episodes when DJ lies to get Stephanie out of trouble? [Side Note: Ro MAKES me watch the Full House reruns every Mon., Wed., and Fri. while we eat lunch.] “No Dad, Stephanie wasn’t out driving around with those high school kids!” It appears less of a vindictive act when it can be used positively, right?

On the other end of the spectrum, we have Eddie’s idea. He’s not going to lie at all, and, while this is very valiant of him, he will get labeled, as he so correctly identifies, as an asshole. It’s unfortunate. This reminds me of the movie Liar, Liar. “What’s up,” says one of Jim Carey’s character’s co-workers. While trying as hard as he possibly can to hold it in, Carey bursts out and says, “Your cholesterol, FATTY!” What’s worse: calling out a character flaw, or using one of your own to control it?

As long as I can remember I’ve been taught that lying is bad. Well, I guess anything is bad for you in excessive amounts. But, in reality, we need to understand what we’re dealing with. I’m not always going to go by what other people have told me. Sure, lying CAN be bad, but that doesn’t mean that it IS bad. That’s what I think, how about you? Cheers.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Leave of Absence

The brief hiatus in blogging has been fueled by an overwhelming end-of-the-semester rush. I have compiled a list of intriguing topics which I hope will spark fiery debate when I return to what I have so rightfully labeled my personal blogosphere. I suggest two blogs to occupy your time while I am on a brief sabbatical; they are Brooks’ and Will Richardson’s blog. Check ‘em out. Cheers.

For your viewing pleasure:

Halloween '06

Monday, November 06, 2006


I found this interesting. Maybe all of you who tell me you have issues finding something to write about in your blogs would find this book handy. Definitely subscribe to her blog; it’s quite entertaining.

I want to see the movie Borat regardless of her post. Pshh... she's only famous among dozens anyway. Damn. Same here. I don't really know how I feel about the t-shirts on this site, either. Or her feminism for that matter...

But, still.

Monday, October 23, 2006

I know I'm Lucky

This sucks: My car needs a new exhaust from the catalytic converter back; I have to make an iMovie by… tomorrow; I can’t find the passion to re-write my novel; There is substantial evidence supporting the fact that no one will know who I am for Halloween; I spilled my water at dinner; I stepped in the spot where I spilled the water at dinner while wearing nothing but socks; I have a lot of papers due at the end of the semester; I don’t know what mountain to buy a season pass to; I don’t have enough money; I can’t seem to beat Kid Chameleon; It’s not my game in NBA; The Nets don’t have their first game for another week; The Yankees were eliminated in the first round; Paul Shirley was cut by the Timberwolves (play for the Nets, son!); Hunter S. Thompson’s last collection of letters doesn’t come out until November, now; I am craving a new Thrice album; Lily is sleeping; I have to wake up early to go to the library; The lady called me and told me that they didn’t have Eddie’s Halloween costume, for the second time; The vacuum cleaner is clogged; I have to sleep alone tonight; It’s starting to get cold and I don’t have a winter jacket; Josh Boone is hurt; Eddie House is hurt; I can’t figure out how to insert a blog onto the Cortland Downtown Project website; I have class until 7PM tomorrow; I have class until 9:30PM on Thursday; The Brand New concert is so far away; My computer may have a virus; I need new shoes, but I have to go to Ithaca to get them; I don’t have enough money; I have to do laundry; I ate all of the Reeses Peanut Butter Cups out of my Halloween mix; I don’t think I do enough exercise; I’m drinking rum and coke by myself; Nicole couldn’t come through; it’s 1:00AM and I’m not tired; I can’t get past level 14 in Tetris; There are only 6 people in my fantasy basketball league so far; I can’t figure out what skis to buy Rosie; I’m not with Rosie right now; Rosie lost Bianca; People don’t even know how to sign up for fantasy sports without my help; I’m going to be hungry tomorrow and I wont’ be able to eat until 7PM; I don’t know everything; I study, and I study, and I still make mistakes; I have to read a boring story by Seamus O’Kelly; I need a haircut and I can’t get to the barber because of my car (or lack there of); I have to fill out 20 forms to get health insurance, for free, after the new year; Lily’s water bottle is messed up; I lost in fantasy football, again; I don’t have a good running back; I don’t have a Chihuahua; I haven’t seen my parents in a long time; My brother goes to Ithaca, and I never get to see him; I don’t have classes Mon., Wed., or Fri., but I still have a ton of school work to do on those days; I have three blogs; There are no more hot dogs; The red ice pops taste like medicine; I don’t have a Mac, and I need/want one; I lost my signed merch. in the fire; My apt. burnt down last semester; I haven’t played basketball in a long time; I know the truth; Hunter S. Thompson is dead; I haven’t read the Dave Eggers book yet; I can’t download music illegally for some reason; I really want to be a sports writer, but I don’t think I will ever be; I’m 23; I have to move Ed’s car just to get my car out of the driveway; I missed the Flavor of Love recap episode; They only gave me four episodes of Entourage on HBO on Demand; I can’t find my livestrong bracelet; I’m growing up.

I guess I my life is not that bad after all. Cheers.

Monday, October 16, 2006


Here’s a question for you: how many people actually read this blog? Check that. How many people actually read any blog? I can guarantee you that I, personally, don’t write a blog for other people to read… but, at the same time, I can recognize how some people would be tentative to publish their ideas online just for individual satisfaction. This is a pressing issue that can only be resolved in time (right?). But, alas, there is hope! Queue tacky superhero theme song. This hope comes in the form of one young man who loves to write: me! I guess what I’m trying to explicate is that I happen to read other people’s blogs, regularly. I enjoy them. So, maybe, there is hope here. Maybe other people are doing exactly what I am. I suppose I could be weird, but, honestly, a lot of people have a lot of fascinating things to say… we just have to give them a chance.

Ah, this reminds me…

As I was, indeed, perusing through my favorite bloggers’ websites I came across a very interesting post by my good friend: ChristopherJ. His blog—a new exploration around the blogging world—seems to have become a place where I find myself daily. It might be because he is my friend, and it also might be because he writes about zombies. Yes, his last post was an attention-grabbing post about the weapon(s) that he would choose if zombies were taking over the world. Check it out: here. So, after I had read this (and you have now also) I must admit that although I applaud his efforts—I have to disagree with young Christopher of Brooks. A pistol and a machete are not the two weapons that I would choose. Not that they aren’t a ‘wise’ choice—I just feel that I have a ‘wiser’ solution for killing some zombies. Allow me to explain…

First off, I must set up some guidelines… just like Christopher did.

Guideline 1: the weapons must be something that could be found in a person’s house. Because, like Chris said, most people will not have an assortment of automatic weapons accessible in his/her basement. If you do happen to have a military stash—well, then, good for you; your zombie battle will be much easier than mine (and you’re lame). Because of this guideline I will stick to only using things that can be found in my apartment.

Guideline 2: we’ll have to be at least mostly realistic; I do realize that we are posing a question about zombies—but, shit, let’s not be party-poopers. When I say realistic, I mean that I can’t go into my chandelier hall and put on a 300 lb suit of armor (how badass would that be!) and then trot, slowly, into the hidden basement of my house to get into the TMNT’s pizza thrower. Pshhh, if this was the case—I would definitely just throw on my bite proof armor and then fling pepperoni, mushroom, and meatball pizza at the living dead while making my escape to a tropical island. It doesn’t work this way folks, not even in the movies.

Guideline 3: the final guideline. Let’s be specific here. Because if this were to really happen, it would be my guess that it would be a quasi surprise. Therefore, I can’t just say I would pick up my pistol and machete, blast the flesh-eaters to hell, and then run away untouched. Not only does that make a weak story—but, come on—you and me, we aren’t superheroes.

Given the interest that subject has had on me—I decided to do this as if it was really happening—that’s right: as a short story. This may work, but it may not. It will at least keep me from straying from things that would really happen.

OK, so here it goes…

It’s about 6:36 on a Sunday; it’s the beginning of winter. I’m sitting in my living room, with my pet hedgehog on my lap (yes I really do have a hedgehog), watching the end of a Sunday Night Football game. The Raiders are beating the Browns. The game shuts off—a black screen is the cause for my swearing. Then, suddenly, the TV turns back on—only, it’s not the football game anymore—no, this isn’t a game at all. A pale lady with dark black hair screams frantically in the background while the beautiful woman on News Channel 9 nervously stutters about a zombie attack. Her profuse sweating is blatantly smearing her make-up, and she doesn’t care. Zombie attack, HA! I reach for the remote while Lily (my hedgehog) falls off of my lap and onto the couch. Click. Click. Click. I change to about fifteen different channels. They all have this zombie nonsense flooding the screen. I laugh, nervously. This must be the biggest, and funniest, hoax in American history. I figure I’ll call my dad to laugh about it with him. Ring. Ring. Ring. Silence. The dial tone is gone. I start to get worried. So, what do I do then, you ask? I eat. I hop into the kitchen, most literally. Pasta, pasta, pasta, shit—I don’t want pasta. There’s nothing to eat. I grab a depleted box of cheese-its and head back to the couch. After only two dark minutes of watching this hoax I started to get annoyed with the television screen. Fuck this. I kill the TV and violently stand up and head into my even darker room.
I can’t find the light switch on the wall. I know where it is… ah, there, got it. The light flickers on and I hear a violent scream. Damn! I thought I turned that stupid thing off! I head back out into the living room and, to my dismay, I find that the TV is indeed off. Weird. Whatever. So, I head back into my room and sit down on my computer. After about two minutes I had already viewed hundreds of pages that were plagued with “the death hoax.”
“Not this thing too…” I mumbled.
Whatever, I guess I’ll just do some more reading. I pick up Faulkner’s great novel As I Lay Dying, and begin to read. I vaguely hear a faint crash and a moan. Could it be? I slide my fingers in between two sections of my blinds and peer slightly into the street. Whew! It looks as if someone just knocked over the garbage can. I lay back down in bed, with my hands crossed over my chest, thinking about what the hell could be going on. My apartment seems to exhale and all of the power goes out; great. The only light in the room is now coming from where I had just stretched the two sections of my blinds. I sat in my dark room for a second, contemplating what is really going on. I make a rash decision. I’m going to get in my car and head over to my friend Christopher’s place. I’ll just tell him that I want to indulge in a couple Corona’s; not that I’m slightly freaked out. I run over to my couch and pick up the ball of quills that is my hedgehog and place her back into her habitat. I grab my black North Face jacket and car keys and head out into the hallway and down the stairs.
All the street lights are out. I jump into my Honda Civic that is normally white, but because of the lack of light—it almost looks black. I put the keys in the ignition and put in into gear. But, when I grabbed the stick my hand brushed up against my pants pocket and I realized I didn’t have my wallet. Shit. Well, it’s deathly cold outside, so it will be good for me to run upstairs and grab my wallet while the car warms up. So, once again, I make my way up the stairs and back into my apartment. I figured that it wouldn’t be more than two minutes before I was back in my car again…
As I get upstairs, the moaning that I heard earlier was back, only much less faint now. As a matter of fact, it sounded like multiple people moaning now. I look out the window and my face dropped. There was a flood of citizens turning onto Water St; only these were not humans, they were zombies. I was sure of it. My skeptical conscience allowed me a scared and muffled laugh. But, I realized that no one would be able to take a joke this far…
I panicked. I rushed into my dank room and scuffled to find my bag. There it is. I put some clothes and my computer into the bag. I ran into the living room and grabbed Lily out from her cage, right after I had put her food into my bag.
“We need to get out of here girl,” I said while sliding her into the roomy pocket on the side of my bag. But, talking to a hedgehog was not easing my tension.
I jumped back into the living room to get one more peak out of the window before I make way for my car; but, it was too late. The mass of bodies had already made it to my front lawn. I left the downstairs door open! I ran as fast as I could and latched it, just in time to see a snarling, half-eaten, bloody, and hungry face smear up against the glass. I almost pissed myself.
“Oh, fuck this…” I think I said as I ran back up the stairs and locked the door.
For about twenty minutes I debated on what I was going to do. For each minute that passed I heard about sixty brash knocks at my door. I have never been this scared in my life. After I had already put the couch and the foosball table against the door, I knew that I needed to find an escape route—or at the very least, a hiding spot. My bag is tightly secured on my back so I could feel Lily moving around in there; she wasn’t comfortable and it was giving me chills. I jumped out onto the porch and looked at the living dead pounding away at the door downstairs. There are few minutes before they are upstairs. CRASH! Check that: they are upstairs. My adrenaline races and I run into the kitchen.
“What am I going to do; what am I going to do!”
I need to protect myself and then I will be able to find a way to climb through the attic and onto the roof. They’ll never be able to get me up there. I would be able to plan phase two from the roof. So, first I grabbed the rest of the cheese-its, a gallon of water, and some other provisions and threw them from the window onto the roof. The moon was out, so it was easy to see on the roof—it was actually bright up there. I then had a realization. I would need to protect myself. But, I have nothing. Shit. I then had an idea. I would make Molotov cocktails.
“How the hell do you make those?” I asked myself.
Damn. Oh, shit, there has to be enough power left on my laptop for me to be able to look it up online really quick. Just as I powered up my laptop I finally heard the horrible sound of pounding right across the room: on the entrance to my apartment.
I had little time. I grabbed all of the ingredients that I had that were needed to make this household explosive. I threw five Corona bottles, a book of matches, a set of five kitchen rags, and some flammable bleach into a plastic shopping bag. I knew that I was still missing something. The wiki said that I needed gasoline or alcohol to complete this fiery inferno of a bomb. So, as I heard the last bang on the door and the shattering of wood, I grabbed a bottle of Devil’s Spring 160 proof vodka and a bottle of rubbing alcohol and headed out of the window and onto the roof. I was safe, for now. As I made the concoction I was skeptical if it was going to work. But, after only ten minutes I had five professional looking Molotov cocktails. Now all I needed was a plan.
I was out of options, I knew that most of the zombies were in the apartment and there was another wave of them coming down the street. I had to act quickly. I strapped my backpack on my back, gave Lily a piece of her food, threw the plastic bag off of the roof, and went towards the other end. I was going to have to throw three of the cocktails right into my apartment, and two down the street. After that I would just have to make a run for it… unless…
As I peaked over the other end of the roof—towards the driveway—I noticed that my car was still running, and was, oddly enough, unharmed. The zombies must not have noticed it. I had my plan, and now was the time. I looked up towards to moon, and exhaled. Without thinking I took the bag of Molotov’s and hurled one into my bedroom. Shit! It didn’t break. I had no time to cry, so I took another and threw it as hard as I could against the entrance of the apartment while dangling from the roof. There was no explosion but instantly everything set ablaze. Wow. I smiled.
I took two more and threw them into the living room and kitchen; I was just trying to set my house on fire. Then, because of the dud, I only had one for the road. So, I took one baseball hop, and hurled the bottle as far as I could into the street. Before I could even see what had happened I ran as fast as I could and leaped into my neighbor’s bushes.
The branches tore many holes in my skin and I lost my breath. I thought of sitting there and just letting the monsters get me. I was seriously hurt. But, after about three whole minutes (which felt like hours) I managed to pick myself up out of the bush and onto the driveway. I could smell those flesh-eating devils. I held my arm, where the most significant wound was, and limped into my car. It was incredibly warm in there, as it had been running for about an hour now. Once the warm air hit me, I realized how cold it must have been outside—my adrenaline caused me to be able to do all of this in the midst of the winter season. I popped the E-brake and put her into gear. I knew I couldn’t go out through the driveway, so I slammed right through the bushes and into my neighbor’s yard.
I’ve been noticed. I spun the car around and into the street. Riding the clutch, I peeled out and saw a devastating sight. I slam on the breaks. The Cocktail that I had thrown from the roof had been successful; it had kept the zombies back. But, now, the only way out was for me to go through the wave of about 30 zombies. I had no more bombs, and no other weapons—or did I? Fuck it. I decided that a car was as good a weapon as anything else. I reversed to the end of the street, and stopped. Everything was silent, but at least, from the bombs, there was light. Without thinking any further I slammed on the gas and tore a hole into the pavement. I was going about 100 MPH by the time I hit the wall; the wall of zombies that is. Like bowling pins, they fell. But, from the impact my car stalled. I frantically started to turn the key with my sweaty hands. My headlights had gone out, and I dropped the key.
I turned on the dome light of the car and I finally saw the sparkle of the gold part of the key. I picked it up, and with some sort of luck from above, the car started. I slammed the stick into first, and floored my way out of there. Bleeding, tired, hungry, and scared, I drove and drove and drove. Who knows what happens next…but for now, I’ll just drive.

So there you have it, folks. Those are my two realistic weapons. I would make some Molotov cocktails, and I would use my car as a most dangerous ramming device. What do you think, Christopher?

So anyway, I would just like to say, that regardless if anyone is going to read this or not, I had fun writing it; which is why I write a blog. It would be nice for people to read, and comment, but it doesn’t matter to me. Hopefully though, someday, even if it’s just one person, someone will read a blog that they enjoy, which will allow them an entrance into the world that I have discovered. Maybe s/he will actually start writing for themselves. So there you have it. Cheers.

p.s. Sorry about the indentation: blogger won't put them in...

Sunday, October 15, 2006

I'm a semi-God, literally!

Hi, All,

For all those who were entirely too concerned about my Halloween costume predicament, I have some good news. My friends, and I, decided to go with a superhero theme. While I can see how this could be considered to be slightly "lame" and "over-done" I can assure you that we will pull it off, incredibly. So far the line up contains such superheroes as: Wolverine, Batman, Robin, The Flash, Space Ghost (maybe-- he's more of a moch-superhero. Should we allow it?), The Punisher, and Thor. While I would, if anyone would have asked me earlier, have probably guessed that I would have been Batman, or Wolverine-- that is not the case. This year I will dress-up as the ever impressive and mighty Thor. For those of you who don't know who this is (lame-o's) click: here. I was mostly impressed by the fact that I will be able to tote around a giant hammer all night. Yes, I'm bad-ass.

For all of you haters out there (Rosie!), I would like to allow you to apologize now, rather then later. Once you realize how 'cool' (I hate that word) we will ALL be that night-- your skepticism will be turned into envy and embarrassment (for doubting me). Ha, I'm kidding.

Whatever, it’s nice to have that out of the way now and I think we'll have fun. Pictures may follow.

Oh, yeah… I really would have preferred to be the magnificent Nightcrawler; come on, he’s German! I couldn’t find a costume, though. I’m not ambitious enough to make one, so, Thor it is! Cheers!

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

"The Great Costume Dilemma"

<---- Could this be us?

You know what truly bothers me: the detail that I still don’t know what I’m going to be for Halloween. This happens each year. I attempt to get ideas early on, be pro-active and get a unique costume; but it all comes untimely. Alas, the same thing is happening all over again this year. I’ve finally figured out “the great costume dilemma” as I’ve come to call it.

I have great ideas. My friends have great ideas. But, the problem is, all of our ideas are, say it with me now, unrealistic. Sure, it could be awesome for all of us to be members of the ninja turtles—but, the children costumes are not only lame, but they wouldn’t fit us anyway. I would love to be Mr. Narwhal from ELF, but I don’t have enough time, or skill, to be making my own narwhal head. I think the two person horse is great, but, let’s be serious.

So this is what happens. I’m stuck here, still, with no costume. I would appreciate any ideas. But, if nothing good comes to me by the end of the week (which is longer than I wanted to wait) I will just cop-out and buy a Ghostbusters costume. I know, mildly unoriginal.

I suppose the smart thing would be for me to be creative, and make my own costume—but, lets be honest, I’m not ambitious enough for that. Somebody save me from this misery. Cheers.

You Down With TEC...nology?

I’ve noticed a trend. Every morning, I wake up, sit in my bed for about 10 minutes, grab my cell phone and try to beat my high score in Tetris, stumble into my computer chair, turn on the computer, and check my RSS feeds—all while in my underwear. No, it isn’t a pretty sight, but I’ve noticed something about my daily morning routine: technology is everywhere (in my life).

First and foremost, permit me to elucidate how unbelievably shitty it is outside this morning. It’s dark, raining, and cold. Not a good combo to augment my motivation for getting out of bed. But I have become conscious of the reality that checking my e-mail and enhancing my prowess on the New Jersey Nets is, indeed, enough to raise me from the dead. (Although not enough to make me put on some clothes).

OK, so I’m took this class a while ago—it’s called: CSE. It’s a very cool class, but I must admit, it’s a little depressing. It’s a class where they tell us, future educators, that we are old-school, and without updating our technology—we will be left behind, with no jobs. It’s a digital world now, duh.

I’ve have, personally, been exposed to a lot of technological influence while growing up— so the switch into a purely digital world will be much easier, for me. It’s humorous for me when I’m sitting in this class, watching some of the “older” students struggle with simple things, such as recording his/her voice onto the computer. It’s really pathetic. I guess this is why people, like Thomas L. Friedman, are worried that America is going to be left behind…


Oh, and I’m not done yet. Let me assure you that it gets worse the older the people get. Before I get into this, let me assure you that there are exceptions to every rule: let me explain using specific examples in my classroom. All names have been change, or removed, to protect the innocent. This class is run by two professors; one a woman who has been teaching high school for the majority of her career, and has just recently started to teach college; the second is a man who is proficient (as capable as one can be I suppose) in using modern day technology, and the head of the prof. writing major. The school brought the woman in to help deal with the pedagogical aspect of the class—while, the man, obviously, was here to help us learn about technology. Most importantly, they are both here to help us learn how important technology is.

The saddest part, and the one worth noting, is the fact that some of the people in the class, couldn’t even close an internet window last night. They couldn’t close a window, that’s scary.

I guess my point is this. I wake up every morning and close hundreds of internet windows. I know how to use all of the Microsoft Office and Adobe applications. I’m familiar with RSS Feeds, wikis, blogs (obviously), and more. I feel like most of my friends, with the exception of the wiki and RSS feeds can do the same. So where is the urgency? I’ll tell you. The urgency is to change the "Dr. Oldschool’s" of the world—which won’t be easy. I think current teachers should be taking this class, also. It’s scary: how some people are resistant to change. I’m willing to bet that we, Americans, are amidst another movement (a more modern day Industrial Revolution! People will read about us in textbooks!). We can either roll with it, or be dead set against.

I personally think that everyone should try, at least, to become more tech savvy, as in the very near future, computers will dictate what goes on.

On a side note: if anyone reads this and would like to know what a wiki, or RSS feed, or any of the aforementioned issues above, just leave me a comment. I will do my best. I would also like to recommend The World Is Flat, by Thomas L. Friedman. This is an “eye-opening” read.

OK, now it’s time for me to put on some pants and get some food. Cheers.