Salutations, my adoring followers! Still far and few between you are, but our numbers are growing! No, I am not wanting to take over the world...I am merely pleased that more people have subscribed to my blog.
As I was sitting backstage at the University of South Dakota's current show, Woman In Black, and listening to some Pavarotti on my iPod, I started thinking about what I was going to use as the topic of my next blog post. Inspiration came to me as I was talking to my little brother, Isaac, online. I was talking to Isaac about something personal that I would only talk to maybe 2 other people about. This got me thinking about my wolf-pack and how fortunate I am because some people are only a one-man wolf-pack (for those of who don't understand the "wolf-pack" reference...never mind). So in short...this post is about the friends I couldn't get through life without.
First is my Luftwaffe wing-man, creepy ginger brother, sharer of most of my inside jokes, and my all around best friend: Isaac. Despite the fact that Isaac is a ginger, Isaac is one of maybe 4 people in the world who I would never get tired of spending time with (haha! Right now, the rest of my family is reading this and saying, "Wait! There's 5 of us! Am I one of them?!" haha!). Granted, Isaac and I used to hate each others' guts up until probably 2009. That's when my family was going through something really difficult (which I am not going to talk about in this blog). Isaac and I had started to hate each others' guts a lot less as the poopy year went on, but what really brought us together, was our trip to Brazil from October 2009 through March 2010. We agreed the night before we left for the 5 month trip that the trip was going to be long enough even if we didn't fight the entire time, so we mutually agreed to do our best to not fight at all. I think we got in a slight argument ONCE the entire trip, and that was it.
I don't think that we have fought about something since.
The other two people in my wolf-pack are Matthew and Jonathan. Have we been friends forever? Yes. Have we had a HUGE falling out in the past? Yes. Are they complete reprobate Marines whose morals are ridiculously few and far between? Yes. Would they do anything for me without a second of hesitation? Yes. Do I consider them brothers? Yes. Something that Isaac, Matt, and Jonathan all have in common is the fact that I could tell any of them anything and they would never think less of me for it. Granted, they might make fun of me to no end, but isn't that what friends are for?
I would talk about the rest of the people who I love, like my family and the friends who I think of as family, but I would never finish this post if I did that. I just wanted to throw this out there and say that I'm thankful for the friends who are in my life.
Thanks for reading, my adoring fans!
_Moses_
Friday, February 25, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Fact That Someone is in College Does NOT Make Them Smart
Greetings my adoring fans! I am sorry for how long it has taken me between posts. I just think that it is very important to not write something for fun if I don't want to. However, I am now inspired!
I know that my last post was about my Introduction to Literature class, but I'm going to talk a little bit about it again...
I was sitting in my Literature class today and we were all numbered off from 1 to 5 (I was number 4...no pun on the upcoming movie). We then got together with our corresponding numbers, were given a poem, and told to discuss it. The poem that my group discussed was "Sometimes the Words Are So Close" by: Julia Alvarez. It was written in sonnet form and was all about how Alvarez believed that writing conveyed what she meant to say much better than her spoken words did. Because I liked it so much, here it is...
Great, right? Now, if you do not like poetry, then just bare with me.
Most people with half of a brain could at least say what they "think" the poem is trying to say. I was paired up with three other people whom I had never worked with before. I tend to answer all the questions normally, so I figured that I would stay out of the discussion as much as possible and only provide bits of my opinion. Each group was told to read the poem out loud and I volunteered. Afterward, I asked, "So what do you guys think?" For thirty whole seconds, they didn't say ANYTHING.
For those of you who might not appreciate just how long that is (especially during a time of discussion) I want you to stop reading for exactly 30 seconds and imagine that someone is supposed to be saying something, but isn't. Go ahead...
IT IS A RIDICULOUSLY LONG TIME!!!! I wasn't just going to sit there and look like an idiot, so I tried to get the conversation rolling by saying, "Well, the whole thing is just talking about what writing means to the author. What do you guys think?" After another ten seconds or so, the girl who was writing down our–rather MY–discussion points said, "....yeah, that sounds pretty good." I continued to poke, prod, suggest, and ask each of them questions directly. They never spoke in our entire 15 minute discussion. NOT ONCE!!!!!!
After I realized that they weren't going to say anything, I started offering my full dissection of the poem with the occasional direct question to one of them to ask what they thought. Only the girl did more than shrug her shoulders. We had about 2 minutes left for our discussion and I finally looked at them and said, "Really? Are you guys serious right now?" They didn't say anything.
They should have just stayed at home and slept. Not even offering a, "Yeah, that's what I was thinking" proved to me that they lacked the brain capacity to do much more than drink booze and walk back and forth between classes. It actually baffles me that they had the brain power to know how to breathe.
Well, that's my rant for the day. I hope you guys enjoyed it and thanks for reading!
_Moses_
I know that my last post was about my Introduction to Literature class, but I'm going to talk a little bit about it again...
I was sitting in my Literature class today and we were all numbered off from 1 to 5 (I was number 4...no pun on the upcoming movie). We then got together with our corresponding numbers, were given a poem, and told to discuss it. The poem that my group discussed was "Sometimes the Words Are So Close" by: Julia Alvarez. It was written in sonnet form and was all about how Alvarez believed that writing conveyed what she meant to say much better than her spoken words did. Because I liked it so much, here it is...
"Sometimes the Words Are So Close"
By: Julia Alvarez
Sometimes the words are so close I am
more who I am when I'm down on paper
than anywhere else as if my life were
practicing for the real me I become
unbuttoned from the anecdotal and
unnecessary and unpressed down
to the figure of the poem, line by line,
the real text a child could understand.
Why do I get confused living it through?
Those of you, lost and yearning to be free,
who hear these words, take heart from me.
I was once in as many drafts as you.
But briefly, essentially, here I am...
Who touches this poem touches a woman.
more who I am when I'm down on paper
than anywhere else as if my life were
practicing for the real me I become
unbuttoned from the anecdotal and
unnecessary and unpressed down
to the figure of the poem, line by line,
the real text a child could understand.
Why do I get confused living it through?
Those of you, lost and yearning to be free,
who hear these words, take heart from me.
I was once in as many drafts as you.
But briefly, essentially, here I am...
Who touches this poem touches a woman.
Great, right? Now, if you do not like poetry, then just bare with me.
Most people with half of a brain could at least say what they "think" the poem is trying to say. I was paired up with three other people whom I had never worked with before. I tend to answer all the questions normally, so I figured that I would stay out of the discussion as much as possible and only provide bits of my opinion. Each group was told to read the poem out loud and I volunteered. Afterward, I asked, "So what do you guys think?" For thirty whole seconds, they didn't say ANYTHING.
For those of you who might not appreciate just how long that is (especially during a time of discussion) I want you to stop reading for exactly 30 seconds and imagine that someone is supposed to be saying something, but isn't. Go ahead...
IT IS A RIDICULOUSLY LONG TIME!!!! I wasn't just going to sit there and look like an idiot, so I tried to get the conversation rolling by saying, "Well, the whole thing is just talking about what writing means to the author. What do you guys think?" After another ten seconds or so, the girl who was writing down our–rather MY–discussion points said, "....yeah, that sounds pretty good." I continued to poke, prod, suggest, and ask each of them questions directly. They never spoke in our entire 15 minute discussion. NOT ONCE!!!!!!
After I realized that they weren't going to say anything, I started offering my full dissection of the poem with the occasional direct question to one of them to ask what they thought. Only the girl did more than shrug her shoulders. We had about 2 minutes left for our discussion and I finally looked at them and said, "Really? Are you guys serious right now?" They didn't say anything.
They should have just stayed at home and slept. Not even offering a, "Yeah, that's what I was thinking" proved to me that they lacked the brain capacity to do much more than drink booze and walk back and forth between classes. It actually baffles me that they had the brain power to know how to breathe.
Well, that's my rant for the day. I hope you guys enjoyed it and thanks for reading!
_Moses_
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Stupid Stories They Make Us Read in College
Hello, my adoring fans!
Though few and far between you are, I want to tell you that I appreciate your support and feedback, so lemme have it! ha!
Alrighty...originally I was just going to talk about this one particular story that was really stupid that I had to read in Introduction to Literature, but lucky for all of you, they gave a ANOTHER stupid story that I had to read, so I'll rant about both of them =D
The first story is called "The Call of Cthulhu" (Kuh-thoo-loo) written by H. P. Lovecraft. I strongly urge you to NEVER read this story unless it is required of you for a class or if someone is threatening you at knife point (even then, I'm not convinced that it'd be worth it!) Sure, the story is about monsters and the fate of the entire world, but it is like reading a 30 page court transcript of a custody battle...but with no dialogue. That's right, there isn't a single quotation mark in the whole story. I feel a little awful for saying this, but I think that Stephenie Meyer could have done a better job writing this story than Lovecraft did. He made the story almost impossible to understand and there was NEVER an "aha!" moment for me. I learned more about the story looking up videos on youtube and story summaries online. If you want the story in a nut shell, check out THIS VIDEO.
The second story (which we discussed today in class) was called "The Last Days of Mohamed Atta" written by: Martin Amis. This is a fictional story about one of the men who crashed into one of the towers on September 11th, 2001. Let me just say... Martin Amis is a SICK individual. He actually put himself into the mind of this murderer and made up the contents of his day from 4 A.M. till his eventual suicide/mass murder. In this story, he talks a lot about his blatant disregard for women and compares one man's wife and daughter to "owning a truck."
Now keep in mind...THIS WAS A FICTIONAL STORY. Nothing except the actual plane crash happened. The rest was made up. This begs the question: what would compel a writer to want to know what they guy was thinking? In my opinion, it doesn't matter what his motives were, or where his mind was at. All that matters was what he did. Oh, and here's the real kicker: This story...was published in the New Yorker...yeah. Amis also wrote a story from the mindset of a German doctor from World War II who experimented on Jews. Yup...Amis is one sick puppy.
This brings up a couple questions in my mind: Who decides what "literature" is? And who decides that college students should read it? Whether the story is about a mass murderer, written by a man with a fascination for evil figures, or a story that has made secret cults, grizzly murders, and a squid-like demon king boring. Why do they even bother making us read these things when EVEN THE TEACHER seems less than enthused by the whole notion?
As I looked around my literature class this week, I saw 3 people falling asleep and the girl next to me was practicing all of the different ways that she could scribble the word "boring" into her spiral notebook.
Something has gotta change.
Though few and far between you are, I want to tell you that I appreciate your support and feedback, so lemme have it! ha!
Alrighty...originally I was just going to talk about this one particular story that was really stupid that I had to read in Introduction to Literature, but lucky for all of you, they gave a ANOTHER stupid story that I had to read, so I'll rant about both of them =D
The first story is called "The Call of Cthulhu" (Kuh-thoo-loo) written by H. P. Lovecraft. I strongly urge you to NEVER read this story unless it is required of you for a class or if someone is threatening you at knife point (even then, I'm not convinced that it'd be worth it!) Sure, the story is about monsters and the fate of the entire world, but it is like reading a 30 page court transcript of a custody battle...but with no dialogue. That's right, there isn't a single quotation mark in the whole story. I feel a little awful for saying this, but I think that Stephenie Meyer could have done a better job writing this story than Lovecraft did. He made the story almost impossible to understand and there was NEVER an "aha!" moment for me. I learned more about the story looking up videos on youtube and story summaries online. If you want the story in a nut shell, check out THIS VIDEO.
The second story (which we discussed today in class) was called "The Last Days of Mohamed Atta" written by: Martin Amis. This is a fictional story about one of the men who crashed into one of the towers on September 11th, 2001. Let me just say... Martin Amis is a SICK individual. He actually put himself into the mind of this murderer and made up the contents of his day from 4 A.M. till his eventual suicide/mass murder. In this story, he talks a lot about his blatant disregard for women and compares one man's wife and daughter to "owning a truck."
Now keep in mind...THIS WAS A FICTIONAL STORY. Nothing except the actual plane crash happened. The rest was made up. This begs the question: what would compel a writer to want to know what they guy was thinking? In my opinion, it doesn't matter what his motives were, or where his mind was at. All that matters was what he did. Oh, and here's the real kicker: This story...was published in the New Yorker...yeah. Amis also wrote a story from the mindset of a German doctor from World War II who experimented on Jews. Yup...Amis is one sick puppy.
This brings up a couple questions in my mind: Who decides what "literature" is? And who decides that college students should read it? Whether the story is about a mass murderer, written by a man with a fascination for evil figures, or a story that has made secret cults, grizzly murders, and a squid-like demon king boring. Why do they even bother making us read these things when EVEN THE TEACHER seems less than enthused by the whole notion?
As I looked around my literature class this week, I saw 3 people falling asleep and the girl next to me was practicing all of the different ways that she could scribble the word "boring" into her spiral notebook.
Something has gotta change.
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