Concerned Parent: Hello, 911?
Operator: Yes, what's your emergency?
Concerned Parent: Yeah, I'm on vacation and I dropped my daughter off at my mother's yesterday and I'm not totally sure where my daughter is now.
Operator: Did your mother indicate that your daughter is missing?
Concerned Parent: No, but I mean, I'm not totally positive where exactly my daughter is. You see, my mother's phone is broken and I don't have internet here, so I'm not getting updates on my daughter every 2 minutes, like any reasonable, caring, totally-not-paranoid parent would require. I can't be sure if my daughter is watching tv or playing with her Legos in the basement or pretending that she's a pretty, pretty mermaid in the pool. My mother might have even taken her to the grocery store! There are strangers and meat grinders at the grocery store, it's very dangerous! I'm concerned, it's possible she's dead, right?
Operator: Okay ma'am, but do you have any reason to believe your daughter is presently in danger?
Concerned Parent: No, but, you know, per Caylee's Law, it's been 24 hours since I've seen her and I haven't heard from my mother. I have no idea where my child is exactly. What if she's playing with those awful kids down the street and they're hacking off her limbs at this very instant? I just wanted to report her as missing, since I haven't seen her and I have no reason to believe that my mother hasn't drowned my daughter in the toilet or the neighbors haven't fed her to their pitbull. Please send someone before it's too late!
-----OR-----
Concerned Parent: Help! I murdered my son!
Operator: Can you repeat that, ma'am?
Concerned Parent: I murdered my son! I dumped him in the river! It's been about an hour since I saw his lifeless corpse floating away. I popped by Wendy's on my way home, I was craving a Frosty, and I stopped to buy new shoes, mine are soaked in blood. Anyway, I just wanted to report him as deceased. I don't want a felony on my record for failing to report his death, in accordance with Caylee's Law.
Operator: Yeah, this is a great law, it really deters people from murdering children.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
This Is America, Where You Are Guilty Until Proven Innocent
Rick Scott (Governor of the always progressive Sunshiney State of Florida, in case you have better things to do than keep up with the workings of our government), has lived up to his promise to sign in a law that would require welfare recipients to undergo drug testing. The ACLU is predictably heading the effort to challenge this law, stating that it is unconstitutional. Their arguments are, of course, ridiculous. Who cares if a study by the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism shows that alcohol and drug abuse is no more prevalent among welfare recipients than the average population? Who cares if drug testing is extremely costly and may do nothing to curb drug use? Who really cares if the 4th Amendment states that "The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized"? [The 4th Amendment here, in case you're worried that I'm making things up.] I mean, really, the 4th Amendment cannot possibly apply to drug use and even if it did, if you are not on drugs, you have nothing to hide!
I say that Mr. Scott's new law is all well and good and I do not feel that this is unconstitutional in the least. I had to undergo drug testing to get the job that I chose to apply for, so these welfare mooches should be forced to undergo drug testing before I pay for the poverty they did not choose! What's more, it is in my opinion that this law does not go far enough to prevent the abuse of taxpayer dollars. I feel that we ought to start drug testing everyone who benefits from tax payer dollars, such as farmers, fire fighters and police officers. I even have the perfect place to begin to implement this new law: public universities. College students have been wasting our taxpayer dollars for years and it is in my belief that we need to put an end to it.
I have spent considerable time in a public university and therefore, I consider myself an expert on the subject. I have loads of anecdotal evidence that everyone in college spends most of their time drinking, smoking pot, having sex and watching South Park. Every weekend, instead of using the publicly-funded library to their full advantage, these students would spend hours partying. But often before they would party, I observed that they would "pre-game." For the uninitiated, pre-gaming is apparently drinking before the real drinking begins. I know, it sounds really silly and I am sure none of you would ever "drink before drinking." Alcohol is bad for you in large quantities and a danger to the public, much like all those hard drugs that those poor welfare recipients are using.
After pre-gaming, they would go out to parties. I have never been to a party because I am basically the least cool person on the planet but I have heard ton of stories about what happens at these parties and stories are proof enough. And I have to tell you, these stories are horrifying: these students would fruitlessly spend their Friday and Saturday nights drinking and smoking pot and having sex. They would achieve nothing more than "getting wasted" and they would be awfully proud of it, too. Imagine, being in college and not being productive two nights out of the week! I had many-a roommate return from a party absolutely smashed and completely unaware of what was happening around them. I would ask them questions and they would sputter absolute nonsense. Sometimes, they would not return, for they would either have passed out at the party or they would be too busy having sex. I ask you, does this sound like a productive environment? Does it sound to you that they are taking their studies seriously?
But it gets worse. Many of them were underage. Consuming alcohol underage is, of course, illegal. Supplying alcohol to minors is also illegal. Just as illegal, in fact, as it is for all those lazy welfare recipients to buy and use drugs.
The day following the party, the college students would be hungover. I do not know what a hangover is like, but they way people have told me, it is fairly debilitating. You have a really bad headache, you might feel nauseous and bright lights (including the sun) tend to make the headache worse. So doing homework or committing to their studies is out. Usually they would laze around and watch tv, generally cartoons, MTV or reality shows and not something educational, like FOX News or the History Channel.
And what if they had sex the night before? Not all women are on birth control. And sometimes men don't have condoms or insist upon not using one. So there are these people out there having unprotected sex. And unprotected sex leads to babies. And babies lead to abortions, which are paid for by taxpayers, as we all well know by now.
And do not get me started on the pot heads! It was bad enough that they would stink up the whole dorm but then they would sit around in their locked room, spaced out, giggling like idiots and consuming more food than was even necessary! Their studies were the least of their worries! Even if they did come to class, they were too out of it to even comprehend what the lecture was about and they would often doodle mindlessly until the hour was up.
Of course, during the week, college students still delight in drinking, doing drugs and have sex. They might not assemble a large party but they certainly do not put all their efforts into getting straight A's, just as welfare recipients waste the time they could be spending finding a job on snorting crack instead. This is an outrage. I did not contribute to the public university so that they could have fun and socialize. They should have their nose to the grindstone at all times!
After all, when we productive members of society go to work, we never, ever spend our time surfing the internet. We never get on Facebook. We never gossip with our co-workers. We never waste company money by doing anything unrelated to our jobs. We never come to work hungover or too exhausted to give it our all. We never throw fruitless parties where the goal is to simply eat and drink and socialize. We always have our noses to the grindstone and we spend 8 hours a day being productive and taking our work seriously. Money is always taken seriously in our society and everyone everywhere earns their paycheck by staying focused on working hard 40 hours of every week.
This should be the case for everyone who is supported by taxpayer money. It should not be wasted. Rick Scott's new law is a good start but people everywhere, not just welfare recipients, are wasting my money and I want to see an end to this. I have never wasted money a day in my life and it is not fair to see other people getting away with it.
I say that Mr. Scott's new law is all well and good and I do not feel that this is unconstitutional in the least. I had to undergo drug testing to get the job that I chose to apply for, so these welfare mooches should be forced to undergo drug testing before I pay for the poverty they did not choose! What's more, it is in my opinion that this law does not go far enough to prevent the abuse of taxpayer dollars. I feel that we ought to start drug testing everyone who benefits from tax payer dollars, such as farmers, fire fighters and police officers. I even have the perfect place to begin to implement this new law: public universities. College students have been wasting our taxpayer dollars for years and it is in my belief that we need to put an end to it.
I have spent considerable time in a public university and therefore, I consider myself an expert on the subject. I have loads of anecdotal evidence that everyone in college spends most of their time drinking, smoking pot, having sex and watching South Park. Every weekend, instead of using the publicly-funded library to their full advantage, these students would spend hours partying. But often before they would party, I observed that they would "pre-game." For the uninitiated, pre-gaming is apparently drinking before the real drinking begins. I know, it sounds really silly and I am sure none of you would ever "drink before drinking." Alcohol is bad for you in large quantities and a danger to the public, much like all those hard drugs that those poor welfare recipients are using.
After pre-gaming, they would go out to parties. I have never been to a party because I am basically the least cool person on the planet but I have heard ton of stories about what happens at these parties and stories are proof enough. And I have to tell you, these stories are horrifying: these students would fruitlessly spend their Friday and Saturday nights drinking and smoking pot and having sex. They would achieve nothing more than "getting wasted" and they would be awfully proud of it, too. Imagine, being in college and not being productive two nights out of the week! I had many-a roommate return from a party absolutely smashed and completely unaware of what was happening around them. I would ask them questions and they would sputter absolute nonsense. Sometimes, they would not return, for they would either have passed out at the party or they would be too busy having sex. I ask you, does this sound like a productive environment? Does it sound to you that they are taking their studies seriously?
But it gets worse. Many of them were underage. Consuming alcohol underage is, of course, illegal. Supplying alcohol to minors is also illegal. Just as illegal, in fact, as it is for all those lazy welfare recipients to buy and use drugs.
The day following the party, the college students would be hungover. I do not know what a hangover is like, but they way people have told me, it is fairly debilitating. You have a really bad headache, you might feel nauseous and bright lights (including the sun) tend to make the headache worse. So doing homework or committing to their studies is out. Usually they would laze around and watch tv, generally cartoons, MTV or reality shows and not something educational, like FOX News or the History Channel.
And what if they had sex the night before? Not all women are on birth control. And sometimes men don't have condoms or insist upon not using one. So there are these people out there having unprotected sex. And unprotected sex leads to babies. And babies lead to abortions, which are paid for by taxpayers, as we all well know by now.
And do not get me started on the pot heads! It was bad enough that they would stink up the whole dorm but then they would sit around in their locked room, spaced out, giggling like idiots and consuming more food than was even necessary! Their studies were the least of their worries! Even if they did come to class, they were too out of it to even comprehend what the lecture was about and they would often doodle mindlessly until the hour was up.
Of course, during the week, college students still delight in drinking, doing drugs and have sex. They might not assemble a large party but they certainly do not put all their efforts into getting straight A's, just as welfare recipients waste the time they could be spending finding a job on snorting crack instead. This is an outrage. I did not contribute to the public university so that they could have fun and socialize. They should have their nose to the grindstone at all times!
After all, when we productive members of society go to work, we never, ever spend our time surfing the internet. We never get on Facebook. We never gossip with our co-workers. We never waste company money by doing anything unrelated to our jobs. We never come to work hungover or too exhausted to give it our all. We never throw fruitless parties where the goal is to simply eat and drink and socialize. We always have our noses to the grindstone and we spend 8 hours a day being productive and taking our work seriously. Money is always taken seriously in our society and everyone everywhere earns their paycheck by staying focused on working hard 40 hours of every week.
This should be the case for everyone who is supported by taxpayer money. It should not be wasted. Rick Scott's new law is a good start but people everywhere, not just welfare recipients, are wasting my money and I want to see an end to this. I have never wasted money a day in my life and it is not fair to see other people getting away with it.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
I Don't Get Paid Enough to Do This
Everyday, when my boyfriend comes home from his fancy paying job, he asks me "What did you do today?" I usually respond with my usual "Job stuff," though on more interesting days I get to say "Laundry!"
Now that it's nearly again time for him to come home, it occurred to me that the average American is totally out of touch with what the unemployed actually do. I figured I would kindly describe my typical day, so that you may cast more informed judgements upon my lifestyle.
8:00am - 10:00am: Wake up. I am sure that you think 10:00am is far too late to be waking up but I know you're just experiencing a little envy and I won't hold it against you. This is the only good thing about being unemployed and I'm not going to let you guilt me into waking up earlier. That and jobs typically don't get posted until later anyway, so when I get online, there's not much to do to begin with.
Immediately after I wake up: Stumble into kitchen. Make coffee. Get newspaper. Save newspaper for later. Once my coffee is finished, I put it in a vessel so that I may take it to work with me. Then I'm off to my full-time job!
My long commute (I live in the DC Metro Region, after all!) is four steps from the kitchen to my desk. After I've checked my email, which is usually just coupons from retail giants offering me discounts on things I can't afford, it's off to craigslist! As I mentioned before, there's usually not much here this time of day so I quickly mosey on over to Indeed. I sip coffee while I apply to all of seven jobs (out of hundreds) that I'm qualified for.
At this point, it's generally about 11:45am, no matter what time I woke up. Wait, its only 11:45am? Are you kidding me? This day is dragging!
Around 11:50am, I get my Gilt Group email. I look at pretty clothes and then cry because I can't afford any of it. Disheartened by my relentless poverty, I return to the kitchen to finally eat breakfast. I always put off my breakfast because I'm much more interested in finding paying work than eating. The oatmeal I eat 99% of the time is warm, healthy and cheap and I return to my desk feeling satisfied and optimistic. I can do anything with a belly full of oatmeal! The Quaker commercials told me so!
The next hour passes with me scouring every job board imaginable. I leave craigslist open and refresh it every 20 minutes. I apply to anything I'm remotely qualified. I endure long, drawn-out applications and surveys that ask repetitive questions. I read articles that tell me how to find a job, how to ace interviews and how to not be so negative all the time. My back hurts.
At 1:00pm, Esther beings to pester me for lunch. She jumps on my desk, sits down next to me and stares. I pet her and tell her I'll feed her as soon as I'm finished with this application. She bites my arm.
After Esther is fed, usually between 1:15pm and 1:30pm, I will do one of two things:
1. Go to the gym. It's not like anyone is posting jobs anyway and no one seems to call me until after 3:00pm. Take shower once I'm done getting ripped.
2. Read the newspaper. It's not like anyone is posting jobs anyway and no one seems to call me until after 3:00pm. Take shower once I'm done learning.
By now, it's 2:30pm. Time to see if any new jobs were posted while I was away! Time to check my phone every five minutes to see if I somehow missed a phone call! Time to check my email every 30 seconds to see if maybe someone is contacting me or sending me further application details! Time to keep craigslist open and refresh it every 20 minutes! Time to browse Indeed and Simply Hired and Career Builder and DC Jobs and Monster (uh, maybe not Monster...) and SnagAJob and Washington Post online even they all post the same jobs! Hm, I don't seem to be finding much... maybe I should check again... Wait, did my phone just go off? No, I'm just hearing things. Maybe I got an email! No, just spam. Well, it couldn't hurt to refresh craigslist... oh, I just did that a minute ago. Crap! I just refreshed it again without even thinking!
3:30pm: Time to commence my 30 minutes of banging my head on my desk!
4:00pm: Did I eat lunch?
4:15pm: JOBS! SWEET JOBS! THEY'RE FINALLY POSTING JOBS!
4:30pm: Man, I put a lot of work into these applications! I'm sure to hear back tomorrow! Oh hey, Greg is home! Time to go the gym with him/continue applying to jobs until he comes back from the gym!
6:00pm: I love to cook dinner. Food is yummy. I'm starving because I didn't eat lunch because I was too busy looking for a job. I wish I could afford salmon but I guess beans are ok.
7:00pm - 11:00pm: Pick two or three of the following activities (sometimes all):
1. Watch tv!
2. Watch Netflix!
3. Play on the Internet!
4. Babble at Greg!
11:20pm: Now that Greg is in bed, I can watch some House Hunters. I don't even care if they're in France. Oh, but I should see if any jobs were posted while I was away from my desk, sometimes they post really late... Oh boy, they did!
12:00am: I have a crooked spine and hunching over my desk all the time isn't good for me. I've put enough work into finding work, I think I'll go relax before bedtime.
1:00am - 8:00am (or up through 10:00am): Sleeping. Has nightmares about spiders and tornadoes and monster-y things chasing me down.
And then it all repeats. Occasionally I get phone calls/emails from employers, occasionally I have interviews. Occasionally I sit in the bathtub and laugh and laugh and laugh.
Now that it's nearly again time for him to come home, it occurred to me that the average American is totally out of touch with what the unemployed actually do. I figured I would kindly describe my typical day, so that you may cast more informed judgements upon my lifestyle.
8:00am - 10:00am: Wake up. I am sure that you think 10:00am is far too late to be waking up but I know you're just experiencing a little envy and I won't hold it against you. This is the only good thing about being unemployed and I'm not going to let you guilt me into waking up earlier. That and jobs typically don't get posted until later anyway, so when I get online, there's not much to do to begin with.
Immediately after I wake up: Stumble into kitchen. Make coffee. Get newspaper. Save newspaper for later. Once my coffee is finished, I put it in a vessel so that I may take it to work with me. Then I'm off to my full-time job!
My long commute (I live in the DC Metro Region, after all!) is four steps from the kitchen to my desk. After I've checked my email, which is usually just coupons from retail giants offering me discounts on things I can't afford, it's off to craigslist! As I mentioned before, there's usually not much here this time of day so I quickly mosey on over to Indeed. I sip coffee while I apply to all of seven jobs (out of hundreds) that I'm qualified for.
At this point, it's generally about 11:45am, no matter what time I woke up. Wait, its only 11:45am? Are you kidding me? This day is dragging!
Around 11:50am, I get my Gilt Group email. I look at pretty clothes and then cry because I can't afford any of it. Disheartened by my relentless poverty, I return to the kitchen to finally eat breakfast. I always put off my breakfast because I'm much more interested in finding paying work than eating. The oatmeal I eat 99% of the time is warm, healthy and cheap and I return to my desk feeling satisfied and optimistic. I can do anything with a belly full of oatmeal! The Quaker commercials told me so!
The next hour passes with me scouring every job board imaginable. I leave craigslist open and refresh it every 20 minutes. I apply to anything I'm remotely qualified. I endure long, drawn-out applications and surveys that ask repetitive questions. I read articles that tell me how to find a job, how to ace interviews and how to not be so negative all the time. My back hurts.
At 1:00pm, Esther beings to pester me for lunch. She jumps on my desk, sits down next to me and stares. I pet her and tell her I'll feed her as soon as I'm finished with this application. She bites my arm.
After Esther is fed, usually between 1:15pm and 1:30pm, I will do one of two things:
1. Go to the gym. It's not like anyone is posting jobs anyway and no one seems to call me until after 3:00pm. Take shower once I'm done getting ripped.
2. Read the newspaper. It's not like anyone is posting jobs anyway and no one seems to call me until after 3:00pm. Take shower once I'm done learning.
By now, it's 2:30pm. Time to see if any new jobs were posted while I was away! Time to check my phone every five minutes to see if I somehow missed a phone call! Time to check my email every 30 seconds to see if maybe someone is contacting me or sending me further application details! Time to keep craigslist open and refresh it every 20 minutes! Time to browse Indeed and Simply Hired and Career Builder and DC Jobs and Monster (uh, maybe not Monster...) and SnagAJob and Washington Post online even they all post the same jobs! Hm, I don't seem to be finding much... maybe I should check again... Wait, did my phone just go off? No, I'm just hearing things. Maybe I got an email! No, just spam. Well, it couldn't hurt to refresh craigslist... oh, I just did that a minute ago. Crap! I just refreshed it again without even thinking!
3:30pm: Time to commence my 30 minutes of banging my head on my desk!
4:00pm: Did I eat lunch?
4:15pm: JOBS! SWEET JOBS! THEY'RE FINALLY POSTING JOBS!
4:30pm: Man, I put a lot of work into these applications! I'm sure to hear back tomorrow! Oh hey, Greg is home! Time to go the gym with him/continue applying to jobs until he comes back from the gym!
6:00pm: I love to cook dinner. Food is yummy. I'm starving because I didn't eat lunch because I was too busy looking for a job. I wish I could afford salmon but I guess beans are ok.
7:00pm - 11:00pm: Pick two or three of the following activities (sometimes all):
1. Watch tv!
2. Watch Netflix!
3. Play on the Internet!
4. Babble at Greg!
11:20pm: Now that Greg is in bed, I can watch some House Hunters. I don't even care if they're in France. Oh, but I should see if any jobs were posted while I was away from my desk, sometimes they post really late... Oh boy, they did!
12:00am: I have a crooked spine and hunching over my desk all the time isn't good for me. I've put enough work into finding work, I think I'll go relax before bedtime.
1:00am - 8:00am (or up through 10:00am): Sleeping. Has nightmares about spiders and tornadoes and monster-y things chasing me down.
And then it all repeats. Occasionally I get phone calls/emails from employers, occasionally I have interviews. Occasionally I sit in the bathtub and laugh and laugh and laugh.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
The Bathroom Door Handle is Not the Only Thing That Can Kill You
So I have this thought every time I use the bathroom, particularly when using a public restroom, and I see these women (as a woman, I pretty much only see women in bathrooms. I imagine, however, these behaviors can be observed across genders) who use paper towels to open the bathroom door or who stand around and wait for someone else to enter/exit so that they can avoid touching that germ-riddled door knob.
Anyway, this thought. So I just finished doing my business on the toilet, right? And the next obvious step is to wash my hands, because I'm a pretty clean person. And then I dry my hands, because who wants wet hands? And then I leave the bathroom, sans-germs, and I never get sick and the world is a beautiful place and someone offers me a lifetime supply of free candy.
But wait... I missed a step or two. After I finished my toilet-y business, I touched the faucet. With my germy "hey, I just emptied my bowels" hands. But that's cool though, right, because I scrubbed the germs away with their mortal enemy, triclosan?
But then the step after that requires me to turn off the faucet, because what kind of terrible enemy-of-the-environment just leaves the tap running? So I turn the faucet off. I turn off the faucet that I touched with my previously dirty hands.
I touch the faucet that I sullied with my gross, post-toilet hands.
Anyway, I have this thought at that moment, while my hands are dripping and the faucet is still running and I'm like, maybe if I touch the faucet with my now-clean hands, those germs will be on my hand again. Because if these people, who are obviously pushing their critical thinking skills to the absolute limit, think that touching a metal door handle, which is not exactly a pleasant environment for your average germ, will result in hands that are suddenly crawling with the world's most deadly diseases and maybe even AIDS, then why would it be any different for this faucet?
But then I realize, oh, right, I have this immune system thing and the trace amount of salmonella or whatever that is potentially still alive on that door handle is no match for it. So I accept that my hands are going to be immediately crawling with germs no matter what I do, because germs are basically omnipresent, and I turn off the faucet, leave the rest room by opening the door sans-paper towel like a champ and I go out into the big bad world where I touch and interact with things that are all swarming with bacteria.
Anyway, this thought. So I just finished doing my business on the toilet, right? And the next obvious step is to wash my hands, because I'm a pretty clean person. And then I dry my hands, because who wants wet hands? And then I leave the bathroom, sans-germs, and I never get sick and the world is a beautiful place and someone offers me a lifetime supply of free candy.
But wait... I missed a step or two. After I finished my toilet-y business, I touched the faucet. With my germy "hey, I just emptied my bowels" hands. But that's cool though, right, because I scrubbed the germs away with their mortal enemy, triclosan?
But then the step after that requires me to turn off the faucet, because what kind of terrible enemy-of-the-environment just leaves the tap running? So I turn the faucet off. I turn off the faucet that I touched with my previously dirty hands.
I touch the faucet that I sullied with my gross, post-toilet hands.
Anyway, I have this thought at that moment, while my hands are dripping and the faucet is still running and I'm like, maybe if I touch the faucet with my now-clean hands, those germs will be on my hand again. Because if these people, who are obviously pushing their critical thinking skills to the absolute limit, think that touching a metal door handle, which is not exactly a pleasant environment for your average germ, will result in hands that are suddenly crawling with the world's most deadly diseases and maybe even AIDS, then why would it be any different for this faucet?
But then I realize, oh, right, I have this immune system thing and the trace amount of salmonella or whatever that is potentially still alive on that door handle is no match for it. So I accept that my hands are going to be immediately crawling with germs no matter what I do, because germs are basically omnipresent, and I turn off the faucet, leave the rest room by opening the door sans-paper towel like a champ and I go out into the big bad world where I touch and interact with things that are all swarming with bacteria.
Friday, March 11, 2011
The Moon Hates You And Everyone You Love
I remember a few years ago when the news was scaring... I'm sorry, informing the public about the dangers of SARS. And Bird Flu. And then last year, Swine Flu. I realize that people did get sick (and die) but they reported that death and destruction was imminent unless you got yourself vaccinated and wore these fancy little masks and started Lysoling everything and stopped going out in public because oh my God, every door handle ever is crawling with flu germs, watch out, they're going to get you, OH NO IT'S TOO LATE, YOU'RE INFECTED!
Good thing too! I myself never got a flu shot in lieu of the dreaded Swine Flu Pandemic. I hate shots and going to the doctor. I have better stuff to do, like sleep, make pancakes, and walk around in circles for a few hours. Sure, sure, it was beaten into me by nearly everyone that I needed to get the flu shot OR I WOULD DIE. I guess I like to live on the edge or maybe my parents raised me to be a heathen, so for umpteenth year in a row, I didn't get a flu shot. And it turned out to be a better-than-usual cold and flu season for me! Why, I didn't get a single cold, let alone the flu, throughout the whole Swine Flu Pandemic! I imagine it was because everyone was freaked out that if they didn't bathe themselves in rubbing alcohol after they touched anything, they'd be dead in 3 hours, so they were abnormally sterile. Plus I saw fewer people licking doorknobs.
Anyway, after the media duped us, I decided to devote my time to researching, studying, and predicting Scary Things. And you won't even believe what is about to happen.
Maybe you've heard of it: next week we're going to get a visit by Old Mister Supermoon. Maybe you laughed about it because you realized that an astrologer is just a glorified Miss Cleo, or maybe you pondered whether the moon has it in for the Japanese. I, for one, urge you to get serious, take the time to buckle down and Be Prepared. Okay, okay, I know they dropped the ball on SARS or Swine Flu. But the moon! Look at how menacing it is! I mean, it changes size like, every day and sometimes, it disappears entirely! It definitely means business.
And it WILL destroy you.
I've been conducting some research in my free time (and all of my time is free so I definitely am a credible source of information, how could I not be?) and look, things are going to get real bad next week. And in the upcoming months. Japan was just the appetizer. The moon is only getting closer. I know you might say that the moon yesterday was farther away than it is on average, or that the earthquake occurred when the sun and moon were askew and thus when the tidal forces are actually relatively weak. Maybe you say "But Bekki, earthquakes are common in Japan, that's why the have strict building codes?"
But my evidence shows that the moon was hovering dangerously close to Earth in 2005 when THE SAME EXACT THING happened in Sumatra! How can that be a coincidence? Not convinced? Remember Katrina? Katrina was that hurricane that devastated New Orleans, a city built in the middle of a swamp, barely above sea level, on the Gulf of Mexico, a region of the U.S. known for hurricanes. But I ask you, what was the moon doing so close to Earth in 2005? What's it planning to do next week when it gets close again?
And it was here in 1992, did you know that? There was a flood in Chicago that year, and a huge earthquake in California and even some tornadoes in Kansas! Can you believe the nerve of the moon? Flooding Chicago in April (rainy season), hitting California with an earthquake (earthquakes never happen in California!) and slamming Kansas with tornadoes! (who could have seen that coming?)
And we all know that natural disasters never occur when the moon is just a regular-style moon, laying dorment in space. Haiti who?
As an world renowned expert in the field of Supermoons, I feel the need to give you a heads up. The supermoon can strike anyone, anywhere. If you live in low-lying areas, and it's the wet season (spring), it WILL attempt to drown you in flood waters. If you live in the midwest, be careful! There's a 100% chance there will be tornadoes chasing you down! And if you live in the coastal regions, be prepared for summer hurricanes. The moon WILL try to maybe, probably send a category 4 or 5 monster to tear apart your house, flatten your garden and steal you daughter's lunch money. At the very least, a weak tropical storm will rip a few leaves off your prized rosebush. BECAUSE OF THE MOON.
And if you don't live in one of these places and think "Gee, nothing bad happens where I live, everything is perfect and wonderful and there's butterflies and rainbows all day long," THINK AGAIN. The moon WILL find you and set you on fire. The moon can do that. I know, I'm a scientist.
Good thing too! I myself never got a flu shot in lieu of the dreaded Swine Flu Pandemic. I hate shots and going to the doctor. I have better stuff to do, like sleep, make pancakes, and walk around in circles for a few hours. Sure, sure, it was beaten into me by nearly everyone that I needed to get the flu shot OR I WOULD DIE. I guess I like to live on the edge or maybe my parents raised me to be a heathen, so for umpteenth year in a row, I didn't get a flu shot. And it turned out to be a better-than-usual cold and flu season for me! Why, I didn't get a single cold, let alone the flu, throughout the whole Swine Flu Pandemic! I imagine it was because everyone was freaked out that if they didn't bathe themselves in rubbing alcohol after they touched anything, they'd be dead in 3 hours, so they were abnormally sterile. Plus I saw fewer people licking doorknobs.
Anyway, after the media duped us, I decided to devote my time to researching, studying, and predicting Scary Things. And you won't even believe what is about to happen.
Maybe you've heard of it: next week we're going to get a visit by Old Mister Supermoon. Maybe you laughed about it because you realized that an astrologer is just a glorified Miss Cleo, or maybe you pondered whether the moon has it in for the Japanese. I, for one, urge you to get serious, take the time to buckle down and Be Prepared. Okay, okay, I know they dropped the ball on SARS or Swine Flu. But the moon! Look at how menacing it is! I mean, it changes size like, every day and sometimes, it disappears entirely! It definitely means business.
And it WILL destroy you.
I've been conducting some research in my free time (and all of my time is free so I definitely am a credible source of information, how could I not be?) and look, things are going to get real bad next week. And in the upcoming months. Japan was just the appetizer. The moon is only getting closer. I know you might say that the moon yesterday was farther away than it is on average, or that the earthquake occurred when the sun and moon were askew and thus when the tidal forces are actually relatively weak. Maybe you say "But Bekki, earthquakes are common in Japan, that's why the have strict building codes?"
But my evidence shows that the moon was hovering dangerously close to Earth in 2005 when THE SAME EXACT THING happened in Sumatra! How can that be a coincidence? Not convinced? Remember Katrina? Katrina was that hurricane that devastated New Orleans, a city built in the middle of a swamp, barely above sea level, on the Gulf of Mexico, a region of the U.S. known for hurricanes. But I ask you, what was the moon doing so close to Earth in 2005? What's it planning to do next week when it gets close again?
And it was here in 1992, did you know that? There was a flood in Chicago that year, and a huge earthquake in California and even some tornadoes in Kansas! Can you believe the nerve of the moon? Flooding Chicago in April (rainy season), hitting California with an earthquake (earthquakes never happen in California!) and slamming Kansas with tornadoes! (who could have seen that coming?)
And we all know that natural disasters never occur when the moon is just a regular-style moon, laying dorment in space. Haiti who?
As an world renowned expert in the field of Supermoons, I feel the need to give you a heads up. The supermoon can strike anyone, anywhere. If you live in low-lying areas, and it's the wet season (spring), it WILL attempt to drown you in flood waters. If you live in the midwest, be careful! There's a 100% chance there will be tornadoes chasing you down! And if you live in the coastal regions, be prepared for summer hurricanes. The moon WILL try to maybe, probably send a category 4 or 5 monster to tear apart your house, flatten your garden and steal you daughter's lunch money. At the very least, a weak tropical storm will rip a few leaves off your prized rosebush. BECAUSE OF THE MOON.
And if you don't live in one of these places and think "Gee, nothing bad happens where I live, everything is perfect and wonderful and there's butterflies and rainbows all day long," THINK AGAIN. The moon WILL find you and set you on fire. The moon can do that. I know, I'm a scientist.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Wanderlust vs. The American Dream
When I was in high school, I was constantly asked "Where are you going to college?"
When I was in my first year or two of college, I was constantly asked "What is your major?"
In my later half at college, I was constantly asked "What are you going to do with a degree in English?"
As I finished college, I was constantly asked "So where are you going to work?"
I understand that these are well-meaning questions. The intention is to ensure that I'm following some practical life path and making good decisions. The problem is, I don't believe these are good decisions for me.
As I interpret it, many people consider a practical life path to be one in which I make plenty of money, however much money that might be. In which I work a respectable, upper-middle class job in an office decorated with photos of friends, family and my kids' art. My hours are 9 to 5 or maybe 8 to 4. I come home to my nice house in the suburbs and make pot roast for dinner. I have 2.5 kids who play soccer and get straight As and Bs. I have a sweet golden retriever who we take on walks at the neighborhood dog park. On weekends, I go to Pottery Barn and buy nice things and invite my friends over for some BBQ. I'm moderately Republican but I usually keep my opinions to myself.
I don't really think there is anything wrong with this path. I am not belittling the people who follow and appreciate it. However, I think it's wrong to assume that this is the path to happiness for me. In fact, the thought of living this entirely wholesome and astounding normal life makes me feel a little uncomfortable, as if I have to break out of my skin and run away from the idea. This is not the life I imagined when I was 8 years old.
I'm not employed right now, therefore, my life now revolves around jobs. Probably more than yours does. And I don't like it at all. The importance of a "good" job has never been more obvious to me now that I can't pay off my student loans, now that I can't contribute to rent, now that I can't go shopping and buy new clothes and shoes so that I may be totally fashionable and cool.
But more importantly, the absence of a job, and my obsession over finding the "perfect" one, means that I am pushing my life in a direction that I don't want it to go. I am forgetting what is important to me. I feel like I am slowly selling out to the "American Dream," but this dream was never mine. And I'm not sure how I got here.
When I was younger, perhaps about 8 years old, I came across a few polaroids of the Nevada desert. I grew up in Western New York farm country, a rolling green valley (well, maybe not so green in February) studded with the scent of lilacs, apples and manure. The desert was as foreign to me as it got. I could not imagine a sky so blue or a landscape so red, so dry, so void of the scars of commercialization and suburbanization.
And I wanted nothing more than to experience that place.
As I grew older, the foreign world unfolded around by the way of food. I moved away from my little farm world in New York, full of pizza, subs and fast food chains, and found myself in Florida, a hot, humid, flat land with sugary-white beaches (at least on my portion of the state) and a marginally more diverse population. I had the chance to try new cuisines, a la Epcot at Disney World, and I still remember the first time I had sushi. From there on out, with the memory of that Nevada desert in mind, Trying New Things was my goal in life. Sushi, this (sometimes) raw fish dish (which, at the time, had not gained sweeping popularity in the US and therefore was still considered weird and unusual) turned out to be absolutely wonderful - what more "weird" stuff did the world have to offer?
Meanwhile, I began to travel more, to places other than beaches. I went to New Orleans and wanted to sob with joy over how the beignets exceeded my expectations. I went Chicago and shared a giant Russian dinner with my mother and sister. In Atlanta, Thai food melted my heart. In Washington DC, I was surprised by Ethiopian. I had Italian food in Italy and wandered an outdoor market in Switzerland - and then was peer-pressure by my group to go to McDonalds.
But it wasn't just the food. These places were new. Where the beauty of Western New York had numbed me, these places warmed me back up. The snow-capped mountains of Switzerland and Washington State were alien, and breathtaking, to me - the biggest "mountains" I'd ever seen were in Pennsylvania, and those are really just giant hills. There I stood, tiny, insignificant, in the shadow of these giants, who existed long before me and would remain long after my ashed were absorbed back into the Earth.
And then there was the desert in Washington State, not nearly as spectacular as the desert in the polaraid, but still just as lovely. I woke up early one morning from frigid, shivering sleep to to climb canyon walls before the sun had the chance to lift up over the horizon and, from there, watched the coyotes howl to the day to come.
These were lonely places where I could be myself. There were no signs of people, no office parks or shopping malls, no stop signs, no cell towers. Trees and sand and bird song, fresh air and more stars than you could ever count. I was no one and it was okay.
And yet, from all the exploring I've attempted to while I'm young and able, for all I've hoped to see, I have hardly seen a thing. All I can do is sit and surf through travel websites, flip through glossy magazines or whine at travel shows and nature documentaries. This is what I've become. For me, it's not a small world after all - the world is large and out of reach and I fear I will never experience it.
I don't need to be a super hero or a millionaire. I don't need a fancy house, a nice car, or the cushy desk job. I need to go places. I need to see it. I need to go to Cappadocia, to Arches National Park, I need to see Tokyo and Mount Fuji, the jungles of Cambodia. There is so much to China that I could spend years there and never feel satisfied. I must go to Peru and see the city in the clouds, I want to go to New Zealand and just soak it all in, and then hop on a plane to Iceland and watch the tectonic plates drift apart. I want to see Gaudi's magical buildings, to drive through America's Heartland and stop for a burger, and then escape it all in Patagonia.
I feel happiest when I'm not at home. No, scratch that. I am happy to be with the people I love. I love my family and friends and their company means the world to me. But I am most alive, most myself, and I don't feel lost, when I am not at home. I am not awkward or unsure. I feel comfortable. I feel like "This is exactly what I was meant to be doing at this moment, this is where I should be." I don't need a career-oriented title or have an impressive answer to "What do you do?" I see, I wander, I try new things. That is what I do.
I have never been certain about "what I want to do with my life." When people ask that question, they really mean "What job do you want?" I don't know what job I want. I truly don't. I am sorry that at 24 years old, I still don't have an answer. Please stop asking, I'm tired of lying or making stuff up.
It makes me sad to be trapped here in the city, in the suburbs, to know the world is out there, confined by my lack of money and obsession with following the perfect career path. It makes me sad that you never asked what makes me happy. You just made me feel bad that I didn't have the job, that I didn't study the right thing in school, that I don't have the money to buy the things "I need." I need to pay off my loans, I need to contribute to our living expenses and I need to save every other penny. That's it. I don't need an iPhone, I don't need the finest china, or designer jeans.
The world is bigger than who I am.
When I was in my first year or two of college, I was constantly asked "What is your major?"
In my later half at college, I was constantly asked "What are you going to do with a degree in English?"
As I finished college, I was constantly asked "So where are you going to work?"
I understand that these are well-meaning questions. The intention is to ensure that I'm following some practical life path and making good decisions. The problem is, I don't believe these are good decisions for me.
As I interpret it, many people consider a practical life path to be one in which I make plenty of money, however much money that might be. In which I work a respectable, upper-middle class job in an office decorated with photos of friends, family and my kids' art. My hours are 9 to 5 or maybe 8 to 4. I come home to my nice house in the suburbs and make pot roast for dinner. I have 2.5 kids who play soccer and get straight As and Bs. I have a sweet golden retriever who we take on walks at the neighborhood dog park. On weekends, I go to Pottery Barn and buy nice things and invite my friends over for some BBQ. I'm moderately Republican but I usually keep my opinions to myself.
I don't really think there is anything wrong with this path. I am not belittling the people who follow and appreciate it. However, I think it's wrong to assume that this is the path to happiness for me. In fact, the thought of living this entirely wholesome and astounding normal life makes me feel a little uncomfortable, as if I have to break out of my skin and run away from the idea. This is not the life I imagined when I was 8 years old.
I'm not employed right now, therefore, my life now revolves around jobs. Probably more than yours does. And I don't like it at all. The importance of a "good" job has never been more obvious to me now that I can't pay off my student loans, now that I can't contribute to rent, now that I can't go shopping and buy new clothes and shoes so that I may be totally fashionable and cool.
But more importantly, the absence of a job, and my obsession over finding the "perfect" one, means that I am pushing my life in a direction that I don't want it to go. I am forgetting what is important to me. I feel like I am slowly selling out to the "American Dream," but this dream was never mine. And I'm not sure how I got here.
When I was younger, perhaps about 8 years old, I came across a few polaroids of the Nevada desert. I grew up in Western New York farm country, a rolling green valley (well, maybe not so green in February) studded with the scent of lilacs, apples and manure. The desert was as foreign to me as it got. I could not imagine a sky so blue or a landscape so red, so dry, so void of the scars of commercialization and suburbanization.
And I wanted nothing more than to experience that place.
As I grew older, the foreign world unfolded around by the way of food. I moved away from my little farm world in New York, full of pizza, subs and fast food chains, and found myself in Florida, a hot, humid, flat land with sugary-white beaches (at least on my portion of the state) and a marginally more diverse population. I had the chance to try new cuisines, a la Epcot at Disney World, and I still remember the first time I had sushi. From there on out, with the memory of that Nevada desert in mind, Trying New Things was my goal in life. Sushi, this (sometimes) raw fish dish (which, at the time, had not gained sweeping popularity in the US and therefore was still considered weird and unusual) turned out to be absolutely wonderful - what more "weird" stuff did the world have to offer?
Meanwhile, I began to travel more, to places other than beaches. I went to New Orleans and wanted to sob with joy over how the beignets exceeded my expectations. I went Chicago and shared a giant Russian dinner with my mother and sister. In Atlanta, Thai food melted my heart. In Washington DC, I was surprised by Ethiopian. I had Italian food in Italy and wandered an outdoor market in Switzerland - and then was peer-pressure by my group to go to McDonalds.
But it wasn't just the food. These places were new. Where the beauty of Western New York had numbed me, these places warmed me back up. The snow-capped mountains of Switzerland and Washington State were alien, and breathtaking, to me - the biggest "mountains" I'd ever seen were in Pennsylvania, and those are really just giant hills. There I stood, tiny, insignificant, in the shadow of these giants, who existed long before me and would remain long after my ashed were absorbed back into the Earth.
And then there was the desert in Washington State, not nearly as spectacular as the desert in the polaraid, but still just as lovely. I woke up early one morning from frigid, shivering sleep to to climb canyon walls before the sun had the chance to lift up over the horizon and, from there, watched the coyotes howl to the day to come.
These were lonely places where I could be myself. There were no signs of people, no office parks or shopping malls, no stop signs, no cell towers. Trees and sand and bird song, fresh air and more stars than you could ever count. I was no one and it was okay.
And yet, from all the exploring I've attempted to while I'm young and able, for all I've hoped to see, I have hardly seen a thing. All I can do is sit and surf through travel websites, flip through glossy magazines or whine at travel shows and nature documentaries. This is what I've become. For me, it's not a small world after all - the world is large and out of reach and I fear I will never experience it.
I don't need to be a super hero or a millionaire. I don't need a fancy house, a nice car, or the cushy desk job. I need to go places. I need to see it. I need to go to Cappadocia, to Arches National Park, I need to see Tokyo and Mount Fuji, the jungles of Cambodia. There is so much to China that I could spend years there and never feel satisfied. I must go to Peru and see the city in the clouds, I want to go to New Zealand and just soak it all in, and then hop on a plane to Iceland and watch the tectonic plates drift apart. I want to see Gaudi's magical buildings, to drive through America's Heartland and stop for a burger, and then escape it all in Patagonia.
I feel happiest when I'm not at home. No, scratch that. I am happy to be with the people I love. I love my family and friends and their company means the world to me. But I am most alive, most myself, and I don't feel lost, when I am not at home. I am not awkward or unsure. I feel comfortable. I feel like "This is exactly what I was meant to be doing at this moment, this is where I should be." I don't need a career-oriented title or have an impressive answer to "What do you do?" I see, I wander, I try new things. That is what I do.
I have never been certain about "what I want to do with my life." When people ask that question, they really mean "What job do you want?" I don't know what job I want. I truly don't. I am sorry that at 24 years old, I still don't have an answer. Please stop asking, I'm tired of lying or making stuff up.
It makes me sad to be trapped here in the city, in the suburbs, to know the world is out there, confined by my lack of money and obsession with following the perfect career path. It makes me sad that you never asked what makes me happy. You just made me feel bad that I didn't have the job, that I didn't study the right thing in school, that I don't have the money to buy the things "I need." I need to pay off my loans, I need to contribute to our living expenses and I need to save every other penny. That's it. I don't need an iPhone, I don't need the finest china, or designer jeans.
The world is bigger than who I am.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
I went to college and I studied English. Many people postulated that this was a dumb move on my part. I will neither agree (you're right, if I had studied, say, nursing or engineering, there is a good chance I would have a job right now and I would not be writing this) nor disagree (I truly enjoyed my time in college and loved what I did, which is the advice I heard most touted before I entered college - do what you love).
You see, I spent several years reading beautifully written novels, short stories and essays. I also spent this time writing myself and having every tiny detail scrutinized and criticized by my professors and my peers, as if the ability to write well could be beaten into a person. After years of studying words and perfecting my own writing, I have a low tolerance for seeing the English language abused. This is particularly a problem thanks to the internet and my increased exposure to your weak grasp on how words work. I think most of you have a Facebook account. Or use texting as a substitute for real conversation. Well, there seems to be a theme to this technology-based form of communication: many of you actually don't seem to understand English, including the natives speakers who were born and bred in the good ole U S of A.
This isn't going to be an angry rant about the difference between you're and your or their, they're and there because you've heard it all before and you still don't seem to get it (clue: they mean different thing and are not interchangeable based on your mood). Instead, I would like to make an effort to correct some of the bad habits you have with a few words. It's beginning to get a little out of control and I worry that these words are beyond saving. But seeing as I fancy myself a superhero of the grammatical variety, allow me to attempt to rescue them.
"Literally" is literally abused on a daily basis. In fact, The Oatmeal devoted a comic to this baffling malapropism so if you'd rather look at pretty pictures, then mosey on over there. If not, keep reading. Or don't.
"Literally" doesn't mean "figuratively." "Figuratively" is the word you're usually looking for and now that I've introduced it to your malformed vocabulary, I implore you to experiment with it. "Figuratively" is a metaphor, it's symbolic, it represents something but is not actually what is true.
"Literally" is literal. If you don't know what "literal" means then there's no hope for you and just go. You're dismissed. If you do know what "literal" means, then I've made it simple for you. "Literally" is just a few letters longer than "literal" (wow, gee! Maybe that's where the word "literally" comes from!) which you can now apply to your every day life. If you're about to say "I was so hungry that I literally went out and bought 16 meatball subs," STOP! Were those 16 meatball subs literal? Did they exist? Or did you only eat 1 meatball sub and you just decided to use those other 15 meatball subs to represent how hungry you were? What's that? You only ate one? Then you actually were figuratively so hungry that you went out to eat 1 meatball sub and then told your friends some tedious anecdote about 15 nonexistent meatball subs.
Unfortunately, "literally" doesn't have it as bad as another word that has been kidnapped and brutally assaulted by pop culture. Does this sentence sound remotely familiar to you: "I literally just saw the most random thing at the frat party!" Actually, I'm pretty sure you did not. The word you meant to use was "weird" but you've somehow decided that misusing the word "random" makes you sound more intelligent.
Here's an experiment: go and get a coin. Don't have one because you're broke like me? Then just imagine it. You do have an imagination, right? Okay, I want you to write down, 16 times, whether you think the coin will land on heads or tails. Go on, it's not a trick. Once you're done with that, I want you to drop the (figurative or literal) coin 16 times. How accurate were you? You weren't 100% spot on, though, were you? That's because which side the coin is going to land on is random. It cannot be predicted with absolute certainty
It, whatever it is, cannot be predicted, foreseen or guessed through previous patterns. Now imagine you're at that party. Some guy just took off his pants, started making helicopter noises and declared that the kitchen was infested with gnomes and that Mulder and Scully were being brought in to deal with them. This can be predicted, foreseen, or guessed. He's drunk. Drunk people are stupid people. He's being stupid, not random, and you could have guessed that he was going to degenerate into a raging moron when he told you that his favorite sport was "Beer Pong." This is why I don't like to drink or go to parties or bars or hang around with people who think beer is the answer to everything - because I can predict that something like this is going to happen. There is no reason to get out your phone and start texting everyone you know about the totally random thing you just saw, largely because no one actually cares.
In addition, please don't describe yourself, or someone else, as random. "Random" is not a personality trait. You are outgoing or belligerent or hungry for meatball subs but you are not random.
As a slave to the English language, I don't think any other word makes me want to punch you in the face more than hearing you say "ironic." It's so bad that I don't think I'm going to touch that one. In fact, I almost didn't include it because I realized that I could not convey the true meaning of irony to you because you've mangled it beyond all recognition. I'm just going to tell you this: you're using it wrong. Stop using it. If you're about to say that something is ironic, close your mouth. Count to three. Then use the word you were probably looking for: coincidental. "Ironic" does not mean "coincidental." Alanis Morissette ruined it for you.
And just because this makes my brain disintegrate into a pile of dog food, it's not "I didn't give that delicious plate of macaroni and cheese to nobody/no one." "Anybody/anyone," those are the words that you're looking for. "I didn't give that delicious plate of macaroni and cheese to anyone. I kept it to myself and shared it with no one." "Didn't" is already negative, the "no" is redundant. There's a phrase for that: a double negative.
Now excuse me. I have to settle a dispute between Who and Whom.
You see, I spent several years reading beautifully written novels, short stories and essays. I also spent this time writing myself and having every tiny detail scrutinized and criticized by my professors and my peers, as if the ability to write well could be beaten into a person. After years of studying words and perfecting my own writing, I have a low tolerance for seeing the English language abused. This is particularly a problem thanks to the internet and my increased exposure to your weak grasp on how words work. I think most of you have a Facebook account. Or use texting as a substitute for real conversation. Well, there seems to be a theme to this technology-based form of communication: many of you actually don't seem to understand English, including the natives speakers who were born and bred in the good ole U S of A.
This isn't going to be an angry rant about the difference between you're and your or their, they're and there because you've heard it all before and you still don't seem to get it (clue: they mean different thing and are not interchangeable based on your mood). Instead, I would like to make an effort to correct some of the bad habits you have with a few words. It's beginning to get a little out of control and I worry that these words are beyond saving. But seeing as I fancy myself a superhero of the grammatical variety, allow me to attempt to rescue them.
"Literally" is literally abused on a daily basis. In fact, The Oatmeal devoted a comic to this baffling malapropism so if you'd rather look at pretty pictures, then mosey on over there. If not, keep reading. Or don't.
"Literally" doesn't mean "figuratively." "Figuratively" is the word you're usually looking for and now that I've introduced it to your malformed vocabulary, I implore you to experiment with it. "Figuratively" is a metaphor, it's symbolic, it represents something but is not actually what is true.
"Literally" is literal. If you don't know what "literal" means then there's no hope for you and just go. You're dismissed. If you do know what "literal" means, then I've made it simple for you. "Literally" is just a few letters longer than "literal" (wow, gee! Maybe that's where the word "literally" comes from!) which you can now apply to your every day life. If you're about to say "I was so hungry that I literally went out and bought 16 meatball subs," STOP! Were those 16 meatball subs literal? Did they exist? Or did you only eat 1 meatball sub and you just decided to use those other 15 meatball subs to represent how hungry you were? What's that? You only ate one? Then you actually were figuratively so hungry that you went out to eat 1 meatball sub and then told your friends some tedious anecdote about 15 nonexistent meatball subs.
Unfortunately, "literally" doesn't have it as bad as another word that has been kidnapped and brutally assaulted by pop culture. Does this sentence sound remotely familiar to you: "I literally just saw the most random thing at the frat party!" Actually, I'm pretty sure you did not. The word you meant to use was "weird" but you've somehow decided that misusing the word "random" makes you sound more intelligent.
Here's an experiment: go and get a coin. Don't have one because you're broke like me? Then just imagine it. You do have an imagination, right? Okay, I want you to write down, 16 times, whether you think the coin will land on heads or tails. Go on, it's not a trick. Once you're done with that, I want you to drop the (figurative or literal) coin 16 times. How accurate were you? You weren't 100% spot on, though, were you? That's because which side the coin is going to land on is random. It cannot be predicted with absolute certainty
It, whatever it is, cannot be predicted, foreseen or guessed through previous patterns. Now imagine you're at that party. Some guy just took off his pants, started making helicopter noises and declared that the kitchen was infested with gnomes and that Mulder and Scully were being brought in to deal with them. This can be predicted, foreseen, or guessed. He's drunk. Drunk people are stupid people. He's being stupid, not random, and you could have guessed that he was going to degenerate into a raging moron when he told you that his favorite sport was "Beer Pong." This is why I don't like to drink or go to parties or bars or hang around with people who think beer is the answer to everything - because I can predict that something like this is going to happen. There is no reason to get out your phone and start texting everyone you know about the totally random thing you just saw, largely because no one actually cares.
In addition, please don't describe yourself, or someone else, as random. "Random" is not a personality trait. You are outgoing or belligerent or hungry for meatball subs but you are not random.
As a slave to the English language, I don't think any other word makes me want to punch you in the face more than hearing you say "ironic." It's so bad that I don't think I'm going to touch that one. In fact, I almost didn't include it because I realized that I could not convey the true meaning of irony to you because you've mangled it beyond all recognition. I'm just going to tell you this: you're using it wrong. Stop using it. If you're about to say that something is ironic, close your mouth. Count to three. Then use the word you were probably looking for: coincidental. "Ironic" does not mean "coincidental." Alanis Morissette ruined it for you.
And just because this makes my brain disintegrate into a pile of dog food, it's not "I didn't give that delicious plate of macaroni and cheese to nobody/no one." "Anybody/anyone," those are the words that you're looking for. "I didn't give that delicious plate of macaroni and cheese to anyone. I kept it to myself and shared it with no one." "Didn't" is already negative, the "no" is redundant. There's a phrase for that: a double negative.
Now excuse me. I have to settle a dispute between Who and Whom.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
I Think, Therefore I Don't Drive
It was suggested to me by no less than 10 people that I ought to start my own blog. Since I'm such a giving person, I decided to throw those people a bone. Here it is!
In return, I would like you to throw me a bone: stop bringing up the fact that I don't drive.
I have observed the way people discuss (with me) my lack of a driver's license and you would think, given their level of concern, that I told them that I abstain from drinking water and that breathing is something I don't really take seriously. That driving is a vital aspect of Life and that I am somehow living incompletely or perhaps even dangerously.
You know what's dangerous? Driving. Other drivers. My disturbing lack of coordination.
Driving is dangerous. I can't fathom the type of behavior I've seen on the road. Why people talk on a cellphone or text while driving is beyond me. Nothing you're saying is that important, trust me.
I can't control what other drivers do and I don't like that. Even if I am a perfectly adequate driver, (all my experience driving has suggested that I am) it is safe to assume many people are not. I have observed that this is case. They are not careful, not aware of their surroundings and usually swing from being too passive to too aggressive. They're simply unpredictable.
Even if you argue that major accidents don't happen that often, (ETA: and that the road is dangerous for all people, including passengers and those on buses and pedestrians and so on) accidents often happen to me. I'm a klutz. I walk into walls on a regular basis. I have tripped in public far too many times to count. There are always at least three bruises somewhere on my person, and several cuts to compliment those bruises. My hand-eye coordination barely exists (which is why I never played sports and instead focused on the arts while in school).
Furthermore, while I have wonderful reflexes, my reflexes generally have me cowering the moment anything potentially life threatening occurs. This is good if I'm caught in a gunfight, which I routinely am, because my reaction would be to duck and cover. But that would also be my reaction in a car, if another car was about to run into me head on. This is not an exaggeration. This is not an excuse. It is the truth. I would scream like a little girl and cover my eyes. Fact.
Most of the arguments I've heard for driving are baffling. I have no need for a car, as I live in a large city with a great public transit system. So that argument is out the window. The one I get the most, however, really blows me away: "Cars let you be more independent."
What.
Independent? Independent from what? Mommy and daddy? I don't live at home, irrelevant.
Independent from relying on other people to get you somewhere? I love taking the bus or metro, irrelevant.
Or maybe this mean that with a car, you can go anywhere you want at anytime. Well... irrelevant! It costs money to go anywhere. You're not free from the financial burden of driving, which is how I see it. I would not be going anywhere unless I had the money to back it up or unless it was absolutely necessary that I go to that place. And if it's necessary to go to that place, (say, to go to the grocery store so that you can eat so that you don't starve so that you don't die) you're not going "anywhere you want at anytime," you're going where you're required to be at the time you're required to be there (after all, stores aren't always open all time time). That's not freedom, that's an obligation.
I feel independent by not driving. I have not given in to this social norm that forces me to be a slave to my driving. In order to get somewhere, I have to rely on my legs or ability to ride a bike (you may think that riding a bike is easy but I assure you, for a klutz, it is not. I once fell off my bike and broke my arm). Or my ability to read a bus/train timetable.
Which brings me to my next point: there's a hefty price tag associated with driving. Driving is expensive. Me getting a license is an empty gesture because I wouldn't be driving. Know why? Even if I had a job, I'm not going to pay for a car. For auto insurance. For gas. For maintenance. If I had money, I would have more important things to spend it on, like food and contributing to rent and paying off loans and buying presents for my cat. A car, and its associated costs, are at the bottom of the list. There is nothing lower on my list than "a car." I would buy a steam shovel before I bought a car. So that I could dig a pool. A pool that I could relax in during the time I spend not stuck in traffic and buy pool toys for with the money I didn't spend on gas.
I also simply find it rude and inconsiderate. I cannot tell you how many nightmares I've had about driving in my life. In these dreams, I just can't drive. I drive too fast, can't brake in time, run red lights, mow down pedestrians and cute little kittens, somehow drive off bridges because it was, for some reason, impossible for me to stay between the lines, etc etc. I have had these dreams since I was about 13. Excuse me for having a panic attack when I'm behind the wheel. So sorry if I offended you with my totally legitimate fear. I realize that maybe my inability to conform scares you but that's your problem, not mine.
What's wrong with me waiting until I decide that driving is inevitable? I never said never. I'm not ready to drive now and, once again, have no need for a car - I have my legs, a bike, the bus and the metro. I made the responsible decision that I am currently incapable of driving and that driving would be an unnecessary strain on my already tight budget. This is very mature of me, I feel, and you should not attempt to take that away from me. Shame on you.
In return, I would like you to throw me a bone: stop bringing up the fact that I don't drive.
I have observed the way people discuss (with me) my lack of a driver's license and you would think, given their level of concern, that I told them that I abstain from drinking water and that breathing is something I don't really take seriously. That driving is a vital aspect of Life and that I am somehow living incompletely or perhaps even dangerously.
You know what's dangerous? Driving. Other drivers. My disturbing lack of coordination.
Driving is dangerous. I can't fathom the type of behavior I've seen on the road. Why people talk on a cellphone or text while driving is beyond me. Nothing you're saying is that important, trust me.
I can't control what other drivers do and I don't like that. Even if I am a perfectly adequate driver, (all my experience driving has suggested that I am) it is safe to assume many people are not. I have observed that this is case. They are not careful, not aware of their surroundings and usually swing from being too passive to too aggressive. They're simply unpredictable.
Even if you argue that major accidents don't happen that often, (ETA: and that the road is dangerous for all people, including passengers and those on buses and pedestrians and so on) accidents often happen to me. I'm a klutz. I walk into walls on a regular basis. I have tripped in public far too many times to count. There are always at least three bruises somewhere on my person, and several cuts to compliment those bruises. My hand-eye coordination barely exists (which is why I never played sports and instead focused on the arts while in school).
Furthermore, while I have wonderful reflexes, my reflexes generally have me cowering the moment anything potentially life threatening occurs. This is good if I'm caught in a gunfight, which I routinely am, because my reaction would be to duck and cover. But that would also be my reaction in a car, if another car was about to run into me head on. This is not an exaggeration. This is not an excuse. It is the truth. I would scream like a little girl and cover my eyes. Fact.
Most of the arguments I've heard for driving are baffling. I have no need for a car, as I live in a large city with a great public transit system. So that argument is out the window. The one I get the most, however, really blows me away: "Cars let you be more independent."
What.
Independent? Independent from what? Mommy and daddy? I don't live at home, irrelevant.
Independent from relying on other people to get you somewhere? I love taking the bus or metro, irrelevant.
Or maybe this mean that with a car, you can go anywhere you want at anytime. Well... irrelevant! It costs money to go anywhere. You're not free from the financial burden of driving, which is how I see it. I would not be going anywhere unless I had the money to back it up or unless it was absolutely necessary that I go to that place. And if it's necessary to go to that place, (say, to go to the grocery store so that you can eat so that you don't starve so that you don't die) you're not going "anywhere you want at anytime," you're going where you're required to be at the time you're required to be there (after all, stores aren't always open all time time). That's not freedom, that's an obligation.
I feel independent by not driving. I have not given in to this social norm that forces me to be a slave to my driving. In order to get somewhere, I have to rely on my legs or ability to ride a bike (you may think that riding a bike is easy but I assure you, for a klutz, it is not. I once fell off my bike and broke my arm). Or my ability to read a bus/train timetable.
Which brings me to my next point: there's a hefty price tag associated with driving. Driving is expensive. Me getting a license is an empty gesture because I wouldn't be driving. Know why? Even if I had a job, I'm not going to pay for a car. For auto insurance. For gas. For maintenance. If I had money, I would have more important things to spend it on, like food and contributing to rent and paying off loans and buying presents for my cat. A car, and its associated costs, are at the bottom of the list. There is nothing lower on my list than "a car." I would buy a steam shovel before I bought a car. So that I could dig a pool. A pool that I could relax in during the time I spend not stuck in traffic and buy pool toys for with the money I didn't spend on gas.
I also simply find it rude and inconsiderate. I cannot tell you how many nightmares I've had about driving in my life. In these dreams, I just can't drive. I drive too fast, can't brake in time, run red lights, mow down pedestrians and cute little kittens, somehow drive off bridges because it was, for some reason, impossible for me to stay between the lines, etc etc. I have had these dreams since I was about 13. Excuse me for having a panic attack when I'm behind the wheel. So sorry if I offended you with my totally legitimate fear. I realize that maybe my inability to conform scares you but that's your problem, not mine.
What's wrong with me waiting until I decide that driving is inevitable? I never said never. I'm not ready to drive now and, once again, have no need for a car - I have my legs, a bike, the bus and the metro. I made the responsible decision that I am currently incapable of driving and that driving would be an unnecessary strain on my already tight budget. This is very mature of me, I feel, and you should not attempt to take that away from me. Shame on you.
In Defense of Valentine's Day
Okay, I have a boyfriend so you all you single people out there will probably claim that I have zero credibility. But let me let you in on a little secret: I've been single on Valentine's Day before. Would you care to know my track record for not being single on Valentine's Day? This will be my THIRD Valentine's Day in which my Facebook status will let all the world know that I'm "In A Relationship." Third. I'm 24 years old. So trust me, I know how much it can suck being "alone" on Valentine's Day. I've got 21 years of being "alone" to back up my credibility on this topic.
But here's the thing: I was never alone. I had friends and family who loved me. LOVED ME. Imagine that! People who loved me on Valentine's Day, which is what the holiday is allegedly about. Imagine that! So unless you're not only single, but also the Most Hated Person In the World, you're not unloved and lonely on Valentine's Day. You're just too hung up on the idea of dating to let yourself see that. You're the one who decided that getting a Valentine's card from your best friend "just wasn't the same." You're the one that wished that the little teddy bear your mom or dad gave you was from your super cute crush. And you're the one who failed to consider that you're not the only single person out there. Lots of people don't have a Valentines. Lots of people did not cave in to the Hallmark Agenda.
And then there's the people who claim that Valentine's Day is the ultimate display of capitalist greed, that it only exists as a means for Hallmark and the flower companies to make a few extra bucks.
Ok.
But what about diamond engagement rings? As the Wedding/Diamond Ring Industry (does such a thing exist?) would have me believe, the diamond ring is a very traditional aspect of courting. Every little girl grew up dreaming of the day her soul-mate would get down on one knee and offer her a diamond engagement ring in exchange for her hand in marriage, because diamonds are forever, just like your relationship. It's so romantic! It's so sweet!
It's... well, bullshit! In the 1940s, when people were of the opinion that eating was more important than diamonds, DeBeers realized that they needed to convince them otherwise. The campaign to bling out every bride-to-be was launched by using Hollywood actresses to wear diamond rings in public. Then fashion writers were bribed to write about this "trend," thus generating public interest. All of this was capped off when the aforementioned slogan "A Diamond Is Forever" was used to suggest to men that if they just gave up a few months worth of salary, their love would be eternal.
Sound like a certain holiday to you? No, wait, that sounds like every holiday to me. Every holiday is a capitalist scheme to make money. Give me a holiday where you don't see endless advertisements for sales, give me a holiday where you aren't convinced to buy even just a little something to celebrate. Even Martin Luther King Jr has been exploited. Go on, Google "Martin Luther King Sales." Sounds like someone is trying to make a buck or two off of a Nobel Peace Prize winner. Go figure.
Instead of bitching and moaning about what a horrible holiday it is, why not celebrate it in your own way? Why not celebrate love in its many forms? I'm not Christian and yet I still celebrate Christmas. There's nothing stopping you, except perhaps your lack of imagination.
Or why not just ignore it? Why acknowledge it if you hate it so much? Why do you waste your energy, what are you trying to prove? I hate modern pop music, so I avoid listening to the radio. When I was single, instead of feeling resentful of everyone and everything (or just angry while I saw other girls get flowers and chocolate while I just got homework) I just, well, didn't care. Honestly. So what if that girl gets flowers? Millions of girls are getting flowers. And millions of girls aren't getting flowers. Neither you nor the girl receiving the flowers are special or unique in any way whatsoever.
Valentine's Day is not an attack on single people. It is an effort for Hallmark and the flower companies (and the chocolate companies, and the Teddy Bear makers, and so on and so forth) to make more money, I'll give you that. But everything is bastardized at this point in order to milk it for all it's worth. Valentine's Day is no different from Christmas, Halloween or Mother's Day.
But you love getting presents, getting free candy and your mom so those holidays are totally legitimate, right?
But here's the thing: I was never alone. I had friends and family who loved me. LOVED ME. Imagine that! People who loved me on Valentine's Day, which is what the holiday is allegedly about. Imagine that! So unless you're not only single, but also the Most Hated Person In the World, you're not unloved and lonely on Valentine's Day. You're just too hung up on the idea of dating to let yourself see that. You're the one who decided that getting a Valentine's card from your best friend "just wasn't the same." You're the one that wished that the little teddy bear your mom or dad gave you was from your super cute crush. And you're the one who failed to consider that you're not the only single person out there. Lots of people don't have a Valentines. Lots of people did not cave in to the Hallmark Agenda.
And then there's the people who claim that Valentine's Day is the ultimate display of capitalist greed, that it only exists as a means for Hallmark and the flower companies to make a few extra bucks.
Ok.
But what about diamond engagement rings? As the Wedding/Diamond Ring Industry (does such a thing exist?) would have me believe, the diamond ring is a very traditional aspect of courting. Every little girl grew up dreaming of the day her soul-mate would get down on one knee and offer her a diamond engagement ring in exchange for her hand in marriage, because diamonds are forever, just like your relationship. It's so romantic! It's so sweet!
It's... well, bullshit! In the 1940s, when people were of the opinion that eating was more important than diamonds, DeBeers realized that they needed to convince them otherwise. The campaign to bling out every bride-to-be was launched by using Hollywood actresses to wear diamond rings in public. Then fashion writers were bribed to write about this "trend," thus generating public interest. All of this was capped off when the aforementioned slogan "A Diamond Is Forever" was used to suggest to men that if they just gave up a few months worth of salary, their love would be eternal.
Sound like a certain holiday to you? No, wait, that sounds like every holiday to me. Every holiday is a capitalist scheme to make money. Give me a holiday where you don't see endless advertisements for sales, give me a holiday where you aren't convinced to buy even just a little something to celebrate. Even Martin Luther King Jr has been exploited. Go on, Google "Martin Luther King Sales." Sounds like someone is trying to make a buck or two off of a Nobel Peace Prize winner. Go figure.
Instead of bitching and moaning about what a horrible holiday it is, why not celebrate it in your own way? Why not celebrate love in its many forms? I'm not Christian and yet I still celebrate Christmas. There's nothing stopping you, except perhaps your lack of imagination.
Or why not just ignore it? Why acknowledge it if you hate it so much? Why do you waste your energy, what are you trying to prove? I hate modern pop music, so I avoid listening to the radio. When I was single, instead of feeling resentful of everyone and everything (or just angry while I saw other girls get flowers and chocolate while I just got homework) I just, well, didn't care. Honestly. So what if that girl gets flowers? Millions of girls are getting flowers. And millions of girls aren't getting flowers. Neither you nor the girl receiving the flowers are special or unique in any way whatsoever.
Valentine's Day is not an attack on single people. It is an effort for Hallmark and the flower companies (and the chocolate companies, and the Teddy Bear makers, and so on and so forth) to make more money, I'll give you that. But everything is bastardized at this point in order to milk it for all it's worth. Valentine's Day is no different from Christmas, Halloween or Mother's Day.
But you love getting presents, getting free candy and your mom so those holidays are totally legitimate, right?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)