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Showing posts with label change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label change. Show all posts

Monday, April 4, 2011

Original Ideas: No Vacancy

College is dead.

This revelation came to me just this evening during a talk with my writing professor. We were discussing an essay I had written about how and why capitalism and the media had become the principle driving forces behind sports, and how they’ve changed sports. One of the parts of it that I loved the most was a piece about current Orlando Magic point guard Gilbert Arenas that illustrated a key point of my argument, that athletes have been so remarkably changed by money and media time.

For those who don’t know about Mr. Arenas allow me to enlighten you. He is probably the strangest man in the NBA today. He plays poker on a computer part-time. He once traded a pair of shoes for 50,000 All-Star game votes that he cast for himself over a one month time period. Arenas made a free throw ritual just so little kids would copy it. And he owns a hyperbolic tent, a contraption that simulates high altitude oxygen levels by sucking the oxygen out of the air. All of this is strange because Arenas chooses to share it in a world were NBA stars are not supposed to be strange or remotely controversial.

The reason I bring this up is that my professor had issues with me bringing it into my argument because it was subjective and thus not arguable. At the same time, I’m supposed to come up with an original argument that hasn’t been seen before. On one hand I’m forced to conform to what has already been argued, keeping in line with what has already been said while being tugged by forces that say, “NO. You have to keep it original,” by coming up with something of your own. This is a no win situation, but more importantly it’s the reason why college is dead.

No one wants you to come up with your own ideas. Yes, you’ll hear stories about how some undergrad student testified before Congress for migrant workers’ rights or something similar, but colleges really can’t take credit for it. Colleges will say that innovation by their students is one of the most important things they want to accomplish, but colleges don’t structure themselves to foster independent thinking since learning in college is so much like high school. The teacher tells you facts, you commit them to memory, you regurgitate them onto a piece of paper, you get good grades, and the school gets funding. This is a cycle of bullshit that I thought would end in college. This is not the case. The first test I ever took in my first year of college was multiple choice, the ultimate embodiment of remember-and-repeat schooling. The vast majority of learning is rigidly structured. There’s no imagination when it comes to schooling like this, no chance for the mind to grow outside of the box that your curriculum sets for you.

Should I be that surprised though? After all, colleges are institutions with bureaucracies, red tape, and everything else that comes with being a monolith of American society. College has become a process, a business that over time has become set in its ways and patterns. The only place where the truly free and independent college student exists is in the naïve fantasy of high school seniors leaving for college, fresh-faced and bright-eyed.

So yeah. College is dead.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Music Review: "Vices & Virtues" by Panic at the Disco


I like Panic at the Disco. I wouldn't consider myself a fanatic, but I've enjoyed them ever since I heard the demo for "Time to Dance" on PureVolume way back when. When Pretty. Odd. came out, I was impressed at how well they handled the huge shift they had undergone stylistically due to the departure of two of their members, and I wondered where they would go from there. Which brings us to this album.

Vices and Virtues isn't really a bad album, exactly. I'm sure there are plenty of PATD fans who think its the greatest thing since sliced bread, which I would never agree with (sliced bread is fucking AWESOME), and they're entitled to think so. But as I listened to the album, I could see what they were trying to do, and, to be honest, I don't think they achieved their goal. The album itself is kind of a fusion of A Fever You Can't Sweat Out's techno-rock sound and the accessible pop melodies of Pretty. Odd., and I can understand why they would want to try and reconcile the two vastly different aspects of their career into a single, cohesive sound.

However, the end result just ends up being too stale and bland for me to enjoy. It lacks the bombastic brassy show-tune-esque nature of Pretty. Odd. as well as the cuttingly sharp and clever lyricism of A Fever You Can't Sweat Out, leaving me with something of a generic pop-rock album. All in all, not bad, but I can't say that I thought it was good, as far as PATD is concerned.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes...

I... don't even know where to begin in my mind. You know that feeling you get when you're standing on the edge of some ridiculously huge precipice and you look down and you don't really get dizzy (so I don't know if it's the same as vertigo) but you get this awful twitch in the back of your mind that, for some reason or another, you're legs are going to jump your ass off the edge, even if your mind doesn't want to?

Well, that's how things are for me. Have been. For quite a while now.

Thankfully, it hasn't all been awful... Oh, wait, yes it has. HOWEVER, I've managed to not only:

A) actually grown in my faith, but I've also B) grow as a person more than I have ever thought possible, at the expense of my happiness and ability to function in normal society. Considering the way my parents raised me, anyone who knew my family would assume I was a good, upstanding person living a moral and positive life.

Not so. I'm not a model citizen, and I'm not the ideal standard of virtue for people. I'm pretty much the opposite of that. Normally, this is the point where I would deride myself, call myself awful things and hate myself with a burning intensity rivaling that of the sun. But I don't anymore. I accept what I am, and I've learned to deal with it in a constructive matter. So many things that I've done were completely terrible and I had absolutely no idea at the time of how destructive my behavior was, not only to myself but to others as well.

One of the biggest problems I've had was jealousy. I was insecure about myself, and found every other guy imaginable threatening. Looking back, it was the stupidest, saddest display of cowardice and insecurity that I've ever seen. As a result, it ended (with other complications) in the eventual undoing of my relationship. I accept all the blame, and I've been able to overcome it. Now I know how to feel, and how to act properly if I'm ever in another relationship (this is one of the biggest if's in the entire universe).

I don't regret being in that relationship. I feel bad for the pain I caused, both to her and girls in the past, and I can't say I enjoyed the way things had to end, but I've learned that to regret something or to wish something never was is like saying you wish you had never experienced something good. The good and the bad in life are inseparable. And the amount of good I received from those experiences is extraordinary. 

I wish nothing but the best for them, with no ill will and only the request for forgiveness for the way I've acted. If any of them read this, all I have to say is: thank you, for the beauty and joy you showed me in our time together. I will treasure the memories forever, and carry you in my heart.

I'm not making any claims to achieving some kind of saintly status or anything. I'm still a pretty shitty person, and I have a long way to go before I'll ever call myself "good." But sometimes, you have to look at the distance traveled, rather than your current place in life.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Growing Up.

Milk.

So it's a really nice day today, and after having some spectacular dreams I'm in a kind of strange mood. You know, the one where you don't want to do anything and because you're not in school you don't have to? Yeah, hell yeah.

It's now 2:00 in the afternoon. Time for some breakfast.

Unfortunately today I find that I am out of milk, and not only is milk probably the most important thing in my fridge aside of the whiskey. Which unfortunately, I can't eat a bowl of cereal with whiskey. Well... actually I probably could but afterwards I would then be very drunk and my cereal would not have been fulfilling (because whiskey flavored cereal doesn't sound so good to me). Anyway so it's a beautiful day and I'm just pumped as hell to walk to the gas station to get my damn milk. So I get strapped up and start walking.

(Now it's important to remember that there is a point to all this.)

What I did not realize about this beautiful day is that is was in fact:

WINDY

AS

A

MOTHERFUCKER.

It was when I was walking to the gas station that I decided to hum a Lightspeed song in my head, until I started thinking about this commercial about some credit card or something. Either way it was interesting because this woman talking about some sort of future credit card apocalypse was a stunt man. Or stunt "woman" I should say. To this, I realized, Damn. This chick has got to have big hairy balls. Kind of depressing, this thought. Because now I don't feel like so much of a man myself because this girl is running around on fire! (Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.)

So now I'm at the gas station and I got the milk. I only have 4 dollars. This milk is $3.48. Now, I haven't been an adult that long, so even though I've known how to do the dishes, vacuum, and the laundry, I still forget how to do things like math, bank stuff, basically just math, and that food doesn't get taxed. Like milk. So even though the whole time I was thinking it's okay because tax is 7 cents a dollar and so I would be fine, but still freaking out, it turned out I had to pay $3.48. That's 52 cents in my pocket. (Also just a side note: they have this new thing at gas stations (apart from televisions at the pump) that essentially is a small bowl that all of your change rolls out into for you to grab. So people now don't have to hand you change back. America just got lazier.)

Okay I think that whole change thing was the point but one more thing I need to mention. As I was walking home with my gallon of milk and I saw a couple walking towards me from Quizno's Sub, and I raised my hand for a wave, and said, "Good aft- mor-" As I stopped trying to think of which one I should say, I realized...

What time was it???

So remember kids, you can pay for milk in exact change and check the time twice when you get up. Then check the time again.