Why Everyone was Wrong

Growing up I was told by adults "Dress for the job you want, not the job you have."

That's a crock, because if that were true, I would dress like this everyday:

In the words of Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride "Lemme esplain... no there is too much, lemme sum up."

I am wearing a space helmet, because my job would be to fly in outer space and fight bad guys on space stations. I know they didn't wear helmets like that in Star Wars, but that helmet is awesome. Just look at it.

Also, I am wearing a tuxedo because I would also be a James Bond style intergalactic spy.

If i showed up to work in a Space Helmet and a Tuxedo I have a feeling I would end up talking to the HR representative against my will. Adults lied. I cannot wear this to work.

Genius

This is one of the best mashups I've ever heard. It is brilliant, and both songs (good in their own rite) are actually better together. More bass would be good, and maybe a little more cowbell... just sayin'.

PUT IT DOWN!

Yeah, yeah... so I'm 25. That doesn't mean this isn't one of the greatest songs ever written. Up there with "Won't Get Fooled Again," and "Bach's Suite for Solo Cello No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007: I. Prélude". This song is amazing.

Luv in txt 4m.

My father was talking to my grandmother recently, and she was relaying a story form her childhood... a story my father had never heard. He said "Mom, you need to be writing these stories down so we have them forever."

"I can't," she said, "My typewriter broke in 1994."

Headdesk.

So, being the man my father is he bought his mother a typewriter... a typewriter that scares her because of "all its computer parts." It has an LCD screen that says if the caps lock is on. Wow.

Anyway, that isn't really the point of this post. The point is that when I sat down at this machine and stamped out a letter to my dad, so to demonstrate to my octogenarian grand-maternal relative that it was an easy device to use, I realized that there might not ever be another really good letter written.

It used to be that letter writing was one of the most romantic ways to express your feelings for someone. But today we have email, facebook, instant messenger, texting and twitter. My friend's dog recently passed away. This was a dog that I knew well, and loved as if he was my own pet. I found out hours after it happened because his sisters had messages about Duke on Facebook. That is lame. I found out the same way that one of my best friends in the world was engaged an hour before she called to tell me. SUPER lame.

Old people have great stories about writing letters to each other across the country, and getting letters from boyfriends in France during the war. What are we going to tell our grandchildren about how we met our spouses?

"Oh, your grandfather was so sweet. He used to post the funniest links on my wall, and always added an extra 'LOL' to let me know he thought it was funny, and that I should enjoy it. He also used to make me text him when i got home safe from his place. I text 'made it home. thnx 4 dinner!' and he'd respond with a heart-skipping 'g'nigt cutie. Colon, dash, closed parenthesis' and I'd send a flirtatious 'colon, dash, capitol P' with a 'u' and an 'r' and a 'g-r-8'. I wish i had saved those texts, but alas they are lost to the ether. Such is romance."

Headdesk.

Oregon Trail

So I recently realized that everything I learned about the Oregon Trail came directly from the computer game. Here are a few bullet points:

1. I know that you want to be either the Banker so you can buy tons of goods for the trip, or the Doctor, cause everyone is going to get Dysentery, or be bitten by a snake.

2. NEVER ford the river... all your freaking Oxen will die.

3. Hunting is awesome... but you will never be able to carry all the bison you shoot. You just won't.

4. There is no way you are reaching the end of the trail.

5. It is funny to name family members things like "Your Crotch" so that midway through the game/trail you get a message like "Your Crotch got Typhoid and died."

(Snicker)

That is about it. I cannot even tell you why people were fleeing to Oregon on what is almost certainly a doomed trek. No one ever beat the game. What were these people escaping? Were they being persecuted in Chicago for their wagons and deicided to head out into the wild west? I have news for you... if you walked like a mile west of Chicago you were in the Wild West. There was nothing out there. Why go all the way to Oregon? Just to get away from all the civilization?

Also... remember the Donner Party? The people who got lost and ended up eating each other to stay alive? I think what really happend is that they stopped at an Olive Garden halfway along their journey, but it was the dinner rush and they couldn't wait.

So when their name was finally called it was like "Donner, party of 10... Donner, party of 10... Donner, party of... 9? Donner party of... 8?"

hah. Cannibalism.

Bell-Bottom Jeans

Candy Bar

Dessert Island

Why Fall is Awesome and Summer is its Antipode

I don't like summer.

I know, i know... that sounds border-line un-American... right? I disagree. I love the fourth of July, and barbecues and blowing stuff up while yelling "'Merica!" I just don't like the season.

If you are wondering if there is a rule for weather that I find tolerable... yes. The weather has to be sweatshirt tolerant. That doesn't mean that you have to wear a sweatshirt... but I'm not really happy unless I at least have that as a reasonable option.

Now, there is certainly a time for hot weather. If I were to spend a month sailing the Chesapeake, I would be all about warm summer weather; but at the same time, is there any better beach scene than sitting on the sand with a fire and a cold one, while wearing a soft hoodie? Paint me a better summer picture than that... I dare you.

Beyond that, I cannot stand summer. It gets hot, and miserable. I can't sleep at night cause the heat is too oppressive. This summer it has been so warm that my A/C unit has been rendered nominally helpful at best. Gross. Who needs that?

Also, I'm basically nocturnal. I come alive around dusk. Yes, again there are great things to do in the daylight: an afternoon ballgame, hiking Laurel Mountain, playing Ultimate... and I've run out of stuff.

There is something about dusk that says to me "alright... time to get stuff done." I write more in the early morning, or late at night. I socialize more after dark. I'd rather star-gaze than sun-bathe any day. Comedy clubs open at night, and television during the day is a joke. (not that there has been a lot of intellectually challenging offerings on the tube since Sorkin thumbed his nose at NBC... rest in peace Studio 60.)

But enough ripping on summer. What I DO like is Fall.

Fall is this magical time of year. Workplaces pick up their business, there is more to do. Community, The Office and 3o Rock come back on NBC and The Big Bang Theory returns to CBS. Sweaters come out of the closet, and the weather allows us to wear those amazing hoodies bearing our Alma Mater's names. (Allegheny being the best, of course).

The leaves change. The days get gradually shorter and the air crisper. When you wake up from a deep sleep at 6am to relieve yourself, you don't stay up because its already 79 degrees with the A/C on. It makes it harder to get up and go to work, but that is how bed should be.

This is what I love about Western PA and Pittsburgh. Fall here is gorgeous, and growing up in the mountains to the east, the way I did, Fall becomes an integral part of your being. I honestly get depressed in the oppressive endless light and heat of summer, but when Fall begins to scent the air with notes of roasting vegetables, the unique aroma of abscission from the deciduous trees changing the color of their leaves and dropping them... and of course the smell of bonfires, and those make leaves burning in backyards.

Flavors are better in the fall too. There are spices in the air in every kitchen, and the harvest of fall brings all those crops that have just sat there worthlessly all summer growing slowly, building anticipation for stews, pies, pasta dishes and flavorful beverages.

When I think about the commencement of Autumn, I get excited inside, and wonder how on EARTH anyone could possibly enjoy summer. For me Summer serves one singular purpose: To give stark contrast to the perfection of Autumn, allowing us to appreciate the matchless excellence that is Fall.

Freshmen Year

I am the eldest of the three children in my family, and my the younger of my two sisters moved into college this morning. Talking with her this past week as she's been panicked about this very real and very significant change in her life got me thinking back to my freshmen year in college...

... and my roommate.

My roommate was an interesting character. I won't go into all the specific details of why, but he didn't last the full year. And I should add up front here that he and I were actually pretty close. We got along really well, and had a lot of good times. But he did strange things.

He was diagnosed with severe ADD... which meant that it was not uncommon for me to come back to the room to find the door open, the stereo on, the DVD player and TV on with a DVD menu annoyingly looping, all the lights on, the heat on with the window open (in January) and a not on the door from the upperclassmen neighbor asking us to turn everything down. I remember once there were also not one but two open jars of peanut butter out with everything else.

There was also "the closet" incident.

Our closet in Walker hall kinda stuck out into the room, and had these big oak doors on it. I was standing in the room one afternoon and both the doors to the closet were open, one along the wall, and the other was open to that i was looking right at the edge of it, hardly able to see any of it at all. I made the mistake of audibly observing "This room would seem a lot bigger if the closet didn't have doors. It would feel like the closet was part of the room." Then I left to take a walk into town for food or something.

Our room was at the end of the short hall on 1st Walker, and as I came up the stairs from Brooks, I remember seeing my towel at the end of the hall... hanging under my hoodies... still attached to the closet door, which now seemed to live in the hallway.

I walked into the room and my roommate who we'll just call "Chris" couldn't have been prouder. He looked at at me from his desk and beamed with pride. I'm actually relatively sure I saw his tail wag. "Look how big this place now! You were right!"

I was without words. The best part was the RD's response. It was something along the lines of "I don't think there is a written rule about this, but I'm pretty sure you are not allowed the disassemble the building... even if it your room." She said we had to put the doors back on and after close to a week I ended up having to do it. Awesome.

Nothing beats the story of the last weekend he was on campus. It was the weekend before Spring Break, and I hadn't seen him over a week. It was a Thursday night and I had an early class the next morning... something like 10, so I was in bed by 2ish. I fell asleep and after a little while I heard the roomie come in and crawl into bed.

When I woke up again it was to the sound of vomiting... and splashing... in sheets. I was grossed out, but didn't feel like climbing down out of my 7-foot bed loft. That is until I heard his head hit the pillow.

Now I'm NOT the ratting people out type, and even though I didn't consume alcohol before I was 21, i realized that this was college, and it was going to happen, and there was no need to judge. However, I was also aware of several rock legends who had died from drunken asphyxiation (i think that is a delicate enough way to put it) while they slept. I didn't really feel like having a dead roommate.

I climbed down and found that I couldn't wake him without almost vomiting as well, so I went and got the RA on duty who was a friend.

I'll never forget her conversation with him.

Ashley: Chris, get up. This is disgusting. You have to clean this up.
Chris (groggily): Clean what up. I'm fine.
Ashley: Chris you vomited all over your bed and now you're sleeping in it.
Chris: No... no. I don't think so.
Ashely: Then who threw up in your bed?
Chris: Maybe Zach? I dunno.

So he was alright sleeping in my vomit? Whatever. Our RA had come with Ashely and me, and he and I were doing all we could not to bust out laughing in the hallway at 3:30 in the morning.

Here is where it gets gross.

I woke up the next morning, and opened the closet to get my shower caddy out, and to my horror I found his balled up bedding on his side of the closet. Again, I almost ralphed. I immediately talked to the RD. And she said he had to get them out of there... durr.

So about a week later, I was down right below our room where there was this awkward little hallway between Brooks Dining Hall and the Groud floor of Walker Hall. I was at the vending machine down there, and I saw something behind the vending machine. After some careful and distant inspection I realized that this was Chris's bedding... barf filled, and now nicely baked from the heat coming off the back of the cold beverage machine. Epic. Gross. And so many more adjectives.

The strangest thing about all of this is that as i think about my little sister starting her freshmen year, I am exceedingly envious of her. I want so badly to be back at Allegheny, 18, lost, confused, not sure why there is a building called "Oddfellows", homesick, missing all my friends and my dog. I really really wish I was back there. It was such an amazing time. New friends, new town, new way of life, freedom, classes I actually cared about and no one suggesting that I "should really get some sleep."

I miss it, and if I could go back I absolutely would.

So Scooter, if you are reading this, know that your no roommate cannot possibly be more of a trip than mine. (And your roommate sounds cool anyway). And also know you are starting four years of incredible growth and fun. Enjoy it. Don't be nervous. A few years from now I'm betting you'll look back on this week and feel the same fond nostalgia I do.

kbyeloveyou.

Another Grandparent Post

So, my grandparents do this thing where they lock the screen door. What is that intended to accomplish? Seriously, who is that going to keep out? As if some crazy bandit is gonna come to the house in the middle of the day, and see the door open and go "Suh-weet... house is open!" Then he gets to the screen door, finds it locked and says "blast! they locked it, and I am incapable of penetrating this vault-like barrier!"

No... a bandit is gonna rip the screen and open the door. Seriously, who is that gonna keep out? I'll tell you who: Me! I'm on my way to visit them, check in on them to make sure they are doing alright, and I get to the locked screen door, and you know I'm not gonna rip the screen. It only keeps out the people who you want to come in the house.

The best part is that since they are both hard of hearing, I have rung the doorbell and heard the TV (Everybody Loves Raymond) on in the other room and heard this exchange.

Gpa: Did you hear something, Dolly?

Gma: You want a drink?

Gpa: No, do I need one?

Gma: How do I know?

Gma: Why isn't Ray answering the door?

Gpa: What?

Gma: The doorbell, why isn't anyone on this show answering it?

At this point I go around back to the sliding glass door on the room where they are sitting, and scare the crap out of them.

The hole in the Wall

So, I did it. I fought the good fight. I stood up to the man and said "no way... not gonna do it" (Dana Carvey as Bush 1.0). I moved into a new apartment and I didn't get cable, or any other TV service. I said, why do I need this? There is no reason for it. Sure, I may work full-time in the media and marketing business, and television is certainly a big part of that. And, yeah, I have a really nice TV that I very much enjoy. And yes, I love watching new movies and honing my craft and professional work through the intake of the works of others... But no! I don't need this cable. I don't need to be paying for television! I have an antenna! I can get all my local channels for FREE... over the AIR! Mad Men Style!

But I failed. I failed miserably.

From about September to May I working a lot... a lot a lot. I was hardly home, and when I did come home it was dark and there was prime time TV on the broadcast networks. And often I was so tired that I felt more like going to bed than watching TV.

But now it's summer. Combine a better understanding of our workflow at work, and less to do in these lazy months and I find myself with this strange free time. Add on top of that the fact that I live in a beautiful little town... a wonderful little place... where everyone is married with kids. I am not. This town isn't designed for people my age. Its designed for people with great jobs and dogs. I live here because it is quite, nice and 7 minutes from my office.

So, recently I have found myself itching to get television service installed. I have looked into every option, and I want DirecTV... oh MAN do I want DirecTV! FiOS isn't available to my apartment, and I maintain that Comcast is basically evil. However, I am not sure if I'm allowed to put a dish on the roof of the building. And so Comcast may be my only option! Evil little buggers.

But yeah. I tried to stand up to the establishment... I tried to save the money, and forgo paying for television service, but i just can't. The world doesn't work that way. For my own sanity, I've decided to give in.

Why Magic is the Correct Answer for Old People

I didn't realize how little I actually knew about technology until I lived with my grandparents. I actually have "technology" in my job title at work... even though I only know the tech stuff because I need it to produce the creative stuff that actually drives what I do.

But, yeah... it wasn't until living with two octogenarians that I realized how little I understood myself. These poor people are so scared of technology, that they actually refer to it as magic. After learning that my iPhone wasn't a "Blackberry" they try a different berry every time they reference it "get out your magic blueberry and look up... " or "can your Brambleberry tell us if..." and even "what time is it on your raspberry?". HonesT. That has happened.

They have more questions about technology than a 2 year old who has just learned the word "why" and is using it to simulate conversational patterns of turn taking speech. I realized i didn't know a lot when they started to ask questions and my answer was always followed with "why?".

The other day was a perfect example. The router that splits the cable line into TV, Internet and Phone runs internet to my personal wireless router so I have wifi all over the house. The router stopped working correctly, so i went upstairs to unplug it, blow on it, and plug it back in (a fix i learned early on with Nintendo Cartridges).

My Grandfather was very concerned that I had to unplug the wireless.

"Why did that light go off on the Comcast router?"

"Because I unplugged the wireless line, and it stopped drawing signal."

"That's what happens when the phone stops working... that light goes out."

"Your phone is fine that is a different light"

"I don't believe you. Unplug that thingy again"

I do, and he checks to see if the phone still works.

"Well, the phone still works."

"very good"

"wait, don't leave... why did you unplug that thingy in the first place"

"because it stopped working and i wasn't getting internet."

"why?"

"because the signal wasn't being sent to my computer correctly."

"why?"

"I dunno."

"Why did unplugging it fix it?"

"magic."

And honestly, in his defense... why would the wireless router just stop sending the right signal? It has one job... make electronic internet signal into magic fairy waves that connect my computer to the world wide interweb. My computer, and my Huckleberry.

Why Die Hard is the Greatest Christmas Movie of all time.

An interesting thing happened to me this year. Someone at the church for which I work sat next to me at lunch one day and said "hey... what is your favorite Christmas movie?". "Die Hard." I said. "Really?" came the incredulous response. "Yes. Really."

What I didn't know was that the person asking me the question was basically working in "Press mode" as she was compiling a list of the staff's favorite movies for our big newsletter... it goes to the entire congregation... a couple thousand people. The best part was the way it was laid out in the newsletter. It was listed down a left side column in the middle of the newsletter, in a simple list form with the staff members name, and his or her movie pick. The list was something like:

"It's A Wonderful Life; A Christmas Story; It's A Wonderful Life; The Nativity; Christmas Vacation; It's A Wonderful Life; It's A Wonderful Life; It's A Wonderful Life; Home Alone; Christmas Carol; Elf; It's A Wonderful Life; DIE HARD."

Yupp... they put my choice at the very bottom so after you read all the "classics" and sweet picks, and funny kids movies you saw mine... a seemingly irreverent and sarcastic pick.

I cannot stress enough, however, how serious I am.

Here are some questions that always arise with this choice of movie, and the answers that I would put forth. Essentially, Die Hard Apologetics (great band name, btw... Dave Barry).

Q: How is Die Hard a Christmas Movie?

A: How is Die Hard NOT a Christmas movie? The movie opens with Officer John McClane of the NYPD on a flight to L.A. to be with his children and estranged wife... for CHRISTMAS. Boom. If that isn't enough for you, the party in the Nakatomi building that is taken over by Hans and his thugs is a CHRISTMAS party.

Beyond that there are all the makings of a typical Christmas movie. Christmas jokes, Christmas references, a family trying to make things normal at the holidays, McClane ever tapes a gun to his back with Christmas tape at one point.

Also, the theme for the Bad Guys is a mix between a major and minor rendition of Beethoven's 9th symphony's "Ode to Joy"... both a classic Christmas tune, and a national song of Germany (quite the apropos double entendre).

Q: But even if it is a Christmas movie, how is it better than the classics?

A: First of all, it IS a classic. It has three sequels, two of which are great... and one of which is still fun.

Second of all, it has so many redemptive values. McClane realizes that he has been a jerk to his wife, and his wife realizes that she has been to hard on her husband.

Al Powell, the first officer on the scene down on the ground has never been able to fully serve in his capacity as a member of the L.A.P.D. because he made a mistake years ago. That guilt has been weighing on him ever since, and has crippled his ability to perform his calling. I won't give away the ending to anyone who has never seen the movie, but he is redeemed in the end.

Third of all, it is just a great movie. The cinematography is brilliant. Use of long lenses, and great depth of field add a feeling that at any moment I could freeze the frame and make it into an awesome poster (note to self... see if that market has been tapped). The subtle things like the above mentioned use of Beethoven's 9th, and "Singin' in the Rain" for the hacker on the bad guys team.

Also, the story telling is great. In the opening scene McClane is told by a fellow passenger that the secret to not fearing flying is to get off the plane, go to your destination, take off your shoes and make "fists with your toes" on the carpet. This seems like just banter to get the movie started, but McClane takes that advice, and because he does, he is shoeless when the terrorists arrive, and is therefore shoeless the rest of the movie. It ends up being critical.

Also in an early scene the limo driver tells McClane all the features of the limo, one of which is a TV and another a CB radio. Because of this, the limo driver is able to monitor what is going on through the news outlets, and he can hear everything that McClane and the police are saying to each other.

These are just a few examples of the brilliance in the story telling. There are many more.



Now don't get me wrong. I like Christmas movies. I grew up on The Santa Clause, and Home Alone (I and II), and both A Christmas Story and It's A Wonderful Life are on my list of "classics". I just don't think it gets any better than Die Hard. Sure, it's a rough and tumble shoot 'em up, Action Movie with lots of guns and shouting in German, and I won't allow my children to see it until they are grown up and can understand it as it should be understood... but, I feel it stands up with the best of them. It doesn't try to be anything it isn't but what it is... is amazing.

I know I've vented about Comcast a lot, but seriously... the company is basically evil.

Tuesday of this week I was at wrok from 7:45zm till about 11:15pm, and when i got to my grandparents place that night to watch The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien (all hail!) my grandfather says "i don't know if you can do anything about it, but you are the only one with a working phone." What he meant was that their digital land-line (the only phone they have, and most likely the only phone they will ever have) had gone out.

I immediately muted Conan (all hail!) and called comcast. I got a girl on the phone, and as usual (yes, this is not the first time my elderly grandparents have trouble with the phone) she asked me to reset the modem, and she tried to send a signal to the house. Nothing. No dice.

She said "well, i can send a technician over on Thursday."

Thursday. Really?

"How is that acceptable?" i asked. "This is their only connection to the outside world! What are they supposed to do if they need something?"

"Well, if something frees up we can send someone there earlier."

"So would you like my cell phone number to let me know?"

"No, we will just call them."

"I think I'm confused."

"Well Thursday is the earliest I can get someone there. But if something happens and I get someone there tomorrow there tomorrow, I can call them."

(blink)(blink)

"And how, do you suggest, might you call them... WHEN THEY'RE PHONE IS OUT?"

"Oh. do you have a cell phone?"

"How do you think I'm calling you right now?"

"Can I have your cell phone number?"

"There ya go, kid."


I was DUMBFOUNDED by this exchange. I am so sick of having to take Valium every time i talk to the idiots. And somehow they have had a monopoly on cable in the area.

My grandfather informed me that as soon as he has phone service back he will be calling Verizon for FiOs.

Bob Dylan to Record GPS Voice

California- It was announced last week that Bob Dylan may be recording the voice of direction on consumer GPS systems for use in their automobiles.

A spokesperson was quoted as saying "this seemed like a good idea, since we had so many complaints from people telling us how easy it was to understand the other voices".

"It just isn't enough of an adventure when you know what your Garmin or your TomTom is saying to you. This way it is like a Puzzle!" said one enthusiastic consumer, hoping to get her hands on one of the first models to have this feature.

It looks like lots more people will be on their own with no direction home.






Ok, while i made up the quotes, the part about Dylan doing the GPS voice is true... and i just filled in the blanks.

Grandparents and Other Old Stuff

My Grandparents have been a great source of comedic material for me over the past few years. They are just ridiculous human beings at times. Being depression babies, they refuse to throw anything out, because maybe... just maybe... we might be able to use it someday.

The basement is FULL of old stuff... just stuff. It's mostly crap (certainly not literally) for which not only do they have no use, but no one else would want unless they were a scrap and recycling facility. Being young and having only so many earthly possessions of any value (mostly my furniture) I finally pushed them to work with me to clean some of this stuff out of the basement, so that I could store my stuff in there when I move.

"We can try, but I don't know what we are going to be able to get rid of," was all the succession i could get from them. My reply was "How about the toaster that hasn't worked in 40 years?" "Well, that's true, but it doesn't make enough room for your couch!"



So, one Saturday we ventured down the stairs, and started to sift through old stuff. I cannot BELIEVE the worthless garbage they had. Old newspapers with no historical significance; carpet scraps from when they re-carpeted the bedrooms; toys that have been broken for 30 years; literally a bag of recycling that was never taken out.

Thankfully, these two geriatrics have pretty good senses of humor so I was free to crack lots of jokes.

At one point, i reached under the ping pong table (a piece of furniture i had literally heard of all my life, and never laid eyes on because it was piled halfway to the ceiling with junk) and pulled out to two old televisions. I just held them up, and looked at my grandfather. What follows is our exchange:

Grandpa: "The one on the right has picture but no sound, and the one on the left has sound, but no picture... so we figured if our other three sets went bad, we could put these together, and get the sound from one, and the picture from the other, and it would be a one good television."
Me: "I'm throwing these away."
Grandpa: "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

I sometimes wonder what the world will look like in another 20 years. One of my favorite songs is The Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again," the rallying-cry anthem for angered and newly-wise youth for decades. The line that haunts me is the final one: "meet the new boss, same as the old boss."

There is this whole air of polarization with the previous generations that the people my age just cannot seem to comprehend. Even our once "liberal" grandparents seem to get to an age where everything is a cause for indignation. "That was never how it was when i was your age," or "I remember when a coke was a nickel!"

That is funny (and sometimes obnoxious) but it is mostly harmless. What really scares me is the intolerance and anger caused by knee-jerk reactions from a still-politically-polarized older generation. They see one thing that they are not sure about, and they get all up-in-arms. You mention universal health care and they pull the "socialism card." You talk about conservation and "going green" and suddenly they see you as a hippie, and a tree-huger. Its B.S.

I certainly have issues with people on the far left. I always have. I don't need someone to yell at me because they don't think i know how to recycle, and I find it laughable that PETA wants us to call fish "sea kittens" so that we will feel more sympathetic to them, and therefore less likely to eat them. But I am equally disgusted by conservatives who refuse to actually conserve. People who think it is funny, or a form of protest to go through recycling bins and throw stuff out because they "hate hippies that much." If you hate hippies that much, then destroy hemp clothing, or blast Ted Nugent... don't ruin the planet for everyone. You're morons.

My sincerest of hopes is that the understanding and openness I see in most of my peers is something to which we are able to hold. It is an interesting time we live in; we are not the hippie counter-culture of the 60's, all about screwing the man, and free love, and do whatever makes you feel good and all is well in the world. We are a different kind of radical. We are radical that says you don't have to tow the party line. You can actually think for yourself, and fall on one side or the other, depending on the issue at hand.

It is strange that being a legitimate "moderate" is such a radical thing. I recently had someone tell me that there is no such thing as a moderate... just someone who is too afraid to admit what they really think. The funny thing is I have heard that form the extremities of both sides of the spectrum. It was strange, too, because for the longest time I was just afraid to admit that I was a moderate.

I hope and pray that my generation can hold on to the open mindedness that most of us have. We don't need to compromise our beliefs, or cater to others, but just understand that it is our differences that make us worth knowing, and worth listening to. If we all thought the same, wed have nothing to talk about.

Music of the Soul

Psychologists have been debating issues of the psycho-sematic and placebos for years. Can the brain change its chemical contents just because it thinks of something? Or maybe because it tastes something? Or maybe because it hears something?

Certainly because of hearing something...

There is something about good music that is so quenching to the soul. There are many categories of music in my library, and i don't mean genres... categories like "when i want to rock out" music and "poppy music that i am embarrassed to own, and only break out when i am alone in the car where no one can hear me, or when i am being really goofy with my friends late at night" musc... there are many categories.

These are not the categories that i am talking about. I feel like any music can physically effect the chemical content of one's mind... triggering the pumping endorphins and serotonin. Mmmmmm...

The music that really hits my soul though is the most valuable to me... the stuff where someone has really poured his or her own soul into the composition. For me several of these songs are found on one album... and i just acquired it on vinyl.

The album is "Ben Folds Live" by Ben Folds (go figure). The self described "punk for sissies" artist dropped the other two members of "Ben Folds Five" his ironically-named three piece band (consisting of a drummer and a bass player) and went on tour in 2002 with just his piano and voice.

I had never heard Fold before he visited Allegheny while I was there. I was told i should go to the concert, and i have been a fan ever since. His music was amazing, the blending of pop, rock, punk, humor and bluntness was amazing... and to cap it all off, he was an amazing entertainer.

On Ben Folds Live he played a lot of his classics, plus several of the songs of the album "Rockin' the Suburbs"... his newest released at the time.

What really hits me on this album is the stuff that was almost intended to be played solo. The soulful and real feeling come through on songs like "One Down," the classic and most-popular track "Brick," "Not the Same," and my personal favorite "Emaline." I can literally sit for hours listening to this kind of music. There is something about it that transfers a state of nostalgia that is at once familiar and strange. I find myself taken back to the time when i first heard these tracks, feeling the pain and the joy of that time in my life. The interesting thing about that nostaglia, is that these songs inspired a similar feeling of nostalgia the first time i heard them. It was taking me to a place i had never been, but somehow remembered.

I bought it on vinyl this past week, and with the warmth and clarity of brand-new 180 vinyl these tracks shine. I don't have to read some psychological study to know that music effects the brain... and this stuff is gold.