Today was my very first day of graduate school. My roommate came into my room this morning -- while I groggily checked the bus schedule in my underwear -- and sickeningly cried, "It's your first day of school! Can I take your picture?!" When my facial expression very clearly stated, "F--- off" and I mumbled something about Starbucks, she took her cue and left, sans photo.
Halfway through my first class, my morning chai tea buzz was wearing off, and I spaced out while my instructor, Jo, discussed... well, I'm not really sure. I was really out of it. Rather than listening, I was staring into space, twirling my pen, and thinking about starting a Stomp-style all-percussion garage band. I was contemplating how I could get Michael Cera to play that egg-looking shaker thing in my band when I heard Jo say, "Sometimes I get a little upset when I think about things that happen in..." (She trailed off, working to find the appropriate word). But I, struggling out of my fantasies of Stomp fame, heard only this sentence fragment, and for some inexplicable reason shouted, "...THE WORLD!" As my classmates tried to hide their giggles behind any barrier they could find, Jo responded as any teacher concerned for her students' self-esteem should: "Well, sure, sometimes I think about bad things in the world, that's right. But I also think about bad things that happen in institutional settings and the education system." Nice try, Jo, but I've read a thing or two about teaching. I know that trick. Red-faced, I just mumbled something about bad things happening in the world and how that upsets me. I'm a sensitive soul, you know.
My mentors suck. Where was their sage wisdom and advice when I needed it? Here's what I wish I had known: First, don't dress up for your first day - middle school, especially the sixth grade, is way too cool for long floral skirts and strappy flats. Second, pay at least enough attention so that you don't accidentally shout out Mad Libs in class.
It's good to know that in grad school, I can still feel as confused and embarrassed as I was in Ms. Jordan's pre-algebra class.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Welcome to the M.A.T. program. We’re here for you. Now please don’t ever talk to us.
I’ve never really understood why Orientations are so important to programs. What makes more sense to me is giving me a handout (because they’re going to give one to me at Orientation anyway), and then spending 5 minutes of the first class with a Q&A. At this point in my life, I don’t really feel like I need an hour-long session of the instructors reading the handbook to me. I learned how to read a while ago. I’ve even moved on the books without pictures!
Regardless of my feelings for the topic, I’m required to attend Orientation, so therefore I attend. Dr. Tree, whom I believe is head of all things MAT, started things off with what I’m guessing was an appropriate introduction. I’m not really sure; I had zoned out already.
Next was Arla, who started off her speech with, “I’m not one to spoon-feed people…” Really. Not kidding. That was the first thing this woman said to us. She went on to note that she was basically in charge of the program's management, and she would probably be the first person to go to with questions. But I believe her underlying message was, ‘I’ll tell you the answer, but not very nicely, because I don’t want you to ask me questions.’
Next was our licensure officer, who spent her entire time showing us how to find information and forms on the MAT website, and repeatedly said things like, “This is where you can find Form Such-and-Such online, so you don’t need to come ask me.” Or, “You can always check this website so you don’t need to come into the office.” Is it just me, or are we not welcome in the MAT office?
Dr. Tree took back the stage and gave us some “advice,” loosely paraphrased here:
Dr. Tree: One thing I like to remember is not to make quick judgments, because, you know, once a judgment is made, it’s hard to take back. … Blah blah blah… So you should probably not say some things… You know, part of our job is to help you find jobs and stuff, and we love to help you out with recommendation letters and that sort of thing.... Blah blah…
Me: Did he just tell us not to complain about the MAT program?
Guy Sitting Next to Me: Uhh… yeah, I think that was the basically the point.
Me: Well, that’s not a good sign, is it?
No, not at all a good sign that the first thing I learn at Orientation is not to complain about the program I’ll be in for the next year.
After reading us some stuff from the handbook about not failing classes, we met the graduate student instructors and then were given the okay to leave. Except for the Social Studies Cohort. We had to have a meeting with our Director. The 20 or so of us trooped upstairs to speak with Dr. Sue. (Unfortunately, not that Dr. Sue.) She then spent the next hour reading another handout to us, which was a few bullet points copied directly from the handbook we had received an hour earlier. She proceeded to cover exactly the points we had just heard about from Dr. Tree and the gang, because she had not attended the Orientation and did not realize that we had just received the same material. Except this time, we got to hear it with an accent.
To top the hour off, we got to introduce ourselves! (Because I haven’t done enough of ‘this is my name, I’m from here, and this is my major.’) I don’t really understand why she felt the need to repeat information at an outside meeting. We could have at least done that the first day of class. But no. Welcome to the School of Education, where we like to exemplify how NOT to run your classroom.
Regardless of my feelings for the topic, I’m required to attend Orientation, so therefore I attend. Dr. Tree, whom I believe is head of all things MAT, started things off with what I’m guessing was an appropriate introduction. I’m not really sure; I had zoned out already.
Next was Arla, who started off her speech with, “I’m not one to spoon-feed people…” Really. Not kidding. That was the first thing this woman said to us. She went on to note that she was basically in charge of the program's management, and she would probably be the first person to go to with questions. But I believe her underlying message was, ‘I’ll tell you the answer, but not very nicely, because I don’t want you to ask me questions.’
Next was our licensure officer, who spent her entire time showing us how to find information and forms on the MAT website, and repeatedly said things like, “This is where you can find Form Such-and-Such online, so you don’t need to come ask me.” Or, “You can always check this website so you don’t need to come into the office.” Is it just me, or are we not welcome in the MAT office?
Dr. Tree took back the stage and gave us some “advice,” loosely paraphrased here:
Dr. Tree: One thing I like to remember is not to make quick judgments, because, you know, once a judgment is made, it’s hard to take back. … Blah blah blah… So you should probably not say some things… You know, part of our job is to help you find jobs and stuff, and we love to help you out with recommendation letters and that sort of thing.... Blah blah…
Me: Did he just tell us not to complain about the MAT program?
Guy Sitting Next to Me: Uhh… yeah, I think that was the basically the point.
Me: Well, that’s not a good sign, is it?
No, not at all a good sign that the first thing I learn at Orientation is not to complain about the program I’ll be in for the next year.
After reading us some stuff from the handbook about not failing classes, we met the graduate student instructors and then were given the okay to leave. Except for the Social Studies Cohort. We had to have a meeting with our Director. The 20 or so of us trooped upstairs to speak with Dr. Sue. (Unfortunately, not that Dr. Sue.) She then spent the next hour reading another handout to us, which was a few bullet points copied directly from the handbook we had received an hour earlier. She proceeded to cover exactly the points we had just heard about from Dr. Tree and the gang, because she had not attended the Orientation and did not realize that we had just received the same material. Except this time, we got to hear it with an accent.
To top the hour off, we got to introduce ourselves! (Because I haven’t done enough of ‘this is my name, I’m from here, and this is my major.’) I don’t really understand why she felt the need to repeat information at an outside meeting. We could have at least done that the first day of class. But no. Welcome to the School of Education, where we like to exemplify how NOT to run your classroom.
Monday, July 10, 2006
10 Reasons Why Gay Marriage is Wrong
(I confess: I didn't write this. But it's still funny.)
01) Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.
02) Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.
03) Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.
04) Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can't marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.
05) Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Britany Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.
06) Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren't full yet, and the world needs more children.
07) Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.
08) Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.
09) Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.
10) Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven't adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Hem
I'm procrastinating from studying for my philosophy exam and listening to Hem. They're one of my favorite bands because their music is my kind of music. Some say boring, I say beautiful. They just released spring/summer tour dates, and they're coming to North Carolina! They will be in Charlotte, Asheville, and the good ole Chapel Hill, playing with Over the Rhine, a band that I don't know, but whose music you can listen to here and here.
I just linked Over the Rhine's music, and it kinda sucks. Now I realize that I can't link Hem's music, which is good. But you can go to their music page and download mp3's of their music. I suggest "Beautiful Sea" from the No Word From Tom album and "Redwing" from Eveningland.
Also, I just learned how to make links within my blog, so I'm going crazy with them! Below is the lyrics to my current favorite Hem song.
"The Beautiful Sea"
Me, I imagine places
That I have never seen
The colored lights in fountains,
Blue and green
And I imagine places
That I will never go
Behind these clouds that hang here,
Dark and low
But it's there when I'm holding you
It's there when I'm sleeping too
There when there's nothing left of me
It's hanging just beyond
the burned-out factory
Out of reach but leading me
Into the beautiful sea
And I remember something
It feels a lot like fear
Some kid is wild and shouting
Coast is clear
And it's there when I'm holding you
It's there when I'm sleeping too
There when there's nothing left of me
It's hanging just beyond
the burned-out factory
Out of reach but leading me
Into the beautiful sea
Into the beautiful sea
I just linked Over the Rhine's music, and it kinda sucks. Now I realize that I can't link Hem's music, which is good. But you can go to their music page and download mp3's of their music. I suggest "Beautiful Sea" from the No Word From Tom album and "Redwing" from Eveningland.
Also, I just learned how to make links within my blog, so I'm going crazy with them! Below is the lyrics to my current favorite Hem song.
"The Beautiful Sea"
Me, I imagine places
That I have never seen
The colored lights in fountains,
Blue and green
And I imagine places
That I will never go
Behind these clouds that hang here,
Dark and low
But it's there when I'm holding you
It's there when I'm sleeping too
There when there's nothing left of me
It's hanging just beyond
the burned-out factory
Out of reach but leading me
Into the beautiful sea
And I remember something
It feels a lot like fear
Some kid is wild and shouting
Coast is clear
And it's there when I'm holding you
It's there when I'm sleeping too
There when there's nothing left of me
It's hanging just beyond
the burned-out factory
Out of reach but leading me
Into the beautiful sea
Into the beautiful sea
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Big Mouth Billy Bass
A couple friends of mine have been doing this thing where they choose a phrase and write 1500 words of fiction about it. They're Art Pansy types, so I guess it's some sort of writing exercise. I don't know what the point of it is. Keeps their juices flowing, I guess. Anyway, I was bored, so I joined in on their last exercise, the phrase for which was "largemouth bass." Here's my story.
Big Mouth Billy Bass
I met him when he was in full-on manic mode, though I didn’t know that. He flew into the restaurant where I waitressed, a whirlwind of energy, laughter, and most of all, charisma. Yes, he was the most charismatic man I had ever met. I overheard some of the conversation he was having with the suit as I served him his Deluxe Combo – an enormous grade A beef burger with all the fixins, a side of Kickin’ Kajun fries, and your choice of Auntie’s Apple Pie or the Chocolate Lava Cake, all for the amazingly low price of $7.99! He chose the chocolate cake. I didn’t catch it all, but he was outlining some sort of business plan for the suit. He was extremely enthusiastic and by the end of the lunch, the suit seemed sold. He must have had another important meeting because by the time I came back with the bill, only Jay was sitting at the table. After chatting me up a bit, he left me a huge tip and his phone number. He didn’t really seem like my type – a little too loud, a little too arrogant – but he was intense. And who am I kidding? I needed intensity in my life. Just that morning, I had looked in the mirror and said to my reflection, “Honey, you need some excitement to break up all this monotony,” so I went with the blue eye shadow instead of the usual none. Talk about foreshadowing. After some coaxing, I agreed to a date. I know, I know. I don’t usually date strangers. You never end up with what you bargained for.
I met him for dinner at Amadio’s, my favorite Italian restaurant. He wanted to pick me up, but I graciously declined. I may be dumb enough to take chances on dating strangers, but I’m certainly not dumb enough to let them know where I live. Amadio’s has the most delicious mushroom lasagna in the entire state, but don’t tell my mother that. Plus I’m friends with the owner, so I like to take first dates there, you know, just in case. Jay flew into the parking lot fifteen minutes late in a bright red shiny sports car. He strode confidently across the restaurant to my special table. Everything he does can only be described as confident. I’m not exaggerating when I say that every single one of the restaurant’s patrons noticed and admired his entrance, and then noticed me with what I like to think of as pangs of jealousy.
He was already talking before he sat down. And he kept talking. I only got him to shut up long enough to order our meals. It was a remarkably boring date with a remarkably interesting man. Strange combination, I know. He was interesting, it’s just, well, you can only listen to someone talking about themselves for so long.
After I finished my lasagna, I tried to excuse myself from his company by claiming exhaustion due to a long day at work. I was already planning my favorite pajamas, an old black-and-white movie, and a bowl of ice cream to finish of my evening. But Jay would have none of it. He practically begged me to do something “fun” with him; he said he had a surprise for me. When my skepticism visibly registered on my face, he laughed and guaranteed me that his intentions were pure and he just had a lot of energy to burn off. I briefly envisioned him burning off his excess energy by chopping up my body into little bits in the kitchen of his (no doubt) gorgeously modern bachelor’s condo. I have an overactive imagination and an inherent distrust of men. But after he convinced me of his innocent intentions to have “good old-fashioned fun” and I convinced myself that my little scenario wouldn’t happen because, let’s face it, I’m not special enough and my life is not interesting enough for something like that to happen to me, we left Amadio’s together. His charm is irresistible – any girl would have done the same.
As I walked toward my little old Honda, his face fell. Against my better judgment, he managed to convince me that a spin in his flashy car would make the night more interesting. Maybe all these poor judgment calls could be explained by the voice in my head that kept saying, “You’re so boring. You never do anything fun.” Maybe they could be explained by the glass of wine I had while waiting for Jay to arrive. Who knows.
Whatever my motives, I did have fun. I now have a slight bit more understanding of why people blow all their money on fancy little sports cars. We blew threw town, cruising the streets and showing off. He talked a mile a minute about all the things we could do that night. Every time he found the “perfect idea!” it would soon be replaced by a new “perfect idea!” Until he saw it. He almost gave me a heart attack when he screamed, “A largemouth bass! Whoa! I have to have that!” When I realized what he was talking about, I nearly choked trying to stifle my laughter. He had spotted one of those awfully gaudy Big Mouth Billy Bass singing fish plaques that you mount up on your wall so that every time you walk by it, it belts some annoyingly mechanic, awfully punning song. It was in the storefront window of a nearby shop, which looked like it was about to close. But Jay had to have it.
By the time we parked and walked around to the shop, the owner was just closing up. Jay, with his irresistible charm, kindly explained to the store owner that he desperately needed the store to stay open for a few more minutes, and that he knew what he wanted and would be just a minute. The poor man looked at me, completely puzzled, but I just shrugged. Jay went on to explain that he just wanted to buy the Big Mouth Billy Bass. The owner informed him that another customer had just bought his last one. Jay went from nice and sweet high-energy to explosively angry high-energy in two seconds flat. Though Jay’s swift change in demeanor scared me, I did wonder for a fleeting second who the hell bought a Big Mouth Billy Bass at nine o’clock on a Friday night? Who the hell bought a Big Mouth Billy Bass? And then I remembered the guy standing next to me, who was still cursing the poor store owner. I pulled Jay away by the sleeve and half-dragged him back to the car, allowing the puzzled store owner to make his escape. On our walk back, he continued to let flow a stream of curse words, which I thought was a little uncalled-for, considering the fact that the Big Mouth Billy Bass is quite possibly the stupidest home decoration in the entire world.
As we walked across the parking lot, Jay noticed a man a few spots away loading something into the trunk of his beat-up Oldsmobile. I couldn’t make out what the something was, but apparently Jay, in all his Big Mouth Billy Bass rage, did. He stormed over to the man to hassle him about his purchase. Jay made it to the Oldsmobile just as the customer closed his door. I watched as Jay screamed at him through his busted window. I remember the phrases “worldwide conspiracy against me” and “you don’t even deserve a Big Mouth Billy Bass.” The offending customer, with his torn tanktop and Confederate flag vanity plate, mustered up all his contempt for the handsome, well-dressed man screaming in his face, and gave him a resounding, “Whatever, dude,” before pealing out of the parking lot.
Jay stormed back over to me and snapped, “Get in the car.” I quickly got in because being stuck in a car with a crazy man is one thing, but being stuck alone in a deserted parking lot off Grimes Street is quite another. I turned to him and began my spiel: “So can you take me back to my car now? I mean, this has been fun and all, but I’m really tired now. And I have to be up early for… church… tomorrow.”
“Yeah sure, but after I get my Big Mouth Billy Bass,” he replied.
“Are you serious, Jay? It’s just a fish. Let it go.”
When he braked hard for a stoplight, I recognized the car in front of us – the same beat-up Oldsmobile with a busted window. My disbelief manifested in my jaw dropping and my mouth forming a little “o.” O for Oh my God, this guy is insane.
“Listen, Jay. I’ll just get out here and call a cab or something. You can go on your little quest on your own. I think I’m done.” I started to open the door, but before I could, the light changed, and Jay slammed the gas. The Oldsmobile did not move as quickly, and we bounced off his bumper. When the offending customer looked in the rearview mirror and recognized Jay and his apoplectic fury, he floored it with a huge engine rev. Within seconds, we were racing down the street, chasing after the Oldsmobile. Although I was terrified of the lunatic sitting next to me, the hilarity of my little scenario did not elude me. I was involved in a high-speed chase over a Big Mouth Billy Bass. Absolutely ridiculous.
The chase lasted only a few blocks, but it seemed like I fearfully clutched the door handle for ages. The offending customer was apparently inexperienced in the world of drag-racing and high-speed chases. Maybe he was undeserving of the Big Mouth Billy Bass, as Jay had charged. The offending customer braked hard to avoid colliding into a minivan that was legally crossing the intersection that he was very illegally flying through. He fishtailed just in time for Jay to fly through the intersection and slam into the driver’s side of the Oldsmobile straight on.
I sat frozen in the car, shocked that my Friday night had ended like this when it could have just ended with Gregory Peck. After another eternity, I climbed out of the car and surveyed the damage.
Luckily, I managed to escape with only bruises across my chest where the seatbelt had locked up on impact. Jay managed to escape with a minor concussion and a jail sentence, which I could guess will only make him crazier. Big Mouth Billy Bass escaped in one piece, though it was annoyingly stuck on a too-deeply-toned endless loop of “Dooonnn’t Wooorrrryyy.” Bob Marley probably turned over in his grave that night. The offending customer barely escaped with his life. He was in the hospital for a week. I guess he learned his lesson about snatching a Big Mouth Billy Bass from underneath a lunatic’s nose. And I learned a lesson that my mother tried to teach me when I was in preschool: never get into a car with a stranger. Especially an overly charismatic, energetic, manic, narcissistic stranger.
Big Mouth Billy Bass
I met him when he was in full-on manic mode, though I didn’t know that. He flew into the restaurant where I waitressed, a whirlwind of energy, laughter, and most of all, charisma. Yes, he was the most charismatic man I had ever met. I overheard some of the conversation he was having with the suit as I served him his Deluxe Combo – an enormous grade A beef burger with all the fixins, a side of Kickin’ Kajun fries, and your choice of Auntie’s Apple Pie or the Chocolate Lava Cake, all for the amazingly low price of $7.99! He chose the chocolate cake. I didn’t catch it all, but he was outlining some sort of business plan for the suit. He was extremely enthusiastic and by the end of the lunch, the suit seemed sold. He must have had another important meeting because by the time I came back with the bill, only Jay was sitting at the table. After chatting me up a bit, he left me a huge tip and his phone number. He didn’t really seem like my type – a little too loud, a little too arrogant – but he was intense. And who am I kidding? I needed intensity in my life. Just that morning, I had looked in the mirror and said to my reflection, “Honey, you need some excitement to break up all this monotony,” so I went with the blue eye shadow instead of the usual none. Talk about foreshadowing. After some coaxing, I agreed to a date. I know, I know. I don’t usually date strangers. You never end up with what you bargained for.
I met him for dinner at Amadio’s, my favorite Italian restaurant. He wanted to pick me up, but I graciously declined. I may be dumb enough to take chances on dating strangers, but I’m certainly not dumb enough to let them know where I live. Amadio’s has the most delicious mushroom lasagna in the entire state, but don’t tell my mother that. Plus I’m friends with the owner, so I like to take first dates there, you know, just in case. Jay flew into the parking lot fifteen minutes late in a bright red shiny sports car. He strode confidently across the restaurant to my special table. Everything he does can only be described as confident. I’m not exaggerating when I say that every single one of the restaurant’s patrons noticed and admired his entrance, and then noticed me with what I like to think of as pangs of jealousy.
He was already talking before he sat down. And he kept talking. I only got him to shut up long enough to order our meals. It was a remarkably boring date with a remarkably interesting man. Strange combination, I know. He was interesting, it’s just, well, you can only listen to someone talking about themselves for so long.
After I finished my lasagna, I tried to excuse myself from his company by claiming exhaustion due to a long day at work. I was already planning my favorite pajamas, an old black-and-white movie, and a bowl of ice cream to finish of my evening. But Jay would have none of it. He practically begged me to do something “fun” with him; he said he had a surprise for me. When my skepticism visibly registered on my face, he laughed and guaranteed me that his intentions were pure and he just had a lot of energy to burn off. I briefly envisioned him burning off his excess energy by chopping up my body into little bits in the kitchen of his (no doubt) gorgeously modern bachelor’s condo. I have an overactive imagination and an inherent distrust of men. But after he convinced me of his innocent intentions to have “good old-fashioned fun” and I convinced myself that my little scenario wouldn’t happen because, let’s face it, I’m not special enough and my life is not interesting enough for something like that to happen to me, we left Amadio’s together. His charm is irresistible – any girl would have done the same.
As I walked toward my little old Honda, his face fell. Against my better judgment, he managed to convince me that a spin in his flashy car would make the night more interesting. Maybe all these poor judgment calls could be explained by the voice in my head that kept saying, “You’re so boring. You never do anything fun.” Maybe they could be explained by the glass of wine I had while waiting for Jay to arrive. Who knows.
Whatever my motives, I did have fun. I now have a slight bit more understanding of why people blow all their money on fancy little sports cars. We blew threw town, cruising the streets and showing off. He talked a mile a minute about all the things we could do that night. Every time he found the “perfect idea!” it would soon be replaced by a new “perfect idea!” Until he saw it. He almost gave me a heart attack when he screamed, “A largemouth bass! Whoa! I have to have that!” When I realized what he was talking about, I nearly choked trying to stifle my laughter. He had spotted one of those awfully gaudy Big Mouth Billy Bass singing fish plaques that you mount up on your wall so that every time you walk by it, it belts some annoyingly mechanic, awfully punning song. It was in the storefront window of a nearby shop, which looked like it was about to close. But Jay had to have it.
By the time we parked and walked around to the shop, the owner was just closing up. Jay, with his irresistible charm, kindly explained to the store owner that he desperately needed the store to stay open for a few more minutes, and that he knew what he wanted and would be just a minute. The poor man looked at me, completely puzzled, but I just shrugged. Jay went on to explain that he just wanted to buy the Big Mouth Billy Bass. The owner informed him that another customer had just bought his last one. Jay went from nice and sweet high-energy to explosively angry high-energy in two seconds flat. Though Jay’s swift change in demeanor scared me, I did wonder for a fleeting second who the hell bought a Big Mouth Billy Bass at nine o’clock on a Friday night? Who the hell bought a Big Mouth Billy Bass? And then I remembered the guy standing next to me, who was still cursing the poor store owner. I pulled Jay away by the sleeve and half-dragged him back to the car, allowing the puzzled store owner to make his escape. On our walk back, he continued to let flow a stream of curse words, which I thought was a little uncalled-for, considering the fact that the Big Mouth Billy Bass is quite possibly the stupidest home decoration in the entire world.
As we walked across the parking lot, Jay noticed a man a few spots away loading something into the trunk of his beat-up Oldsmobile. I couldn’t make out what the something was, but apparently Jay, in all his Big Mouth Billy Bass rage, did. He stormed over to the man to hassle him about his purchase. Jay made it to the Oldsmobile just as the customer closed his door. I watched as Jay screamed at him through his busted window. I remember the phrases “worldwide conspiracy against me” and “you don’t even deserve a Big Mouth Billy Bass.” The offending customer, with his torn tanktop and Confederate flag vanity plate, mustered up all his contempt for the handsome, well-dressed man screaming in his face, and gave him a resounding, “Whatever, dude,” before pealing out of the parking lot.
Jay stormed back over to me and snapped, “Get in the car.” I quickly got in because being stuck in a car with a crazy man is one thing, but being stuck alone in a deserted parking lot off Grimes Street is quite another. I turned to him and began my spiel: “So can you take me back to my car now? I mean, this has been fun and all, but I’m really tired now. And I have to be up early for… church… tomorrow.”
“Yeah sure, but after I get my Big Mouth Billy Bass,” he replied.
“Are you serious, Jay? It’s just a fish. Let it go.”
When he braked hard for a stoplight, I recognized the car in front of us – the same beat-up Oldsmobile with a busted window. My disbelief manifested in my jaw dropping and my mouth forming a little “o.” O for Oh my God, this guy is insane.
“Listen, Jay. I’ll just get out here and call a cab or something. You can go on your little quest on your own. I think I’m done.” I started to open the door, but before I could, the light changed, and Jay slammed the gas. The Oldsmobile did not move as quickly, and we bounced off his bumper. When the offending customer looked in the rearview mirror and recognized Jay and his apoplectic fury, he floored it with a huge engine rev. Within seconds, we were racing down the street, chasing after the Oldsmobile. Although I was terrified of the lunatic sitting next to me, the hilarity of my little scenario did not elude me. I was involved in a high-speed chase over a Big Mouth Billy Bass. Absolutely ridiculous.
The chase lasted only a few blocks, but it seemed like I fearfully clutched the door handle for ages. The offending customer was apparently inexperienced in the world of drag-racing and high-speed chases. Maybe he was undeserving of the Big Mouth Billy Bass, as Jay had charged. The offending customer braked hard to avoid colliding into a minivan that was legally crossing the intersection that he was very illegally flying through. He fishtailed just in time for Jay to fly through the intersection and slam into the driver’s side of the Oldsmobile straight on.
I sat frozen in the car, shocked that my Friday night had ended like this when it could have just ended with Gregory Peck. After another eternity, I climbed out of the car and surveyed the damage.
Luckily, I managed to escape with only bruises across my chest where the seatbelt had locked up on impact. Jay managed to escape with a minor concussion and a jail sentence, which I could guess will only make him crazier. Big Mouth Billy Bass escaped in one piece, though it was annoyingly stuck on a too-deeply-toned endless loop of “Dooonnn’t Wooorrrryyy.” Bob Marley probably turned over in his grave that night. The offending customer barely escaped with his life. He was in the hospital for a week. I guess he learned his lesson about snatching a Big Mouth Billy Bass from underneath a lunatic’s nose. And I learned a lesson that my mother tried to teach me when I was in preschool: never get into a car with a stranger. Especially an overly charismatic, energetic, manic, narcissistic stranger.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Reading Week
So once again, I'm bored as hell and trying to fill up some time. Reading Week is useless for people like me. I study the day before the exam. That's my rule. Studying for an entire week? Yeah right. If you need to study for 10 days for one exam, then you either weren't paying enough attention in class or you care too much. So if I haven't spent the week studying, what did I do? Answer: I was busy being pathetic. I sat on my ass for 5 days straight. I became even more attached to my computer than I already was. I have probably spent more time with this computer than any other person in the world. Sad, I know.
I discovered youtube.com, which was created by the same evil genius who created the rest of the internet. His internet has sucked us in and made us completely dependent upon it. When he decides the moment is right, he will exercise one of two options:
1. Launch a secret internet program that is so absolutely amazing that we will all be instantly enthralled. We will be so mesmerized by the new internet that all production will cease. We will be unable to go about our daily lives, leaving him free to take over the world.
2. Completely wipe out the internet. He will remove every last trace of the internet and all of its wonderful technology. We will no longer be able to communicate, read stupid chain e-mail, watch ridiculous videos, check the sports scores, read movie reviews, or any of the millions of mindless things we do on the internet every day. We will all fall into a deep depression over our loss. We will be unable to go about our daily lives, leaving him free to take over the world.
So that's his plan. Anyway, youtube.com is pretty cool. People can post videos on the domain and you can watch whatever you want. Some things are really stupid, like the people who think they are going to make it big in Hollywood by recording themselves singing Backstreet Boys and posting it on the internet. There are also a lot of videos of TV shows that people record and post. This, my friends, is where I got sucked in. I have an addiction disorder. I am addicted to Degrassi: The New Generation. It's pathetic, I know. I have spent an average of 2 hours per day watching Degrassi. That amounts to about 5 episodes per day. I've watched all the way through seasons one and two. I plan on launching to season three tomorrow. Pathetic, I know.
I spent an additional three hours per day watching TV and/or movies. I spent about 3 hours in the morning and 2 hours at night talking to friends online. I spent about 2 hours eating. And I spent another four hours checking e-mail, surfing the web, and sometimes, just staring at my wall. Pathetic, I know. That leaves 11 hours for sleep. This is just a rough estimate, of course. Some days, I only got 10 hours of sleep! So anyway, after 5 days of this, I nearly went crazy. On the sixth day, I finally got my ass up. I actually did my hair and stuff. And I studied. Woo, boy. I went crazy. I finally snapped out of it, so that I could study. I'm living life on the wild side. All that studying helped my exams though.
So 2 exams down, and 3 to go. Let me comment on my first two exams. I felt like I was in high school again. This overmanagement is getting a bit out of hand. Exams are assigned in special rooms. We can't have them in the lecture halls, because that would mean we would be sitting too close to each other. So we have them in the smaller classrooms, with the old-fashioned desks-in-a-row thing. Then they assign you a number, which corresponds to a specific desk. Yes, assigned seating. During the whole exam, you have to keep your ID card on the top right corner of your desk so that during the exam, they can come around and check it and mark you off on their little clipboard. During the two-hour exam, no one is allowed to leave the classroom for the first hour or the last 15 minutes. If you need to use the restroom, you have to sign out when you leave and sign in when you return. And you have to leave your bags lined up against the wall, not next to your desk. WHOA. I wanted to stand up during the whole exam and say, "I'm not a moron. I'm an adult." But that's simply not done in Singapore.
On a funnier note, I got assigned to seat #1 in two of my exams. Apparently, the English and Psychology departments think my last name is "Alyson."
I discovered youtube.com, which was created by the same evil genius who created the rest of the internet. His internet has sucked us in and made us completely dependent upon it. When he decides the moment is right, he will exercise one of two options:
1. Launch a secret internet program that is so absolutely amazing that we will all be instantly enthralled. We will be so mesmerized by the new internet that all production will cease. We will be unable to go about our daily lives, leaving him free to take over the world.
2. Completely wipe out the internet. He will remove every last trace of the internet and all of its wonderful technology. We will no longer be able to communicate, read stupid chain e-mail, watch ridiculous videos, check the sports scores, read movie reviews, or any of the millions of mindless things we do on the internet every day. We will all fall into a deep depression over our loss. We will be unable to go about our daily lives, leaving him free to take over the world.
So that's his plan. Anyway, youtube.com is pretty cool. People can post videos on the domain and you can watch whatever you want. Some things are really stupid, like the people who think they are going to make it big in Hollywood by recording themselves singing Backstreet Boys and posting it on the internet. There are also a lot of videos of TV shows that people record and post. This, my friends, is where I got sucked in. I have an addiction disorder. I am addicted to Degrassi: The New Generation. It's pathetic, I know. I have spent an average of 2 hours per day watching Degrassi. That amounts to about 5 episodes per day. I've watched all the way through seasons one and two. I plan on launching to season three tomorrow. Pathetic, I know.
I spent an additional three hours per day watching TV and/or movies. I spent about 3 hours in the morning and 2 hours at night talking to friends online. I spent about 2 hours eating. And I spent another four hours checking e-mail, surfing the web, and sometimes, just staring at my wall. Pathetic, I know. That leaves 11 hours for sleep. This is just a rough estimate, of course. Some days, I only got 10 hours of sleep! So anyway, after 5 days of this, I nearly went crazy. On the sixth day, I finally got my ass up. I actually did my hair and stuff. And I studied. Woo, boy. I went crazy. I finally snapped out of it, so that I could study. I'm living life on the wild side. All that studying helped my exams though.
So 2 exams down, and 3 to go. Let me comment on my first two exams. I felt like I was in high school again. This overmanagement is getting a bit out of hand. Exams are assigned in special rooms. We can't have them in the lecture halls, because that would mean we would be sitting too close to each other. So we have them in the smaller classrooms, with the old-fashioned desks-in-a-row thing. Then they assign you a number, which corresponds to a specific desk. Yes, assigned seating. During the whole exam, you have to keep your ID card on the top right corner of your desk so that during the exam, they can come around and check it and mark you off on their little clipboard. During the two-hour exam, no one is allowed to leave the classroom for the first hour or the last 15 minutes. If you need to use the restroom, you have to sign out when you leave and sign in when you return. And you have to leave your bags lined up against the wall, not next to your desk. WHOA. I wanted to stand up during the whole exam and say, "I'm not a moron. I'm an adult." But that's simply not done in Singapore.
On a funnier note, I got assigned to seat #1 in two of my exams. Apparently, the English and Psychology departments think my last name is "Alyson."
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Birthday Bash
I'm 20! That's crazy. I don't feel any older, yet "twenty" sounds so much older than "nineteen." There's something about the transition from 12 to 13 and then 19 to 20. Maybe we just think these transitions are important because being a teenager sucks. You turn 13, and your youthful ignorance shouts, "Yes! I'm finally a teenager." And probably the next day, you realize it's not all that it's cracked up to be. So when you turn 20, your youthful ignorance shouts, "Yes! I'm not a teenager anymore." Hopefully I won't find out next week that your twenties suck. I'm pretty sure they don't. At least not as much as the teens do.
Anyway, my birthday was pretty cool. I celebrated prematurely because a lot of people were away on vacation on my actual birthday. We started off with a nice Singaporean Italian meal. Pasta Fresca is pretty decent Italian considering, but still, it's not the same. I had some pretty excellent cannolis. But they were made out of bread instead of noodles, so it was sort of like an Italian burrito. Sounds gross, but tastes great. The Rum and Coke Janine made me probably helped in that review. I got cool presents from cool people. That was happy. Janine et al gave me an awesome card with lots of embarassing pictures of me on it. It was very cute. My birthday advice included "Don't try to outdrink Janine: you will LOSE" and "Beware of *Natalie*... you don't like fluids, but she likes to share them!" Haha... inside jokes are so funny to me and so boring to my hypothetical readers.
Our next stop post-dinner was karaoke. The first place was a bust. Their version of karaoke was to sit around their bar singing to the radio. No song list, no microphone, nothing. So we bounced and headed to our next stop in Boat Quay. That was slightly more entertaining.
The song list:
"Torn" by Natalie Imbruglia - Natalie, May, and yours truly
"Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!" by the Venga Boys - Natalie and May attempted this song but didn't entirely pull it off. That's because this is a difficult song to sing and it's lame.
"We Will Rock You" by Queen - Chirag made a valiant effort with the verses, and both he and Erik chimed in for the chorus. Most excellent.
"Eternal Flame" by the Bangles - My solo debut. Might I say, I rocked. JG tried to sing too, but he didn't know the words. I think he got some nice harmony in, though.
There were a few more songs, but I don't remember them. Seeing us we were the only ones singing in the whole place, I'm sure we annoyed the hell out of the Singaporeans. We ran out of time though and left before JG and I could sing our songs. Too bad; it would have been great. We so kindly left Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys for the rest of the bar to enjoy.
Next stop: dbl o. Surprised? You shouldn't be. I'm so sick of that damn club. But it was the closest club around, and nobody wanted to take any taxis anywhere else. And since some people skipped out on the karaoke, it was an easy place to meet up after. I'm proud of myself for not getting completely smashed. In fact, I was quite sober by the time I got home. It was a relatively uneventful night, though. I've had better stories. But it was still fun. Being the total loser I am, I pooped out first. Despite being the birthday girl, I was utterly exhausted. I wasn't even dancing anymore. I was just standing in the middle of the dance floor kind of bobbing up and down. I mean, I guess it looked similar to some guys I've seen "dancing." But still, it was painful. No rhythm, no dancing, and no vision as I was pretty much sleeping on my feet. Janine saw me and was like, "Hey, are you ready to go or something?" Friends are cool. They leave the club early with you when you're too tired to stand up. It wasn't even that early, though. The club closed a half hour later.
So fun birthday. Drinking, dancing, singing... there's not much more a girl could ask for.
Anyway, my birthday was pretty cool. I celebrated prematurely because a lot of people were away on vacation on my actual birthday. We started off with a nice Singaporean Italian meal. Pasta Fresca is pretty decent Italian considering, but still, it's not the same. I had some pretty excellent cannolis. But they were made out of bread instead of noodles, so it was sort of like an Italian burrito. Sounds gross, but tastes great. The Rum and Coke Janine made me probably helped in that review. I got cool presents from cool people. That was happy. Janine et al gave me an awesome card with lots of embarassing pictures of me on it. It was very cute. My birthday advice included "Don't try to outdrink Janine: you will LOSE" and "Beware of *Natalie*... you don't like fluids, but she likes to share them!" Haha... inside jokes are so funny to me and so boring to my hypothetical readers.
Our next stop post-dinner was karaoke. The first place was a bust. Their version of karaoke was to sit around their bar singing to the radio. No song list, no microphone, nothing. So we bounced and headed to our next stop in Boat Quay. That was slightly more entertaining.
The song list:
"Torn" by Natalie Imbruglia - Natalie, May, and yours truly
"Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!" by the Venga Boys - Natalie and May attempted this song but didn't entirely pull it off. That's because this is a difficult song to sing and it's lame.
"We Will Rock You" by Queen - Chirag made a valiant effort with the verses, and both he and Erik chimed in for the chorus. Most excellent.
"Eternal Flame" by the Bangles - My solo debut. Might I say, I rocked. JG tried to sing too, but he didn't know the words. I think he got some nice harmony in, though.
There were a few more songs, but I don't remember them. Seeing us we were the only ones singing in the whole place, I'm sure we annoyed the hell out of the Singaporeans. We ran out of time though and left before JG and I could sing our songs. Too bad; it would have been great. We so kindly left Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys for the rest of the bar to enjoy.
Next stop: dbl o. Surprised? You shouldn't be. I'm so sick of that damn club. But it was the closest club around, and nobody wanted to take any taxis anywhere else. And since some people skipped out on the karaoke, it was an easy place to meet up after. I'm proud of myself for not getting completely smashed. In fact, I was quite sober by the time I got home. It was a relatively uneventful night, though. I've had better stories. But it was still fun. Being the total loser I am, I pooped out first. Despite being the birthday girl, I was utterly exhausted. I wasn't even dancing anymore. I was just standing in the middle of the dance floor kind of bobbing up and down. I mean, I guess it looked similar to some guys I've seen "dancing." But still, it was painful. No rhythm, no dancing, and no vision as I was pretty much sleeping on my feet. Janine saw me and was like, "Hey, are you ready to go or something?" Friends are cool. They leave the club early with you when you're too tired to stand up. It wasn't even that early, though. The club closed a half hour later.
So fun birthday. Drinking, dancing, singing... there's not much more a girl could ask for.
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