I found this tune today and just fell in love with it. For all the crap I take for saying "groovy" all the time, I'd like to say thank you to the band "Train" for putting it in a song.
Enjoy!!!
Monday, January 23, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Thunderstruck
Let's turn up the heat and stir things up a bit:
I think every girl, at least once in her lifetime, looks at a man and just drools. As we all know, I'm not seeing anyone anymore, so there is no reason not to add another hottie to the hotties list. For a Saturday night treat, I rented Kenneth Branagh's Thor. Knowing me as you do, you had to know that Chris Hemsworth was going to make the list.
For all of my gal-pals that need a bit of beefcake in their day, here's the hottie of the day:
There are a lot of really good reasons, outside of his charming good looks, that he's made the list. Y'all know me! I never do anything without a plan or a really good reason. Okay then, let's get on to my reason for posting a new hottie of the day, to open up the topic of tall, hunky men (who can kick butt) that are just one of those things where any girl that's anywhere near sane will just knee-buckle when a man like that walks into a room (especially without his shirt on).
Chris Hemsworth and the two hours I spent watching Thor gave me a really good reason to look at my tastes and choices. Have you ever noticed that sometimes after a traumatic situation you look at what you just went through and say, "Nuh uh, not doing that again..." Well, if you haven't, I sure have. Namely the thought of ever, ever in my life ever looking up on purpose at a man.
After my ex hit the door, being that he was 6'4", I said to myself that even at 5'5", I never wanted to look up at my romantic interests ever again. I thought eye-level would be good, thinking that a guy that was 5'8" or 5'9" would be okay for me, even as much as 6'1", but not any taller than that. The thought of dating someone tall after my ex left meant that it would lead to me craning my neck and going through all kinds of unnecessary pains, essentially reliving the emotions of forcing myself to fit with someone I had no business trying to fit with in the first place. It was effectively like adding cinnamon to a chocolate poundcake. You can do it, but why would you want to? Besides, will it work? Odds are, probably not, but it's a taste thing. What is good to one person might not be necessarily good to another. The point is that I never again wanted to be around a man that was really tall. I wanted to avoid any reminders of my pain and humiliation.
What about the strength thing girls always go ga-ga about? A girl likes to feel safe, right? Thor is one thing, he's a fictitious superhero, but it reminded me that a lot of men I've been around have abilities that allow them to kick some serious butt. I'll admit it, my ex knew 20 martial arts, so after he hit the road I wanted to do the inverse of what I knew and be around someone who could have cared less about being violent. But, as fate would have it, my world is filled with men who know a bajillion different martial arts while others like guns (but only in a home-protection kind of way). Look at Ace, KP and RJ, they're all soldiers that have no compunction about using some sort of martial prowess should something threaten their families. But it brings me back to thinking about how better to feel safe than to hang out with a guy that knows those things? (It doesn't hurt that I've got some skills on how to immobilize or disarm an attacker, but still, I'd rather a guy take care of those things. But as begrudgingly as this admission goes, OK, I'll admit it, I like having a bodyguard. What girl doesn't?) Is it necessary? No, but it's nice to have.
Here's the brass tacks: I know what I like and I know what I don't like in a man I would want to date. I would like to hit the male trifecta: a mental, physical and spiritual equal.
Some things I like and don't like may be superficial to you, but I tell you what, if I don't like what I'm looking at, why the heck should I be expected to stay with them! I don't like my men with fur. A chest full of fur has always turned me off, but knowing that we can't have everything, I've always kind of lived with it. Here's the secret though, I don't have to put up with it if I don't want to!
Good gods, my ex was a walking fur ball over his entire body but he was going bald! You know what, he's been out of here for close to three years now and it's only been up to this moment that I just realized I don't have to deal with things like that anymore if I don't want to! I like my men with bare chests and a full head of hair! I know the odds of finding a man my age that isn't balding are slim, but I don't have to date a balding guy if I don't want to! If I have to look at fur on a man's back, he's out of there! I don't like it, so I most certainly don't have to put up with it unless he's really, really charming and I mean charming on the Samuel L. Jackson scale of Arnold the Pig in Pulp Fiction type of charming. If they choose to shave their head bald, I'm cool with that, but at least I know it's there and there is always a possibility of them growing it out! I really would prefer a guy with long hair! Y'all know that I'm a real sucker for a guy with long hair, so why on Earth can't I have one!
There are some things I still really like even though throughout all of my failed relationships I never got the right mix of the things I really do enjoy! I like men who are sweet inside yet rough on the outside and take a while to get through all of the tough to get to the sweet, knowing that when I do finally get through that tough exterior, that sweet part is meant just for me because my heart won it and I earned it.
I enjoy the thought of knowing if some doodah comes and tries to break into the house, my man will dispatch them post-haste! I like the thought of seeing a tall man in my environment. I like the thought of getting on my tip-toes to kiss my guy or know that his huge hands will catch me should I fall. Those are all good things and I've realized that by trying to distance myself from the good qualities that were diminished by bad experiences I'm cutting myself off from the things I really do want!
There is a guy out there just for me who knows to put things back EXACTLY where they found it, that understands that an environment is a shared space, that the toilet seat should always be down, that computer games are a shared experience and that all great gamer couples I know are tank/healer combos...wait, that's profound, I just hit on something there that is at my fundamental core...I need a tank to heal. That's EXACTLY it! I need one tough fella who's a little worse for wear that needs my skills and that I can heal up to full. It gives me reason, purpose and a goal which is what I need all the time. Ooh! Big breakthrough there! He also is a sweets junkie that can handle my need to bake along with all of the good food I make and who understands down to the core of his being what the phrase "nutritional value" really means when it comes to relationships. Oh, now that's what the doctor ordered!
We all know that we're the sum of our parts and experiences. What one moment tells you is horrible, the next tells you that same thing isn't so bad. It's odd what time and healing will do for your spirit once you realize that what you went through, while traumatic, wasn't all that bad and you're better off having gone through it. It's amazing what a little bit of retrospection can do because it makes evident what you like, don't like and gives you a clear focus to get to what you really want.
I've noticed a few things lately and I'll try to sum it up in a way that is subtle yet still proves the point.
Have you ever been in the kitchen and followed a recipe to the letter and still have the dish turn out horribly? In fact, so horribly that you had to toss the whole thing out? I know I have and I've figured out that relationships are no different from each recipe we try to make in our kitchens. What if, and it's a big IF, when you were cooking, one ingredient out of the many on your recipe list had spoiled or gone rotten and you didn't know it and added it anyway? Could that be the reason that the dish went so horribly wrong and resulted in it going into the garbage or down the kitchen sink garbage disposal? Maybe so... But, how about if you put the ingredients into the dish in the wrong order? I could go on forever, but I think you get my point: What if relationships are really like cooking and it's a matter of putting the right ingredients, in the right order, into it combined with the right amount of time to prepare it and allow it to simmer and bubble until it comes out right?
My friend RJ is a great example of this. Yep, he's been through three wives, yet he still keeps trying. He unknowingly put spoiled ingredients into his situations without knowing it (then everyone around him still said the dish came out good, even when he screamed at the top of his lungs that it was rotten). Even through three honest efforts, he just couldn't quite seem to not get rotten ingredients or what he tried to cook in was a dirty pan he thought was clean. How on Earth was he supposed to get nutritional value from rotten ingredients and dirty cookware? I honestly feel sorry for the guy because he's tried so hard only to be met with failure. I keep my fingers crossed for him though.
I've been through one husband, and yet I stand in my kitchen looking at the pots and pans and know in my heart I can get the dish right if I could just get the right ingredients. My failure came with the caveat that I wasn't properly emotionally prepared for the situation on top of the fact that the oven wasn't properly pre-heated (read: my personal growth needed work). While the ingredients were in the right general vicinity, they weren't exactly the right ones, after all there is a difference between baking soda and baking powder or olive oil vs. butter.
Confession time. This I'm sure will make you laugh out loud, but it's so sad even I laugh at it. Brass tacks are that as a woman, you can't honestly believe that after ten years of needs not being met in your bedroom, to come out of a failed marriage in your prime, and not expect for things to be really and I mean REALLY super hot in the bedroom department when, after all that heartache and disappointment, you finally find that one special guy. Anything short of scalding hot when you've been that deprived for so long is going to make your expectations extremely high and if parts aren't working and needs aren't being met, you're out of there in one quick hurry because when you date, it's a process. If you don't like one, you throw it back and try another. At my age, you don't have the luxury of wasting time in a relationship that doesn't work. But don't complain to me, tell it to human body chemistry.
Are we all just trying to figure out the exact right combination of ingredients that would make us happy? When do we know that we've attained just the right mix?
Lately, I've modified my views on a few things. I realized that I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life. I'd really like to have a partner, but it's not something that I am going to consciously search for. I'll be fine alone if I have to be, but what if, just what if, there were someone who held in their heart just the right ingredients that would mix with mine and become a dish filled with nutritional value that would be satisfying and last for a long time? That's something to think about, isn't it? Don't you ever look in the mirror and realize that maybe the ingredients you have inside become amplified and more special because of the people you are around?
So right around now, I'm thinking that you're understanding my conundrum, that there were things that I've encountered that I really like, but I'm mortified by the thought of welcoming those traits back into my life because the memory of those good things are tainted by bad experiences. RJ keeps telling me that I'm giving too much power to people I've dealt with in the past and that, like KP says, I should just build a bridge and get over it, and trust myself enough to enjoy those things without attaching the bad memories to them. I think he's got a good point.
Why all of this now? Well, I've known someone for a really long time who just very recently decided to pop out of the woodwork and let me know in no uncertain terms that the sun rises and sets wherever I am. Good for my ego? Heavens yes. Like KP, Raj, Michelle and the rest of my pals, he was there when the world went kaboom and watched me reel from the experience. From what he says, he just woke up one morning and realized he thought the world of me and given the opportunity would snatch me up in a heartbeat. What do you do with that knowing that he's really tall, that he's super tough and that he's well-trained in protective arts? That he's got shades of what I've experienced before but has a completely different take on things that are so similar to mine it's outright frightening on top of the fact that he's a total sweets freak and loves the smell and taste of home-baked goods? This is someone who I considered a close friend for a long time that I'm just now finding out that there is a lot in common I never dreamed was there! When you're faced with someone you thought you knew really well that through a lot of time spent together ends up becoming someone brand new but completely familiar, what do you do? I want to know the answer because it's really scaring me! I know him really well, but up until very recently I wasn't willing to hear what he was trying to tell me! This goes back to a while back where I said, "An audience isn't going to hear what you're trying to say until they are ready for it." Well, I was an unready audience until I realized I should be listening to what he has to say and oh have I gotten an earful! Special message to Houston: We have ignition...43 FTW, playin' TOR mah brothah. L33T codeslinger. Ghostbar haunted. Blackthorne righteous. Hand-in-glove The Palm's 9.
Here's the part where you go "Awwwww!" It contains a spoiler if you haven't seen Thor, so if you've not seen it, you may want to skip this part...
At the end of the film, Thor walks up to Heimdall and says, "Can you see her?" Heimdall replies, "Yes." Thor asks, "How is she?" and Heimdall says, "She searches for you."
I think I've read too many romance novels, watched too many movies and held out hope that one day all of the ingredients would come together perfectly. Oh well, there's lots to do, a semester to conquer, the NSAC to win and so much stuff that if the ingredients are coming together perfectly, I'll be able to have my cake and eat it too at the end of the semester.
One can only hope.
But I do know this, through all of my Myst experiences that have fueled my need to problem solve and look at the world knowing it is one Great Tree of Possibilities, from the fighter's spirit I have inside to the phoenix metaphor that I keep in my back pocket as a self-portrait, there is only one thing that I can never deny. Hope is something just like me being a wise fool:
It's eternal.
Song of the day time! Today, from the ending credit's of Thor, the Foo Fighter's "Walk."
I think every girl, at least once in her lifetime, looks at a man and just drools. As we all know, I'm not seeing anyone anymore, so there is no reason not to add another hottie to the hotties list. For a Saturday night treat, I rented Kenneth Branagh's Thor. Knowing me as you do, you had to know that Chris Hemsworth was going to make the list.
For all of my gal-pals that need a bit of beefcake in their day, here's the hottie of the day:
There are a lot of really good reasons, outside of his charming good looks, that he's made the list. Y'all know me! I never do anything without a plan or a really good reason. Okay then, let's get on to my reason for posting a new hottie of the day, to open up the topic of tall, hunky men (who can kick butt) that are just one of those things where any girl that's anywhere near sane will just knee-buckle when a man like that walks into a room (especially without his shirt on).
Chris Hemsworth and the two hours I spent watching Thor gave me a really good reason to look at my tastes and choices. Have you ever noticed that sometimes after a traumatic situation you look at what you just went through and say, "Nuh uh, not doing that again..." Well, if you haven't, I sure have. Namely the thought of ever, ever in my life ever looking up on purpose at a man.
After my ex hit the door, being that he was 6'4", I said to myself that even at 5'5", I never wanted to look up at my romantic interests ever again. I thought eye-level would be good, thinking that a guy that was 5'8" or 5'9" would be okay for me, even as much as 6'1", but not any taller than that. The thought of dating someone tall after my ex left meant that it would lead to me craning my neck and going through all kinds of unnecessary pains, essentially reliving the emotions of forcing myself to fit with someone I had no business trying to fit with in the first place. It was effectively like adding cinnamon to a chocolate poundcake. You can do it, but why would you want to? Besides, will it work? Odds are, probably not, but it's a taste thing. What is good to one person might not be necessarily good to another. The point is that I never again wanted to be around a man that was really tall. I wanted to avoid any reminders of my pain and humiliation.
What about the strength thing girls always go ga-ga about? A girl likes to feel safe, right? Thor is one thing, he's a fictitious superhero, but it reminded me that a lot of men I've been around have abilities that allow them to kick some serious butt. I'll admit it, my ex knew 20 martial arts, so after he hit the road I wanted to do the inverse of what I knew and be around someone who could have cared less about being violent. But, as fate would have it, my world is filled with men who know a bajillion different martial arts while others like guns (but only in a home-protection kind of way). Look at Ace, KP and RJ, they're all soldiers that have no compunction about using some sort of martial prowess should something threaten their families. But it brings me back to thinking about how better to feel safe than to hang out with a guy that knows those things? (It doesn't hurt that I've got some skills on how to immobilize or disarm an attacker, but still, I'd rather a guy take care of those things. But as begrudgingly as this admission goes, OK, I'll admit it, I like having a bodyguard. What girl doesn't?) Is it necessary? No, but it's nice to have.
Here's the brass tacks: I know what I like and I know what I don't like in a man I would want to date. I would like to hit the male trifecta: a mental, physical and spiritual equal.
Some things I like and don't like may be superficial to you, but I tell you what, if I don't like what I'm looking at, why the heck should I be expected to stay with them! I don't like my men with fur. A chest full of fur has always turned me off, but knowing that we can't have everything, I've always kind of lived with it. Here's the secret though, I don't have to put up with it if I don't want to!
Good gods, my ex was a walking fur ball over his entire body but he was going bald! You know what, he's been out of here for close to three years now and it's only been up to this moment that I just realized I don't have to deal with things like that anymore if I don't want to! I like my men with bare chests and a full head of hair! I know the odds of finding a man my age that isn't balding are slim, but I don't have to date a balding guy if I don't want to! If I have to look at fur on a man's back, he's out of there! I don't like it, so I most certainly don't have to put up with it unless he's really, really charming and I mean charming on the Samuel L. Jackson scale of Arnold the Pig in Pulp Fiction type of charming. If they choose to shave their head bald, I'm cool with that, but at least I know it's there and there is always a possibility of them growing it out! I really would prefer a guy with long hair! Y'all know that I'm a real sucker for a guy with long hair, so why on Earth can't I have one!
There are some things I still really like even though throughout all of my failed relationships I never got the right mix of the things I really do enjoy! I like men who are sweet inside yet rough on the outside and take a while to get through all of the tough to get to the sweet, knowing that when I do finally get through that tough exterior, that sweet part is meant just for me because my heart won it and I earned it.
I enjoy the thought of knowing if some doodah comes and tries to break into the house, my man will dispatch them post-haste! I like the thought of seeing a tall man in my environment. I like the thought of getting on my tip-toes to kiss my guy or know that his huge hands will catch me should I fall. Those are all good things and I've realized that by trying to distance myself from the good qualities that were diminished by bad experiences I'm cutting myself off from the things I really do want!
There is a guy out there just for me who knows to put things back EXACTLY where they found it, that understands that an environment is a shared space, that the toilet seat should always be down, that computer games are a shared experience and that all great gamer couples I know are tank/healer combos...wait, that's profound, I just hit on something there that is at my fundamental core...I need a tank to heal. That's EXACTLY it! I need one tough fella who's a little worse for wear that needs my skills and that I can heal up to full. It gives me reason, purpose and a goal which is what I need all the time. Ooh! Big breakthrough there! He also is a sweets junkie that can handle my need to bake along with all of the good food I make and who understands down to the core of his being what the phrase "nutritional value" really means when it comes to relationships. Oh, now that's what the doctor ordered!
We all know that we're the sum of our parts and experiences. What one moment tells you is horrible, the next tells you that same thing isn't so bad. It's odd what time and healing will do for your spirit once you realize that what you went through, while traumatic, wasn't all that bad and you're better off having gone through it. It's amazing what a little bit of retrospection can do because it makes evident what you like, don't like and gives you a clear focus to get to what you really want.
I've noticed a few things lately and I'll try to sum it up in a way that is subtle yet still proves the point.
Have you ever been in the kitchen and followed a recipe to the letter and still have the dish turn out horribly? In fact, so horribly that you had to toss the whole thing out? I know I have and I've figured out that relationships are no different from each recipe we try to make in our kitchens. What if, and it's a big IF, when you were cooking, one ingredient out of the many on your recipe list had spoiled or gone rotten and you didn't know it and added it anyway? Could that be the reason that the dish went so horribly wrong and resulted in it going into the garbage or down the kitchen sink garbage disposal? Maybe so... But, how about if you put the ingredients into the dish in the wrong order? I could go on forever, but I think you get my point: What if relationships are really like cooking and it's a matter of putting the right ingredients, in the right order, into it combined with the right amount of time to prepare it and allow it to simmer and bubble until it comes out right?
My friend RJ is a great example of this. Yep, he's been through three wives, yet he still keeps trying. He unknowingly put spoiled ingredients into his situations without knowing it (then everyone around him still said the dish came out good, even when he screamed at the top of his lungs that it was rotten). Even through three honest efforts, he just couldn't quite seem to not get rotten ingredients or what he tried to cook in was a dirty pan he thought was clean. How on Earth was he supposed to get nutritional value from rotten ingredients and dirty cookware? I honestly feel sorry for the guy because he's tried so hard only to be met with failure. I keep my fingers crossed for him though.
I've been through one husband, and yet I stand in my kitchen looking at the pots and pans and know in my heart I can get the dish right if I could just get the right ingredients. My failure came with the caveat that I wasn't properly emotionally prepared for the situation on top of the fact that the oven wasn't properly pre-heated (read: my personal growth needed work). While the ingredients were in the right general vicinity, they weren't exactly the right ones, after all there is a difference between baking soda and baking powder or olive oil vs. butter.
Confession time. This I'm sure will make you laugh out loud, but it's so sad even I laugh at it. Brass tacks are that as a woman, you can't honestly believe that after ten years of needs not being met in your bedroom, to come out of a failed marriage in your prime, and not expect for things to be really and I mean REALLY super hot in the bedroom department when, after all that heartache and disappointment, you finally find that one special guy. Anything short of scalding hot when you've been that deprived for so long is going to make your expectations extremely high and if parts aren't working and needs aren't being met, you're out of there in one quick hurry because when you date, it's a process. If you don't like one, you throw it back and try another. At my age, you don't have the luxury of wasting time in a relationship that doesn't work. But don't complain to me, tell it to human body chemistry.
Are we all just trying to figure out the exact right combination of ingredients that would make us happy? When do we know that we've attained just the right mix?
Lately, I've modified my views on a few things. I realized that I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life. I'd really like to have a partner, but it's not something that I am going to consciously search for. I'll be fine alone if I have to be, but what if, just what if, there were someone who held in their heart just the right ingredients that would mix with mine and become a dish filled with nutritional value that would be satisfying and last for a long time? That's something to think about, isn't it? Don't you ever look in the mirror and realize that maybe the ingredients you have inside become amplified and more special because of the people you are around?
So right around now, I'm thinking that you're understanding my conundrum, that there were things that I've encountered that I really like, but I'm mortified by the thought of welcoming those traits back into my life because the memory of those good things are tainted by bad experiences. RJ keeps telling me that I'm giving too much power to people I've dealt with in the past and that, like KP says, I should just build a bridge and get over it, and trust myself enough to enjoy those things without attaching the bad memories to them. I think he's got a good point.
Why all of this now? Well, I've known someone for a really long time who just very recently decided to pop out of the woodwork and let me know in no uncertain terms that the sun rises and sets wherever I am. Good for my ego? Heavens yes. Like KP, Raj, Michelle and the rest of my pals, he was there when the world went kaboom and watched me reel from the experience. From what he says, he just woke up one morning and realized he thought the world of me and given the opportunity would snatch me up in a heartbeat. What do you do with that knowing that he's really tall, that he's super tough and that he's well-trained in protective arts? That he's got shades of what I've experienced before but has a completely different take on things that are so similar to mine it's outright frightening on top of the fact that he's a total sweets freak and loves the smell and taste of home-baked goods? This is someone who I considered a close friend for a long time that I'm just now finding out that there is a lot in common I never dreamed was there! When you're faced with someone you thought you knew really well that through a lot of time spent together ends up becoming someone brand new but completely familiar, what do you do? I want to know the answer because it's really scaring me! I know him really well, but up until very recently I wasn't willing to hear what he was trying to tell me! This goes back to a while back where I said, "An audience isn't going to hear what you're trying to say until they are ready for it." Well, I was an unready audience until I realized I should be listening to what he has to say and oh have I gotten an earful! Special message to Houston: We have ignition...43 FTW, playin' TOR mah brothah. L33T codeslinger. Ghostbar haunted. Blackthorne righteous. Hand-in-glove The Palm's 9.
Here's the part where you go "Awwwww!" It contains a spoiler if you haven't seen Thor, so if you've not seen it, you may want to skip this part...
At the end of the film, Thor walks up to Heimdall and says, "Can you see her?" Heimdall replies, "Yes." Thor asks, "How is she?" and Heimdall says, "She searches for you."
I think I've read too many romance novels, watched too many movies and held out hope that one day all of the ingredients would come together perfectly. Oh well, there's lots to do, a semester to conquer, the NSAC to win and so much stuff that if the ingredients are coming together perfectly, I'll be able to have my cake and eat it too at the end of the semester.
One can only hope.
But I do know this, through all of my Myst experiences that have fueled my need to problem solve and look at the world knowing it is one Great Tree of Possibilities, from the fighter's spirit I have inside to the phoenix metaphor that I keep in my back pocket as a self-portrait, there is only one thing that I can never deny. Hope is something just like me being a wise fool:
It's eternal.
Song of the day time! Today, from the ending credit's of Thor, the Foo Fighter's "Walk."
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Spring 2012 Semester Preface.
Good grief. What a trip we've been on so far, huh?
I was just looking back for a moment and counting how many semesters we've been at this, and well, we're now beginning semester number six. Three years, a whole lot of posts, a whole lot of great people that I've met and had the pleasure of spending time with.
We've been through Nevada School Law, Composition II, Journalism 100, World Literature, Critical Analysis of the Mass Media, Environmental Science, News Reporting and Writing, Personal Growth, Global Media, History, Introduction to Integrated Marketing Communications, Afro-American Studies, Media Planning and Buying, Electronic Media Production, and Integrated Marketing Communications Strategy.
Yeah, go ahead, be like me with your tongue lolling out and go, "OMG, that's a lot." LOL! But think of it this way, you've been with me for the whole thing, all 46 credit hours worth. Finally, we're at the home stretch. When I finish this spring semester, I'll have 32 credits to go. For those of you keeping track, that's one more year, plus one semester.
A while back, Mom asked me why I wasn't stuffing more than 12 credit hours in every semester. For me, the answer was easy. I know myself. 12 hours a semester is plenty for me, any more than that and it becomes a question of, take less and do better or take more and do worse? I prefer to go a tad bit slower but have excellent grades. Hey, a 3.7 GPA is nothing to sneeze at, so for this semester we have 12 more credit hours that I'm sure are going to see some lip service here.
This semester I'm going to go numerically by the class number so that way we don't get anything confused. Let's get started.
On the bill for Spring 2012 we have:
Journalism 305 - Media Ethics
Journalism 374 - Advertising Copywriting (oh you know you're cheering with me on this one).
Journalism 401 - The First Amendment and the Media
and finally...
Journalism 433 - IMC Campaigns, also known as the 2012 UNLV NSAC Competition Team. (The capstone course for my major, a.k.a. "The Show.")
That's right boys and girls, this semester we're going to competition...and we're going to kick butt!
Let's start describing this semester's fun and games...and I say that with all due sarcasm because it's going to be a hard road until May. Lucky for me, I've got a little bit of Doc Cat in my pocket along with a big cheering section that will see the hard work I'll be contributing to the team stand center stage on Saturday, April 28th, live from the Greenspun Hall Auditorium. (Contact me if you want to come watch! I'll have more info soon.)
Now, let's break it down:
Journalism Ethics...doesn't that just sound fun? Considering I've written ethics lectures in the past for my Photoshop students, well, it's not hard to imagine that I'm going to be putting my high-minded ideals to the test. The professor, Ms. M., is a legend inside Greenspun Hall for her ethics class. The caveat? She either loves you or hates you and come 10 a.m. Wednesday morning, I'll find out what category I fall into.
Advertising Copywriting, what I truly believe is my bread and butter will be up next and I'm hoping with the new professor they've hired for the class that it should be tons of fun. The focus (that I know ahead of time thanks to sitting in with Doc S. on countless mornings just to hang out) will be Multicultural Advertising. Just in time too with the goods coming up for the NSAC. I'm hoping it will be a blast. Keep your fingers crossed for this one. If all else fails, I've got Luke, his blog and a copy of Whipple on my bookshelf, so I think we'll be okay.
Then there's the First Amendment and the Media, a law class (by the way, it's my second law class, kill me, I'm no lawyer, I'm an ad girl. Who knew you had to be one-half law student and one-half lunatic to be a journalism major?). My trip through Media Law will be guided by my second Dr. B who is extremely different from my fave history professor, the Original Dr. B. Ah yes, a whole semester of pounding through textbooks...not my idea of fun, but it's a mandatory class, so guess what, it's one I have to buckle down for because I know it's not going to be the world's sexiest read. Filled with moments of "OMG, really?" of course because I'm convinced only great acts of stupidity land themselves in the court system.
But, the cherry on the cake of the semester, another fun filled five months with the king of IMC, the one and only Scorsese who along with KC will be going to battle with us for the National Student Advertising Competition that I've been dreaming the last three years and 46 credit hours of doing. Ok kiddies, this is it, the moment we've all been waiting for.
Last Thursday, I went to my first team meet-up. Walking up to Greenspun Hall at twilight will make any UNLV journalism major take a knee because it's just breathtakingly beautiful. I sat in a room filled with my teammates who are hungry to really take a chunk out of Chapman, USC, UCLA and the rest of the SoCal schools in our district. It seems to me my teammates are a pack of scrappers and that's just how I like it because I'm a scrapper too. If I can get beat down and torn up and rise from the ashes, clawing and scratching for everything I've got, my teammates are just my speed.
So, that's what Spring is shaping up to look like. Wish me luck, it's going to be a long, hard road.
One other thing...and I think I may just make my Mother faint with this one...last semester, I made the Dean's List. When I finish this semester, I'll walk into Fall as a Senior.
I was just looking back for a moment and counting how many semesters we've been at this, and well, we're now beginning semester number six. Three years, a whole lot of posts, a whole lot of great people that I've met and had the pleasure of spending time with.
We've been through Nevada School Law, Composition II, Journalism 100, World Literature, Critical Analysis of the Mass Media, Environmental Science, News Reporting and Writing, Personal Growth, Global Media, History, Introduction to Integrated Marketing Communications, Afro-American Studies, Media Planning and Buying, Electronic Media Production, and Integrated Marketing Communications Strategy.
Yeah, go ahead, be like me with your tongue lolling out and go, "OMG, that's a lot." LOL! But think of it this way, you've been with me for the whole thing, all 46 credit hours worth. Finally, we're at the home stretch. When I finish this spring semester, I'll have 32 credits to go. For those of you keeping track, that's one more year, plus one semester.
A while back, Mom asked me why I wasn't stuffing more than 12 credit hours in every semester. For me, the answer was easy. I know myself. 12 hours a semester is plenty for me, any more than that and it becomes a question of, take less and do better or take more and do worse? I prefer to go a tad bit slower but have excellent grades. Hey, a 3.7 GPA is nothing to sneeze at, so for this semester we have 12 more credit hours that I'm sure are going to see some lip service here.
This semester I'm going to go numerically by the class number so that way we don't get anything confused. Let's get started.
On the bill for Spring 2012 we have:
Journalism 305 - Media Ethics
Journalism 374 - Advertising Copywriting (oh you know you're cheering with me on this one).
Journalism 401 - The First Amendment and the Media
and finally...
Journalism 433 - IMC Campaigns, also known as the 2012 UNLV NSAC Competition Team. (The capstone course for my major, a.k.a. "The Show.")
That's right boys and girls, this semester we're going to competition...and we're going to kick butt!
Let's start describing this semester's fun and games...and I say that with all due sarcasm because it's going to be a hard road until May. Lucky for me, I've got a little bit of Doc Cat in my pocket along with a big cheering section that will see the hard work I'll be contributing to the team stand center stage on Saturday, April 28th, live from the Greenspun Hall Auditorium. (Contact me if you want to come watch! I'll have more info soon.)
Now, let's break it down:
Journalism Ethics...doesn't that just sound fun? Considering I've written ethics lectures in the past for my Photoshop students, well, it's not hard to imagine that I'm going to be putting my high-minded ideals to the test. The professor, Ms. M., is a legend inside Greenspun Hall for her ethics class. The caveat? She either loves you or hates you and come 10 a.m. Wednesday morning, I'll find out what category I fall into.
Advertising Copywriting, what I truly believe is my bread and butter will be up next and I'm hoping with the new professor they've hired for the class that it should be tons of fun. The focus (that I know ahead of time thanks to sitting in with Doc S. on countless mornings just to hang out) will be Multicultural Advertising. Just in time too with the goods coming up for the NSAC. I'm hoping it will be a blast. Keep your fingers crossed for this one. If all else fails, I've got Luke, his blog and a copy of Whipple on my bookshelf, so I think we'll be okay.
Then there's the First Amendment and the Media, a law class (by the way, it's my second law class, kill me, I'm no lawyer, I'm an ad girl. Who knew you had to be one-half law student and one-half lunatic to be a journalism major?). My trip through Media Law will be guided by my second Dr. B who is extremely different from my fave history professor, the Original Dr. B. Ah yes, a whole semester of pounding through textbooks...not my idea of fun, but it's a mandatory class, so guess what, it's one I have to buckle down for because I know it's not going to be the world's sexiest read. Filled with moments of "OMG, really?" of course because I'm convinced only great acts of stupidity land themselves in the court system.
But, the cherry on the cake of the semester, another fun filled five months with the king of IMC, the one and only Scorsese who along with KC will be going to battle with us for the National Student Advertising Competition that I've been dreaming the last three years and 46 credit hours of doing. Ok kiddies, this is it, the moment we've all been waiting for.
Last Thursday, I went to my first team meet-up. Walking up to Greenspun Hall at twilight will make any UNLV journalism major take a knee because it's just breathtakingly beautiful. I sat in a room filled with my teammates who are hungry to really take a chunk out of Chapman, USC, UCLA and the rest of the SoCal schools in our district. It seems to me my teammates are a pack of scrappers and that's just how I like it because I'm a scrapper too. If I can get beat down and torn up and rise from the ashes, clawing and scratching for everything I've got, my teammates are just my speed.
So, that's what Spring is shaping up to look like. Wish me luck, it's going to be a long, hard road.
One other thing...and I think I may just make my Mother faint with this one...last semester, I made the Dean's List. When I finish this semester, I'll walk into Fall as a Senior.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Surrounded by Soldiers...
Basically since birth, and especially since July of last year, my world has always been saturated with soldiers. Army men, a couple of Marines, Navy men and my big brother, who is an Air Force man.
Growing up, my father (who is an army man himself) would tell me a story now and again about what his experience was like in the Army. Now, all truth be told, my father had a kind of (and I stress "kind of") cushy job. He ran an NCO club. Of course, just like any soldier you know, they will tell you that there are things they just can't tell you about, and I accept that because the question really is, "Do I really want to know what they did or what happened to them?"
Two soldiers I know, one from the Army and one from the Marines, both suffer from an all too familiar friend, PTSD. Now where my PTSD derives itself from my childhood, theirs comes from the battlefield. But why write about this now? You all know that I'm a research junkie, I like to find out why things are the way they are along with the appropriate course of action to make sure I'm acting properly, crossing every "t" and dotting every "i" as it were. It also goes along with what Daddy taught me a long time ago and it kind of applies in the terms of speaking intelligently about a topic. He said, "If you're going to criticize someone, you better be ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with them and take it." Well, at the advice of my Marine friend, he encouraged me to watch the Stanley Kubric film Full Metal Jacket.
As we all know, I'm not big on war movies. Actually, to the dismay of my friends from the Armed Forces, I'm a pacifist. Heck, I can't even kill bugs without guilt. But, to sit and watch films like Full Metal Jacket, Apocalypse Now, The Green Zone, Brothers and so forth, well, it gives us a perspective and a view of what they've seen that, come on, let's be honest, is just a minor shade compared to what they've really been through.
I get sick to my stomach every time I watch a movie like that, thinking of my dear, sweet, loving friends who have seen such horror. RJ, my Marine friend, well, he's very kind, gentle and loving in ways that I wouldn't think were possible given the duties he had to carry out. He's only told me a mere fraction of what he did, but just that alone is enough to give me nightmares.
Ace, as we all know, is an Army man, a self-described helicopter mechanic who just happened to have to pick up and drop off soldiers like RJ into combat zones. He too told me stories that still make me have nightmares.
In all though, from all of my sweet soldiers that I know, I keep hearing the same story over and over again. Here is the part that is REALLY going to make you sick, and y'all know me, it just tears my heart right out...
Each and every one of them has told me about being deployed while being married. How it is very hard to begin with, but then to add insult to the already incomprehensible situations these guys were put in, their wives found it necessary to find company with other men while they were away. Ace calls it AIDS: Army Induced Divorce Syndrome. My question to that is "What is wrong with these women?!?!?!" I'd be shipping off cookies every chance I got and letters and pictures galore if I had my man sitting in a combat zone, reminding them that they're loved and so forth... But I guess that's neither here nor there because I've never been through it. I recognize that living with an active duty soldier is a hard life. I've had a few conversations with some military wives that have told me that it is no picnic, not by a long shot. I guess it really is a test of devotion and will no doubt prove strength of heart. But it's bad enough that they're getting shot at, seeing things that no human being should ever, ever see, and then they just get sucker punched like that when they get home. To me, that is just not fair. Loneliness is no excuse for infidelity and that I can tell you from first hand experience. Nothing good can ever come from it, but people buckle to it every day.
Both RJ and Ace have told me about how when a soldier is in combat or deployed for so long, they don't really think about anything but their jobs and how deployment actually severs their connection to the, what they call, "the world."
Here, let's go through something RJ told me about. Marines, similar to the rest of the branches of the Armed Forces, go through basic training, they get assigned to whatever job and so forth, and they become "programmed" in a very particular way.
I mean, look at my Dad, he's 70 but he still is very much a military man because of the way he likes things done, pressed shirts, shiny shoes, you know what I mean. And even though he might be 70, he's still very much the lethal weapon that the army trained him to be. I will never worry while sleeping under my father's roof whether or not I am safe. I remember when I first moved back to the States from Montreal. My ex and I were staying at my parents temporarily while we searched for a place to live and well, my ex heard something outside that he didn't think was quite right, and he heard someone jiggling an external doorknob to the house. Well my ex, being trained in 20 martial arts, grabbed the door and what he got on the other side of it was what he called the equivalent in strength to a raging rhinoceros...the funny part was that on the other side of that doorknob was my father, who was then 62 years old. My ex looked at me when he re-entered our bedroom and said, "Um, your dad's appearance is really deceiving, I expected to just "handle" who was messing with things, and well, I quickly learned I would have been in trouble at the hands of your father had I been anyone else." That's my Daddy. *grin*
But a daughter's pride aside, the soldiers that have graced and continue to grace my life have been very carefully trained and programmed. They stand on walls so I can sit behind my computer or go shopping or do whatever I want and feel safe. They see things that no one should ever see just so I can sit here and write whatever I'd like in my blog. I am positive I owe them a lot for that.
My Uncle Bill, (probably one of the most gentle and kind souls I have ever had the honor of being around) was an Army man too, he was shot down over China during World War II. He was missing in action for over six months. My Aunt Sissy paced the floor until she had him home safe. I actually interviewed him for an oral history report in my junior year in high school, and when I asked how he felt about World War II, he just said, "They told me to do things and I did them." That's it. He had no opinion about the whole thing, but I will tell you this, when I was around him, no child ever felt more valued or special.
My Uncle Lonnie (who was just so dang groovy, he had such a dry sense of humor and that dry southern, no-nonsense drawl of his still makes me laugh) came back from three tours of Vietnam with the diabetes that eventually killed him. However, the stories and adventures that he had with his wife (my Aunt Betty) still resound in my ears, complete with stories of her exotic cat Tigrie and all of the diplomats and kings she met. When I think of his son and his grandson (Hi Lonnie! Love you!) I can only imagine the books they could write of anecdotes about those two and their amazing adventures along with their own.
RJ says that the hardest thing about coming back "to the world" is re-adjusting to life before the military and coming to terms with living within the civilian populace. Ace has also told me the same thing. How that since their responses to things are programmed, that they can't sleep at night because they're afraid something is going to jump out and they feel like they need to be prepared for whatever it is. Ace can't sleep without some kind of noise (his favorite is running water and frogs because frogs will go dead silent if anyone comes near) and like RJ (who doesn't sleep, he just combat naps), they both have dogs that will alert them should everything not be quite right.
But RJ filled me in on something that Ace never did, that well, when soldiers go places in the civilian world, they don't feel that they are treated with respect. To me, that's like a punch in the gut and insult added to injury. If I see someone dressed in a military uniform, I always stop, give them a smile and say thank you for what they do. I would think that it would be the right thing to do, don't you? I'm a pacifist! I don't believe in wars but I most certainly want to sit down and cry to think that my sweet, darling friends have gone through so much for the sake of making sure we're all safe. So I firmly believe to make sure I say thank you and recognize what they have gone through. When it comes to my close friends like RJ or Ace, it breaks my heart that they did not come back home to be wrapped up in a blanket of love and supported while their bodies go through the traumatic process of deprogramming. The lesson I learned out of the stories they've told me? Always, but always send your soldier what they ask you for as soon as humanly possible, whether it be a case of cigarettes or several dozen home-baked cookies. RJ says, "For God's sake, when it comes to cookies, don't send store-bought, get in the kitchen, bake them and send the real thing."
Ace has nerve damage due to chemicals he had to work with while fixing helicopters. RJ has Gulf War Syndrome. They both have PTSD. Yet they both need so much love and attention so that they feel like the world they survived horrors to protect is grateful they volunteered to go off and make sure we're safe. But no one stops to say thank you and that breaks my heart. What I think is far worse is that these guys are not getting the care they need. Every time I hear the acronym "VA", there is always some sort of cursing that happens right along with it, either pre-fixed or directly after. What's worse is that the streets are lined with homeless vets who have come home damaged, often severely, and they can't even get what they need to survive in the world they fought to protect.
Whatever happened to the concept of "A Welcome Home?"
But I'm not alone. We're all surrounded by soldiers. It doesn't matter if they run an NCO club or fix helicopters, sit inside a submarine for six months at a stretch without seeing daylight or taught other Marines how to be sneaky bastards (snipers), they're just doing their job. Why can't they come home to people who love them and have their backs for a change?
Maybe I'm just seeing the exceptions to an overwhelming amount of servicemen coming back from harm's way that actually do come home to loving families. But I can't help but think that these exceptions that I'm spending time with aren't really exceptions, but the rule. I dread to think that's true.
About a month ago, I had to do something that broke my own heart, I had to let Ace go. I tried everything from serving up a plate of fresh-baked cookies when he walked in the door to being supportive every chance I got, but I had to face the fact that I couldn't fight all of his battles for him, how ever hard I may have tried. When I hear RJ and KP tell me their horror stories, it breaks my heart all the more to know that no matter how much love I poured in, it couldn't fix what Ace has to fix for himself. I have guilt because I let a soldier down and that I wasn't strong enough to carry his load along with my own. But that goes back to owning what is yours to own...as you can imagine, it has been unbelievably hard on a deep-seated emotional level.
But, I will tell you this, RJ never walked into a home smelling of fresh-baked cookies and a jug of milk meant especially for him and I think that's sad. My other soldier friends tell me very similar stories. You never know, they could just be telling me a sob story because I'm a pretty girl, but somehow I doubt it. These are real men with real feelings and whereas they are taught as young boys, "Don't cry," somehow I think that they have every right to when they know they are in the arms of someone who loves them.
Where's a big blanket of love when you need it? I know I have one for Daddy, RJ, Ace, KP, Uncle Bill, Uncle Lonnie, Lonnie, Heath, Josh, Brian, my big brother Carl, and my pals in Mobius on WoW's Area 52 server. I have yet to meet a woman who has come back from active service, and well for those gals, I take my hat off to them and they equally need every single bit of love we muster up for our guys.
So today, your mission, should you choose to accept it: Hug your serviceman or servicewoman. Say thank you to a soldier who passes you in the grocery store or wave and smile at one who pulls up next to you in traffic. I think a little love and kindness goes a long way. Help them readjust to the world we all take for granted.
Growing up, my father (who is an army man himself) would tell me a story now and again about what his experience was like in the Army. Now, all truth be told, my father had a kind of (and I stress "kind of") cushy job. He ran an NCO club. Of course, just like any soldier you know, they will tell you that there are things they just can't tell you about, and I accept that because the question really is, "Do I really want to know what they did or what happened to them?"
Two soldiers I know, one from the Army and one from the Marines, both suffer from an all too familiar friend, PTSD. Now where my PTSD derives itself from my childhood, theirs comes from the battlefield. But why write about this now? You all know that I'm a research junkie, I like to find out why things are the way they are along with the appropriate course of action to make sure I'm acting properly, crossing every "t" and dotting every "i" as it were. It also goes along with what Daddy taught me a long time ago and it kind of applies in the terms of speaking intelligently about a topic. He said, "If you're going to criticize someone, you better be ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with them and take it." Well, at the advice of my Marine friend, he encouraged me to watch the Stanley Kubric film Full Metal Jacket.
As we all know, I'm not big on war movies. Actually, to the dismay of my friends from the Armed Forces, I'm a pacifist. Heck, I can't even kill bugs without guilt. But, to sit and watch films like Full Metal Jacket, Apocalypse Now, The Green Zone, Brothers and so forth, well, it gives us a perspective and a view of what they've seen that, come on, let's be honest, is just a minor shade compared to what they've really been through.
I get sick to my stomach every time I watch a movie like that, thinking of my dear, sweet, loving friends who have seen such horror. RJ, my Marine friend, well, he's very kind, gentle and loving in ways that I wouldn't think were possible given the duties he had to carry out. He's only told me a mere fraction of what he did, but just that alone is enough to give me nightmares.
Ace, as we all know, is an Army man, a self-described helicopter mechanic who just happened to have to pick up and drop off soldiers like RJ into combat zones. He too told me stories that still make me have nightmares.
In all though, from all of my sweet soldiers that I know, I keep hearing the same story over and over again. Here is the part that is REALLY going to make you sick, and y'all know me, it just tears my heart right out...
Each and every one of them has told me about being deployed while being married. How it is very hard to begin with, but then to add insult to the already incomprehensible situations these guys were put in, their wives found it necessary to find company with other men while they were away. Ace calls it AIDS: Army Induced Divorce Syndrome. My question to that is "What is wrong with these women?!?!?!" I'd be shipping off cookies every chance I got and letters and pictures galore if I had my man sitting in a combat zone, reminding them that they're loved and so forth... But I guess that's neither here nor there because I've never been through it. I recognize that living with an active duty soldier is a hard life. I've had a few conversations with some military wives that have told me that it is no picnic, not by a long shot. I guess it really is a test of devotion and will no doubt prove strength of heart. But it's bad enough that they're getting shot at, seeing things that no human being should ever, ever see, and then they just get sucker punched like that when they get home. To me, that is just not fair. Loneliness is no excuse for infidelity and that I can tell you from first hand experience. Nothing good can ever come from it, but people buckle to it every day.
Both RJ and Ace have told me about how when a soldier is in combat or deployed for so long, they don't really think about anything but their jobs and how deployment actually severs their connection to the, what they call, "the world."
Here, let's go through something RJ told me about. Marines, similar to the rest of the branches of the Armed Forces, go through basic training, they get assigned to whatever job and so forth, and they become "programmed" in a very particular way.
I mean, look at my Dad, he's 70 but he still is very much a military man because of the way he likes things done, pressed shirts, shiny shoes, you know what I mean. And even though he might be 70, he's still very much the lethal weapon that the army trained him to be. I will never worry while sleeping under my father's roof whether or not I am safe. I remember when I first moved back to the States from Montreal. My ex and I were staying at my parents temporarily while we searched for a place to live and well, my ex heard something outside that he didn't think was quite right, and he heard someone jiggling an external doorknob to the house. Well my ex, being trained in 20 martial arts, grabbed the door and what he got on the other side of it was what he called the equivalent in strength to a raging rhinoceros...the funny part was that on the other side of that doorknob was my father, who was then 62 years old. My ex looked at me when he re-entered our bedroom and said, "Um, your dad's appearance is really deceiving, I expected to just "handle" who was messing with things, and well, I quickly learned I would have been in trouble at the hands of your father had I been anyone else." That's my Daddy. *grin*
But a daughter's pride aside, the soldiers that have graced and continue to grace my life have been very carefully trained and programmed. They stand on walls so I can sit behind my computer or go shopping or do whatever I want and feel safe. They see things that no one should ever see just so I can sit here and write whatever I'd like in my blog. I am positive I owe them a lot for that.
My Uncle Bill, (probably one of the most gentle and kind souls I have ever had the honor of being around) was an Army man too, he was shot down over China during World War II. He was missing in action for over six months. My Aunt Sissy paced the floor until she had him home safe. I actually interviewed him for an oral history report in my junior year in high school, and when I asked how he felt about World War II, he just said, "They told me to do things and I did them." That's it. He had no opinion about the whole thing, but I will tell you this, when I was around him, no child ever felt more valued or special.
My Uncle Lonnie (who was just so dang groovy, he had such a dry sense of humor and that dry southern, no-nonsense drawl of his still makes me laugh) came back from three tours of Vietnam with the diabetes that eventually killed him. However, the stories and adventures that he had with his wife (my Aunt Betty) still resound in my ears, complete with stories of her exotic cat Tigrie and all of the diplomats and kings she met. When I think of his son and his grandson (Hi Lonnie! Love you!) I can only imagine the books they could write of anecdotes about those two and their amazing adventures along with their own.
RJ says that the hardest thing about coming back "to the world" is re-adjusting to life before the military and coming to terms with living within the civilian populace. Ace has also told me the same thing. How that since their responses to things are programmed, that they can't sleep at night because they're afraid something is going to jump out and they feel like they need to be prepared for whatever it is. Ace can't sleep without some kind of noise (his favorite is running water and frogs because frogs will go dead silent if anyone comes near) and like RJ (who doesn't sleep, he just combat naps), they both have dogs that will alert them should everything not be quite right.
But RJ filled me in on something that Ace never did, that well, when soldiers go places in the civilian world, they don't feel that they are treated with respect. To me, that's like a punch in the gut and insult added to injury. If I see someone dressed in a military uniform, I always stop, give them a smile and say thank you for what they do. I would think that it would be the right thing to do, don't you? I'm a pacifist! I don't believe in wars but I most certainly want to sit down and cry to think that my sweet, darling friends have gone through so much for the sake of making sure we're all safe. So I firmly believe to make sure I say thank you and recognize what they have gone through. When it comes to my close friends like RJ or Ace, it breaks my heart that they did not come back home to be wrapped up in a blanket of love and supported while their bodies go through the traumatic process of deprogramming. The lesson I learned out of the stories they've told me? Always, but always send your soldier what they ask you for as soon as humanly possible, whether it be a case of cigarettes or several dozen home-baked cookies. RJ says, "For God's sake, when it comes to cookies, don't send store-bought, get in the kitchen, bake them and send the real thing."
Ace has nerve damage due to chemicals he had to work with while fixing helicopters. RJ has Gulf War Syndrome. They both have PTSD. Yet they both need so much love and attention so that they feel like the world they survived horrors to protect is grateful they volunteered to go off and make sure we're safe. But no one stops to say thank you and that breaks my heart. What I think is far worse is that these guys are not getting the care they need. Every time I hear the acronym "VA", there is always some sort of cursing that happens right along with it, either pre-fixed or directly after. What's worse is that the streets are lined with homeless vets who have come home damaged, often severely, and they can't even get what they need to survive in the world they fought to protect.
Whatever happened to the concept of "A Welcome Home?"
But I'm not alone. We're all surrounded by soldiers. It doesn't matter if they run an NCO club or fix helicopters, sit inside a submarine for six months at a stretch without seeing daylight or taught other Marines how to be sneaky bastards (snipers), they're just doing their job. Why can't they come home to people who love them and have their backs for a change?
Maybe I'm just seeing the exceptions to an overwhelming amount of servicemen coming back from harm's way that actually do come home to loving families. But I can't help but think that these exceptions that I'm spending time with aren't really exceptions, but the rule. I dread to think that's true.
About a month ago, I had to do something that broke my own heart, I had to let Ace go. I tried everything from serving up a plate of fresh-baked cookies when he walked in the door to being supportive every chance I got, but I had to face the fact that I couldn't fight all of his battles for him, how ever hard I may have tried. When I hear RJ and KP tell me their horror stories, it breaks my heart all the more to know that no matter how much love I poured in, it couldn't fix what Ace has to fix for himself. I have guilt because I let a soldier down and that I wasn't strong enough to carry his load along with my own. But that goes back to owning what is yours to own...as you can imagine, it has been unbelievably hard on a deep-seated emotional level.
But, I will tell you this, RJ never walked into a home smelling of fresh-baked cookies and a jug of milk meant especially for him and I think that's sad. My other soldier friends tell me very similar stories. You never know, they could just be telling me a sob story because I'm a pretty girl, but somehow I doubt it. These are real men with real feelings and whereas they are taught as young boys, "Don't cry," somehow I think that they have every right to when they know they are in the arms of someone who loves them.
Where's a big blanket of love when you need it? I know I have one for Daddy, RJ, Ace, KP, Uncle Bill, Uncle Lonnie, Lonnie, Heath, Josh, Brian, my big brother Carl, and my pals in Mobius on WoW's Area 52 server. I have yet to meet a woman who has come back from active service, and well for those gals, I take my hat off to them and they equally need every single bit of love we muster up for our guys.
So today, your mission, should you choose to accept it: Hug your serviceman or servicewoman. Say thank you to a soldier who passes you in the grocery store or wave and smile at one who pulls up next to you in traffic. I think a little love and kindness goes a long way. Help them readjust to the world we all take for granted.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Sing...The 2011 Fall Semester Wrap-Up
We all know that I am a huge fan of movies. From science fiction to wonderful warm stories that can only happen in real life and are portrayed beautifully albeit more perfect than real life really is.
I'm a big fan of Julia Roberts' movies. She always seems to pick such great projects that inspire all of us to generate our own million dollar smiles at the same time she does on the silver screen. From Eat Pray Love to Mona Lisa Smile, even Sleeping With The Enemy, she always finds some unique story to help tell. But have you ever noticed that the stories she tells are always about women who overcome odds? I realized that today as I was laying down overcoming a nasty bout with the flu that decided to turn itself into a nasty sinus infection, taking both ears along for the painful ride.
I guess I was just pondering the fact that the women I find so fascinating are the ones who just won't quite seem to lay down and submit to what the status quo seems to want. It reminded me of the fact that I constantly question everything around me, asking "Why does it have to be this way? Why do we have to conform exactly to what other people believe just for the sake of acceptance?"
I was engaged in a heated discussion last night over why I am not religious, why I don't want to listen to people when they try to tell me what to do or be tolerant when they give me their version as to why things are right or wrong. When it comes to listening to people about things like that, I'm rather indifferent but I react very defensively if feeling attacked. I think people will believe what they want and it's not for me to say what they should or shouldn't do, believe or pursue. Yes, I get frustrated when things seem so plainly obvious but are overwhelmed and obscured by narrow viewpoints. At the end of the day though, I always go back to the fact that it is someone else's opinion, and whether I share it or not, I have to accept it.
I guess I just won't compromise on my belief system. It's not that my point of view is any more valid than anyone else's, I guess I just want to have the freedom to believe as I do and not be judged for it. I don't think that is too much to ask, is it? My opinion doesn't often gel with other people's. It is just part and parcel of being a human being because after all, we're all unique individuals, why shouldn't our opinions vary? But I guess I've reached the point where, what's the old expression? "I've become set in my ways?"
During the fall semester in my 332 class, Media Planning and Buying, it was a very interesting ride. We had guest speakers a plenty and Scorsese really gave it his all, although planning and buying media is not his forte. The TA for the semester JJ, was a real doll, and in the middle of her teaching section, she brought up The Asch Experiment. But here, take a look for yourself:
I hope you took time to watch that those two minutes because I sat painfully through it in class with my insides screaming out, "NO! Speak for yourself! Don't follow them!" I don't quite know what it was, but there I sat absolutely upset and unhinged by the fact that the guy didn't put his foot down and cry out "You're wrong!" Is it that our need for acceptance goes so deep that we are fearful of even beginning to express ourselves in our own way? This of course was compounded by the fact that I was the one person who sat up in class and didn't take kindly to the powers that be telling Scorsese that the students in the class were to be used as data farmers for the university radio station to find leads for underwriting. Unlike our friend in the video there, I actually spoke up and blatantly said I didn't care for being pimped out as free labor for the semester. As you can guess, that little project stopped right there because I guess all Scorsese needed was for a student to speak up and express their dismay at something he already didn't like. So, after receiving a round of applause and quite a few pats on the back after class, our assignments became hypotheticals, which made it easy on all of us.
The next part of 332 was really about the guest speaker who came in and spent time with us, Ron. He was fantastic and Scorsese encouraged us to ask as many questions as our hearts desired on his topics. We learned the strengths and weaknesses of all sorts of media and the three weeks we had Ron hanging around were fantastic. So in all 332 was fun, it was a casual class that we just had to participate in to get the most out of it.
Then of course we go to 202, Electronic Media. Ok, I won't lie, I took the class just for the professor, Doc L., not for the actual course content. Doc L. is a fantastic guy and he makes learning fun, he also helped me understand what will go on behind a camera when my future television commercials will be shot. I actually used more of my storyteller's background (thanks Grandma) to edit and put together video in a compelling way than I did anything else. At the end of 202, I had to direct a live news show and well, it didn't go as well as I'd like but I will say I did go with my strong points, I just did some quick coding to put together a fast website for it as was mandated for my group's project. For my group project, I edited the intro, I edited my story and then directed the show and created the website. Let's just nickname me "Atlas" and leave it at that. At your own risk, here is a link to my final project: The Fifth Element. And yes, that's me on the screen in some sections...as I repeated a half a dozen times, "I've got a face made for radio." I neither want or need the attention that seems to be a narcotic for people who want to sit in front of the camera. My favorite quote from the class was actually from another student named Carl as he was directing his show: "Kill the talent." The last thing I'll say about it is this: Ever see the film Gone in Sixty Seconds? Go to the part where Donny is in the car with the student driver girl who can't drive and nearly kills both of them..."I can't swim, I know I can't swim, so you know what I do? I keep my ass out of the pool!"
Let's do my Afro-American Studies class before I get to the goods of my strat class. AAS 101 sucked the honker. Sorry to say it, but it did. The content was really fascinating but when the professor doesn't have office hours you can go see him on campus and a list of shortcomings, well, I learned a lot, got to read a slave narrative and learned a lot about Afro-American history. But you guys know me, I'm color blind, I don't care if someone is blue, green or aquamarine, if they're good people, I love them all the same. However, I got to take a look at a tragic part of American history, and although we can't undo it, it's a lesson that human beings, no matter who they are, where they are from or what they believe, all deserve love just the same.
Let's wrap up with 463, IMC Strategy class. Oh man, hard work! Scorsese let me know right off the bat that I am no strategist, instead I'm a tactician which still has tons of nutritional value, it's adequately summed up in the fact that I don't think in the same way as hard-core strategists. I'm not insulted in the least with that at all! We all have to embrace our strengths and strategic thinking is just not one of mine. I think it's a skill I'll acquire more over time, and something I can do instinctively, but if I overthink it (which I am very prone to doing) I blunder it. Oh well.
However! My group project was really good. Oh how I love my teammates! Yes, I love my girls! They were fantastic! After playing Atlas in 202, it was so nice to have a group that just worked their fannies off! We were called "Bernbach's Acid Trip" and Doc S. got a really big kick out it. Just FYI, Bill Bernbach was one of the greatest creative minds in the history of advertising. If Bill was tripping on acid, what would he think of? Strategy. Hence "Bernbach's Acid Trip." When we showed Doc S. our final project "leave behind" (which is a strategic plan that you leave behind with the company you just pitched) his face lit up. I can tell he's counting on me to really sparkplug the team this spring.
When we did the pitch in class for Scorsese, which is actually getting up and presenting the work, I really knocked the audience dead because my team had me as the lead off hitter and oh boy did I grab them and really wow'd them with my public speaking skills. When I asked Scorsese about my speech style he said, "You were very extemporaneous." I had to look that word up. Yes me of the big vocabulary had to find out that extemporaneous means "without rehearsal" or "without notes" in a persuasive, fluid style. Yes, the storyteller rears her head again because I really grabbed them and took the audience with me on a journey. It was beautiful! I was so proud! Great moment there! The other girls in my group really went to the nines and by far my favorite was Nat, she absolutely just sang it to the world, so proud of her! And yes, you guessed it, Scorsese gave us an A.
But in all of it, the five months of work, the wonderful people I got the opportunity to work with and be inspired by, I felt like it was one of my easier semesters. I guess I found it easy because I was doing what I love to do, and when you do that, it's never hard. I spent time with wonderful young women who had conviction in their work, who wouldn't just go with the flow, but instead sought knowledge in their own way. To witness that, I was very lucky.
I think it is important to not compromise on what you believe or how you seek knowledge. I don't think it's ok to be a lemming and follow the crowd off of the cliff. The one gift we get as human beings is the ability to think and choose for ourselves and I think it's a gift we should never take for granted or waste.
Socrates said, "The wisest man in the world knows that they know nothing." I love the saying, "The bravest person in the world is the one who can confidently say 'I don't know.'" I always thought the most brave thing was to say "I don't know" then having the courage and tenacity find out for yourself. It's not just going with the crowd, it's breaking free of the shackles of conformity and making up your own mind, believing what you want to believe. Courage is standing up and being yourself. I have seen first hand those who would subdue others just for the sake of forcing someone to conform to their twisted belief system. Don't be a victim of the status quo, raise your voice, believe in yourself enough to summon up the courage to be different. Different is good, and when we embrace the differences it allows us to see the universe in a whole new way.
The biggest thing I learned about myself this semester: I am not a lemming.
Today's song of the day is for those who don't compromise, My Chemical Romance's "Sing." Raise your voice every single time they try and shut your mouth...
I'm a big fan of Julia Roberts' movies. She always seems to pick such great projects that inspire all of us to generate our own million dollar smiles at the same time she does on the silver screen. From Eat Pray Love to Mona Lisa Smile, even Sleeping With The Enemy, she always finds some unique story to help tell. But have you ever noticed that the stories she tells are always about women who overcome odds? I realized that today as I was laying down overcoming a nasty bout with the flu that decided to turn itself into a nasty sinus infection, taking both ears along for the painful ride.
I guess I was just pondering the fact that the women I find so fascinating are the ones who just won't quite seem to lay down and submit to what the status quo seems to want. It reminded me of the fact that I constantly question everything around me, asking "Why does it have to be this way? Why do we have to conform exactly to what other people believe just for the sake of acceptance?"
I was engaged in a heated discussion last night over why I am not religious, why I don't want to listen to people when they try to tell me what to do or be tolerant when they give me their version as to why things are right or wrong. When it comes to listening to people about things like that, I'm rather indifferent but I react very defensively if feeling attacked. I think people will believe what they want and it's not for me to say what they should or shouldn't do, believe or pursue. Yes, I get frustrated when things seem so plainly obvious but are overwhelmed and obscured by narrow viewpoints. At the end of the day though, I always go back to the fact that it is someone else's opinion, and whether I share it or not, I have to accept it.
I guess I just won't compromise on my belief system. It's not that my point of view is any more valid than anyone else's, I guess I just want to have the freedom to believe as I do and not be judged for it. I don't think that is too much to ask, is it? My opinion doesn't often gel with other people's. It is just part and parcel of being a human being because after all, we're all unique individuals, why shouldn't our opinions vary? But I guess I've reached the point where, what's the old expression? "I've become set in my ways?"
During the fall semester in my 332 class, Media Planning and Buying, it was a very interesting ride. We had guest speakers a plenty and Scorsese really gave it his all, although planning and buying media is not his forte. The TA for the semester JJ, was a real doll, and in the middle of her teaching section, she brought up The Asch Experiment. But here, take a look for yourself:
I hope you took time to watch that those two minutes because I sat painfully through it in class with my insides screaming out, "NO! Speak for yourself! Don't follow them!" I don't quite know what it was, but there I sat absolutely upset and unhinged by the fact that the guy didn't put his foot down and cry out "You're wrong!" Is it that our need for acceptance goes so deep that we are fearful of even beginning to express ourselves in our own way? This of course was compounded by the fact that I was the one person who sat up in class and didn't take kindly to the powers that be telling Scorsese that the students in the class were to be used as data farmers for the university radio station to find leads for underwriting. Unlike our friend in the video there, I actually spoke up and blatantly said I didn't care for being pimped out as free labor for the semester. As you can guess, that little project stopped right there because I guess all Scorsese needed was for a student to speak up and express their dismay at something he already didn't like. So, after receiving a round of applause and quite a few pats on the back after class, our assignments became hypotheticals, which made it easy on all of us.
The next part of 332 was really about the guest speaker who came in and spent time with us, Ron. He was fantastic and Scorsese encouraged us to ask as many questions as our hearts desired on his topics. We learned the strengths and weaknesses of all sorts of media and the three weeks we had Ron hanging around were fantastic. So in all 332 was fun, it was a casual class that we just had to participate in to get the most out of it.
Then of course we go to 202, Electronic Media. Ok, I won't lie, I took the class just for the professor, Doc L., not for the actual course content. Doc L. is a fantastic guy and he makes learning fun, he also helped me understand what will go on behind a camera when my future television commercials will be shot. I actually used more of my storyteller's background (thanks Grandma) to edit and put together video in a compelling way than I did anything else. At the end of 202, I had to direct a live news show and well, it didn't go as well as I'd like but I will say I did go with my strong points, I just did some quick coding to put together a fast website for it as was mandated for my group's project. For my group project, I edited the intro, I edited my story and then directed the show and created the website. Let's just nickname me "Atlas" and leave it at that. At your own risk, here is a link to my final project: The Fifth Element. And yes, that's me on the screen in some sections...as I repeated a half a dozen times, "I've got a face made for radio." I neither want or need the attention that seems to be a narcotic for people who want to sit in front of the camera. My favorite quote from the class was actually from another student named Carl as he was directing his show: "Kill the talent." The last thing I'll say about it is this: Ever see the film Gone in Sixty Seconds? Go to the part where Donny is in the car with the student driver girl who can't drive and nearly kills both of them..."I can't swim, I know I can't swim, so you know what I do? I keep my ass out of the pool!"
Let's do my Afro-American Studies class before I get to the goods of my strat class. AAS 101 sucked the honker. Sorry to say it, but it did. The content was really fascinating but when the professor doesn't have office hours you can go see him on campus and a list of shortcomings, well, I learned a lot, got to read a slave narrative and learned a lot about Afro-American history. But you guys know me, I'm color blind, I don't care if someone is blue, green or aquamarine, if they're good people, I love them all the same. However, I got to take a look at a tragic part of American history, and although we can't undo it, it's a lesson that human beings, no matter who they are, where they are from or what they believe, all deserve love just the same.
Let's wrap up with 463, IMC Strategy class. Oh man, hard work! Scorsese let me know right off the bat that I am no strategist, instead I'm a tactician which still has tons of nutritional value, it's adequately summed up in the fact that I don't think in the same way as hard-core strategists. I'm not insulted in the least with that at all! We all have to embrace our strengths and strategic thinking is just not one of mine. I think it's a skill I'll acquire more over time, and something I can do instinctively, but if I overthink it (which I am very prone to doing) I blunder it. Oh well.
However! My group project was really good. Oh how I love my teammates! Yes, I love my girls! They were fantastic! After playing Atlas in 202, it was so nice to have a group that just worked their fannies off! We were called "Bernbach's Acid Trip" and Doc S. got a really big kick out it. Just FYI, Bill Bernbach was one of the greatest creative minds in the history of advertising. If Bill was tripping on acid, what would he think of? Strategy. Hence "Bernbach's Acid Trip." When we showed Doc S. our final project "leave behind" (which is a strategic plan that you leave behind with the company you just pitched) his face lit up. I can tell he's counting on me to really sparkplug the team this spring.
When we did the pitch in class for Scorsese, which is actually getting up and presenting the work, I really knocked the audience dead because my team had me as the lead off hitter and oh boy did I grab them and really wow'd them with my public speaking skills. When I asked Scorsese about my speech style he said, "You were very extemporaneous." I had to look that word up. Yes me of the big vocabulary had to find out that extemporaneous means "without rehearsal" or "without notes" in a persuasive, fluid style. Yes, the storyteller rears her head again because I really grabbed them and took the audience with me on a journey. It was beautiful! I was so proud! Great moment there! The other girls in my group really went to the nines and by far my favorite was Nat, she absolutely just sang it to the world, so proud of her! And yes, you guessed it, Scorsese gave us an A.
But in all of it, the five months of work, the wonderful people I got the opportunity to work with and be inspired by, I felt like it was one of my easier semesters. I guess I found it easy because I was doing what I love to do, and when you do that, it's never hard. I spent time with wonderful young women who had conviction in their work, who wouldn't just go with the flow, but instead sought knowledge in their own way. To witness that, I was very lucky.
I think it is important to not compromise on what you believe or how you seek knowledge. I don't think it's ok to be a lemming and follow the crowd off of the cliff. The one gift we get as human beings is the ability to think and choose for ourselves and I think it's a gift we should never take for granted or waste.
Socrates said, "The wisest man in the world knows that they know nothing." I love the saying, "The bravest person in the world is the one who can confidently say 'I don't know.'" I always thought the most brave thing was to say "I don't know" then having the courage and tenacity find out for yourself. It's not just going with the crowd, it's breaking free of the shackles of conformity and making up your own mind, believing what you want to believe. Courage is standing up and being yourself. I have seen first hand those who would subdue others just for the sake of forcing someone to conform to their twisted belief system. Don't be a victim of the status quo, raise your voice, believe in yourself enough to summon up the courage to be different. Different is good, and when we embrace the differences it allows us to see the universe in a whole new way.
The biggest thing I learned about myself this semester: I am not a lemming.
Today's song of the day is for those who don't compromise, My Chemical Romance's "Sing." Raise your voice every single time they try and shut your mouth...
Saturday, December 17, 2011
The L33T G33K.
In the ever-tenuous genre of the computer savvy, there is a term for those of us who are keyboard cowboys, software samurai, keepers of the comics or just plain mouse jockeys. We're geeks. But, there is a breed of geek that goes beyond just playing the games, collecting the comics, praying for a natural 20 on a 20-sided die or playing with the carefully coded software. They are the makers of the games, the artists behind the characters and the coders behind the software. Inside the world of the computer savvy, the best of the best of hackers, geeks and technophiles are called "Elite." Hence, it's why I refer to my best friend Barry as an elite geek or to use leet speak, "l33t g33k", who took this n00b and had a hand in making me into who I am today.
My best friend Barry is an enigma. He's the guy all geeks want to be. He's handsome, dashing, debonaire, and he just so happens to have a kick-ass ponytail that is naturally the color of a raven's wing. He has an immense sense of style, from snakeskin jackets to every last detail that if you didn't know better, you'd think he is a rock star. But, he's a geek. He's the guy who finds his way into the very elite parties at Comic-Con and he's a countless-computer-language knowing geek with a sense of web design that would make even the most elite artist cry.
Almost 9 years to the day ago, Barry was hugging me and telling me goodbye as followed my ex and began my journey to the great white north along with the very painful three years I would spend in Montreal. Tonight, I hugged him and told him goodbye as he prepares to follow his girlfriend to Houston.
Two weeks ago, I got a note on Facebook asking me if I was going to go to his going away party. In shock that he was actually moving away, I made plans to make sure I was there for him, just like he was for me.
I couldn't get over the irony of what was happening. My best friend is one hell of a guy and it's killing me to see him go. He was there when my thyroid exploded over a weekend in Santa Monica and he brought me a smoothie and ice cream to ease my very sore throat as we tried to figure out in vain what was happening to me. He has been there for me during every up, down, sideways, backwards and forwards for close to 13 years. He's backstopped me for so long, always encouraging and always there with a quick quip to make me laugh even in the worst moments. When he said goodbye to me as I was leaving nine years ago, he did try to talk sense to me as I was leaving by saying, "Why are you marrying that tool?" That should tell you how well Barry knows me because he was right, I should have never left. But, I couldn't bear to tell him the same thing because his girl is real sweet and I don't see anything wrong with her. At the same time my gut was just screaming out from past experience that this whole thing is not a good idea, but it's his life, he's got to do with it what he sees fit. I have no right to project my issues on to his (very similar) situation.
When he met his girlfriend, I figured that my presence wouldn't be a very good idea. As experience has taught me extremely well, no woman ever cares for another woman, doesn't matter the type of relationship, talking to their guy, it doesn't matter if it's texting, e-mail or a phone call, it's usually not very welcomed, so I politely kept silent. Barry knows that if he ever needs me, I'm only a phone call away, and I know if something important goes down, I need to keep him in the loop.
Even though I don't talk to him very often, I make sure to keep track of my pal. He's on the web all the time, sitting on the couch with the rest of the guys on the Ugly Couch Show. I had to laugh at the latest episode because of course the show is about all things geek, but there's Barry sitting on the couch with a t-shirt sporting a "recognizer" from Tron. Yep, that's my best friend, he knows the true value of Tron, just like I do. LOL. In turn, Barry keeps track of me by coming here the same as you do to check on me.
But still, here we are nine years later and my best friend is about to undertake a similar journey as my own and I can't help but hold my breath and hope everything will go well for him. I keep trying to remind myself that he's not me and the future could hold a very different destiny for him. But even with that, it still rips my heart out of my chest to see him go. His girl is very sweet, she's geeky, fun and very beautiful, but she's fighting against an army of Barry's friends (and his mom) who just don't want to see him go. It's rare to be in the presence of a true elite geek and well, between all of his hi-jinks, the endless number of stories that just cannot be repeated because of their sheer immaturity or just plain bad luck along with some things you don't even tell your kids you did, he is beloved by all of his friends.
Barry, just like I found out nine years ago, is in for one hell of a culture shock. Vegas, for all of it's good and bad parts, is a 24 hour town. You can get anything you want, need or desire any time of the day or night. In my experience, it doesn't work like that in really any other city on the planet. Cities like New York can say they are 24 hours a la "the city that never sleeps", but they're really not, at least not like Vegas. On top of that, Barry is going to Houston, which by rural Texas standards is like taking a trip to the moon, but by Vegas standards it is going to be like going back to the Bronze Age. No 24 hour grocery stores, and worst of all, last call at a bar in Texas (that is if you don't live in a dry county [Barry, you need to read about that]) is 2 a.m. For those of us who live in Vegas, we have no idea what the words "last call" means because we can just pick up and move the party to another place that will keep the libations flowing. It doesn't work that way in Texas. Not by a long shot. Last call for alcohol is a very set rule and well, they don't break it, not for anyone. When last call hits, the party has to be taken home because that's the only place you can get an alcoholic beverage (if you can get your hands on it and are smart enough to store some before hand for just such an occasion) after 2 a.m.
Then, there is the whole fact that Houston (along with a good majority of the south) is right smack dab in the middle of the Bible Belt, where it's "amen, hallelujah and pass the collection plate" almost 24/7 and if you're not a God-Fearing Christian, you stick out like a sore thumb. Lucky enough though, Houston is very progressive and it's the home town of people like Beyoncé and Brent Spiner (there's a Trek reference for you, the one and only Lt. Cmdr. Data is from Houston, but you do notice that he lives in New York now, right? That is for a reason that I will not touch with a ten foot pole, but also notice that I'm from New Braunfels (just 175 miles away from Houston) and I live on the West Coast for pretty close to the same reasons. LOL!!!!! Bwahahahah. Sorry. LOL!) But I take my hat off to Houston, they're doing good, as far as accepting new ideas and accepting the 21st century, considering where they're at. (I'm so afraid some shit-kicking hick is going to look at him and say "Get a haircut" and Barry giving them a one-finger salute for their trouble.) Although Texas is in a SEVERE drought situation (some cities have already run out of water) they've got jobs a-plenty to be had, right, left and center, so I do see the logic of going there.
But whether I like it or not, Barry's moving away. So let's get to the fun of the party, shall we?
Tonight, the night started out downtown at Casa Don Juan, a very hole-in-the-wall-ish "Authentic" Mexican restaurant and I sat thrilled seeing at least 50 people sitting, eating, laughing and talking together that have all known him for as long, if not longer than I have. I could see the broken hearts from a mile off as I asked what was going to happen on the couch on the Ugly Couch Show now that Barry is moving. The response, "Well, we'll soldier on" was all that could be replied. It was apparent how his absence from all of his activities, from work to play, were affecting the people who love him so much. I even got misty-eyed a few times along the way knowing that my pal is going to be so far away.
After dinner, the party moved on to a place called "Herbs and Rye" on Sahara Avenue. Of course, no ordinary watering hole will do for Barry, because the elite geek in him always seeks out unique and savory libations. A long time ago, I remember going to that same place for amazing Italian food with Barry when it was a restaurant known as "The Venetian." Now, it's a very old-time kind of place, very much turn of the 20th century, with drinks made with Absinthe and other now little-known ingredients. I sat amazed when I asked the waitress for my usual Malibu Madras and was told that they didn't stock Malibu and that if I wanted a cocktail, well, it was a trip via time machine to Progressive Era America, or it was nothing. With Barry's help (after all, he was the one who figured out that my drink was a Malibu Madras), he helped me pick out a drink called "The Blackthorne" which was a combination of Sloe Gin, Vermouth, Bar Syrup, Lemon, Bitters and Orange Bitters. Here's the catch. The recipe they use is from Tom Bullocks' 1917 "173 Pre-Prohibition Cocktails." Don't believe me? Here's a look at just a part of the menu:
Ah yes, vintage Barry, if it doesn't require a cipher and extensive research & development to understand it, he's not happy. As I looked at the menu, I texted Ace (who's at home in bed with the flu), "Where's George Clooney and the rest of the cast from 'O Brother Where Art Thou'?"
When my drink arrived, I took one taste and said, "It'll definitely kill bacteria." Yeah, it was very unique. It had some tasty moments and I did down the whole thing, but I promptly followed it up with a glass of wine.
But when it was all said and done, I decided to call it an early night, besides, I couldn't sit any longer knowing my pal is going to be on the road in just a few short days to a place I wouldn't live in again for all of the money in the world. I'm a Vegas girl, I've lived here far too long to be able to adapt to life in a "normal" city again. I really hope that Barry can handle the change and if I know anything about my best friend, he'll do fine wherever he is.
As I was leaving, I hugged him and told him the same piece of wisdom he gave me some nine years ago, "Planes will always keep flying" and that if he needed me, I was just a phone call away. And all those years ago he was right, the planes did keep flying and life eventually brought me home. I honestly hope everything goes well for him back in the "real world," but if worse comes to worse, I can't help but think that someday he'll find his way home too, a little worse for the wear, but filled with experiences that he wouldn't have had otherwise. And just like when I came home, I'll be there for him, just like he was there for me. After all, what's a best friend for?
Well, at least now when I write, I can clue Barry in to something important by saying, "Houston, we have a problem." LOL. Besides, if the UNLV NSAC team gets to go to Nationals in Austin, I know who I'll be calling to invite for a front row seat to the big show.
Good Luck Barry. You're my best friend and I love you so very much. We'll all miss you so much, from me to Rub to Tom and the rest of your motley Vegas crew. We're a handful, but we all adore you.
They say "Don't mess with Texas", right? Well, don't let them mess with your ponytail.
We'll be here waiting for you.
I think of you like Castor in Tron Legacy when he says, "Let's step away from these primitive functions," "Libations, for everybody!" and "I'm steppin' away for a moment boys... Change the scheme, alter the mood, electrify the boys and girls if you'd be so kind."
The song of the day is for you Barry. From the Tron Legacy Original Soundtrack, for the fun times at Utopia to all of the electronica we love so much..."End of Line." Time for you to change the scheme and alter the mood, electrifying all of those sheltered boys and girls, that is if you'll be so very kind.
 |
| An homage to the Elite Geek circa 2006 that I created for a graphic design school project. The inscription to the right reads, "Music to Code by." |
Almost 9 years to the day ago, Barry was hugging me and telling me goodbye as followed my ex and began my journey to the great white north along with the very painful three years I would spend in Montreal. Tonight, I hugged him and told him goodbye as he prepares to follow his girlfriend to Houston.
Two weeks ago, I got a note on Facebook asking me if I was going to go to his going away party. In shock that he was actually moving away, I made plans to make sure I was there for him, just like he was for me.
I couldn't get over the irony of what was happening. My best friend is one hell of a guy and it's killing me to see him go. He was there when my thyroid exploded over a weekend in Santa Monica and he brought me a smoothie and ice cream to ease my very sore throat as we tried to figure out in vain what was happening to me. He has been there for me during every up, down, sideways, backwards and forwards for close to 13 years. He's backstopped me for so long, always encouraging and always there with a quick quip to make me laugh even in the worst moments. When he said goodbye to me as I was leaving nine years ago, he did try to talk sense to me as I was leaving by saying, "Why are you marrying that tool?" That should tell you how well Barry knows me because he was right, I should have never left. But, I couldn't bear to tell him the same thing because his girl is real sweet and I don't see anything wrong with her. At the same time my gut was just screaming out from past experience that this whole thing is not a good idea, but it's his life, he's got to do with it what he sees fit. I have no right to project my issues on to his (very similar) situation.
When he met his girlfriend, I figured that my presence wouldn't be a very good idea. As experience has taught me extremely well, no woman ever cares for another woman, doesn't matter the type of relationship, talking to their guy, it doesn't matter if it's texting, e-mail or a phone call, it's usually not very welcomed, so I politely kept silent. Barry knows that if he ever needs me, I'm only a phone call away, and I know if something important goes down, I need to keep him in the loop.
Even though I don't talk to him very often, I make sure to keep track of my pal. He's on the web all the time, sitting on the couch with the rest of the guys on the Ugly Couch Show. I had to laugh at the latest episode because of course the show is about all things geek, but there's Barry sitting on the couch with a t-shirt sporting a "recognizer" from Tron. Yep, that's my best friend, he knows the true value of Tron, just like I do. LOL. In turn, Barry keeps track of me by coming here the same as you do to check on me.
But still, here we are nine years later and my best friend is about to undertake a similar journey as my own and I can't help but hold my breath and hope everything will go well for him. I keep trying to remind myself that he's not me and the future could hold a very different destiny for him. But even with that, it still rips my heart out of my chest to see him go. His girl is very sweet, she's geeky, fun and very beautiful, but she's fighting against an army of Barry's friends (and his mom) who just don't want to see him go. It's rare to be in the presence of a true elite geek and well, between all of his hi-jinks, the endless number of stories that just cannot be repeated because of their sheer immaturity or just plain bad luck along with some things you don't even tell your kids you did, he is beloved by all of his friends.
Barry, just like I found out nine years ago, is in for one hell of a culture shock. Vegas, for all of it's good and bad parts, is a 24 hour town. You can get anything you want, need or desire any time of the day or night. In my experience, it doesn't work like that in really any other city on the planet. Cities like New York can say they are 24 hours a la "the city that never sleeps", but they're really not, at least not like Vegas. On top of that, Barry is going to Houston, which by rural Texas standards is like taking a trip to the moon, but by Vegas standards it is going to be like going back to the Bronze Age. No 24 hour grocery stores, and worst of all, last call at a bar in Texas (that is if you don't live in a dry county [Barry, you need to read about that]) is 2 a.m. For those of us who live in Vegas, we have no idea what the words "last call" means because we can just pick up and move the party to another place that will keep the libations flowing. It doesn't work that way in Texas. Not by a long shot. Last call for alcohol is a very set rule and well, they don't break it, not for anyone. When last call hits, the party has to be taken home because that's the only place you can get an alcoholic beverage (if you can get your hands on it and are smart enough to store some before hand for just such an occasion) after 2 a.m.
Then, there is the whole fact that Houston (along with a good majority of the south) is right smack dab in the middle of the Bible Belt, where it's "amen, hallelujah and pass the collection plate" almost 24/7 and if you're not a God-Fearing Christian, you stick out like a sore thumb. Lucky enough though, Houston is very progressive and it's the home town of people like Beyoncé and Brent Spiner (there's a Trek reference for you, the one and only Lt. Cmdr. Data is from Houston, but you do notice that he lives in New York now, right? That is for a reason that I will not touch with a ten foot pole, but also notice that I'm from New Braunfels (just 175 miles away from Houston) and I live on the West Coast for pretty close to the same reasons. LOL!!!!! Bwahahahah. Sorry. LOL!) But I take my hat off to Houston, they're doing good, as far as accepting new ideas and accepting the 21st century, considering where they're at. (I'm so afraid some shit-kicking hick is going to look at him and say "Get a haircut" and Barry giving them a one-finger salute for their trouble.) Although Texas is in a SEVERE drought situation (some cities have already run out of water) they've got jobs a-plenty to be had, right, left and center, so I do see the logic of going there.
But whether I like it or not, Barry's moving away. So let's get to the fun of the party, shall we?
Tonight, the night started out downtown at Casa Don Juan, a very hole-in-the-wall-ish "Authentic" Mexican restaurant and I sat thrilled seeing at least 50 people sitting, eating, laughing and talking together that have all known him for as long, if not longer than I have. I could see the broken hearts from a mile off as I asked what was going to happen on the couch on the Ugly Couch Show now that Barry is moving. The response, "Well, we'll soldier on" was all that could be replied. It was apparent how his absence from all of his activities, from work to play, were affecting the people who love him so much. I even got misty-eyed a few times along the way knowing that my pal is going to be so far away.
After dinner, the party moved on to a place called "Herbs and Rye" on Sahara Avenue. Of course, no ordinary watering hole will do for Barry, because the elite geek in him always seeks out unique and savory libations. A long time ago, I remember going to that same place for amazing Italian food with Barry when it was a restaurant known as "The Venetian." Now, it's a very old-time kind of place, very much turn of the 20th century, with drinks made with Absinthe and other now little-known ingredients. I sat amazed when I asked the waitress for my usual Malibu Madras and was told that they didn't stock Malibu and that if I wanted a cocktail, well, it was a trip via time machine to Progressive Era America, or it was nothing. With Barry's help (after all, he was the one who figured out that my drink was a Malibu Madras), he helped me pick out a drink called "The Blackthorne" which was a combination of Sloe Gin, Vermouth, Bar Syrup, Lemon, Bitters and Orange Bitters. Here's the catch. The recipe they use is from Tom Bullocks' 1917 "173 Pre-Prohibition Cocktails." Don't believe me? Here's a look at just a part of the menu:
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| I had a Blackthorne, Barry went with an Aviation. |
Ah yes, vintage Barry, if it doesn't require a cipher and extensive research & development to understand it, he's not happy. As I looked at the menu, I texted Ace (who's at home in bed with the flu), "Where's George Clooney and the rest of the cast from 'O Brother Where Art Thou'?"
When my drink arrived, I took one taste and said, "It'll definitely kill bacteria." Yeah, it was very unique. It had some tasty moments and I did down the whole thing, but I promptly followed it up with a glass of wine.
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| The Blackthorne |
As I was leaving, I hugged him and told him the same piece of wisdom he gave me some nine years ago, "Planes will always keep flying" and that if he needed me, I was just a phone call away. And all those years ago he was right, the planes did keep flying and life eventually brought me home. I honestly hope everything goes well for him back in the "real world," but if worse comes to worse, I can't help but think that someday he'll find his way home too, a little worse for the wear, but filled with experiences that he wouldn't have had otherwise. And just like when I came home, I'll be there for him, just like he was there for me. After all, what's a best friend for?
Well, at least now when I write, I can clue Barry in to something important by saying, "Houston, we have a problem." LOL. Besides, if the UNLV NSAC team gets to go to Nationals in Austin, I know who I'll be calling to invite for a front row seat to the big show.
Good Luck Barry. You're my best friend and I love you so very much. We'll all miss you so much, from me to Rub to Tom and the rest of your motley Vegas crew. We're a handful, but we all adore you.
They say "Don't mess with Texas", right? Well, don't let them mess with your ponytail.
We'll be here waiting for you.
I think of you like Castor in Tron Legacy when he says, "Let's step away from these primitive functions," "Libations, for everybody!" and "I'm steppin' away for a moment boys... Change the scheme, alter the mood, electrify the boys and girls if you'd be so kind."
The song of the day is for you Barry. From the Tron Legacy Original Soundtrack, for the fun times at Utopia to all of the electronica we love so much..."End of Line." Time for you to change the scheme and alter the mood, electrifying all of those sheltered boys and girls, that is if you'll be so very kind.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
What is wrong with universities these days?
I am in absolute awe of the BS that is happening on college campuses all around the country. As I was reading the news on CNN.com I was absolutely shocked, here's the short list:
- The Penn State Fiasco because of Jerry Sandusky.
- The Florida A&M student death from hazing (which has brought forth even more students saying they were hazed).
- Syracuse having issues with sexual abuse from the head coach of the basketball team.
- A University of Oklahoma professor suspended for sexual abuse charges.
- And at UNLV, students just got an 8% tuition hike but they're firing some of our best professors.
Now, you tell me, why on earth are we paying such ludicrous tuition costs for that kind of bull?
This is not in any way, shape or form localized to just one school. It's a coast to coast issue. What is going on on all of these college campuses? What is truly sad is that I'm more than positive there are even more skunks that will be flushed out in the coming days, weeks, months and years. In essence, buckle your seat belts kids, there is more coming down the pipe.
I have sat broken hearted for the last three weeks. Why? My favorite professor, Scorsese, has been fired. Why? No room in the school budget for him. What? Wait a second. We just had an 8% tuition increase (with more hikes promised in the future) which were justified by the Nevada System Higher Education for the reason that our higher tuition will pay to bring back professors to the school, yet they're getting rid of Scorsese, who every single IMC student agrees that he is THE heart and soul of the IMC program at UNLV? Really?
I am truly outraged, but I'm nothing compared to the hundreds of students I have personally spoken with that say that the dismissal of Scorsese takes the whole department and flushes it down the toilet.
We were given a letter that said that there are three professors that are taking on the IMC school and that we shouldn't worry. To that I cry a resounding "BS!" Of the three, the most popular and well-respected on the list is our school's new director, so he doesn't have time to teach. The other two, well here, you tell me: One of them, the students hate with a passion. They don't respect the professor and they will do everything including cut off limbs to avoid being in that professor's classes because the teacher is bitter, mean and just needs all-around work on their people skills. The other? Well, hold onto yourself for this one...the other professor only teaches classes online and to boot, is very problematic to get a hold of, then makes you wait to continue assignments until you get the go-ahead after you've contacted them. So, in total, both professors asked to take on the IMC load not only repulse the students, but make them inclined to change their majors instead of carrying on. The students don't want the two professors they are being saddled with and the only reason that Scorsese is being let go is a combination of politics and poor funds management. To all that I say, "He's getting the job done and he cares about us, leave the man alone and let him do what he does best, teach."
How sad is it that the students at UNLV are paying more for tuition and for our money we're getting piss-poor professors? Don't get me wrong, I've had some outstanding professors at UNLV, but they've been extremely rare. The really great ones like Doc T either moved on, been fired or are saddled with the same mountain of BS the students are. What galls me to kingdom come are the people who have the audacity to wonder how the Jerry Sandusky's of the world got to keep their jobs for so long.
I personally think that the entire university system from head to toe needs to be gone over with a fine toothed comb, then had a nuclear bomb taken to it. I know that Elementary and High School teachers are having to take competency tests, so why aren't university professors asked to do the same?
What happened to actually READING the evaluations that the students are asked to turn in at the end of every semester? I can promise you that if someone actually sat down and read the evaluations that came down from half of the students I go to school with every day that are having to endure this mountain of bullshit, a good portion of the pee-poor professors we have to deal with would be sent packing, saving the university hundreds of thousands of dollars per year and bringing in quality educators instead of pompous professors, who just because they are tenured, believe they are absolute monarchs.
This semester, I got to meet some great people thanks to Scorsese. He knows everyone in town when it comes to Ad, PR and IMC. I'm serious, he has the whole town on lock. He brought in the most amazing man to our Media Planning and Buying class who WAS a professor at UNLV until the same thing that is happening to Scorsese happened to him. Add on Prof H. from two semesters ago, and I've got a list of three highly qualified individuals, who are some of the most outstanding educators that I have been lucky enough to sit in their classrooms for even a day, and they are gone because some numb-nut sitting up high in his plush office on the fourth floor doesn't think they are worth keeping because they either a.) don't have their doctorates or b.) they aren't tenured.
Then they sit and wonder why admissions are down or that students would much rather go to the local community college, pay one-third the tuition and get a better education.
The whole system needs to be turned on its head and shaken until all of the garbage is cleaned out and even the lint has been emptied from its pockets. Get rid of the ineffective professors, bring in the educators that KNOW how to educate and let's get this show back on the road in the right way.
I go to school every day with disheartened students who watch their favorite, highly effective professors get the boot. The students know they are getting screwed right, left and center, being asked to pay more but getting less for their money.
How truly sad.
The worst part of it all is that I'm a 40-year-old student and I'm watching these kids starve and work themselves to death because they know they need a quality education to succeed in the world. I can do nothing to help them except to tell them to keep persevering because tomorrow just might be a better day. I don't know how many times I've looked at all of them and said, "The one constant in the universe is change. Let's hope some of that change lands in the university system."
Meanwhile, there are dirty athletics programs, more perverts than holes in a block of swiss cheese, hazing situations in organizations from the band on down, and students not getting 1/100th of the education they are paying for. What is wrong with this picture?
*Sigh* We're paying to get screwed in more ways than one.
As NSHE Associate Vice Chancellor Crystal Abba told a group of students protesting our tuition hike said,“You don’t have to support it just because you think it’s a foregone conclusion. You are the only opposition to that. [But] it has so much momentum it will roll right over you anyway.”
When I wrote my congressman about the crap going on at school, I got a form letter back that said, "Thanks for your letter and for voicing your concerns." That was it. No "we'll look into it" or anything. Yeah, politicians really care what happens to us starving students that are only asking for one simple thing: A good education.
The really great educators in the world do a thankless job. They are the ones with enormous hearts that make room for every last student they come in contact with. They rarely hear a thank you and they rarely are given a pat on the back by their bosses but they give their heart and soul so that students like me can get a decent education. Scorsese is one of those educators and he got the boot for all of his sacrifice.
Sad. Sad. Sad.
But on to better news and a dose of hope for the future. The semester wrap-up is coming up tomorrow, stay tuned for all of the semester's highlights starring Scorsese, Doc L., and special guest appearances by Doc S., Doc Cat and Prof. H. Yep, it's a cavalcade of all-stars on the next installment combined with a preview of the semester break's fun holiday festivities. Set your bookmarks for all this and more from your favorite Eternal Sophomore.
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